I.
Of all the legends of the adventures with mortals of Pele, the dreadful goddess of the volcanoes, the most weird and dramatic is the one relating to her love for Lohiau, a prince of the island of Kauai, whose reign was probably contemporaneous with that of Kealiiokaloa, of Hawaii, during the early part of the sixteenth century. The story is not only a characteristic relic of the recklessly imaginative and highly-colored meles of the early poets, but an instructive reflex as well of the superstitions controlling the popular mind of the Hawaiian group at that period, when the forests abounded in mischievous gnomes and fairies, when the streams were guarded by nymphs and monsters, and when the very air was peopled with the spirits of the departed. But a thin veil then divided the living from the dead, the natural from the supernatural, and mortals were made the sport of the elements and the playthings of the gods.
As the mele relates, Pele and her brothers and sisters, to amuse themselves with a taste of mortal enjoyments, one day emerged from their fiery chambers in the crater of Kilauea, and went down to the coast of Puna to bathe, surf-ride, sport in the sands, and gather edible sea-weed, squid, limpets and other delicacies washed by the waves. They assumed human forms for the occasion, and therefore had human appetites.
While the others were amusing themselves in various ways—eating, laughing and sporting in the waves in the manner of mortals—Pele, in the guise of an old woman, sought repose and sleep in the shade of a hala tree. Her favorite sister was Hiiaka, her full name being Hiiaka-ika-pali-opele. She was younger than Pele, and frequently occupied the same grotto with her under the burning lake of Kilauea.
Hiiaka accompanied her sovereign sister to the shade of the hala tree, and, sitting devotedly beside her, kept her cool with a kahili. Her eyelids growing heavy, Pele instructed Hiiaka to allow her under no circumstances to be disturbed, no matter how long she might sleep, whether for hours or days, and then closed her eyes in slumber.
Scarcely had the ears of the sleeper been closed by the fingers of silence before she heard the sound of a drum—distant, but distinct and regular in its beat, as if to the impulse of music. Before leaving the crater she had heard the same sound, but paid little attention to it. Now, however, when hearing it in her dreams, her curiosity was aroused, and, assuming her spiritual form, she resolved to follow it.
Leaving her slumbering earthly body under the eye and care of her sister, Pele mounted the air and proceeded in the direction whence the sound seemed to come. From place to place she followed it over the island of Hawaii; but it was always before her, and she could not overtake it. At Upolu it came to her from over the sea, and she followed it to the island of Maui. It was still beyond, and she sped to Molokai; still beyond, and she flew to Oahu; still beyond, and she crossed the channel and listened on the shores of Kauai, where it was more distinct than she had heard it before. Now encouraged, she continued the pursuit until she stood upon the mountain peak of Haupu, when she discovered at last that the sound came from the beach at Kaena.
Proceeding thither, and hovering over the place unseen, she observed that the sound she had so long been following was that of a pahu-hula, or hula drum, beaten by Lohiau, the young and comely prince of Kauai, who was noted not only for the splendor of his hula entertainments, participated in by the most beautiful women of the island, but for his personal graces as a dancer and musician. The favorite deity of Lohiau was Lakakane, the god of the hula and similar sports, who in a spirit of mischief had conveyed the sound of the drum to the ears of Pele.
The beach was thronged with dancers, musicians and spectators, all enjoying themselves under the shade of the hala and cocoa trees, with the prince as master of ceremonies and the centre of attraction. Assuming the form of a beautiful woman, Pele suddenly appeared before the festive throng. Attaching to her person every imaginable charm of form and feature, her presence was immediately noted; and, a way being opened for her to the prince, he received her most graciously and invited her to a seat near him, where she could best witness the entertainment.
Glancing at the beautiful stranger from time to time in the midst of his performances, Lohiau at length became so fascinated that he failed to follow the music, when he yielded the instrument to another and seated himself beside the enchantress. In answer to his inquiry she informed the prince that she was a stranger in Kauai, and had come from the direction of the rising sun. Gazing into her face with a devouring passion, Lohiau smilingly said:
“You are most welcome, but I cannot rejoice that you came.”
“And why, since I do not come as your enemy?” inquired Pele, archly.
“Because, until now,” returned the prince, “my thought has been that there were beautiful women in Kauai; but in looking at yours I find their faces are plain indeed.”
“I see you know how to speak flattering words to women,” said Pele, casting a languishing look upon the prince.
“Not better than I know how to love them,” replied Lohiau, with ardor. “Will you be convinced?”
“Lohiau is in his own kingdom, and has but to command,” answered Pele, with a play of modesty which completed the enthralment of the prince.
Thus Pele became the wife of Lohiau. He knew nothing of her or her family, and cared not to inquire. He saw only that she was beautiful above all women, and for a few days they lived so happily together that life seemed to be a dream to him. And Pele loved the prince scarcely less than he loved her; but the time had come for her return to Hawaii, and, pledging him to remain true to her, she left him with protestations of affection and the promise of a speedy return, and on the wings of the wind was wafted back to the shores of Puna, where she had left her sister waiting and watching in the shade of the hala.
Lohiau was inconsolable. Every day he thought she would be with him the next, until more than a month passed, when he refused food and died of grief at her absence. The strange death of the prince occasioned much comment, for he was naturally strong and without disease. Some said he had been prayed to death by his enemies, and others that he had been poisoned; but an old kaula, who had seen Pele at Kaena and noted her actions, advised against further inquiry concerning the cause of Lohiau’s death, offering as a reason the opinion that the strangely beautiful and unknown woman he had taken as a wife was an immortal, who had become attached to her earthly husband and called his spirit to her.
The prince was greatly beloved by his people, and his body, carefully wrapped in many folds of kapa, was kept in state for some time in the royal mansion. It was guarded by the high chiefs of the kingdom, and every night funeral hymns were chanted around it, and meles recited of the deeds of the dead sovereign and his ancestors. Thus lying in state we will leave the remains of Lohiau, and follow Pele back to Hawaii.