IV.
The winter solstice, which marked the end of the Hawaiian year, was at hand, to be followed by the usual five days’ feast of Lono, and Waahia so timed her voyage as to arrive on Kauai the day before the festival began. She quietly landed at Koloa, and as far as possible avoided observation by taking up her residence in a small hut secured by her companion well back in the neighboring hills.
These annual festivals of Lono were seasons of universal merriment and rejoicing. The god was crowned and ornamented with leis of flowers and feathers, and unstinted offerings of pigs, fowls and fruits were laid upon the altars of the temples consecrated to his worship. Chiefs and people alike gave themselves unreservedly over to feasting, dancing, singing and the indulgence of almost every appetite and caprice, and the Saturnalias of the old Romans gave to the masses scarcely more license than the festivals of Lono. Every instrument of music known to the people—and they possessed but four or five of the simplest kinds—was brought into requisition, and for five days there was almost an uninterrupted tumult of revelry. Lakakane, the hula god, was decorated and brought out, and every variety of the dance was given—some of them to the time of vocal recitations and others to the noisier accompaniment of pipes, drums and rattling calabashes. In the midst of these enjoyments long-bearded bards appeared before the king and distinguished chiefs, and while some of them recited wild historic tales of the past, others chanted the mele-inoas and sang of the personal exploits of their titled listeners. Awa and other intoxicating drinks were freely indulged in by those who craved them, and the festivals were usually followed by a week or more of general languor and worthlessness.
It was the third day of the festival at Koloa. The gates of the enclosure had been thrown open, and thousands of people thronged around the royal mansion in a grove near which large quantities of refreshments were spread on the ground in huge wooden trays and calabashes. The feast was free to all, and Kukona lounged on a pile of kapa in the deep shade of the trees in front of the palace, happy in witnessing the enjoyment of his subjects. Around him were standing a number of chiefs of high rank. A kahili of bright feathers was occasionally and unobtrusively waved above his head by the paakahili, and the iwikuamoo, aipuupuu and other of his personal attendants, all of the lesser nobility, stood in readiness to respond to his slightest wishes. A guard of inferior chiefs kept the crowd from pressing too closely the distinguished group, but from time to time, as permission was granted, select bands of dancers and musicians and chanters of ability were allowed to approach and entertain the royal party with specimens of their skill and erudition.
A company of dancers had just retired, when Waahia, with a staff in her hand, and wearing a short mantle, indicating that she claimed privileges of dress which were not accorded to women generally, asked permission to be admitted to the presence of the king. Her strange appearance excited the curiosity of Kukona, and she was allowed to approach. Kneeling and touching her forehead to the ground, she rose and asked if it was the pleasure of the king to hear her. As these ceremonies, due to supreme authority, were usually waived on such occasions, it was surmised that the woman must be a stranger in Kauai. She was told to speak. A moooelo, or historic chant, was expected; but in a full, sharp voice she chanted these words:
“O the long knife of the stranger,
Of the stranger from other lands,
Of the stranger with sparkling eyes,
Of the stranger with a white face!
O long knife of Lono, the gift of Lono;
It flashes like fire in the sun;
Its edge is sharper than stone,
Sharper than the hard stone of Hualalai;
The spear touches it and breaks,
The strong warrior sees it and dies!
Where is the long knife of the stranger?
Where is the sacred gift of Lono?
It came to Wailuku and is lost,
It was seen at Lahaina and cannot be found.
He is more than a chief who finds it,
He is a chief of chiefs who possesses it.
Maui cannot spoil his fields,
Hawaii cannot break his nets;
His canoes are safe from Kauai;
The chiefs of Oahu will not oppose him,
The chiefs of Molokai will bend at his feet.
O long knife of the stranger,
O bright knife of Lono!
Who has seen it? Who has found it?
Has it been hidden away in the earth?
Has the great sea swallowed it?
Does the kilo see it among the stars?
Can the kaula find it in the bowels of the black hog?
Will a voice from the anu answer?
Will the priests of Lono speak?
The kilo is silent, the kaula is dumb.
O long knife of the stranger,
O bright knife of Lono,
It is lost, it is lost, it is lost!”
At the conclusion of the chant, which was listened to with attention, the kaula bowed and disappeared in the crowd. Kukona had heard of the long knife, and Waahia’s description of its powers interested him greatly. He despatched a messenger to the high-priest, ordering that the diviners at once be put to the task of discovering the hiding-place of the sacred weapon.
On the following afternoon Waahia appeared before the king and his chiefs, and with the same ceremonies repeated her chant of the day before. The high-priest was summoned, and informed the king that his diviners had as yet discovered no trace of the long knife.
The third day Waahia appeared and repeated her chant before the king, and silently withdrew, as before. Again the high-priest was summoned, but was able to offer no assurance that the long knife would be found by the kahunas. They had resorted to every means of inspiration and magic known to them, but could discover no clue to the mystery.
“Who is this woman who for three successive days has told us of the lost knife?” inquired Kukona, addressing the chiefs surrounding him.
No one seemed to be able to answer. Finally the master of ceremonies stepped forward and replied:
“The woman, I think, is Waahia, the noted prophetess of Hawaii. I saw her fifteen years ago in Waipio, and am quite sure that I remember her face.”
