Hawaiian Girl.
Night being close at hand, the rescued party lost no time in leaving the vicinity of the torrent of lava, hoping to find a path which would bring them to the food and shelter which they so greatly needed. Tolta knew he was within the immediate territory of Pohaku, and was desirous to meet some of his people, to make sure of his captives, who were now quite as able to exert their wills as to the course they should take, as he his. But they were wholly ignorant of their position, while he began to discern familiar landmarks. The recent danger which they had all incurred and escaped together, occupied the thoughts of Beatriz and Olmedo, more than the outrage which had led them into it, so they made no opposition to the direction he prepared to take.
This led them at first obliquely towards a stream of lava, which was still running at about two miles from them to the northeast. For some time their path was comparatively smooth. But at intervals it was crossed by crevices in the earth, some of which were so wide that they were compelled to make long circuits to get round them. The air from them was quivering with heat, and filled with noxious gases. Tolta was frequently obliged to leave his companions in order to explore the ground, which became, as they advanced, more and more cut up with chasms, whose depths the eye often could not reach. Had it not been daylight these fissures would have made their present position scarcely less hazardous than their confinement in the cave, for at every throe of the crater they threw out jets of steam, and filled the atmosphere with poisonous fumes. Once or twice they came upon them so suddenly, that they were obliged to cover their heads with their mantles, and rush through the vapor at full speed. Fortunately they proved to be but puffs, which required but an instant’s exertion to emerge from.
Beatriz had grown so faint and fatigued as to be forced often to stop to gather breath and strength. On one of these occasions Tolta had gone farther from them than usual, in search of the path which he hoped to strike, and which led direct to Pohaku’s fortress. Not finding it, he was returning in another direction, when his progress was stopped by a broad chasm, which poured forth so hot a blast as to singe his clothes and crisp his hair, as he heedlessly looked into it. Jumping quickly back, he followed its edge in search of a spot narrow enough for him to leap across. In doing this he came upon the path he had been looking for. It led through low bushes which partly hid it. He was about taking the shortest track back to where he had left Olmedo and Beatriz, when his eye was caught by a human form stretched lifeless upon the ground. Going towards it, to his surprise he recognized one of the warriors whom he had sent to capture the three Spaniards. It was plain that he had been stiff and cold for some hours. Not far from him he found the entire party, with the three Spaniards bound and lying on their backs, in the centre of their guards. One by one he felt of them to detect life. There were no signs of external violence on their bodies. Each lay apparently as he had fallen asleep. The faces and limbs of some were slightly contracted, showing that they had become conscious of their danger, when powerless to escape. All were dead. They had encamped too near the chasm, and, during the night, by a change of wind, the fatal air had been blown upon them, and they had perished in their dreams to a man.[2]
“Pele balks me every way—the foul goddess! may she be blasted in her own fires,” muttered Tolta, as he turned in angry mood from the scene. “She leaves me only those I would not sacrifice. I hate the priest, yet I would he might die by other hands than mine. Pshaw! why should I feel tenderness towards that puling monk! Who so stands between me and Beatriz as he? But while Juan lives I have much to do. This is no sight for Beatriz and Olmedo to see. I will send and get the heads of the Spaniards. In death even they shall be present at the feast which was to have been their sacrifice. May their souls rot in everlasting darkness.”
Joining Olmedo and Beatriz, he led them into the path by a course which kept their eyes from the fatal spot. “Hasten,” said he, “we shall shortly find succor.”
“Beatriz needs it much,” replied Olmedo; “see with what effort she sustains herself.”
“Oh! say not so, Olmedo. I am still equal to any exertion. The hot air made me giddy for a moment, but now the fresh breeze revives me.” But her action belied her words, and she would have fallen that moment if Olmedo had not caught her.
“Tolta, you have greatly erred in exposing this maiden to these dangers. What tempted you to such a wrong to one who never gave you offence. The blood, too, of those heathen warriors, does it not lie heavy on your soul? You have made a sad day of it?” said Olmedo to the Mexican, more in grief than in anger, as he helped Beatriz to reach a grassy slope on which she could recline.
“Ha, priest! you reproach me with this day’s work! Am I a god to control the volcano? Come with me a few steps, and you shall see from what you have been saved.” He grasped Olmedo’s arm, and led him to the group of the dead. “You and the maiden you love, chaste monk,” continued he with artful sarcasm, “have escaped this. Had I not borne you off, these soldiers would have seized you, and if they had spared Beatriz outrage, it would have been for you all either to have died together, like dogs, poisoned by the gases of the volcano, or they would have carried you as prisoners to their chief, who awaits your arrival even now, to offer you in solemn sacrifice to Pele. He has sworn to exterminate you Spaniards, and Kiana’s power will be but smoke before the wind in contact with his. All of you I could not save! Have I reason to love a Spaniard?”
Pointing to the corpses of the three seamen, he added in a seemingly friendly tone, “They have been spared such torture as even we Mexicans, skilled as we are in tormenting our enemies, never learned; for Pele’s worshippers are fiends. Reproach me not with their deaths, for it was given to them in mercy. You and the maiden are my benefactors; for your sakes I will save Juan also, if it be possible. You must go with me. Follow my directions, and you will be safe. No more words now. If you would keep Beatriz from further harm, cease to chafe me.”
Returning to where she sat, they again slowly pursued their journey. As Tolta hurried on in advance, Olmedo whispered to Beatriz, “I much fear the Mexican intends evil. I would not wrong him, but I do not like his words, and his eye often gleams as if the evil spirit of his race were aroused within him.”
He did not tell her what he had seen, but merely added, “Watch, and beware of him. He can do us much good or ill. Now we can do but little for ourselves. The blessed mother of God will not desert you, rest assured, my beloved daughter.” Even with his arm about her waist she walked with difficulty, while her head frequently drooped heavily upon his shoulder.
