Within the tropics the sun lights up the earth or leaves it, with scarcely any of the mysterious greeting or farewell, with which in more northern climates he loiters on his way, dyeing the landscape with subtle gradations of colors, from the fullest display of his mingled glories in a yellow and purple blaze, to the faintest hues of every shade, delicate and aerial, like the gossamer robes of spirit land. His coming is punctual and his welcome hearty. Objects take their hue and shape from out of the night almost instantaneously, changing from black to golden brightness, as by the touch of magic. There is loss of beauty to the eye in this, though the earth may gain in fertility from not having to wait so long for the fruitful warmth.
It was well nigh morning when the caravel broke up in the reef. The air was warm, and although the surf roared as loudly as ever, the wind had gone down. Soon the sun began to appear above the horizon. Beatriz, availing herself of its earliest light, began to search for her brother and his company. Tolta was active also. Bits of the wreck strewed the beach, with here and there articles that might still be of service, but she paid no attention to them. Hurriedly looking about her, hoping yet fearful, she espied a body half-buried in the sand. In an instant she was beside it, but it was one of the crew, stiff and cold. There was no time to spare for a corpse, so she continued her search for the living. An object half hidden amid low shrubbery caught her eye. Hastening thither, she saw the well known white robe of Olmedo. With a cry of joy she rushed to it, and then breathlessly knelt at his side, placing her hand upon Olmedo’s heart and her mouth close to his, to detect any signs of life. He was warm and breathing. His eyes slowly opened, and recognizing Beatriz, for a moment he seemed to have forgotten the wreck, and to imagine himself still at sea. As he stretched out his hand with a smile, to give her his wonted welcome, she seized it passionately, kissed it and burst into tears.
The good father, surprised at this feeling in one usually so calm, yet carried away by it without knowing why, pressed her hand warmly in return, while a tear found its way also to his eye. Instantly recovering her usual manner, Beatriz asked if he could give her tidings of Juan.
The question recalled to Olmedo the disaster of the night. He had himself been thrown ashore, on top of a plank to which he had clung at the breaking up of the caravel, and had scrambled up the beach, until he reached the bushes, where he had been found half gone in faintness and sleep.
At the name of Juan he started to his feet and said, “Let us lose no time in looking for him. The wreck was so sudden that human efforts could not have availed to save any one. God may have brought him safely to shore as he has us.”
They had not gone far before a well known voice was heard calling loudly upon Beatriz. In an instant, she was clasped in the embrace of her brother. He had rushed from a neighboring grove, as he caught sight of his sister, and now the two in their sudden joy clung to each other with mingled sobs and laughter; for being twins their active affections had been formed together in one maternal mould.
Juan led the party to the spot from which he had emerged, where they found three of the seamen. It seems that Juan had reached the land, somewhat bruised, in company with them, and the four had spent their time in searching for Beatriz and others of the crew, but owing to the darkness of the night and the loudness of the surf, they were neither seen nor heard. Farther search assured them that they were the sole survivors of the wreck. Accordingly having secured the few objects of utility that had been thrown ashore from it, they began to explore their new home in reference to their future wants.
The land was much broken and thickly covered with vegetation, some of which was familiar to them from being common to the “tierra caliente” of Mexico. As they wandered inland they came to cultivated patches of yam and the sweet potato. Many of the fields were enclosed in well constructed stone walls. They were therefore in an inhabited land, and, as they thought, must soon meet the tillers of the soil. Bananas and other fruit hung within their reach. Numerous paths intersected grounds, which were divided into square or oblong lots, surrounded by dykes, planted with the broad leafed, nutritious taro, and irrigated by so admirable a network of water-courses as to extort from all exclamations of surprise. Following up the most trodden of these paths, they came to a retired valley embosomed amid forest-clad hills, with a quiet stream flowing through its centre, and cultivated as far up as the eye could see, in the same manner as the fields through which they had passed. Soon houses came into view. They were in clusters, low, of thatch, raised on embankments, with stone pavements around them, or fenced in by rude palisades.
Expecting each minute to meet the owners, they proceeded cautiously towards them. They were disappointed, however, for not a human being appeared; not even a dog or domestic animal of any kind; the air was still and the sun hot; there was no hum of insects or song of birds; the sole life that met their view was now and then a stray lizard, that glided so quickly and silently away as but to make the surrounding stillness still more sensible.