The name, if not the face, of the distinguished seeress was known to the king and many others present, and the high-priest, anxious to explain the failure of his magicians, bowed and said:
“The master of ceremonies has doubtless spoken truly. The woman must be Waahia. Her powers are great, and a secret in her keeping is beyond the reach of the kaulas.”
Accepting this explanation of the high-priest, Kukona ordered the prophetess to be found and respectfully conducted to the royal mansion; but after a fruitless search of two days it was reported that she had probably left the valley, and therefore could not be found.
Irritated at what seemed to be the inefficiency or neglect of his kaulas and chiefs, Kukona was about to attach a death-penalty to further failure when Waahia suddenly entered the royal enclosure and approached the palace. Her appearance was most welcome to the attending chiefs, and she was ushered at once into the presence of the king. So delighted was Kukona at the unexpected visit that he rose unconsciously to his feet and greeted the prophetess. This breach of courtly form amazed the attendants of the king, and suggested to them that the strange visitor must be of supreme rank; but before any explanation could be gathered they were ordered to retire, even to the paakahili, and Kukona was left alone with the kaula.
The king motioned his visitor to a lounge of kapa, for she seemed to be old and feeble, and he had a favor to ask. Seating herself, as requested, the king approached, and, in a voice that could not well be overheard, said:
“Are you Waahia, the prophetess of Hawaii?”
“I am Waahia,” answered the kaula.
“You have chanted of the long knife of the stranger, of the bright knife of Lono, of the lost knife of Wailuku,” resumed Kukona. “Our diviners can give me no information concerning it.”
Waahia smiled significantly, but made no reply, and the king continued:
“They say you have tabued the secret, and others, therefore, cannot share it. Is it so?”
“Perhaps,” was the brief reply.
“Then you can find the sacred knife?” eagerly suggested Kukona.
“I can find it,” was the kaula’s emphatic answer.
“Then find and bring it to Kukona, and for the service claim what you will,” was the prompt proposal of the king.
With the way thus broadly opened, Waahia announced that the price of the knife must be the liberation of Kalaunui, and was astonished at the promptness with which the terms were accepted. It was manifest to Waahia that he either placed a very high value upon the talisman, or had kept his royal prisoner about as long as he cared to detain him or the peace of his kingdom required. In either event his unhesitating acceptance of the main consideration warranted Waahia in at once naming one or two other conditions, which were just as promptly agreed to by the king. One of these conditions was that Kalaunui should agree, as the only consideration for his release to be known to him, that his daughter Kapapa should be given in marriage to the chief Kualu, not only as a fitting union, but as a measure of atonement for the unjust and disgraceful charges made against that worthy young chief by Kaheka, and that Kukona and Kalaunui should mutually pledge themselves to the fulfilment of the compact. The other condition was that, on the delivery of the knife to Kukona, he was to release the captive king at once, and return him to Hawaii in company with three high chiefs of Kauai, who were to remain in Waipio until after the consummation of the marriage of Kapapa and Kualu.
Kalaunui was communicated with. For nearly three years he had been confined and closely but respectfully guarded within a square of high stone walls enclosing a single hut. Utterly unable to account for Kukona’s interest in Kualu, he nevertheless accepted the terms submitted to him for his release, and Waahia started at once for Kalaupapa, promising to be back within six days. For the voyage she accepted a canoe larger and more commodious than her own, and the services of five additional rowers.
Arriving at Kalaupapa on the morning of the third day from Koloa, Waahia startled Kualu by informing him that Kalaunui was about to be released, and that in twelve days he must return without further notice to Waipio, where he would be relieved of all disgrace by the king, and become the husband of Kapapa. Coming from Waahia, he believed the words as if they had been flashed from the heavens, and asked for no confirmation as the kaula abruptly left him and proceeded alone toward the hills.
A few hours later Waahia re-embarked for Kauai, taking with her, securely wrapped in a number of kapa folds, the sword of Kaluiki. She reached Koloa within the time promised, and, proceeding to the palace, delivered to the king, in person and alone, the glittering blade which rumor had clothed with extraordinary sanctity and power.
Kalaunui renewed his pledge to Kukona, and the next morning embarked for Hawaii in a large double canoe, accompanied by three of the leading chiefs of Kauai and their attendants. Stepping into the kaulua as it was about to be shoved into the surf, Kalaunui caught sight of Waahia, for the first time for years, as she stood leaning upon her staff near the water. Kualu’s part in the agreement with Kukona was explained at once by Waahia’s presence in Koloa; but what was Kualu to Kukona? and, if nothing, what influences had the kaula been able to bring to effect his release upon such conditions? No matter. Kalaunui was too happy in his liberation to quarrel with the means through which it had been secured, and he turned with a look of gratitude toward the prophetess as the canoe shot out into the breakers.
The return of their captive king was joyously celebrated by the people of Hawaii, and a few days after Kapapa became the willing wife of Kualu. The union was distasteful to Kaheka, but she was powerless to prevent it. The agreement was faithfully fulfilled by Kalaunui, and he spent the remainder of his days in peace, leaving the kingdom to his only son, Kuaiwa, between whom and Kualu a lasting friendship was established.
Kualu, with Kapapa, became the head of an influential family, one of his direct descendants having been the wife of Makaoku, a son of Kiha and brother of Liloa, one of the most noted of the kings of Hawaii.
The sword of Kaluiki, the ransom of a king, remained for some generations with the descendants of Kukona; but what became of it in the end tradition fails to tell.