“I have no fear, Olmedo, for myself,” she faintly replied. “We have together too often looked upon death to shrink from it now as a stranger. To leave you, would make me indeed sad, but with you,—God forgive me if my heart sins in saying so,—it would be most welcome? But look, who comes here?”
As she spoke, a crowd of natives, of both sexes, drew nigh from a cross path. They did not see the party until they were close upon them. Tolta was at once recognized, and giving him the customary “Aloha kealii” ‘love to you chief,’ they turned in surprise towards the white strangers. They had heard of the Spaniards, but knowing nothing of Tolta’s expedition, were amazed to find these strange beings in their midst. Forming a circle around them, they gazed curiously and timidly at Olmedo and Beatriz, now and then venturing to touch their clothes and feel of their persons, but evidently with no unfriendly intent.
The party was composed chiefly of women and children, who had been enjoying themselves in wild dances. A few young men, hardly beyond boyhood, were with them, but no warriors.
Tolta ordered some to lead the way to their village, while others were sent on in advance to prepare food and lodging for the strangers, who he said would be their guests for the night. As they began with alacrity to fulfil his orders, a maiden of not above fourteen years, accompanied by a train of her own sex, of more mature age, and who showed her great deference, came up. As soon as the crowd saw her, they made way submissively for her to approach the whites.
No fawn could tread lighter than she trod. Every motion was lithe and elastic. Her limbs were full and tapering, beautifully proportioned, and her flesh soft yet springy. With so few summers she was mature in person, having in this climate attained thus early that perfection of physical development, which marks the most seductive period of woman. The fineness of her hands; the tapering fingers and nicely adjusted wrists; the velvet softness of her clear olive skin, and through which the blood could be distinctly seen underlying it with richer color; and her proud, yet graceful carriage, showed that she belonged to the highest rank.
She was indeed one of Nature’s pets. Her face was open and sunny. To one who rigidly exacted the fineness of Grecian outline in each feature of the face, some fault might be found with the fulness of the lip and nostril. But this was so slight that it was lost in the generous loving smile, laughing, sensuous eye,—sympathy in the joyful and beautiful which sparkled in her countenance. This, with a consciousness of rank, and a dignity which had never suffered from the passions of rivalry and ambition, made Liliha,—for such was the name of the maiden,—a specimen of natural loveliness, which the salons of civilization might not excel, except in the acquired refinements of intellectual life.
She wore on her neck a wreath of rich yellow feathers. Another of gossamer lightness, the effect of which was increased by alternate rows of crimson feathers, was interwoven with her long dark wavy hair. Over her delicately moulded bosom was thrown a loose white mantle, which hid her form as the foam conceals the wave, but to heighten its beauty.
She was no less surprised than her people at the apparition of the whites. Tolta she had heard of as the companion of Pohaku, but had never seen him. “Who is it that gives orders in my presence,” she asked somewhat haughtily, as she stepped forward.
Tolta advanced to greet her, and made himself known. Acknowledging his claim to her aid by the tie of allegiance to the supreme chief, she coolly repeated his orders, as if through her only they should be given, and then with courteous manner turned to Beatriz, took her hand and said, “You are welcome. Come with me; the daughter of Hewahewa will be the friend of the pale maiden.”
Beatriz looked her thanks, and simply said, “My father needs your hospitality too. We will gladly make your home ours until we can return to our own.”
Tolta kept silent. It was dark before the party arrived at the abode of Liliha, which was in a considerable village, pleasantly situated in the centre of one of the few verdant spots to be found in that region. Olmedo was allowed to occupy one of the best houses, where every attention was shown him. Liliha led Beatriz to her own habitation, where she was received with true Hawaiian hospitality. At a signal from their mistress, her waiting women made her up a couch of the finest mats, and before retiring they so refreshed her by their gentle, soothing manipulations,[3] by which the pain was drawn out from her wearied limbs, that she was soon able to sleep soundly.
As soon as Tolta had seen his captives disposed of for the night, he despatched a messenger to Pohaku, requesting a few warriors to be sent him. The fortress was but twelve miles distant, so that before daybreak the men had arrived. Taking every precaution not to let his movements be seen by any one who would communicate them to Liliha, he entered the house where Olmedo was still sleeping, and told him he must rise and follow him.
“Nay, Tolta, I will not leave Beatriz,” said Olmedo, firmly.
“She will join you immediately,” replied Tolta. “Up, priest, if you would save yourself and her.”
“Whence this untimely haste, Tolta? The poor child now rests. To you we owe the perils and fatigues of our abduction. I will trust you no further, but remain amid these friendly natives until Juan can learn where we are.”
“Ha! do you brave me? It is time then to throw off the mask! Have you forgotten, monk, that you are in the power of the son of an Aztec priest, slain by the sacrilegious hands of your countrymen? Priest for priest,—life for life,—my father’s blood cries for thine,—to-morrow’s sun will set on your sacrifice. No more shall you hold fond dalliance with the white maiden. She is my spoil.”
“What mean you, Mexican? What words are these? You rave! You cannot,—you dare not injure Beatriz! Nay,—you seek to alarm me. It is a jest,—is it not, Tolta? Your heart will not let you ruin that pure being, whose life has been a good gift to you as well as me.”
“Silence! I can listen no longer to this babble. We must be off. A Mexican is not wont to be moved by the tongue of a Spaniard.”
