II.
While the Hawaiian army, cheered by chants of battle and beating of war-drums, is buffeting the waves on its way to Maui, let us glance again at the moi of that island and the political condition of his possessions. While Kamaluohua was the nominal sovereign of the island, the extreme eastern portion of it continued to be governed by independent chiefs. The principal chief of the windward side was Wakalana, whose residence was at Wailuku. He was a cousin of the moi, and their relations were exceedingly friendly.
Two years before a remarkable event had occurred at Wailuku. It was the second appearance in the group of a vessel bearing people of a strange race, described by tradition as “white, with bright, shining eyes.” Mention is made of other white people who were brought to the islands on one or more occasions by the argonauts of earlier generations, notably by Paumakua, of Oahu, who near the close of the eleventh century returned from one of his exploring voyages with three white persons of an unknown race; but this was the second time that a vessel of a people other than Polynesian had been seen in Hawaiian waters. The first made a landing near Makapu Point, on the island of Oahu, more than a hundred years before. Tradition has preserved the name of the vessel (Ulupana) and of the captain (Mololano) and his wife (Malaea); but as it is not mentioned that they remained in the country, it is probable that they soon re-embarked.
The second arrival is more distinctly marked by tradition. It was a Japanese vessel that had been dismantled by a typhoon, driven toward the North American coast until it encountered the northwest trade-winds, and then helplessly blown southward to the coast of Maui. It was late in the afternoon that word had been brought to Wakalana that a strange vessel was approaching the coast. As it was high out of water and drifting broadside before the wind, it appeared to be of great size, and little disposition was shown by the people to go out in their canoes to meet the mysterious monster. Wakalana hastened to the beach, and, after watching the vessel intently for some time, saw that it was drifting slowly toward the rocky coast to the westward. Seaman enough to know that certain destruction awaited it in that direction, Wakalana hastily manned a stout canoe and started out to sea in pursuit. The waters were rough and his progress was slow, but he succeeded in reaching the vessel a few minutes after it struck the cliffs and was dashed in pieces. Seizing whatever they could find to assist them in floating, those on board leaped into the sea. It was hazardous to approach the wreck too nearly, but Wakalana succeeded in rescuing from the waves and returning to Wailuku with five persons, but not before he saw the last fragment of the wreck disappear in the abyss of raging waters.
There is nothing in the names preserved, either of the vessel or its rescued passengers, to indicate their nationality. The name of the vessel is given as Mamala, which in the Hawaiian might mean a wreck or fragment. The name of the captain was Kaluikia-Manu; the four others were called Neleike, Malaea, Haakoa and Hika—all names of Hawaiian construction. Two of them—Neleike and Malaea—were women, the former being the sister of the captain.
They landed almost without clothing, and the only novelties upon their persons were the rings and bracelets of the women, and a sword in the belt of the captain, with which he had thoughtlessly leaped into the sea from the sinking vessel. They were half-famished and weak, and by gestures expressed their gratitude to Wakalana for his gallantry in rescuing them, and asked for food and water. Both were provided in abundance, and two houses were set apart for their occupation. They attracted great attention, and people came from all parts of the island to see the white strangers. It was noted with astonishment by the natives that these men and women ate from the same vessels, and that nothing was especially tabu to either sex; but Wakalana explained that their gods doubtless permitted such freedom, and they should therefore not be rebuked for their apparent disregard of Hawaiian custom.
The comfort of the strangers was made the especial care of Wakalana, and they soon became not only reconciled but apparently content with their situation. But the kindness of the chief, however commendable, was not altogether unselfish. He was charmed with the bright eyes and fair face of Neleike, the sister of the captain. He found a pleasure that was new to him in teaching her to speak his language, and almost the first use she made of oia was to say “yes” with it when he asked her to become his wife. Her marriage was followed by that of Malaea to a native chief, and of her brother and his two male companions to native women of good family. And here, as well as anywhere, it may be mentioned that, through her son Alooia, Neleike became the progenitor of a family which for generations showed the marks of her blood, and that the descendants of the others were plentiful thereafter, not only on Maui but in the neighborhood of Waimalo, on the island of Oahu.