They began to distrust their senses. Were they in an enchanted land? Was their shipwreck real, or were they dreaming? Their very voices seemed to die out in the universal silence. They gathered fruit and eat, and this reassured them of the reality of their appetites at least, but their own shadows as they lengthened before them seemed unreal, while those of tree and rock cast spectral forms about their path.
Terrible and oppressive grew upon them the ambiguity of their position. Were they watched and being led by enchantment into the power of savage foes, or were they tantalized by illusions, like the dreams of starving men who rave of dainties ever within their reach? What meant this life without life, harvest without reapers, houses without owners, this atmosphere without insect-hum or bird-song? The very waters enclosed in rocky basins, or overshadowed by motionless foliage, were unrippled by current or wave, and repeating the landscape in their still depths, made it even more unreal. The gracefully shaped canoes which floated upon them without moving, looked as if painted upon the surface of the stream.
Juan’s impatient spirit chafed for want of action. “By the Holy Mass, father Olmedo,” he cried, “this silence beats that which made us hold our breaths on the night when we marched out of Mexico, thinking we were stealing away unseen from those red devils, when tens of thousands of their impish eyes were glaring upon us, awaiting the signal to drag us to their damnable temples. Well must you remember it, and how sad a night they made of it to us, after the silence was once broken by their infernal yells, as they dragged away so many of our companions to have their hearts torn from their living bodies, as offerings to their hideous war-god. Jesu Maria! I like not this awful stillness. Give me rather a hundred foes and my own trusty horse, that I might dash among them with our old battle-cry;”—and in the excitement of the moment, he sprang forward, waved his sword and shouted at the top of his voice, “At them, cavaliers; Santiago for Spain.”
“Ah! I have started you at last,” he exultingly exclaimed. “Hark! By the Holy Virgin, they reply in our blessed language. A dozen wax candles for our Lady’s shrine for this, as soon as I can get them,—we are among friends, Beatriz.”
“You mistake, Juan,” replied Beatriz. “The words you hear are only your own sent back from the hills.”
Juan, distrusting her more acute senses, again shouted, and convinced himself that it was only the rocks that mockingly echoed the shout. It was the first time since their creation, that they had given back a sound foreign to their own shores, and it seemed to linger long among them as if they relished its notes. Then the silence brooded over the scene more ominously than before, as no foes appeared, and no human voice sent back the defiance. Tolta’s eyes, however, glared furiously on Juan at his ill-timed allusion to “La Noche Triste,” but it was only for a moment. Beatriz had observed the look, and in a low whisper said to Juan, “Nay, brother, forbear, that night was a sad one to many besides ourselves. Why provoke Tolta to revengeful thoughts? He has done us both faithful service. For my sake respect his feelings.”
Chafed as he was at the mysterious silence, which only angered him, while it awed, not through fear, but from the depths of its repose, the hearts of Olmedo and Beatriz, who found something in it kindred to their own position, Juan’s hasty impulse would have been to have vented his irritation upon the Mexican, but a second look from his sister restored his better nature, and he frankly held out his hand to him, exclaiming, “Pardon my hastiness, Tolta, I meant not to vex you.”
The Mexican’s features resumed their usual apathy, and no one would have supposed from them, that an emotion had ever touched his heart. Yet among them all, no eye or ear was keener than his, no nature more sensitive, none so quick in its perceptions when touched in its own interests or passions, and none more patient, outwardly forbearing, and inwardly revengeful, for he was faithful to self-immolation in his friendship, and equally so in his enmity.
In him love to the individual and hate to the Spanish race were so interwoven, that it would have been impossible for himself to foresee how he should act on any occasion which might afford scope for either passion. He was an Aztec by birth, of the race of the priesthood, young, accustomed to arms, and learned in the lore of his race; at heart a worshipper of their idols, though a forced baptism, and the necessities of a captive, made him nominally a Christian. Manuel was the name bestowed in baptism, but I prefer to retain that of his birth. In him lay dormant all those qualities which marked the downfall of his nation. He was both subtle and open, gentle and fierce; in his domestic relations inclined to love and peace, refined and courteous; in his faith believing in one God of “perfection and purity,” yet delighting in smearing the altars of terrible deities with human gore; a tiger in rage, and a lamb in sentiment; in short, combining in his own breast the instincts of brute and man, with no harmonizing principle to keep him in permanent peaceful relations with himself or his kind. He believed in peace and purity, and delighted in war and cruelty, displaying to his enemies either open and irreconcilable hatred, or concealing revenge under the mask of courtesy and kindness, nay, almost servility, at the same time recognizing no principles of humanity or religion which interfered with his desires. As a conqueror, he was imperious; as a captive, abject. But the native pride and fierceness of his race, so long dominant among servile tribes, ill adapted him to his present anomalous state, in which, while feeling himself partly treated as a friend, he could not forget the events so recent in the history of his race which had made him in reality a slave. Although he brooded much over his own altered destinies and his country’s fall, yet, while with Beatriz, the gentle principle in his nature became active, and he felt soothed and grateful.