Olmedo started up and looked around for some means of defence, but before he could even call for help, Tolta’s men, at a signal from him, had seized and bound him. Taking him upon their shoulders in silence, they left the house and rapidly bore him towards Pohaku’s quarters. His mouth and eyes being bandaged, he was unable to cry out or to obtain any clue to his route. They hurried him on, and early in the morning, bruised by their rough handling, he found himself deposited on the ground apparently in a house, and there left by himself.
Tolta had now obtained one great object, which was to secure Olmedo in the fortress, while Beatriz, equally in his power, was removed from the immediate presence of Pohaku.
Hewahewa, the father of Liliha, was the high-priest of Pele. Second only to Pohaku in authority, he was his superior in influence, from his position as the chief minister of the goddess. Himself a skeptic, believing in none of the grosser superstitions of the people, and using them merely as a source of power, he was indifferent to everything but his own ambition. His lands were the best cultivated, and his tenantry the most favored of all this portion of Hawaii, because being tabu, the wars and anarchy which so generally prevailed spared them. Rigorous in conforming to all the rites of his fearful worship, he expiated his external hypocrisy by inward contempt. But his mind, though intelligent, had never conceived any purer system, and only busied itself in scheming to turn the national mythology to his individual profit. He was the rival of Pohaku, but for the present coalesced with him. Not being of the highest blood, he was obliged to rely for his influence mainly upon his increasing importance as a priest, but was slowly making his way to supreme rule, aided much by the tyranny of Pohaku, to whose capricious cruelties his studied suavity and mildness afforded a contrast greatly to his advantage. Liliha was his only child. He loved her tenderly, and by this tie only was he connected with true humanity. No other being had sufficient influence to move him to any action not calculated from selfish policy. She at times made him susceptible to feeling by her impulsive nature, so prone to joy and kindly emotions, from her affinity with all she found fair and good. This was little at the best, but she kept that little fresh and active from her own fountain of affections, and it appeared brighter and more winsome from the dark shadows about her.
She was the idol of her immediate attendants, and though capricious from unregulated authority, yet they had nothing to fear. Her father, so far from seeking to instil into her mind the vulgar faith, left her free to her own intuitions. She believed in the beautiful and sublime nature she so loved to look upon, and felt there had been given her in it a varied and limitless source of enjoyment. Not that she reasoned much upon anything, but she was so quick to recognize all that was innocent and virtuous, under the circumstances of her life, that her heart and mind were ever developing in the right direction. Her religion, therefore, was not the result of thought, but the spontaneous action of an untrammelled soul, that instinctively attracting to itself good in preference to evil, spoke the faith in actions which it was powerless to frame in words. She knew nothing of a personal God, yet, had any one explained to her his existence, she would have listened as if it were nothing new, and rejoiced in a higher mental satisfaction than she had before realized. Quick to perceive, she had acquired from her father, almost without his will, his disbelief in the demon origin of the terrific phenomena of nature in their vicinity, and looked upon them as fearlessly as upon the placid ocean or the tiny sea shell. Why should she fear? Had she not been born among them? Like herself, they were the creation of some unseen power, who ruled all! So her few years had gone by kindly and lovingly, with health coursing in every vein, and happiness overflowing her heart.
As soon as Tolta had secured Olmedo, he hastened to announce to Pohaku his success. That grim chief was not in the best humor upon learning the death of so many of his warriors, by the new flow of the crater. “A poor exchange this, is it not, Hewahewa,” said he turning to that person; “so many of our fighting men for this foreign priest and his woman. But let us see the prize that has cost so much.”
The three passed to the hut in which Olmedo was confined. His bandages were removed, and he found himself in their presence. Pohaku looked at him as he would have at a strange animal, and marvelling at his long robes and the effeminate air they gave him, said to Tolta, “You Mexicans must have been less than women to have been conquered by such a race as this. Would you have my warriors fight them? I have a mind to tie you to him and toss you both into the crater. Kiana would have been a prey worth a legion of such as this long-robed, pale-faced she.”
Tolta’s hand nervously sought the dagger he wore, but prudence restrained him, and he quietly replied, “The Spanish chief has for the while escaped. He will soon enough give you a chance to feel his stroke in battle. Till then spare your taunts. Their priests are women in looks, but devils in deeds. If you would see the faces of their soldiers, look there,” and he tossed out of a bag before him the ghastly heads of the three Spaniards.
Even Pohaku was surprised at their long grisly beards and fierce faces, scarred by wounds, and bronzed by a score or more of years of constant adventure and warfare. “These may have been men,” said he, “but my soldiers would have soon rolled their heads in the dust,” at the same time kicking them scornfully, not choosing to remember that some of his best warriors had within the past year fallen by their blades. “Guards,” he added, “take this carrion away, and put it up over the eastern gate of the fortress,—’twill be a fit target for our boys. As for you, puny priest, you are destined for Pele. Thank your gods you are to be so honored.”
“Chieftain,” replied Olmedo, “the God I serve will protect me living or dying. I am indeed a man of peace, but fear not the sword. Death has no terrors, for it opens to me a heaven, such as your idolatry can never know. In your delusion and ignorance you are to be pitied—not me. You shall see how calmly a Christian can die. Perhaps it will lead you to ask what it is to be a Christian.”
“I will tell you what it is to be a Christian, Pohaku, for none know better than my countrymen,” broke in Tolta. “It is to rob, to murder, to burn, to ravish, to lie, to torture, to destroy the sacred images and break down the altars of the gods; to demolish towns and to waste fields; to breed famine and pestilence. All this, for gold and conquest, have the Spaniards, cursed be their mothers, brought upon Mexico in the name of their god, and this will they bring to you, O chief! Even if you welcome them to your bosom, as did our sovereign, Montezuma, they will imprison and spurn you to your death, or they will broil you on hot coals as they did the emperor Guatimotzin, to make you confess riches that you have not. Yet they say their god is merciful and full of love. See, here is the lying image,” and snatching the crucifix from Olmedo’s neck, he handed it contemptuously to Pohaku, who, putting it curiously to his ear, said, “It does not talk. How does it give you power to do all this? Pele thunders and destroys. She speaks, and we listen. She is silent, and we fill her with gifts to buy her good will. But this bit of wood is dumb. Pele eats the ocean and the earth,—mountains and rivers she swallows. She is a dread goddess, and must be worshipped or we perish. Here, take your god,” added he, disdainfully flinging it towards Olmedo, “to-morrow we will give Pele a rare meal. You and your god shall she feast upon.”
