This girl Pa-pulehu was of genuine flesh and blood, with no blend of divine ichor in her veins, such as enriched the blood of Hiiaka; nor had she, like Wahine-oma’o and Paú-o-pala’e, been strengthened and made more resistant to spiritual and physical foes—a privilege granted to those who had enjoyed a close approach to Pele as attendants and worshippers. This weakness in her nature had its influence in determining the fate to which her history now quickly leads.
Their journey still lay through Puna. They were at Kalalau, not far from Haena (at the place where, centuries afterwards, Kamehameha was struck with that well-nigh fatal blow by an outraged fisherman). Some fishermen were hauling in their nets full of fish. The sight was too much for Pa-pulehu. “I hunger for fish,” she exclaimed. “These fish belong to my father. Oh, if I only were at home! how I would eat until I was satisfied!”
Hiiaka thought it best to indulge the appetite of this novice in her service. From a little knoll overlooking the ocean, she descried the canoe of a fisherman named Pahulu floating in the offing, but already well stocked with fish. Hiiaka used her power and drove away the school of fish that would have come to his net. The man himself was so intent on his work that he had no eyes for what was passing on shore; but his assistant exclaimed, “Look at the beautiful woman standing on the shore and watching us!”
“I must keep my eyes on my nets,” the fisherman replied.
Thereupon Hiiaka attracted his attention with a song:
Nani ku a ka Hilo pali-ku!
O ka au-hula ana o Ka-lalau,
O ka au alana loa i kai, e!
Ho mai he i’a, na ka pehu o uka, ea.
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