Kaili awaited with impatience the return of his betrothed. He chided himself that he had allowed her father to persuade him against following her to the cabin of her mother. Then doubt began to perplex him; then suspicion. A bird croaked significantly as it flew above his head. He could not longer endure inaction. Kaala’s footprints were still traceable in the sand. He would go as far as they might lead. He set off at a round pace, stopping now and then to assure himself, and presently stood perplexed near the Spouting Cave, for there they ceased. As he was looking about for some clew that might set him right once more, a faint movement behind him caused him to turn, and he saw a figure slinking along from rock to rock, bending low, as if seeking to be concealed: Oponui! Why should he be alone? Why should he hide like that? Why was he trying to escape? The truth flashed upon him. He remembered the man’s face in battle, remembered their vain though savage interchange of spears. Oponui had taken Kaala from him. Had he killed her? He sprang toward the creeping figure with a shout, “Where is my wife?”
There was a short struggle; then Oponui, wriggling from his grasp, set off at a surprising pace toward a temple of refuge, with Kaili close at his heels. The chase was vain. Oponui reached the gate, rushed through, and fell on the earth exhausted. Two priests ran forward and offered their taboo staffs against the entrance of his pursuer. The gods could not be braved by breaking the taboo. With a taunt and a curse at his enemy, the captain returned to the shore where the footprints had disappeared. His heart-beats stifled him. His head was whirling. As he stood looking down into the boiling waters it seemed to his wandering fancy as if the girl had risen toward him in the spout from the cave. Hardly knowing what he did, he spoke her name and leaped from the rock to clasp her pale form. He was drawn under, and in a few seconds was flung violently upon the beach in the cave.
Kaili’s leap had been seen by his king, who, with a guide, had gone to seek him, and on learning of this grotto the king and the guide plunged after. They found the lover seated on the pebbles in the green twilight, with Kaala’s head upon his lap, his arms about her. She was dying, but a smile of content was on her face. He tried to restore her, to rouse her to an effort to live. It was of no avail. With a whispered word of love she closed her eyes and ceased to breathe.
King Kamehameha advanced, his rude face softened with pity. “Come, Kaili,” he said. “The poor child was happy in her last hour. This cave is her proper burial-place.”
“I cannot leave her, O king, for without her I cannot live.” Before his purpose could be divined, Kaili had seized a rock and brought it down on his own head with crushing force. He swayed for a moment and fell dead beside the body of his bride. The king had the corpses wrapped in cloth, but left them there, and the few who have ventured through the whirlpool have seen in the cave the skeletons of the lovers.
The lament of Ua has been preserved. She was a girl whose secret love for the captain had impelled her to follow him, and who had seen his plunge into the leaping water. It runs in this fashion:
“Dead is Kaili, the young chief of Hawaii,
The chief of few years and many battles.
His limbs were strong and his heart was gentle.
His face was like the sun. He was without fear.