“Hold, chief!” cried Olmedo, excited by his sacrilegious act, “the mercy you refuse you may shortly need. This image is no God, but it represents the Son of God; his words of peace and love will fill my heart and rejoice my spirit, when your false Pele, with all her thunderings, is dumb in my ears. God made the volcano, and at his bidding it sleeps or overflows. Cease to bow the knee to Pele, and pray to Him, and you shall learn such truths as shall make you live on earth in peace, and welcome death with joy.”
“Ha! white priest, do you despise Pele?” replied Pohaku fiercely, and seizing Olmedo by the arm, he dragged him outside the house to the verge of the precipice, which looked down upon the crater of Kilauea.
That immense circle of dead lava, now known as the black ledge, which contracts the active portion of the crater to a circuit of a few miles, was not then in existence. The whole pit, embracing an area sufficient to contain the city of New York, was in commotion. From where Olmedo looked, the height above the fiery mass was about five hundred feet. It had undermined the wall of the crater, so that it overhung the sea of lava, as the Table Rock does the cataract of Niagara. Immediately beneath him, therefore, lay the lurid cauldron. Its heavy, sluggish waves, of deep crimson, surged against the banks with a muffled roar, as unlike the glad sound of surf, as a groan to laughter. Occasionally a thick black crust formed over the surface, like a huge scab. Then this would break asunder, and bright red currents of liquid rock appear underneath; whirlpools of boiling blood fusing everything they touched into their own gore-hued flood. Huge masses of solid stone were vomited high into the air, and fell hissing and sputtering back again into the depths of the fiery gulf, to be again cast forth, or melt like wax in a ten-fold heated furnace. Lighter jets of lava were being thrown up, sometimes in rapid succession, and sometimes at long intervals, which filled the atmosphere with red hot spray and steam, and gases, blown hither and thither, and whirled about like the sands of the desert before a simoom, by the furious blasts of wind that swept with mingled moans and shrieks across that lake of hell, and through its glowing caverns and out of its black pits. Overhead hung a dense cloud, gradually spreading as it rose, until it enveloped all the region of the crater. The smoke of its torment, like a pall, covered the cancerous earth, to screen its throes from the light of the sun.
Coming so unexpectedly upon a spectacle of which he had heard only vague accounts, Olmedo, at first sight, forgot both himself and his enemies in awe. It was indeed a fearful spectacle, beautiful even in its terror, exciting all that was appalling in the imagination, and fascinating the eye as by a spell. The solid earth was passing away in a flame, and would soon be as a vapor. Olmedo felt as if he were the sole spectator. The wreck of matter lay before the last man. Such was his immediate sensation, from which he was rudely roused by Pohaku’s hoarse voice crying, “How like you this lake to swim in? You shall bathe in it before to-morrow’s sun sinks behind yonder forest. My people shall see if your god will carry you unharmed over Pele’s billows of fire. Meantime, feast and be merry, for the goddess likes a full stomach,” and thrusting him back into the house he left him.
Tolta lingered behind. Approaching Olmedo, he whispered in Spanish, “Would you save yourself from this death?”
“My life is the gift of my God,” he replied. “His will and not that cruel chief’s will determine my fate.”
“Have you forgotten Beatriz so soon? How would she feel to see your form shrivelling and writhing as it plunged into that boiling lava? Think of her, priest.”
“Wretch, you dare not tell her this, much less make her witness such a horror!”
“I dare not! Know that Tolta dares anything for his revenge, and to glut his desires. With you it lays to save yourself and her from this fate. Pohaku has summoned his people to a solemn festival, before he strikes at Kiana. He is furious that the three Spaniards should have escaped their intended sacrifice. Think you he will spare Beatriz when he sees her? She either dies on the altar or by his lust.”
Olmedo for the instant was dumb with anguish at the threatened fate of Beatriz. But clinging to the slightest hope of rescuing her, as he recovered his voice, with hands clasped in an appealing gesture towards Tolta, he eagerly asked, “How can I save her? Oh, gladly would I ransom her life with mine. Tell me, good Tolta; by the love you bore your mother, by your hope of heaven, tell me, Mexican, and the prayers of gratitude, and all that a chaste maiden and a Christian priest may do, shall be forever yours. She saved your life amid the ruin of your native city—you rescued her from drowning, but not for this fate. Let her not perish now, and thus”—Olmedo paused for an instant, as his imagination pictured to him with the force of reality, all the horrors that encompassed her for whom he plead; big drops of agony came upon his brow as he met the cold, fierce, lustful eye of the Aztec fixed unmoved upon his, while the same wily, implacable look, born of his deepest passions, overspread his pitiless features which he had noticed once before, and now, as then, involuntarily shuddered to see; but the stake at issue was the honor and life of his daughter in Christ, and so he plead on. “No! you cannot—you will not suffer this; the hand that has fed you, nursed you, the heart that has cared for you and your eternal welfare, when all others were cold; the tongue that never spoke to you but in love and kindness,—surely you will not harm them? Look, Tolta, Olmedo the priest, the friend of the Mexican,—your father was a priest,—Olmedo on his knees beseeches you to save the white maiden, to restore her in all honor to her brother; take my life as a ransom for hers, if your vengeance must have life,—will you not, Tolta?”