The object of the rescued Japanese which attracted most attention was the sword accidentally preserved by the captain. No such terrible knife had ever before been seen or dreamed of by the natives. They had pahoas, or daggers of wood or ivory, and knives of sharply broken flint and sharks’ teeth; they had stone adzes, axes, hatchets and hammers, with which they could fell trees, hollow canoes from tree-trunks, build houses, manufacture implements of war and industry, and hew stone of softer composition; they had spears and javelins with points of seasoned wood hard enough to splinter a bone; but iron and other metals had for ages been practically unknown to their race, and the long, sharp sword of the captain, harder than bone or seasoned wood, and from its polished surface throwing defiantly back the bright rays of the sun, engaged their ceaseless wonder and admiration. As an ornament they regarded it with longing, and when they learned that it was a weapon of war they felt that the arm that wielded it in battle must be unconquerable.
The captain did not see fit to disabuse the minds of the superstitious natives in their disposition to attribute a power of almost unlimited slaughter to the simple weapon. On the contrary, he rarely exhibited it except to distinguished chiefs, and in a few months it began to be mentioned as a sacred gift of the gods and pledge of victory to him who possessed it. Nor was the knowledge of the existence of a talisman so wonderful long confined to the windward side of Maui. The fame of the terrible weapon spread from Hana to Kaanapali, and thence to the other islands of the group; and if but few of the many who came to learn the truth of the report were favored with a view of the sword, all saw, at least, the strange people who were pointed out as the bearers of it from an unknown land, and the story of its powers was readily accepted. But he who possessed it did not come as a conqueror, and, as he showed no disposition to use it offensively, the weapon ceased to be regarded with alarm.
And now we will return to Kalaunui and his army of conquest, last seen on their way to Maui in a fleet of two thousand canoes. Sailing to the western division of the island, which was reached in two days, Kalaunui effected a landing of his army at Lahaina. Kamaluohua, the moi of the island, had learned of the projected invasion some days before, and made every preparation possible to meet and repel it. Lunapais, or war-messengers, had been despatched to the several district chiefs, and an army of seven or eight thousand warriors of all arms had been hastily collected. Wakalana had gone to the general defence with a force of eight hundred men, including Kaluiki, the Japanese captain, upon whose presence great reliance was placed by the warriors of Wailuku, if not by Wakalana himself.
Unable to land at Lahaina, which was in possession of the enemy, Kamaluohua marched his forces across the mountains, and a sanguinary battle was fought in the neighborhood of the village. But the Mauians, greatly outnumbered, were defeated and driven back to the hills, and their king was taken prisoner. Throughout the battle Kualu was especially conspicuous for his might and courage. Armed with a huge stone axe, everything human seemed to fall before him, and where he led the bravest alone followed, for he sought the very heart of danger.
The conflict was drawing to a close. The moi, gallantly fighting, had been taken prisoner, and his decimated battalions were steadily giving way, when Kualu encountered a body of two or three hundred men resolutely defending themselves behind a low stone wall. Several ineffectual attempts to dislodge them had been made, and they were sending forth shouts of victory and defiance. Something had inspired them with unusual courage and confidence. Did Kualu divine what it was? Perhaps he did, for, hastily rallying to his support a force of sturdy warriors, he fought his way over the wall, and a determined hand-to-hand struggle followed. Meantime a flanking party of spearsmen had made a circuit around the wall and were menacing its defenders in the rear. Observing the peril of the situation, and that an effort was being made to cut off their retreat to the hills, the Mauians began to fall back. As they did so Kualu was seen to dash forward and precipitate himself, almost unsupported, upon a score or two of warriors who had apparently rallied to the assistance of some chief in distress. Regardless of danger, he hewed his way through the battling throng until he stood face to face with Kaluiki, the white captain, in whose hand was the shining blade which had so nerved the arms of the warriors of Wailuku. With a blow of his battle-axe he struck the sword from the upraised hand of the strange warrior. As it fell to the earth he placed his foot upon it, and yielded no ground until the tide of battle swept around and past him, forcing to retreat the last to present a hostile front of the army of the captive king of Maui.
Left alone for a moment by the wild pursuit of the flying enemy, Kualu hurriedly stooped and thrust the sword into the earth, pressing it downward until the hilt was covered; then, placing a large rock upon the spot, he left the field, numbering, as he went, his paces to the wall behind which the Mauians had sought protection.
The victory was complete. The moi was a prisoner, and such of his army as had not escaped to the hills lay dead on the field. The country was given over to pillage, and at sunset twenty prisoners were slain and sacrificed in a heiau near the village. The sacrifices were made to his war-god, and Kalaunui witnessed the solemn ceremonies of the offering.