Concord being restored, the little party footed their way towards a cluster of houses of more pretension than the others, built upon a slight eminence, terraced on all sides with stone work, and having a flight of steps to the summit. This was walled in, and gave sufficient area to enclose quite a hamlet. Indeed it might be considered a fortification of no slight strength, where fire-arms were unknown.
They proceeded cautiously up the steps, stimulated by curiosity, and thinking it better to brave openly and promptly any danger that might threaten, as from experience they knew that no demeanor imposes more powerfully upon barbarians than courage. To this course Tolta advised them. He was the least affected by the singularity of their position, and seemed in many things to recognize a similarity in the degree of civilization and manner of cultivation, as well as in the articles themselves, to the habits and productions of tribes on the southern frontiers of his own country, though the entire absence of precious metals, and any altars or edifices which indicated the worship of sanguinary deities, puzzled him not a little.
Immediately within the wall, and bordering the main avenue, leading to a large and commodious house, were many rudely carved wooden images, with round staring eyes and grinning mouths. Before them were the remains of fruit, and about them were hung wreaths of flowers, indicating that they were held in reverence. Passing between them, Juan felt disposed to try the temper of his sword upon their awkwardly shaped legs and arms for practice, and to express his abhorrence of what he termed blasphemy, quite forgetful that in his own land images of the Virgin and saints, some scarcely better executed, were common to every street and by every roadside, and that before them were lamps constantly burning and offerings of flowers placed.
Olmedo’s better judgment checked him. “This indeed may be, my son, as you say, a device of Satan to turn their hearts from the true worship; but let us learn more before we act. These very offerings and idols prove the necessity of worship to the darkened minds of their makers, and from these false symbols we may by persuasion turn them to the holy ones of our religion. Remember the Master’s charge to Peter, when he would have taken the sword. We have had too much of that, and too many of your brothers in arms have already perished by the sword. We have been led hither for some wise purpose. Be peaceful and patient. God will disclose his design in due season. In the meantime, let us respect all that we see, and if the people of this silent valley show themselves, meet them with the cross aloft and open hands. We are too few to contend against a multitude, though not to persuade them by courtesy and our very helplessness to peace and kindness. If none appear, let us use these good gifts, as provided by Him who has led us thither.”
Juan replied: “By my troth, father, I would clip off the heads of a few of these ugly monsters, if for no other motive than to call up a host of the evil spirits that possess them, that I might do them battle. You speak truth, however, and I will be patient. Hurry on, my men, let us explore this sanctuary, and see if we can start out any one to give us the hospitality we so sorely need.”
Beatriz, who feared his hasty mood, stopped him as he was about to enter the large house. “No, Juan, let me go in first. The inmates, if any there be, may slumber; the presence of a maiden,” said she, “will create neither alarm nor fear. I will enter first.”
So saying, she drew aside the heavy cloth which hung at the door and went in. Olmedo not heeding her request to Juan, entered immediately after, but not soon enough to anticipate Tolta, who glided in before him as noiselessly as a shadow. Juan and the others without further question followed after.
They found themselves in a spacious room formed by white posts driven into the ground, with rafters springing from them, making a lofty roof, covered throughout with thatch, fastened on in the neatest manner with neatly braided cord. The floor was spread with white mats. Every part was scrupulously clean. There were raised divans of fine mats variously colored, and as pliable as the coarser cloths of Europe. These invited repose, though the pillows being of wood covered with matting, indicated no effeminacy in the slumbers of their owners. Several of these divans were curtained by gaily painted cloths, differing in texture from anything they had seen before. It was something between paper and the cotton fabrics of Mexico. Garments of the same material, but of softer and finer quality hung about the walls. There were also wooden bowls of beautiful grain, highly polished and indicating no slight degree of mechanical skill; also vessels for water, formed from the gourd plant and prettily ornamented; fans, graceful plumes of crimson and golden feathers, protective armor of net or basket work, war clubs, spears and other weapons. In fine, they found themselves within a house, which afforded all that was necessary to their wants in that climate, and much that showed no inconsiderable degree of refinement and taste, but no one to challenge their intrusion.