Olmedo became silent, and dropped his eyes to the ground, then raising them for a second towards heaven, he ejaculated in Spanish, as he met the relentless gaze of Tolta still fixed upon him, “Mother of Christ, soften the heart of this heathen,—save thy lamb from the wolves that beset her. If there be no escape prepared, sustain and fortify our spirits until their hour of final deliverance has come.”
As he finished his prayer, Tolta grasped his arm and said to him, “Now listen to me, Olmedo. I would save Beatriz, for I love her—start not—yes, the Mexican dog dares love the Castilian maid, loves her with all the fiery, quenchless passion of his race, as noble and proud as her own, and, till the Spaniards came, as victorious. I saved her from the ocean because I loved her. I have borne insult, oppression, slavery, the fierce words of Juan, and even a Christian baptism from you because of this love. I have been faithful to the Spaniard when revenge was offered me until now, because I love Beatriz. Would you know how much I love her?—as deeply as I hate her nation. She must become mine. It is in your power to accomplish this. You are her confessor, and you will she obey. Persuade her to be mine, and you shall be free, Juan warned, and even Kiana be spared the slaughter now ready to fall upon him. I can easily fool this brute Pohaku, and lead him into the destruction he richly deserves. Speak, priest, will you not make her my wife to save her, yourself, and all you love, from destruction?”
More in sorrow than in anger at his blindness and confessed villany did Olmedo reply to him. “Life is dear to all of us, but our souls are dearer. Willingly would I do all but violate my conscience and her truth to save her a single pang. You know not a Christian woman’s heart. She mate with you! the dove seek the nest of the hawk! Never! Beatriz would die a thousand deaths first. Oh! Tolta, is it for this you have played the traitor? Were I to name the price of my safety, she would spurn me, as I do you, for the thought. Tempt me no further. Repent of this wrong before it be too late, or you will learn that though you may imprison the body, the spirit escapes your bondage. Destroy her you may, but you cannot dishonor a Christian maiden. Her soul will defy your wiles, and we shall meet in Paradise. No more! I will hear no more of this.”
Tolta could as little comprehend the lofty motive of Olmedo in refusing to abase Beatriz’s purity, by merely hinting at its sacrifice, as a door of escape from bodily torment for either himself or her, as could Pohaku the spiritual strength of his faith in contrast with the thunder and lightnings of Pele. Unmoved by his reply, he sneeringly said, “I give you till night to think of this. After the moon rises it will be too late,” and left him.
Hewahewa had been a silent witness of the two interviews. His curiosity was excited by what Olmedo had said of his religion to Pohaku, and he desired to know more of a faith so new to him. From the first, Tolta had been an object of jealousy and suspicion, as likely to cross his own ambition; but the wily Mexican in winning the confidence of Pohaku, had also paid such court to him, in his character of high-priest, that he could find no positive cause of distrust. He had supported his schemes, therefore, because they enlarged his own field, relying upon his own cautious and calculating policy to reap the harvest of which the other two would sow the seeds. Without comprehending a word of what had passed between the Mexican and Spaniard, the deportment of the latter, as he rejected Tolta’s double treachery, attracted his attention, and he determined to know for himself the actual relations between them.
When Tolta left Olmedo, Hewahewa went out also, saying to his associate, “Thanks, Mexican; a rare festival you have provided for us to-morrow. An offering like this is a new event in Hawaii. Sweet will be your revenge. May Pele prosper you,” and touching noses, according to the national mode of salutation, they parted.
No sooner, however, was Tolta fairly out of sight, than Hewahewa retraced his steps to Olmedo’s prison. The guards were his own men, because the prisoner was in his custody, preparatory to the solemn rites of the next day. He alone, besides Tolta, had the right of access at any hour, for the victim once consecrated to the gods was tabu, but permitted to feast, if he could, in view of his terrible destiny.
Olmedo was on his knees, with crucifix uplifted, praying for strength for himself, and that Beatriz might be spared the fate to which she seemed doomed. “Not our will, but thine be done, our Saviour and our God; yet if this trial and death be necessary that we may enter Paradise, O grant that I, the enlisted soldier of the cross, may alone bear the torment. Accept my sacrifice, Queen of Heaven, pity and save thy daughter. Let not these heathens triumph in her agony, but take her peacefully to thy bosom, Virgin Mother,” and his eyes overflowed with grief as he thought of his utter helplessness to aid her. With his prayer, however, a calm gradually came to his spirit. It could not be called hope, but it brought peace, and renewed his trust in divine aid. A demeanor so unlike the dogged despair, or frantic fear to which he had been accustomed in his victims for the altar, surprised the high-priest, and imbued him with a respect for his prisoner, that he had never before felt for any one. Olmedo was so wrapped in his own emotions, that his entrance had been unnoticed. Tapping him on the shoulder as he still knelt, Hewahewa said to him, “You pray then, brother priest. Who to?”
“I am an unworthy servant of the Holy Church. Have you heard of the Christian’s God? I pray to Him.”
“Nothing but what Tolta tells. He must be more fiendish than is our Pele in her anger, if he delights in such deeds as your countrymen have done in Mexico. But I believe in neither. There is no God but what we make for ourselves. Tell me your thought. I would know what makes you so calm, in sight of a death so terrible?”
“Willingly. First tell me, who created Hawaii?”
“I know not. It sprang from night or chaos, so our bards say,” replied Hewahewa.
“Something from nothing. Do you believe this? Where does a man go when he dies?”
“Back to night, or everlasting sleep.”
“Then, you think, that man and the earth came by chance out of nothing, and return to nothing?”
