This seeming indifference on the part of the young mountaineer was more than she could bear. She lost interest in sports and work, fell into a lovesickness, and though her father, the chief, sacrificed many black pigs on her behalf, it was of no use,—she died of a broken heart. They wrapped her body in the finest cloth, beaten by the widow and her son, and placed it, with many lamentations, in a burial cave hard by. Such was the dismal news that Hana took to her son after she had been to the settlement to sell a batch of fabric, and it filled Hiku with consternation, for he had intended to go back for the girl as soon as he could reconcile his mother to the idea of a daughter-in-law. He realized what a fool and a brute he had been, and it was of little use for him to tear out his hair and roll upon the ground in the way he did. He left his work and wandered among the lava fields, muttering to himself, gesturing wildly, and beating his breast. Finally it occurred to him to ask his staff how he could amend for his wrong-doing, and was told there was but one way: to rescue the girl from the place of the dead, in the pit of Milu, on the other side of the island.
He lost no time in obeying this oracle, and on arriving at the wild and lonely spot he made a swing of morning-glory vine, which here grows very long, and let himself down, having first smeared himself with rancid grease to make the shades believe he was dead. Thousands of spirits were chasing butterflies and lizards in the twilight gloom of the place or lying under trees. He despaired of being able to discover the spirit of Kawelu. But she had seen him; she hurried to him; she clasped him in a fond embrace; for she had forgiven his wrong conduct, and now she was asking him, sympathetically, how he had died. He evaded an answer, but bestowed on her a thousand endearments, the while he was slowly working his way up the vine, in which he affected to be merely swinging; then, just as she began to show alarm at having been taken so far from her new home, he clapped a cocoanut shell over her head and had her safe, a prisoner.
With the soul enclosed in the shell, he tramped back to her home, living on wild fruits and yams on the way, and on poi that was offered to him by strangers whom he met. The chief received him and his news joyfully, but he did not know how to restore a soul to a body until his oldest priest took the case in hand. Kawelu’s corpse was taken from the tomb, its shiny wrappings were removed and incantations were performed about it. Then the priest raised a toe-nail, took the soul from the shell and pressed it under the nail, working it upward with both hands. It passed the ankle and knee with difficulty, but was finally pushed into place in the heart. Kawelu gasped, opened her eyes, sat up, embraced Hiku, and the people cried that their princess was alive again. There was a great pounding of drums, much singing, dancing, and feasting; every one wore wreaths, and Hiku was praised without stint for his love and daring. The lovers were married, never to part again. Kawelu remembered nothing of what had happened to her after she was turned back by the vines on the mountain, and did not know that her soul had been among the dead. And though he might have taken a dozen wives when he succeeded his father-in-law as chief, Hiku loved Kawelu so well that he never thought of taking even a second helpmate. He brought his mother from her solitary hut on the mountain, and she and the bride became very fond of one another. So all the days of Hiku and Kawelu thereafter were days of happiness.
The Rebellion of Kamiole
In the year 1170, or thereabout, Kanipahu was king of Hawaii. He was of Samoan origin, grandson of the builder of that temple whose ruins are still to be seen at Puepa in walls over eight hundred feet around, twenty-six feet high, and eight feet thick at the top. It is recorded that the stone for this construction was passed from hand to hand by a line of men reaching all the way to Niuli, a matter of nine miles. Despite the improvements in building and other arts that had come in with the Samoans, the Normans of this Pacific Britain; despite the centralizing of power that enabled them to break down the oppressions of petty lords; despite the satisfaction of the common people, the aristocracy was restive, and sought constantly for excuses to rouse their subjects against the new domination. Wikookoo, head of King Kanipahu’s army, having eloped with the sister of Kamiole, a disaffected chief, the latter burst in upon the king’s privacy soon after with a demand for vengeance. He had met the woman near the king’s house and had struck her dead, as he supposed, that she might not be “degraded” by bearing children to a plebeian immigrant.
The king was a just and patient man, and kept his temper, in spite of the visitor’s harshness, not only to Wikookoo but to all his people. Though he could have ordered him to be slain, he yielded to his general’s demand for permission to fight a duel. The pair faced each other at fifty feet, hurled two spears without effect, then closed with javelins. Wikookoo was hurt, and deeming that honor was satisfied the king ordered the fight to cease. Kamiole gave no heed to his words. He had a tiger’s thirst for blood. Like a flash he leaped upon the fallen man and pounded the weapon into his heart. This rebellion against the king and the savagery of the killing caused an outcry of rage and horror. The murderer’s chance was desperate. “Face down!” commanded the king. This was the command to put the offender to death. A dozen sprang to execute the order. Kamiole tugged the javelin out of his foeman’s body and hurled it at the king. It wounded a young man, who had flung himself in front of his liege, and in the confusion of the moment Kamiole escaped, running like a deer through a shower of stones and darts, gaining his boat and sailing away for his native state of Kau.
Blown with pride in his exploit, the rebel set about the raising of an army to drive the new people from the island. It needed only a leader, like him, to urge disaffection into revolt, and not many weeks after nearly all Hawaii was on the march against the king. Deserted by thousands of his followers, and being a man of peace, albeit having no lack of courage, the king withdrew to the island of Molokai and became a simple farmer among a strange people. He was nearly seven feet in height,—a common stature among men of the first families in that day,—and the neighbors marked him; but he stooped his shoulders and worked hard; so, ere long, his appearance was not accounted strange. Kamiole was now the first man in Hawaii. He was not a reformer. Consumed with pride, arrogant, brutal, brooking no opposition, he made enemies day by day. Only because the people had had enough of war did they endure in silence, and hope for an illness or an accident to remove the now hateful tyrant.
Unknown to Kamiole, the sister he had struck down survived his assault, and bore a daughter to the late Wikookoo, a pretty maid, who, in good time, married the son of the exiled king, a quiet, dreamy youth, who lived apart from his fellows in the interior of Hawaii, finding his company and his employ in the woods and on the vast mountain slopes. Eighteen years had passed when this prince was rudely waked from his idyllic life. An old priest, who alone knew the hiding-places of the king and his son, had tried to rouse the former to reassert his rule. The king welcomed him and wished success to the movement for the overthrow of Kamiole, but he refused command of his old army,—refused to return to Hawaii. “I am old,” said he, “and so bent that I can no longer look over the heads of my people, as becomes a king. I am no longer served with dainties; in the noon heat no servant fans me or brings water; I live in a hut and fare on coarse food; but, old friend, I eat with an appetite, I sleep like a tired and honest man; I have forgotten ceremony and care, and I am happy. Not to be king of all these islands, and the islands of our fathers likewise, would I return. See how blue the sky is, how fresh the trees and grass! What music in the roll of the ocean and in the birds’ songs! What sweetness in the flowers!”
Wondering at this change in his former master, the priest dropped his hands in a gesture of despair. “Then our cause is lost,” said he.