The other houses presented a similar sight. They ransacked everywhere to find some one to explain the unaccountable desertion. There had been no haste. The inhabitants had not fled in fear. Everything was in its natural place and condition, just as were the household effects of the Pompeiians, when Vesuvius buried them in lava and ashes. But here the mystery was inexplicable. Evidently the desertion had not been very recent. Some weeks must have passed. Their own appearance, therefore, could not be connected with it. There was not an article that could properly belong to such domestic circles that was wanting, and all in the best condition and ready for use. Everything, however, that had life had been carefully removed. Even the usual tenants of deserted habitations, rats, were missing. The awe that almost mastered them in the silence of the open valley, no longer clung to them in the confined walls of human make. Curiosity was now uppermost. They talked freely and loudly, and busied themselves with conjectures to solve the wonder, but with no other result than to weary their minds without any satisfactory answer.
“At all events,” said Juan, “all but drowned in the morning, with our brave caravel ground to pieces on the rocks, and most of our poor seamen a prey to the fishes, here we are at night well housed, with food at hand, and no greedy innkeeper’s face to suggest a long bill. For my part let’s to sleep. This is much more comfortable than campaigning amid the rocks of Tlascalla, with the prospect of a copper-headed lance finding its way between the ribs before one could sleep out his first nap.”
“You counsel rightly,” replied the priest, “but first let us unite in the Ave Maria.” So saying, he motioned to them to come into the open air, and holding up his crucifix he led the chant, while the others knelt and joined in. Then in the silence of the setting sun, there arose, for the first time in that unknown land, the hymn of praise to the mother of Jesus, woman deified and restored to her true nature as the hope and purifier of man, the type of God’s love to his own image. Softly and gently as Beatriz breathed the words “Ave purissima,” they seemed to fill all space, and borne on the air of the fast coming night, stole through the valley, along the waters, up the hill-sides and amid the trees, with a melody which made all Nature listen and repeat in notes still more penetrating, that thrilling symphony of peace and purity. The evening stars looked down gladly upon the little band, and shedding a harmonious radiance around the singers, their hearts grew quiet and strong. Even Tolta felt its influence. As the seamen looked at the hideous idols about them, they fancied they saw them move in the night air as if they too bowed in worship to a spirit mightier than their own. It was indeed mightier; for it was the spirit of Love.
CHAPTER V.
Mauna Kea, the highest mountain of Hawaii, occupies the northern portion of the island. In some places it descends in grassy slopes, sufficiently gentle to form plains, dotted here and there with the many armed pandanus and the thickly leaved kukui trees. From the resinous nuts of the latter the natives obtained their torches, while its rich foliage and grand proportions made it equally valuable for timber or shade.
At the distance of some twenty miles from the bay where the caravel was wrecked, there was a level and extensive plain fringed with forests of the above named trees, and backed by the snow-topped mountains. The front afforded a wide-spread view of the ocean, the breezes from which, added to an elevation of several thousand feet, gave it a climate much cooler and more bracing than that of the coast. On this account, and from its natural beauties, it had from time immemorial been used by the Hawaiians as a spot on which to celebrate public games or sacred festivals. Its verdant and carefully irrigated soil afforded food for the numerous priests who belonged to the different “heiaus” or temples to be seen within its limits. These were built of basaltic stones, some of which were of great size, and nicely adjusted together without cement, according to their natural fractures. Within the walls, which were massive and high, were the houses of the priests and the shrines where were deposited the most sacred images. Each chief of importance had his family temple, around which had grown up villages, to accommodate himself and retainers in their periodical visits to this upland region.
For a month previous to the wreck, many thousands of the islanders had been gathered under their chiefs to engage in their annual athletic games. Their principal object was, however, to celebrate the festival of Lono. Now Lono was one of those mythic beings so common in America and Polynesia, who in ages long gone by, after having done many notable things for the benefit of their fellow men, disappear like Moses in some inexplicable manner, leaving behind them a memory always green, and a sort of implied promise to return with greater benefits in store. Indeed, heroes of this character appear amid much traditionary fog, in the youth of almost all nations. In this instance, Lono had killed his wife in a fit of jealousy, instigated by a Hawaiian Iago out of malice equal to the Venetian’s. Love’s reaction and contrition drove him frantic. After founding games in honor of his victim, he put out to sea in an oddly shaped canoe,—so the tradition runs,—promising to return some future day with many good things to enhance his welcome. Whether it was from love to him, or from faith in the expected increase of comforts and riches, that they so venerated his memory, I am at this day unable to say, but certain it is that a more popular god did not exist in Hawaii. His festival was therefore celebrated with peculiar unction.