“That is my thought. We must make the most of life. There is no other. I believe in what I have, in what I feel and see, but in nothing more. Death finishes all. Do you not fear to go back to nothing?”
“If I thought as you think, I should. But the earth you love, and the life you covet teach differently. Can the canoe live on the ocean without a pilot? Does the taro ripen without the sun? Think you that this earth drifts at random in space, without a hand to guide it? No! the Supreme Being made this world and man to dwell therein. He has made also a heaven for the good, and a hell for the evil. He governs all, and sent his Son ages gone by to tell us there was eternal life, and we should be happy or miserable as we obeyed the commands he left. Among other things, he told us white men to go abroad over the earth and tell to all nations the glad tidings. I am one of his soldiers. But we carry no arms. We fight not, we teach as he taught, and if we are put to death, we pray for those who kill our bodies, that they may believe as we do. Then will they see that death is but a portal to a more glorious life. There are bad men among us white as among you, who love evil and commit the crimes Tolta tells of. Our mission is as much to them as to you. We preach love and faith in the Great God to all, and it is because we know that he will receive us into Paradise that we dread not death.”
Much after this manner did Olmedo talk to Hewahewa, who listed attentively to words which opened to him new trains of thought. He felt a desire to save him from his impending fate, that he might hear more. But the whole population were assembling to witness a sacrifice such as had never before been offered in Hawaii, and he dared not disappoint them. Besides, Tolta and Pohaku were not to be easily balked. Musing for a few moments he abruptly said to Olmedo, “I would see more of you. You must not die. I will provide a substitute; give me your garments for him and you shall be secreted, while the howling mob will think you have been thrown to Pele.”
“Not so! I would not purchase my life at the expense of an innocent victim. I thank you for your intended kindness to me, but this must not be.”
“Are you mad? What is the life of a slave to you! He will be but too much honored to take your place. Refuse me not. I am determined on this.”
“Never! My religion forbids even evil thoughts, much more deeds. Free me if you will, for that I would be most grateful. But you know not the spirit of a Christian, if you think him so base as to purchase his safety by a crime.”
“Strange being, what means this? Soon the sacred drums will sound, and the criers announce that the solemn festival has begun. Then it will be beyond my power to make the exchange. Yield before it be too late. Hast thou no daughter, no wife to live for?”
“Daughter! alas I have a daughter. Think of me no longer. Take her from the toils of that Mexican, and I will even bless you, and pray the Son for you in heaven to which I am going. She would despise me, more if possible than I should myself, could I accept my life on your terms. Mention not that again. Have you a daughter? I see by your face you have. By the love you bear her, as you would not have her dishonored by a villain, or see her a mangled corpse, save her. You can: will you not?” and he grasped the hand of Hewahewa and wrung it in his anguish.
He had struck the only chord of feeling in his gaoler. “Where is this woman,” he asked; “for your sake I will see her.”
Olmedo then detailed their capture and subsequent history up to the time he was violently separated from Beatriz, and finally the offer of Tolta to redeem them both, and his contemplated treason to Pohaku, provided he would assent to his designs upon her. Hewahewa listened eagerly to every word by which the thread of his rival’s projects was unravelled to him. He now saw clearly the game he was pursuing, and without betraying his intention, simply said, “If not too late, I will do as you wish. She shall be a sister to my daughter. Courage. Farewell.”
We left Beatriz sleeping, watched over by Liliha, who with true kindness had forborne to ask any questions, but had confined her hospitality to administering to the bodily needs of her guest. As she believed Olmedo to be equally attended to, and both now in comparative safety, it is not surprising that her slumbers, after the excessive fatigue and excitement of the few past days, should have been long and deep. Liliha herself came often to her, to see that she was comfortable, and to be the first to greet her when she woke. After it was light and her household had begun their daily employments, she sat constantly by her side, watching her with mingled curiosity and love, for she was attracted to her by a feeling she had never before experienced. Beatriz now stirred frequently, and her lips moved, but she did not open her eyes. She seemed agitated by distressing emotions, and often spoke as if to some one she loved, but in a language strange to her watcher. At times, however, there came words of earnest pleading, succeeded by a resolute and defiant tone, as if she struggled with an enemy.
To calm her inquietude, Liliha gently took her hand, pressing it for a while with soothing caresses, and then softly whispered in her ear, “Have no fear, dear stranger, much love Liliha bears to you.”
Beatriz slowly opened her eyes, looking at first with surprise upon the young girl, but as her memory brought back the scene of the preceding night and her young host, she smiled and said to her, “I cannot thank you enough, kind maiden. You have aroused me from a painful dream. Forgive me if my recollection was somewhat confused.”
Liliha returned her smile, with a look full of gladness, saying, “You will now be better. Your sleep was long and deep until the day dawned. Liliha is your near companion; will you not be hers?”
“Most gladly,” replied Beatriz. “You can indeed be to me a friend. I have sad need of one.” She then briefly related her history to Liliha, who listened in amazement at the narrative, which carried her ideas so far beyond the horizon of her own little world.
“You then are the pearl of Hawaii, of whom I have heard my father speak; the beautiful, pale-faced woman whom Kiana was to wed; Lono’s sister. Glad is my heart to welcome you,” and she jumped up and beat her little hands with joy at the thought that she had at last met with such a companion and friend. “But,” added she, “tell me what fate brought you here with that dark stranger. He comes often to see my father. Much I fear him, and hate him too. His presence portends trouble, I am sure, for since he has known him my father leaves me more than ever. He goes to that ugly fortress, but never takes me with him. But he will be glad to know that I have found a sister. May I call you so?” and the bright-eyed, affectionate girl seized both Beatriz’s hands in hers and looked up so winningly and hopefully, that Beatriz felt she must take her at once to her heart; a singing bird ever there to nestle and cheer her with sweet song.
