II.
It is now in order to return to Hamakuapoko, to note what transpired there on the sudden disappearance of Kelea before the strong breath of the mumuku. The king was profoundly grieved, and summoned the attendants of his sister to learn the particulars of the misfortune. To all of them it was manifest that the canoe had been blown out to sea in spite of the efforts of its occupants, and, as the gale continued to increase in violence during the day, it was feared that the entire party had perished. As to the strangers, no one seemed to know anything of them or of the island from which they came. They did not seem to belong to the makaainana, or common people, and one of them, it was believed from his bearing, was a high chief.
This was all the information the wailing attendants were able to give. One man, who had noticed the canoe as it came and went through the surf, thought it was from Hawaii, while another was equally certain that it was from Oahu; but as the general structure of canoes on the several islands of the group differed but little, their descriptions of the craft furnished no real clue to the mystery.
With the cessation of the storm, late in the afternoon, came a hope to Kawao that the missing canoe had safely ridden out the gale, and would seek the nearest land favored by the changing winds. He therefore summoned the high-priest, and instructed him to put his diviners and magicians to the task of discovering what had become of the princess Kelea. Pigs and fowls were slain, prayers were said in the heiau, and late in the evening information came through supernatural agencies that Kelea was still living. But this was not satisfactory to the king. He demanded something more specific, and a kaula of great sanctity was prepared and placed in the anu, a wicker enclosure within the inner court, and in due time, in answer to the questions of the high-priest, announced that the canoe containing the princess was sailing in safety toward Oahu.
The words of the kaula were repeated to the king, and the next day he despatched a well-manned canoe, in charge of one of his plumed halumanus, or military aids, to find and bring back the lost Kelea. Owing to unfavorable winds or bad management the canoe did not reach Makapuu Point, Oahu, until the fourth day. Proceeding along the northeastern coast of the island, and landing wherever practicable to make inquiries, the easy-going messenger did not arrive at Waialua until two days after the departure of Kelea for Lihue.
Learning that the princess had become the wife of Lo-Lale, the disappointed halumanu did not deem it necessary to communicate with her, but briefly paid his respects to the king, to whom he made known the nature of his errand to Oahu, and his resolution to return at once to Maui and acquaint his royal master with the result of his mission.
Appreciating that, in his anxiety to see his brother properly mated, he had countenanced a proceeding sufficiently discourteous to the moi of Maui to warrant a hostile response, Piliwale treated the halumanu with marked kindness and consideration, and insisted upon sending an escort with him back to Maui, including the bearer of a friendly explanatory message from himself to Kawao. For this delicate service no one could be found so competent as the courtly Kalamakua, who was well versed in the genealogy of the Kalona family, and would be able to satisfactorily, if not quite truthfully, explain why it was that the canoe containing the princess, when driven out to sea, was headed for Oahu instead of Maui when the storm abated.
Kalamakua was accordingly despatched on the mission. Being a much better sailor than the halumanu, he found no difficulty either in parting company with him off the coast of eastern Maui or in reaching Hamakuapoko three or four hours in advance of the party he was courteously escorting thither. This enabled the wily Oahuan to secure an audience with the king, and deliver his message and explanation in full, before the halumanu could land and give his version of the story.
Kalamakua’s explanation of the impossibility, after the storm, of reaching in safety any land other than Oahu or Molokai, seemed to be satisfactory; and when he dwelt upon the well-known high rank of Lo-Lale, as recognized by the aha-alii, and referred to his manly bearing, his amiable disposition and the amplitude of his estates, Kawao answered sadly:
“Then so let it be. It is perhaps the will of the gods. I would have had it otherwise; but be to Kelea and her husband, and to my royal brother the king of Oahu, my messenger of peace.”
Thanking the moi for his kindly words, Kalamakua took his leave. As he was about to re-embark in the afternoon for Oahu, the discomfited halumanu, having but just then landed, passed him on the beach. Knowing that he had been outwitted, in his wrath he reached for the handle of his knife. But he did not draw it. Kalamakua stopped and promptly answered the challenge; but the halumanu passed on, and with a smile he stepped into his canoe, and a few minutes later was on his way to Oahu with Kawao’s welcome messages of peace.
As the years came and went in their quiet home at Lihue, Lo-Lale lost none of his affection for Kelea. No wars distracted the group. Liloa, the son of Kiha and father of Umi, had become the peaceful sovereign of Hawaii; Kahakuma, the ancestor of some of the most distinguished families of the islands, held gentle and intelligent sway in Kauai; Kawao still ruled in Maui, and Piliwale in Oahu.
To gratify his wife, Lo-Lale surrounded her with every comfort. The choicest fruits of the island were at her command, and every day fresh fish and other delicacies of the sea were brought to her from the neighboring coasts. In short, everything not tabu to the sex was provided without stint. Summer-houses were constructed for her in the cool recesses of the Waianae Mountains, and a manele, with relays of stout bearers, was always at her service for the briefest journeys. The people of the district were proud of her rank and beauty, and at seasons of hookupu, or gift-making, she was fairly deluged with rare and valuable offerings.
Yet, with all this affluence of comfort and affection, Kelea became more and more restless and unhappy. Nor did the presence of her children, of whom she had three, seem to render her more contented. She longed for the sea; for the bounding surf which had been the sport of her girlhood; for the white-maned steeds of ocean, which she had so often mounted and fearlessly ridden to the shore; for the thunder of the breakers against the cliffs; for the murmur of the reef-bound wavelets timidly crawling up the beach to kiss and cool her feet; and the more she yearned for her old-time pleasures, the greater became her dissatisfaction with the tamer life and surroundings of Lihue.