On this occasion it had been honored with unusual solemnity, on account of the presence of the most powerful and best beloved chief of this island, whose territory embraced the fertile bay where the caravel went ashore.
It was the custom on the most sacred festivals to enforce perfect silence from man and beast during certain rites. While the festival lasted, peace was universal, property respected, and under the solemn influence of the magic “tabu,” human law and police seemed unnecessary; for there was implied in this simple word, if but its spirit were infringed, all the awful judgments, both temporal and supernatural, that the imagination could conceive, and even more, for the very uncertainty of the fate which was to attend its violation, added ten-fold force to its terrors. The simple symbol, therefore, which denoted the application of the tabu to any object, carried with it a power such as no civilized code ever exercised, and which the tortures of the Inquisition failed to establish.
The word tabu, as applied to religious matters, was a ritual in itself. Hence when the high-priest set apart a certain time as tabu to Lono, the entire population knew what ceremonies were to be performed, and what was expected of each of them. During the present holidays it had been specially enjoined that the valley in which Kiana, a descendant of Lono and the supreme chief of more than half of Hawaii, resided, should be tabu from man and all domestic animals. For one month, profound silence was to rest upon it. Consequently, the inhabitants left for the uplands, taking with them every animal and fowl which they owned. It was owing to this tabu that Alvirez, when he explored the valley, met with such complete stillness amid all the outward signs of active life.
The very day, therefore, that Alvirez had so freely taken possession of the chief’s own quarters, Kiana with his people were on their march homeward. This chief, as is the aristocracy in general of Hawaii, was of commanding stature, some six feet six inches in height, finely proportioned, with round elastic limbs, not over muscular or too sinewy, like the North American Indian, but full, with a soft smooth skin and a bright olive complexion, which was not so dark, but that the blood at times deepened the color thereon. His face was strikingly handsome, being, like his body, of that happy medium between womanly softness and the more rugged development of manly strength, which indicates a well harmonized physical structure. In repose, one feared to see him move, lest the beauty of outline would be destroyed; but when in action, with his muscles quivering with a hidden fire, his dark eyes flashing light, the full nostril of his race and rich sensual lip expanded with excitement, there was about him much that recalled the Apollo, particularly in the light step and eager haughty expression. His strength was prodigious. He had been known in battle, having broken his javelin, to seize an enemy by the leg and neck, and break his spine by a blow across his knees. Fierce he undoubtedly was to his foes, but there were in all his actions a pervading manliness and generosity, joined to a winning demeanor, which stamped him as one of nature’s gentlemen. No rival of his tribe disputed his authority, because all felt safer and better under his rule. By moral influence, rather than by force, all the other chiefs of this portion of Hawaii looked to him as their leader and umpire; so that without any of the dubious treaties and forms of a confederated government, they had all the advantages of one, while each remained free within his own territorial confines.
By nature humane, Kiana had infused into their general policy and domestic life a more liberal spirit towards inferiors, and a less servile feeling towards the priesthood. He held the latter, in general, in small esteem, perceiving how much they were disposed to corrupt the simplest power of nature into a hideous mythology, based upon fear and superstition, to the intent to enrich themselves at the expense of the people. As he also inherited the office of high-priest, his influence was the more effective, inasmuch as he set the example of neglecting all the requirements of their pagan ritual which were cruel or oppressive, while the games and festivals, which tended to develop their physical powers and give them amusements, or to lighten their general labors, were sedulously cared for. His people were therefore happy and prosperous, and, at the date of this tale, exhibited an agreeable picture of a race blessed with a salubrious climate, a soil ample for all their simple wants, living almost patriarchally under a beloved chief, whose more intelligent mind, by example rather than argument, had influenced them to a form of idolatry which in its offerings of only fruits of the earth, to its symbolized phenomena or the images of departed men once venerated for their moral worth, in some degree connected their souls through refining influences with the Great Maker.