Beatriz continued her narrative, at least all but what her heart held as too sacred for human confidence, and which indeed would have been unintelligible to the untutored forest-girl, whose bosom as yet had known only her own simple impulses, which to her nature were like the sweeping of the summer breeze over a lake, gently stirring its surface, but leaving its crystalline depths unmoved.
She comprehended that Beatriz felt like herself towards Tolta, and loved Olmedo, who was a priest, as she did her father. Her active sympathies were therefore at once enlisted in her new friendship by a common bond of feeling. As Beatriz concluded, she said, referring to Tolta, “He is a bird of evil, but no harm shall reach you with me. My father is high-priest, and will protect you from him. Let us send for Olmedo, and talk together.”
Beatriz had been longing to see Olmedo, but delicacy had prevented her from expressing her desire. She therefore joyfully acquiesced in the proposition of Liliha. Calling one of her attendants, the chief bade her request the presence of the white priest. She soon returned with the information that he had disappeared.
“And Tolta,” demanded Liliha, “where is he?”
“Gone also,” replied the messenger.
“Then he is upon some evil errand. Hasten and inquire of my people what this means. Who knows about it! Send out runners in all directions to seek the strange priest. Off, off,” said Liliha, enforcing her order with an imperious gesture to all her train.
Beatriz’s heart sank within her. But controlling her emotions, she calmly awaited farther intelligence. Meanwhile Liliha comforted her with the assurance of her friendship and her father’s assistance.
They had not long to wait before several of her people returned with the tidings, that a sacred festival had been proclaimed for the morrow at the temple at Kilauea, and all the people invited to witness a new and solemn sacrifice to Pele. Every chief also had been summoned to attend with his warriors in readiness for war. Some important event was in preparation, which the heralds would announce before the sacrifice. But the news that most touched them was, that a boy in returning home at an early hour of the morning, had passed on the road to Pohaku’s fortress, a band of armed men carrying a prisoner, clad in a strange costume.
“It is Olmedo,” said Beatriz, as the truth flashed across her mind, “they are bearing him away to be sacrificed. My friend, my sister, cannot we save him? I will go to him and share his fate. Aid me as you would act for your own father.”
Dismissing her attendants, Liliha replied, “My father charged me not to follow him to the fortress without his express orders, and never has he permitted me to witness the offices of religion. But we will go there and appeal to him. I am sure he will grant my wish. Kind he is ever to me. But you must not be known by my people. In disguise we will go together.” So saying, she summoned four of her “bosom companions,” as were called the most attached and trusty of a chief’s retinue, and confided her intention to them. With their assistance the needful disguises were soon arranged, and the little party, taking a by-path to avoid observation, began their journey to the fortress.
With an object so dear in view, Beatriz felt equal to any emergency. Eager to serve her new sister, Liliha entered fully into her zeal. As they drew near the fortress, they met parties of women and children and bands of warriors, hurrying forward in the same direction. All were so bent on arriving early at their destination, that our travellers attracted but the customary salutations, with now and then the inquiry, “Have you seen the strange priest Hewahewa is to offer to Pele to-morrow? It will be a novel sight.” At these ominous inquiries, Beatriz shuddered and drew closer to Liliha, who at times barely refrained from indignantly bidding them cease their exultation, for her father would be guilty of no such breach of hospitality. “Has not Olmedo eaten beneath his roof;” she would say to Beatriz, “how then can he slay him? The laws of Hawaii forbid. Believe them not. Take courage.” As they passed one group of decrepit women to whose bony hands young children clung, scarcely old enough to totter along, but yet able to keep pace with the faltering steps of the hags who led them, Liliha could restrain herself no longer, and in her usual tone of authority, bade them “begone to their homes, and not leave them to glut their dim sight with the agonies of a horrible death. Their own would soon enough be upon them.” Not recognizing the young chiefess, they shook their lank arms menacingly at her, and croaked out, “So, so, my gay bird, you would look on it alone! Old eyes love new sights as well as young eyes. You go fast enough now, but your bones will crack and your flesh will wither like ours before many suns. You’ll know then what a treat ’tis to see Pele fed. Come, come, don’t keep us back,” and they twitched the little ones at their sides in impotent effort to make them go faster.
Luckily Liliha was out of hearing before they had finished their sentence, and thus was spared the temptation to reply. In company with a motley crowd, her party arrived at dusk at the western gate of the fortress, and entered unnoticed amid the throng. Numerous companies of warriors, with their arms and provisions, and headed by their hereditary chiefs, had assembled and were encamped apart from each other, both within and without the stronghold. Knots of these fierce men, intermingled with women and children, were gathered around orators, who were exciting their passions to war and plunder, and to whose eloquence they replied by shouts and yells and thrilling chants, brandishing their weapons and deriding their foes. There were many fighting women among them, the most ferocious of Amazons, whose cries and gestures were the wildest of all, as they indulged in imaginary triumphs, and danced and raved by torch light in maniac groups, or flying hither and thither with dishevelled hair and distorted countenances, sought to inspire the spectators with their own savage emotions. Priests were discussing their singular good fortune in the propitiatory offering they had secured for Pele in the white man, and promising the people her aid and that of her terrible sisters in the nefarious designs of Pohaku, whose heralds just before night-fall, had proclaimed war, and invited all the population to join in the feast, or more properly speaking the saturnalia, in anticipation of the solemn sacrifice of the morrow, and the subsequent march towards the territories of Kiana, whom they hoped to surprise. The non-combatants were to remain within the fortress. This was more than seven hundred feet wide. Its walls were fifteen feet thick and twelve high, making it for Hawaii impregnable, if resolutely defended. Along its whole extent at short intervals, were hideous images of stone or wood, which stood as sentinels over their worshippers. Now in the dusky light they looked like real demons, silently watching the noise and revelry below. The maddest of the priests were rushing about with smaller idols, lifting them above their heads with fearful screams and grimaces, pretending that they came from the images, which were to be borne in the ranks as consecrated banners. Feasting had already commenced, and various parties were to be seen seated on mats on the ground, both inside and outside of the houses, banqueting on wild boar, dog, live fishes, and other luxuries of the region, which they washed down with copious draughts of the intoxicating arva, amid rude jeers, jests, shouts and uproarious laughter. Slaves of both sexes, naked to their waist-cloths despite the chill air, gaunt and feeble, from famine and ill-usage, stood in the rear of their masters, eager to clutch the thrown aside morsel, while tremblingly obeying their capricious orders. Canine and swinish pets, barked and grunted, fought and rooted in unrebuked proximity to their owners, adding their stirring noises to the general chorus of discordant sounds.
