Much has been written and said about the shark, and, to speak plainly, many falsehoods told. It has become a common idea that all sharks will devour a man as soon as look at him, if they get a chance; but a more delusive one was never entertained. Of the many different varieties of sharks, there are but two that will attack a man in the water. These are the blue shark, and the ground, or shovel-nosed shark. No more danger need be apprehended from the common brown shark than from a porpoise. We have often seen a Kanaka jump overboard in a perfectly calm day, and swim after them with a sheath-knife, endeavoring to stab them, but Johnny Shark would keep out of his reach. And whenever we had a whale alongside, the sharks would be around in great numbers, and yet never touch the boat-steerer, who was overboard on the whale. But of the blue and ground sharks, the farther one keeps from them the better for his safety. On the night of Sunday, October 23d, one of the officers of the “South Boston,” while walking the deck, made a misstep and fell overboard. Hearing the splash, some of the crew jumped into the boat alongside, and hauled under the stern, where the man had fallen; but no sign or trace was to be seen of him. He was an excellent swimmer, but, in all probability, was seized by one of the numerous ground-sharks that prowl round the shipping in port. The water in Lahaina is very clear, the bottom being distinctly visible at the depth of twenty fathoms, or one hundred and twenty feet; and, although every search was made the next morning at daylight, the body could nowhere be found. No doubt now remained but he had fallen a victim to the rapacity of the voracious ground-shark.
On the afternoon of this Sabbath we attended service in the Kanaka church. It was filled with natives of both sexes, intermingled with whites, of whom here and there might be seen one. The interior of the church is fashioned similar to our American ones—very tasty and neat, without being gaudy. In the morning the sermon is delivered in the native tongue; in the afternoon, in English.
The natives of these islands, like all others who have been visited by Europeans, have suffered from the dreadful ravages of diseases brought by the latter. During our stay at Lahaina, the small-pox raged with great violence there and at Honolulu. Hundreds of the natives were swept off, and, what appeared very singular, scarcely a white man was attacked, and none died from it, although hundreds of seamen were daily exposed.
In the following chapter we give a “legend,” as related to us by an old native whose acquaintance we formed, probably the “oldest inhabitant;” and then, with the reader, we will be “homeward bound.”
CHAPTER XXVII.
Legend of Kinau and Tuanoa: a Tale of the Sandwich Islands.
A heavy gloom was upon the minds of the people of Wauhoo in consequence of the recent death of their king, Hoapili. Melancholy filled their hearts; wailings and lamentations of various kinds were heard over all parts of the island. Every grade mourned for the regal victim of death; and men, women, and children were seen tearing their hair, wounding themselves with sharp-pointed weapons, tearing their flesh with sharks’ teeth, and breaking their own front teeth with stones, to convince each other of the acuteness of their sorrows; and, above all, they prepared, as was their usual custom on such events, to offer up to the Great Spirit five human beings as a sacrifice. Many a loving maiden, when she heard of the king’s death, felt a pang rush through her heart and a whirling through her brain as she thought of the youth who had won her affections.
On such occasions, it was customary for the eric, or chief of each district, to select a young man from that part of the country over which he had control, and to send him to the proper place as one of the victims to be immolated at the shrine of the deceased king. Thus there was a dreadful uncertainty in the minds of the whole people until the unfortunates were chosen; and there was no appeal from the will of the eric; so that, when the summons was made, there remained no hope for the unhappy chosen one.
In the village of Waikukii, of which Nahi was the eric, or chieftain, lived Tuanoa, a young man, and Kinau, his betrothed bride. They had resided near each other from their infancy, and, even in the early dawning of the mind and the affections, they were observed constantly together; and no doubt, at that time, there was interwoven with their young heartstrings the tender passion of love, that “grew with their growth and strengthened with their strength.” Tuanoa was a fine young man, much beloved by his neighbors. He was active and brave in the extreme, and he had performed many acts of prowess, which gave him a standing-place within the circle of the conquerors at a feast, or “hoola hoola;” and he was, withal, of a most kind and affectionate disposition, of which his friends and neighbors were well aware. Kinau, his beloved maiden, was the most beautiful girl in the village, and of good family and estate; besides which, she was the most esteemed tappa-maker in the whole island. None of her competitors could approach her genius, which was so frequently displayed in designing figures and ornaments to adorn her productions, so that her tappas (native cloths) exceeded in beauty and strength those of all others, and they were worn by the king and queen. Her disposition was of that rare and delightful description which finds pleasure in searching after the sorrows of others in order to relieve them, and blessing itself that it had the power to do so. With such a person, disposition, and possessions, we can not wonder that Kinau was much beloved, and that Tuanoa was so much envied by the spirited young men of the village. But they enjoyed no hope of gaining the object of their admiration, for she took every opportunity of expressing her undying love for Tuanoa, and he to her.
Notwithstanding all this, there had been an eye fixed long and ardently upon Kinau, and she was well aware of the fact, much to her sorrow; and many a burning tear, as it rolled over her beautiful cheek, awakened in Tuanoa’s breast a powerful feeling of regret, mingled with surprise at the unhappy change which had come over the mind of his beloved. How often did he entreat, in tenderest words, for the avowal of the cause, which never was fully given. Kinau full well knew that if Tuanoa were to be made aware of the fact, he would commit some rash act that would most probably hurl them both to destruction; and she left the whole to chance, hoping that soon a day would come when the dark cloud of anticipated misfortune would be dispelled, and the sunshine of her love again break forth strong and clear.