The Legends and Myths of Hawaii: The fables and folk-lore of a strange people

by King of Hawaii David Kalakaua

Although in humble life, Akahia was really of royal blood, since six generations back her paternal ancestor was Kalahuamoku, a half-brother to Kalapana, from whom Liloa drew his strain. She knew the rank of her royal visitor, and felt honored that he should praise her beauty; and when he kissed her lips at parting he left with her his maro and the ivory clasp of his necklace, at the same time whispering words in her ear which in a generation later transferred the sceptre of Hawaii from the direct line to humbler but worthier hands.

Before the trade-winds came and went again the gentle Akahia, unwedded, became a mother. At first her father frowned upon the child; but it was a strong and healthy boy, who looked as if he might some day wield with uncommon vigor a laau-palau if not a battle-axe, and he soon became reconciled to the presence of the little intruder. In those days, it is proper to mention, such events occasioned but little comment, and entailed upon the mother neither social ostracism nor especial reproach.

The child was named Umi, and, to give it a stronger protector than herself, Akahia became the wife of her cousin Maakao, a strong, rough man, who had always shown great affection for her, and who felt honored in becoming the husband of one who might have taken her choice among many.

The father of Akahia cultivated a kalo patch larger than his necessities really required, and was abundantly supplied with pigs, poultry, yams, bananas, cocoanuts and breadfruit, which he was at all times enabled to exchange for fish, crabs, limpets and other products of the sea.

All land titles at that time vested either in the sovereign or the chiefs subject to him, and the producer was frequently required to return to his landlord a full third or half of all his labor yielded. Sometimes the land-owner was more liberal with his tenants; but quite as often he took to the extent of his need or greed, with no one to challenge the injustice of his demands.

But the bit of land occupied by the father of Akahia was part of a large tract reserved for the benefit of the king, and because of the alii blood with which he was credited, but of which he made no boast, the rent he returned was merely nominal.

When Umi was about ten years of age the father of Akahia died, leaving his little estate to his daughter. She had two brothers living, both older than herself. But the cultivation of the soil was not congenial to them, and, as there had been no wars of moment in Hawaii for nearly two generations, one of them, who had been a dreamer from his youth, had been inducted into the service of the gods by the high-priest Laeanui, to whom Liloa had given in perpetuity the possession of Kekaha, in the district of Kona, and was otherwise influential; while the second brother, on reaching manhood, had gone with spear and sling to Maui, and risen to distinction in the military service of the moi of that island.

So Akahia and her husband continued to occupy unmolested the old plantation. But the agents who collected the revenues of the king were less liberal with Maakao than they had been with the father of his wife, and he was compelled to make the same rent returns as other royal tenants. Nor this alone. A portion of their land had been given to another, embracing a little grove of hawane or cocoa-trees, some of which, it was averred, had been planted by the stewards of Pili nearly four centuries before, and their depleted stocks of pigs and fowls ceased to be the envy of their neighbors.

This harsh dealing with Akahia and her husband, it is needless to say, was done without the knowledge of the king; but they feared to complain, lest they might be despoiled of the little left them, and deemed it prudent to suffer in silence rather than arouse the wrath of an agent of whose powers they knew not the extent.

There were other little mouths to feed besides Umi’s, and, as the years came and went with their scant harvests, Maakao became more and more discontented; but, with a hope in her heart of which Maakao knew nothing, Akahia toiled on without complaint. Year by year she saw Umi developing into manhood, and noted that in thought, habit and bearing he was different from others.