In closing the festival, the procession was formed with great state and solemnity, preparatory to its final departure from the sacred plain. First came a thousand men in regular files, armed with swords of sharks’ teeth and slings. Each had a laurel wreath on his head, and a tapa mantle of bright red thrown loosely over his shoulders. This corps led the way to the noise of rude drums and other barbarous music. Behind them marched a more numerous body in detached companies, armed with javelins and spears, and a species of wooden mace, which, dexterously used, becomes a formidable weapon. In addition, each man carried a dagger of the same material, from sixteen inches to two feet long. All wore helmets of wicker work, shaped like the Grecian casque and covered with various colored feathers. These helmets in connection with their bright war cloaks, gave to the whole array a classical look not unworthy of the heroic days of Greece. The appearance of the men was martial, and their step firm and regular.
In the centre of their array there was a selected corps of one hundred young chiefs, armed with still better weapons. Their costume was also much richer than that of the common men. They wore scarlet feather cloaks and helmets. Conspicuous amid them, borne upon a litter hung about with crimson drapery, sat Kiana. His helmet was surmounted by a graceful crest from which lightly floated a plume taken from the long and beautiful feathers of the tropic bird. Both the helmet and his war cloak were made of brilliant yellow feathers, so small and delicate as to appear like scales of gold. These two articles were the richest treasures in the regalia of Hawaii. The birds from which the feathers are obtained,—one only from under each wing,—are found solely in the most inaccessible parts of the mountains and ensnared with great difficulty. Nearly one hundred and fifty years, or nine generations of Kiana’s ancestors had been occupied in collecting a sufficient number to make this truly regal helmet and cloak. This was the first occasion he had had to display them. He bore himself in consequence even more royally than ever before; for savage though he was, the pride of ancestry and the trappings of power warmed his blood as fully as if he had been a civilized ruler.
Immediately behind him was borne a colossal image of Lono. It was carved with greater skill than common, and surrounded by a company of white-robed priests, chanting the “mele” or hymn, which had been composed upon his disappearance. At particular parts the whole people joined with a melancholy refrain, that gave a living interest to the story, and showed how forcible was the hold it had upon their imaginations. On either side of Kiana, were twelve men of immense size and strength, naked to their waist-cloths, two by two, bearing the “kahilis,” as were called the insignia of his rank. These were formed of scarlet feathers, thickly set, in the shape of a plume, of eighteen inches diameter, about ten feet high, and tipped to the depth of a foot with yellow feathers. With the handles, which were encircled with alternate rings of ivory or tortoise-shell, their entire height was twenty feet. As they towered and waved above the multitude, they conveyed an idea of state and grandeur inferior to nothing of the kind that has ever graced the ceremonies of the white man.
The women of his household followed close to the chief. Their aristocratic birth and breeding were manifest in their corpulency and haughty bearing. To exaggerate their size,—which was partly a criterion of noble blood—they had swelled their waists with voluminous folds of gaudy cloths, under the pressure of which, added to their own bulk, they waddled rather than walked. Helped by young and active attendants, their pace was, however, equal to the slow progress of the procession. A numerous retinue of their own sex, bearing their tokens of rank, fans, fly-brushes, spittoons, sunscreens, and lighter articles of clothing, waited upon them. Some of these young women were gracefully formed, fair and voluptuous, with pleasant features, without any excess of flesh. In contrast with their mistresses, they might have been considered as beauties, as, indeed, they were the belles of Hawaii. Small, soft hands, delicate and tapering fingers, satin-like in their touch and gentle and pleasant to the shake, were common among all.
The women in general were a laughing, merry set, prone to affection, finery, and sensuous enjoyment. But the lower orders were workers in the fullest sense, the men being their task-masters, treating them as an inferior caste by imposing upon their sex arbitrary distinctions in their food, domestic privileges, duties, and even religious rites, so that their social condition was wantonly degraded. Yet females were admitted to power and often held the highest rank.
Besides this state there was a vast throng of attendants carrying burdens, or driving before them their domestic animals. The families of the soldiery followed the procession, in irregular masses, as it defiled from the plain into the valleys that led towards the coast. In advancing, its numbers gradually lessened by the departure of warriors, and minor chiefs with their retainers, for their respective destinations. With the exception of those immediately about Kiana, all order of march soon ceased, and the crowd spread themselves over hill and valley shouting and jeering, in their good-natured hurry to reach their homes. The fowls cackled, the dogs barked. The swine with ominous grunts charged in all directions, upsetting impartially owners and neighbors, amid the laughter and cheers of the lookers on. Children grew doubly mischievous in the turmoil, running hither and thither, with frantic cries, pushing and crowding each other over rocks into the rapid streams, in which they were as much at home as the fishes. They tripped up their heavily laden parents in their gambols about their footsteps, dodging the quick blow in return with the slipperiness of eels, or repaying with equally noisy coin the threats of future floggings, which they well knew would be forgotten over the first meal. The more sedate vented their enthusiasm in deep toned songs, which, as they swelled into full chorus, filled the air with a wild music, in keeping with the scene. In forest and grove the birds listened and replied in musical notes that thrilled sweetly on the ear amid the medley of sounds. Nature was awake to the scene. From every tree and rock, out of each dell and off each hill-top, there came voices to mingle in the general jubilee. The mountain breezes poured their anthems in joyous harmony through branch and leaf. Buds and blossoms bowing before balmy airs, shook out their fragrance. Cascades sparkled and leaped, foamed and roared in the bright sun. Rivulets, looking in the distance like silver threads, stole with soothing murmurs along the plains, while the startled wild fowl with defiant note fled deeper into the forest or skulked closer in the thicket as the living current swept by.
