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

by King of Hawaii David Kalakaua

“It is answered!”

“Such was my thought,” returned the chief. “I have some rare dainties from the sea. Come and eat with me to-night, and I will ask to be taught the mele you have just chanted.”

Keaulumoku made no reply, and Keeaumoku walked slowly toward the palace, trying to remember the words of the poet which had so thrilled his listeners.

What occurred between Keeaumoku and the old poet during their repast that evening will never be known; but certain it is that henceforth Keeaumoku never doubted the final success of Kamehameha, and when, in the summer of 1785, the latter retired discomfited from an invasion of Hilo, Keeaumoku smiled as he said to his chief: “Thus far you have only skirmished with your enemies; you will win when you fight battles!”

In 1784 Keaulumoku died. For months the old poet had lived alone in a hut near Kauhola. He avoided company and seldom spoke to any one. Feeling his end approaching, he one day announced that the evening following he would chant his last mele. Hundreds collected around his hut at the time appointed. They did not enter, but sat down, conversing in whispers, and respectfully waited.

An hour passed, and another, but the old singer did not make his appearance. Finally the mat which served as a door was drawn aside, and Keaulumoku’s white head and bent form were seen in the opening. Seating himself within view of all, he began to chant a mele in tremulous tones. As he proceeded his voice became louder, and every word was breathlessly listened to. He spoke of the coming conquest of the group by Kamehameha, whom he designated as the son of Kahekili, and also as “the lone one.” He also predicted the early extinction of the Kamehameha dynasty, the domination of the white race, the destruction of the temples, and finally the gradual death of the Hawaiian people. Concluding his chant, the old seer raised his hands as if to bless his listeners, and fell back dead. A great wail went up from the people, and they tenderly bore the body of the dead poet to the heiau, where it was accorded the burial rites of a prophet.

Much of the last prophecy of Keaulumoku was preserved and repeated, and by conversing with the many who listened to it Keeaumoku managed to secure a satisfactory version of the final song of the dying poet.

From the first of Kamehameha’s battles Keeaumoku had not doubted the triumph of that chief over all adversaries in the end, and eagerly grasped at every circumstance calculated to strengthen the conviction. So believing, his way seemed to be clear.

But what of Kaahumanu, whose promised lover was to be a chief of renown, and whose husband was to be a king? She was an attractive maiden of seventeen, and a few months after the death of Keaulumoku, and while Kamehameha was engaged in peaceful pursuits at Halaula, her father suddenly brought her to court. Fresh, sparkling and graceful, and related to the royal lines of Maui and Hawaii, she attracted the immediate attention of Kamehameha, and he disposed of the claims of her many suitors at once by making her his wife.

There was little in the appearance of the great chief to please the eye of a girl of seventeen. His features were rugged and irregular, and he held in contempt the courtly graces which imparted a charm to the intercourse with each other of the nobility of the time. He was already the husband of two recognized wives; but Kaahumanu was ambitious, and, with admiration but no affection for him, she consented to become his wife.