The night was spent in the wildest revelry by the victorious warriors, in the midst of which Kualu sought his foster-mother, who, with the women and non-combatants of the invading army, was encamped near the canoes on the beach. He hastily recited to her the events of the day, and concluded with the information that he had captured the long, bright knife of the strange chief of Wailuku, and, believing it to be of great value, had hidden it in the earth. At this intelligence the eyes of Waahia flashed with satisfaction.
“You have done well,” said the kaula, rising to her feet. “I have seen that long knife in my dreams. It will have much to do with your future. But it will be unsafe in your possession. Give it to me. Give it to me at once,” she repeated, “for should Kalaunui by any chance learn that it was taken in battle, he will claim it.”
“But I am sure no one saw me hide it,” replied Kualu.
“You talk like a boy,” returned Waahia. “You must be sure of nothing of which there is a possibility of doubt. But no matter. It is not too dark to find the spot to-night. Let us go to it at once.”
Excited by her words, Kualu now became no less anxious than the kaula that the sword should be placed in her keeping, and in an indirect way, to avoid observation, they repaired to the battle-field. Their only light was that of the stars, and after reaching the wall it was some time before Kualu was able to identify the exact place to which he had extended the line of his hasty measurement. The ground was strewn with the naked bodies of the slain, and occasional groans came from a few whose struggles with death were not quite over. But no emotion, either of dread or pity, disturbed the visitors.
Satisfied at length that he had found the desired place in the wall, Kualu took a careful bearing, and then stepped briskly toward the north, closely followed by Waahia. Measuring a hundred paces or more, he suddenly stopped, and with alarm discovered what seemed to be the form of a man crouching beside the rock marking the spot where the sword had been buried. Grasping his pahoa—the only weapon he had brought with him—Kualu sprang forward and placed his hand upon the object. It was cold and motionless; and the young warrior smiled as the thought came to him that some one of the many who had fallen under his axe that day had possibly crawled to the spot to guard his treasure in death. He lifted the body aside, removed the stone, and the next moment pulled from the earth and handed to Waahia the iron blade. She grasped it eagerly, and, with a hasty glance at its bright blade glistening in the starlight, wrapped it securely in a piece of kapa and placed it under her mantle.
Without attracting especial notice they returned to the beach. When importuned by Kualu to tell him something definite of his future, Waahia revealed to him much that would happen; but all had not yet been given to her, and she admonished him to keep his lips closed and patiently await the development of the will of the gods. “I can see victories to come,” said the kaula, “but in the end defeat and disaster.”
“But if disaster is to come to us in the end,” suggested Kualu, “why should it not mean defeat and death to me?”
“I can give no reason why it should not; but the gods seldom explain their acts to mortals, and I am content in seeing your star shining above the ruin of Kalaunui.”
So spoke the kaula, and, cheered by her words, Kualu sought his tent of mats, and on a hard couch of kapa dreamed of a long, bright knife, and of battles in which he hewed down armies with it.
Taking his royal captive with him, the second day after the battle Kalaunui set sail with his army for the island of Molokai, of which Kahokuohua was the alii-nui, or governing chief. No force adequate to cope with the invading army could be rallied; but the chivalrous descendant of the ancient kings of Hawaii was not a ruler to allow his subjects to be plundered without resistance, and, hastily gathering an army of four or five thousand warriors, he gave the invaders battle at Kalaupapa. But he was defeated and taken prisoner, and after ravaging the country for miles around, and destroying every captured canoe of which he could make no use, Kalaunui sailed for the conquest of Oahu with the two royal captives in his train.
Waahia still accompanied the expedition. But the iron knife was not with her. The king had from some source learned that its glitter had been seen on the battle-field at Lahaina, and she had hidden it in a cleft of the black rocks of the pali encircling Kalaupapa.
As already stated, Oahu was at that time governed by a number of practically independent chiefs. The most powerful of these, and possibly recognized alii-nui of the island, was Huapouleilei, chief of the Ewa and Waianae districts, to which division Kalaunui directed his fleet. Landing his forces at Waianae, a sanguinary battle was fought near that place, resulting in the defeat of the Oahuans and the capture of Huapouleilei.
Elated with his successes, and deeming himself invincible, Kalaunui next prepared for a descent upon Kauai and the conquest of the entire group. But his plans for so formidable an undertaking were faulty. He took no steps to consolidate his conquests or maintain possession of the lands subdued by his arms. He left behind him no friend or stronghold on the conquered islands, blindly trusting, no doubt, that in the persons of his royal prisoners he retained, for the time being, a sufficiently firm hold upon their lands and subjects.