While all was thus life and motion in the uplands, the solitude of the sea coast remained as described in the last chapter. Alvirez and his party had disposed themselves for the night as best suited their individual convenience. There was no lack of accommodation or retirement. Each might have selected a village to himself, but they all remained within the enclosure where we left them. Juan and Beatriz occupied the principal house. Olmedo chose one near, and the good man was soon dreaming of his early Castilian cell. Tolta watched long and late, and then stretched himself, mastiff-like, upon a mat at the threshold of the house in which Beatriz slept. The three seamen, after sundry explorations, which seemed to give them small satisfaction, cursed their luck in being wrecked on a land which had not even copper, much less gold or silver, in short, anything whatever which came up to their ideas of spoil, and closing their eyes, muttered their discontent even in their sleep.
CHAPTER VI.
“How often events, by chance and unexpectedly come to pass, which you had not dared even to hope for.”—Terence.
Night came and went; when morning broke, the same stillness rested on the valley. All of its guests still slept the deep sleep of fatigue, except Tolta, who had thought he heard at intervals distant sounds that fell mockingly upon his ear for a moment, and then died away into profound silence. Cautiously he had listened and peered into the deep shadows of hill and forest, but had detected nothing. As often, however, as he had sunk again into restless slumber, the same strange sounds came to him. The air seemed filled with them; voices and laughter, the tramp of feet and cries of animals, yet so vague and intermingled, that at last he fancied there was a spell upon the valley; that its inhabitants had all perished by demoniacal violence, and unseen by mortal eyes, during the night, came back to haunt their late homes.
This solution of the mystery was not calculated to reassure him, and he became more restless than before. Visions of his native land mingled themselves with the phantom forms and sounds which disturbed his slumbers. His imagination vibrated between joy and fear, without a moment’s pause to give him rest. Gradually, however, as morning twilight came up over the hill tops, he fancied he detected shadowy outlines of men, sharp against the horizon, passing rapidly into the gloom further down. His terrors were then realized. He saw the ghosts that had so disturbed his slumbers fleeing before the coming day, and he shuddered as with a grave-chill.
A cock suddenly crowed afar off. Tolta started as if the trumpet of Cortez had sounded in his ears. His blood tingled once more in his veins. Another and another crow, nearer and nearer; the morning air is suddenly filled with their rival notes. A dog barks! Scores of dogs’ throats open in reply. Human voices are now distinctly heard. Groups of men, women, and children, can be plainly seen descending into the valley from the wooded uplands. He watches their motions, half doubting his own senses. A band orderly marching approaches the enclosure. He sees among them the sharp array of lances, and the brilliant colors of feathered casques and cloaks. They recall to him the warriors of Mexico, and he exults in their martial tread and warlike aspect. His first impulse is to rush forward and greet them. “Now shall Spanish blood again be shed, and their false hearts quiver on the altars of Mexico’s war-god! Here in this teocalli, shall the incense so sweet to Huitzilpotcli’s nostrils once more ascend;” and in his dreamy excitement he rushed forward as if to strike the serpent-skin drum, whose terrible signal had so often been the death-warrant to his country’s invaders.
Shall Beatriz die this death? No sooner did she occur to him, than his fierceness passed away like a spent surge. All other emotions were lost in the desire to protect her. Stepping quietly inside the house, he woke Juan and motioned him to follow.
As they passed out and looked over the parapet, they saw considerable stir among the warriors. They were coming towards them at great speed, and evidently with no friendly intent. Their leader had caught sight of Tolta as he left the wall to awaken Juan, and indignant at what he supposed a violation of the tabu, by one of his people, ordered them to surround the enclosure, so as to prevent the possibility of escape, while he with a few followers ascended by the narrow stone steps, that he might slay the sacrilegious wretch with his own hand.