Such was the spectacle into which Beatriz was introduced, as following Liliha they quietly made their way in search of Hewahewa. Fortunately, the deepening shadows of night favored their disguise, and Beatriz was too intent on finding Olmedo, to notice what otherwise would have alarmed her, for there were scenes of debauchery going on which it is not for the pen to describe.
As they passed the open door of a house larger than the rest, Liliha saw the gloomy features of Pohaku, intently gazing into a smothered fire, in which something was slowly consuming. Around him were a party of the high chiefs, who stood deferentially, while he reclined on a divan. On either hand were two priests, who were uttering a dismal chant with their hands extended towards heaven, but frequently stopping to throw a substance, the nature of which they could not discern, upon the fire. If it flashed into a quick bright flame, all hailed it with cries of satisfaction; but as it oftener seemed to half extinguish the fire, or to puff out thick wreaths of smoke, Pohaku’s face became fearfully moody, and he growled curses upon the priests, who evidently were more in awe of him than their deities. Tolta stood in the back-ground, regarding the scene with a look of mingled contempt and impatience.
Making a sign to her companions to remain where they were, Liliha thinking her father might be within, cautiously approached where she could see the interior. Hewahewa was not there. But before she could retire, Tolta passed out so close to her that she could have touched him, saying to himself, “Fools, do they think by drunkenness and frantic shouts to beat Kiana’s men, or by incantations to waste the flesh from his bones? Rightly that brute is named stone,”—referring to the meaning of the word Pohaku,—“his head and heart are made of nothing else. His stupid sorcery will lose me my game. He says he will not budge until he omens are auspicious. Would he were to be cast to Pele with Olmedo. But I must see that priest and get his final answer.” Seeing the group of women, he roughly said to them as he passed, “Away with you, hags, to your feasting; leave such foolery to your betters; you’ll have enough to wail for to-morrow,” little perceiving to whom his bitter words were spoken.
Liliha motioned to them to follow her as she stole after him. He walked fast, but they dogged him as noiselessly as shadows. Olmedo had been removed into the heiau, or temple, outside of the fortress, upon a cliff overhanging the lake of fire. Inside were a few houses devoted to the priests and the idols. As they passed under the eastern gate of the fortress, Liliha saw the three heads of the Spaniards set upon poles. In the dim light their features could not be distinguished. Supposing them to be some of the common victims of the priests, she put her finger upon her lips for Beatriz to keep silent, fearing the effect upon her of so sudden and ghastly a sight. Beatriz knew too well to whom they belonged, but she restrained her emotions, and passed them quickly, though not without an inward prayer for the repose of their souls.
They arrived at the entrance of the heiau as Tolta disappeared within. It had been made tabu to females, and was now deserted by all but the guards appointed by Hewahewa to watch over Olmedo. Death, under the most appalling forms, would be the penalty if they were detected within the sacred precincts. As little as Liliha knew of the rites of the popular religion, she was quite aware of the terrible punishment awarded to any breach of priestly tabus, though without any superstitious dread of infringing them. It was natural, therefore, for her to pause before she crossed the fatal barrier. Beatriz, either not perceiving or not understanding her hesitation, entered at once. Liliha stopped no longer, but impulsively followed, as did her faithful women, who, if it had been her will, would have leaped after her into the crater, so attached were they to their young mistress.
The heiau was reeking with foul odors, that arose from the putrefying masses of animal offerings upon the numerous altars. Some human sacrifices had been recently made. These corpses, in which decay had already begun, were stretched out before images so foul in features and postures, as to be unlike anything earthly. To a savage they might well appear to be fiends, but to an educated mind they were absurd and disgusting, exciting horror only from the blind devotion paid them. They saw also the secret access to the principal idols, by means of which the priests, like those of Isis at Pompeii, were able to utter oracles through their mouths, as if the god spoke, and to perform the usual ritual jugglery which, among all ignorant races, designing priestcraft passes off as miracles.
Although faint and soul-sick at these evidences of a faith so false, so pitiless to the doomed, and so suggestive of what might be her own fate, and unless they succeeded in rescuing Olmedo, would be his, Beatriz did not for a second falter. For a little while they were bewildered in the intricacies in the interior of the heiau, as they had lost sight of Tolta, and knew not in what direction to seek for the prison of Olmedo. As they cautiously groped their way from one house to another, listening to catch signs of life, they heard voices from one near by. Being of thatch, there was no difficulty in observing the interior through a hole made in the straw. They saw Olmedo lying on mats, with several guards about him, whom Liliha recognized to be her own men. Indeed they were husbands of the women with her. Tolta had just gone in, and was speaking to Olmedo in Spanish.