Before embarking for Kauai elaborate sacrifices were offered, and every device known to the priesthood was exhausted to secure a continuance of the favor of the gods. The moi of that island was Kukona, the fourth in descent from the great Laa-mai-kahiki. Kalaunui recognized that the defensive resources of Kauai were not to be despised, but he as greatly underrated the military abilities of Kukona as he overrated his own, and therefore did not doubt the result.
Waahia saw disaster approaching, but knew that Kalaunui would not listen to her voice of warning, and therefore remained silent when the kilos, anxious to please the king, shaped their inauspicious auguries into promises of victory. Her greatest solicitude was for Kualu. He had been entrusted with an important command, and could find no honorable pretext for declining to accept the hazard of the final struggle on Kauai. Waahia, therefore, did not advise him to remain, for she had seen his star shining above the clouds of defeat. She had sought frequent and earnest counsel of the mysterious intelligences of the earth and air. She had seen their answers in the smoke of burning incense, and within the circle of blood at midnight, when the moon was dark, had heard their whispers. Hence it was with confidence that she said to Kualu, on the evening before the departure of the fleet for Kauai:
“Yes, you must go. I can be of no service to you where the air will be filled with spears and the canoes will be painted red with blood. I will return to Hawaii. You will be defeated. Kukona is a brave and skilful warrior, and the army of Kalaunui. will be rent in pieces and thrown into the sea. The slaughter will be great, but circumstances will open a way and you will escape.”
“And should I escape, where will I find you?” inquired Kualu.
“Among the owls in the old hut in Waipio,” replied the kaula.
“And the long knife?”
“The long knife is where I alone can find it,” answered Waahia. “Leave the secret to me; it will be of service to us yet.”
Early next morning the army of Kalaunui set sail for Kauai, and with it, as prisoners, the mois of Maui and Molokai and the alii-nui of Oahu. At the same time Waahia embarked for Hawaii, taking with her the war-god of the king. Traditions differ concerning the circumstances under which the god was delivered to the prophetess. One asserts that she refused to hold her peace or leave the expedition without it; another that the king, annoyed by her ill-omened words and presence, purchased her departure with it; and a third that it was given to her in deference to her declaration that, if taken to Kauai, it would not return except at the head of a conquering army that would make a tributary kingdom of Hawaii. Certain it is, however, that Waahia returned to Hawaii from Oahu with the war-god of the king. It was the sacred Akuapaao, or war-god of Paao, and was held in great reverence by the priesthood. Borne over the waters by unseen forces, the canoe of Waahia was stranded on the beach at Koholalele, on the island of Hawaii. Not far off was the old heiau of Manini, and thither the god was conveyed, and placed in the custody of the high-priest of the temple, with the injunction that it was never to be removed from the inner court, or sanctuary, unless the kingdom was in peril. Six generations after it was taken from the heiau by the giant Maukaleoleo, and carried at the head of the victorious army of Umi, as mentioned in the legend of “Umi, the Peasant Prince of Hawaii.”
Five hundred canoes had been added to the fleet of Kalaunui, and the imposing squadron seemed to stretch half across the wide channel separating the two islands. A landing was made at Koloa, and the entire army disembarked without opposition. The district seemed to be deserted, and not a hostile spear was visible. And so continued the peaceful aspect until daylight the next morning, when Kukona, supported by every prominent chief of Kauai, suddenly precipitated upon the invaders from the surrounding hills an army of ten thousand warriors. Nor this alone. Along the westward coast was seen approaching a fleet of nearly a thousand war-canoes, with the manifest design of capturing or destroying the canoes of the Hawaiians and cutting off their retreat by sea. Hastily forming his lines to meet the avalanche from the hills, Kalaunui despatched Kualu to the beach with a force of three thousand warriors to protect the canoes.
The attacks by land and sea were almost simultaneous, and the battle was one of the most stubborn and sanguinary ever fought in the group. As predicted by Waahia, the air was filled with spears and the canoes were painted red with blood. Standing in the water to their hips, Kualu and his warriors met their enemies as they attempted to land, and a struggle of the wildest description followed. Canoes were upset; men were hauled into them and killed, and out of them and drowned, and for a distance of three or four hundred yards in the surf along the beach raged a desperate conflict, dreadful even to savage eyes. In their fury they fought in, above and under the water, and hundreds fiercely grappled and without a wound sank to their deaths together. Neither would yield, and in the end resistance ceased, and Kualu saw the beach strewn with dead, a thousand tenantless canoes idly playing with the surf, and less than as many hundreds of warriors left as he had led thousands into the fight. He had saved the fleet, but the sacrifice of life had been terrible.