By the time Kiana—for it was he—had nearly reached the platform, Juan had arrived at the gate-way, and at a glance took in his whole position.
“Tonatiuh can now strike the infidel,” said Tolta with sarcastic emphasis, as he recalled Juan’s unwise speech of the day before, at the same time pointing to Kiana, whose rapid strides would in another instant bring him in front of Alvirez. The Mexican then re-entered the house to warn Beatriz of their new danger.
Juan had too often encountered as fearful odds, in his Mexican campaigns, to lose his presence of mind in a crisis like this. He called to his men to come to his succor, as he prepared to hold the gate-way against his foes, and shouting his accustomed battle-cry, drew his long Toledo blade, and advanced it in guard to await Kiana’s onset.
This chief in his rush up the steps had not fairly lifted his eyes until the shout of “Santiago for Spain” reached his ears. His astonishment at the apparition of the white man,—the gleaming steel, fierce eyes, thick red beard and strange tongue, the costume so unlike his people’s,—instead of the expected tawny hue of his own race, brought him to a sudden stop. It was but for a moment, for, excited by his previous fury at a crime so uncommon among his people, he saw only an offender who seemed aided by sorcery, and rushed at him with uplifted javelin, reserving his force to strike and not to throw. So sudden and powerful was his spring, that although Juan’s sword parried the blow, he was borne backward, and Kiana found himself on the platform.
Both paused as they now better saw each other’s strength and strangeness. Kiana’s surprise was increased as Juan’s men, followed by Olmedo with crucifix in hand, came hastily up and ranged themselves at his side. His own soldiers were fast crowding upon the platform, filled with wonder rather than fear, at so unexpected a sight. At his command they were filing off to surround Juan’s little band, and close in upon them, while he upraised his javelin, prepared once more to tempt the skill of his strange enemy. His right foot was advanced, his broad chest thrown out and weapon poised to try again the thrust, which had never before failed him, when a new cry was heard and a new figure came forward and sprung between him and Alvirez.
It was Beatriz. Her long flowing robes, dishevelled hair, her pallor and the impulsive energy with which she pushed aside Juan’s sword, and turned her eager eyes towards Kiana, fearlessly fronting his javelin, amazed the red-men. Their weapons dropped silently by their sides, as their chief gazed in astonishment with powerless arm upon the new apparition.
Kiana’s indecision was, however, only momentary. A sudden thought had seized him. Turning to his followers he said, “Behold Lono and his wife! they have returned with their faces brightened, and their speech changed, from their abode in the sun. They have come as Lono promised, with new teachers and good gifts. Let us honor them and make them welcome.” As he spoke every weapon was laid upon the earth, and every head was bowed. Kiana alone stood erect, asserting his dignity even in the presence of a returned god.
Whatever his native sense might have suggested in regard to the origin of the group before him, his sagacity in turning the ideas of his people into their present channel, was safety to the one side, and direct benefit to himself. He recognized at once a superiority in their armor and habiliments, which evinced a knowledge far beyond that of his own people. They could be useful to him in many ways. Naturally humane and generous, after his first anger had cooled, he would not have harmed a hair of their heads. On the contrary, he and his people, had they found them helpless on the shore, would have tenderly received them. Now that he saw the tabu had not been violated, but that so far from sacrilege, an event had occurred that appeared to all miraculous, and confirmatory of the traditions of his ancestry, he determined to receive the strangers as his own kin, while he confirmed in the minds of his people the belief in their divinity. As the common Hawaiian’s idea of a god was of a being not more removed from him in power and intelligence than was the white man, this was an easy affair.
Accordingly he gave orders that they should be provided with suitable retinues and lands, and servants assigned to them as of his own family.
His decision was proclaimed by the public heralds. Great were the rejoicings and shouts throughout the valley, that Lono and his wife had come back and were to protect them from their enemies, and enrich them by new arts and gifts. The simple people believed and prostrated themselves deferentially before Juan and Beatriz. Their persons and those of the others were tabued or made sacred. No follower of Kiana’s dared lift his hand toward them, except to do them service or honor. The change from the peril of immediate massacre, to being worshipped as divine personages, was so striking, that while they realized its advantages, they could not, before they had acquired the easy tongue of Hawaii, fully comprehend its cause. The seamen, however, readily domesticated themselves, taking wives, and were soon placed on the footing of petty chiefs.