Knowing her love for the sea, Lo-Lale made occasional excursions with her to the coast, frequently remaining there for days together. Sometimes they visited the east and sometimes the south side of the island; but the place which seemed to please her above all others was Ewa, where Kalamakua made his home. He, too, loved the sea, and during her visits there afforded her every opportunity to indulge her passion for it. Together they had charming sails around the Puuloa (Pearl River) lagoon, and gallant rides over the surf at the entrance. There, and there only, did she seem to recover her spirits; there only did she seem to be happy.
This did not escape the notice of Lo-Lale, and a great grief filled his heart as he sometimes thought, in noting her brightened look in the presence of Kalamakua, that it was less the charms of the surf than of his cousin’s handsome face that made the waters of Ewa so attractive to Kelea.
Life at Lihue finally became so irksome to her, and even the continued kindness of Lo-Lale so unwelcome, that she announced her determination to leave the home of her husband for ever. This resolution was not altogether unexpected by Lo-Lale, for he had not been blind to her growing restlessness and was prepared for the worst; and as the prerogatives of her high rank gave her the undoubted privilege of separation if she desired it, he reluctantly consented to the divorcement. When asked where it was her purpose to go, she answered: “Probably to Maui, to rejoin my brother.”
“More probably not beyond Ewa,” was Lo-Lale’s significant reply. “But, no matter where you may go,” he continued, with dignity, “take your departure from Lihue in a manner consistent with your rank. You were received here as became the sister of a king and the wife of the son of Kalona-iki. So would I have you depart. I reproach you with nothing, myself with nothing; therefore let us part in peace.”
“We part in peace,” was Kelea’s only answer, and the next morning she quietly took her departure with four or five attendants. A chant expressive of Lo-Lale’s grief at the separation was long after recited, but these lines are all of it that have been preserved:
“Farewell, my partner on the lowland plains,
On the waters of Pohakeo,
Above Kanehoa,
On the dark mountain spur of Mauna-una!
O Lihue, she is gone!
Sniff the sweet scent of the grass,
The sweet scent of the wild vines
That are twisted by Waikoloa,
By the winds of Waiopua,
My flower!
The pupil of my eye is troubled;
Dimness covers my eyes. Woe is me!”
Leaving Lihue, Kelea descended to Ewa, and, skirting the head of the lagoon by way of Halawa, on the afternoon of the second day arrived at the entrance, immediately opposite Puualoa. There she found a large number of nobles and retainers of Kalamakua, the high chief of the district, amusing themselves in the surf. As she had not seen the salt water for some months, Kelea could not resist the temptation to indulge in her old pastime, and, borrowing a surf-board from one of the bathers, plunged into the sea, and soon joined the party of surf-riders beyond the breakers.
Soon a huge roller made its appearance, and all mounted it and started for the shore. The race was exciting, for the most expert swimmers in the district were among the contestants; but in grace, daring and skill Kelea very plainly excelled them all, and was loudly cheered as she touched the shore. Kalamakua was reposing in the shade, not far away, and, hearing the tumult of voices, inquired the cause. He was told that a beautiful woman from Lihue had beaten all the chiefs at surf-riding, and the people could not restrain their enthusiasm. Satisfied that there was but one Lihue woman who could perform such a feat, and that she must be Kelea, the wife of his cousin Lo-Lale, he proceeded to the beach just as a second trial had resulted in a triumph to the fair contestant quite as emphatic as the first. As she touched the shore Kalamakua threw his kihei (mantle) over her shoulders and respectfully greeted her. Kelea then informed him that she had formally separated from her husband and was about to embark for Maui.
“If that is the case,” said Kalamakua, gently taking her by the arm, as if to restrain her, “you will go no farther than Ewa. When I went in search of a wife for Lo-Lale, I promised that if he objected to the woman I brought or recommended, or she to him, I would take her myself, if she so willed. You have objected to him. Is Kalamakua better to your liking?”
“I will remain at Ewa,” was the satisfactory answer.
“Yes, and you should have gone there instead of to Lihue, when you landed at Waialua years ago,” continued Kalamakua, earnestly.
“My thought is the same,” was Kelea’s frank avowal; and she beckoned to her attendants, and told Kalamakua that she was ready to follow him.
Did he expect her at the beach that morning? Tradition offers no direct answer to the question, but significantly mentions that Kalamakua spent one or two days at Lihue not long before, that houses were in readiness for her at Ewa, and that she was borne thither on a manele, escorted by the principal chiefs and nobles of the district.
Learning, not long after, that Kelea had become the wife of Kalamakua, the gentle-hearted Lo-Lale sent to her a present of fruits and a message of peace and forgiveness; but it was his request that they might never meet again, and he spent the remainder of his days in Lihue, caring for the welfare of his people and dreaming in the shadows of the hills of Kaala.
But little more need here be told. Kelea and Kalamakua lived happily together, and were blessed with a daughter, Laielohelohe, who inherited her mother’s beauty, and became the wife of her cousin Piilani, son and successor of Kawao, moi of Maui; but it was not until after the betrothal of the cousins, which was agreed to in their childhood, that Kawao fully forgave his volatile sister for marrying a prince of Oahu without his consent.
Piikea, one of the daughters of Piilani and Laielohelohe, became in after-time the wife of the great Umi, of Hawaii, and through her great-grandson, I, the ancestress of Kalakaua, the present sovereign of the group. Lono-a-Pii, another of their children, succeeded his father as moi of Maui.
As a further example of the manner in which the blood of the reigning families of the several islands of the group was commingled in the early periods of their history, it may be mentioned that Kaholi, a son of Lo-Lale and Kelea, was united in marriage to Kohipa, one of the two daughters of Piliwale; while the other, Kukaniloko, who followed her father as sovereign of Oahu, became the wife of Luaia, grandson of Kakaalaneo, the joint ruler of Maui during the reign of the unfortunate Kakae.