Despatching a messenger to the king, and speedily reorganizing the remnant of his force, Kualu was about to leave the beach for service where he might most be needed, when he discovered, with horror, that the Hawaiian army had been defeated, and in scattered fragments was seeking flight in all directions. Harassed by pursuit, a thousand or more were fighting and struggling to reach the beach. Satisfied that the battle was lost, to facilitate the escape of the fugitives Kualu ordered a large number of canoes to be hastily equipped and launched, and then started back to assist in covering the retreat. But his men refused to follow him. Knowing the danger of delay, all but a few of them leaped into canoes and paddled out to sea. As he could do nothing more, he selected a canoe suitable to the four persons who were to occupy it, and with his three remaining companions passed through the surf and headed for Oahu.
Kualu did not escape a moment too soon. He had scarcely stemmed the surf before the fugitives, abandoning all defence, made a precipitate dash for the canoes, closely followed by their pursuers. In their haste they shoved out in canoes some of which were overburdened and others but half-manned. A number of the former foundered in the surf, and such of the latter as succeeded in passing the breakers were overtaken by the canoes sent in pursuit. Nor did but few escape of the two or three hundred who preceded Kualu in his flight. Some of them embarked in double canoes which they were unable to manage, and others were either without sails or short of paddles. The result was that less than a hundred of the fugitives escaped capture, and of that number probably not more than twenty or thirty succeeded in reaching the other islands of the group, for the sea was rough and but few of them were skilled in navigation. Among these were Kualu and his companions.
Almost from the beginning the sudden attack of Kukona from the hills had been a slaughter. The withdrawal of three thousand spears for the protection of his canoes had weakened the lines of Kalaunui at an exposed point, and, breaking through them, the Kauaians so vigorously followed up the advantage that no effort could save the Hawaiians from defeat. They fought bravely and with desperation; but the breaking of their lines had left them without any definite plan of action, and defeat was inevitable. Kalaunui’s courage was conspicuous, but after an hour’s hopeless struggle he saw his brave battalions melting to the earth and giving way at all points. Recognizing that the battle was lost, and that what was left of his army would soon be in wild retreat, he attempted to cut his way through to the beach, but was intercepted and taken prisoner. Learning his rank, he was taken by his captors to Kukona, and a few minutes later the royal chiefs of Maui, Molokai and Oahu, with their arms corded behind their backs, appeared on the scene. Deserted by their guards, they had been found in a hut not far from the beach and brought to the victorious moi.
It was a historic group, that meeting on the battle-field of Koloa of the five principal sovereigns of the archipelago. Had Kukona been ambitious the means were at his command to become the supreme head of the island group; but he thought only of the future peace of Kauai, and promptly dismissed from his mind all dreams of broader fields of empire, well knowing that, were he able to seize the mastery of the group, he could not hope to long maintain it.
Not a word of jeering or of triumph passed between Kalaunui and the captive chiefs as they stood before Kukona, for the aha alii of the period—the chiefs of accepted rank—commanded the respect, not only of the untitled, but of each other, even in bondage and in death. Kukona had met the alii-nui of Oahu in his own dominions some years before, and recognized him at once, but the kings of Maui and Molokai were strangers to him. Being informed of their rank and the circumstances of their captivity, he ordered them to be liberated at once, and with his own hands removed the cords from the arms of his royal friend from Oahu.
The rescued princes were at once returned with befitting escorts to their own possessions, but Kalaunui was retained as a prisoner of war. But few of the invading army escaped. The victory was celebrated with elaborate sacrifices and general rejoicing throughout the island. The captured arms and canoes were divided among the assisting chiefs, and peace reigned again on Kauai.
Kukona had secured the lasting friendship of the chiefs of Oahu, Maui and Molokai, and therefore did not fear the retaliation of Hawaii. But, as a guarantee of peace, he kept Kalaunui a prisoner, rightly surmising that, if the ruling powers of Hawaii really valued the life of the captive king, they would not imperil it by attempting his release by force, and if they did not greatly value it he would be left to his fate or the chances of peaceful negotiation.