Umi loved his mother and was not unkind to Maakao; but he spent much of his time by the sea-shore where the great waves thundered against the cliffs, and in the hills where, among the ohia and sandal trees, the trade-winds whispered to him of the unknown. He would climb to the crown of the tallest cocoa-tree because there was danger in it, and buffet the fiercest waves in his frail canoe; but neither threat nor persuasion could ever induce him to delve in the slime of the kalo patch or plant a row of yams. He would bring fish from the sea and fruits from the mountains, but could not be prevailed upon to till the soil. He fashioned spears of cunning workmanship, and from the teeth of sharks made knives of double edge, but to the implements of husbandry he gave but little note.
At the age of sixteen Umi had reached almost the proportions of a man. His limbs were strong, his features manly and handsome, his eyes clear and full of expression, and in athletic sports and the use of arms he had no equal among his companions. His habits brought around him but few friends, yet his kindness to all left no pretext for enmity; and while some said he absented himself from home in a spirit of idleness, others shook their heads and ventured the opinion that he visited the recesses of the wooded hills alone to converse with the kini-akua and learn wisdom from the gods. And his strange conduct, it may well be imagined, was made the subject of frequent discussion in the neighborhood, for Maakao complained continually of his idleness, and but for the intercessions of the mother, who alone was able to account for his peculiarities, would have closed his doors against him.
But Umi had a few friends to extol his goodness and defend him against unkind insinuation, and among them were Piimaiwaa and Omaukamau, youths of about his own age, and Kulamea, the younger and only sister of the latter. From childhood these friends had been his frequent companions, and as he grew to manhood, strong-limbed, resolute and gentle, they learned to regard him with a love prepared for any sacrifice.
Kulamea was a bright-eyed, dusky little fairy, who often accompanied Umi and her brother in their rambles. They petted her until she became an exacting little tyrant, and then Umi, at her command, made toys for her, climbed the tallest cocoa-trees, and scaled the steepest cliffs in search of flowers and berries that she liked; and, in return for these kindnesses, what, at the age of fifteen, could Kulamea do but love almost to idolatry the brave and gentle companion who had developed into a splendid manhood? And what could Umi do at twenty but return in kind the devotion of one now ripening into a charming womanhood, whose childish friendship was the brightest sunshine that had ever flecked the landscape of his dreamy life?
With a feeling of uneasiness Akahia watched Umi’s growing love for Kulamea, and when at twenty he would have married her, much to the gratification of Maakao, she kindly but firmly said to her son: “Be not in haste to fetter your free limbs. Be patient, as I have been for twenty years. Kulamea is worthy—but wait.”
“Why wait?” exclaimed Maakao, suddenly appearing. He had been listening without the door. “Why should he wait?” he continued; “he has all his life been idle, and it is time that he should have a house of his own.”
“You have spoken well!” replied Umi, drawing himself up to his full height, and looking scornfully down upon the husband of his mother—“you have spoken well, Maakao! It is time, indeed, that I stopped this dreaming! I will never eat food again under your roof. Now get you to your kalo patch; you will find occupation there befitting you! I will seek other means of living!”
With these scornful words Umi strode haughtily from the house. Enraged at the insult, Maakao seized a laau-palau, or large kalo-knife, and sprang after him. Umi turned and reached for his pahoa. Maakao raised his weapon to strike, but it dropped to the earth as if a paralysis had seized his arm as Akahia sprang before him, exclaiming: “Do not dare to strike! He is not your son; he is your chief! Down on your knees before him!”
To the dismay of Maakao and profound astonishment of Umi, Akahia then revealed the secret of Umi’s birth, and, taking from their hiding-place the keepsakes left with her by Liloa, said, as she handed them to her son:
“Your father is king of Hawaii. Go to him in person and place these mementoes before him. Tell him Akahia-kuleana returns them to him by the hands of his and her son, who is worthy of him, and he will own you to be the child of his love. He is noble and will hold sacred his royal pledge. This should have been done long ago, but I could not bring my heart to part with you. Go, and may the gods be your protection and your guide!”