Читать книгу The Mythology of Hawaii - King of Hawaii David Kalakaua - Страница 22

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Kamaiole supposed he had killed his sister, and Waikuku, who had seen her just before his unfortunate encounter, thought she had but a few minutes to live; but the wounds inflicted did not prove fatal, and Iola finally recovered and became the mother of a daughter to her dead husband. Tradition attributes her recovery to the especial prayers of the high-priest, but careful nursing and a good constitution were probably the saving means, assisted by the fortunate escape of the vital organs from serious injury.

Returning to Kau, Kamaiole began to prepare for war at once, not doubting that Kanipahu, defied and assaulted at the very gates of the royal mansion, would feel it his duty to bring him to submission. Sending emissaries through the several districts, he appealed to the native chiefs and people to join him in a revolt against Kanipahu, for the purpose of transferring the sovereignty of the island to a ruler of the old Nanaula line, and restoring to them the simple worship of their fathers and the possessions of which they had been despoiled by the southern invaders.

The appeal was not without effect. Substantial aid was promised in Kona, Kau, Puna and Hilo, and in less than three months Kamaiole found himself at the head of an army large enough not only to protect him at Kau, which was doubtless the original purpose of the movement, but to carry the war into Kohala and effect a general revolution.

Whatever may have been the plans of Kanipahu concerning the rebellious Kau chief, he certainly seemed to be in no haste to put them in execution, for when Kamaiole arrived in Kohala at the head of his forces he was but feebly opposed. Tradition fails to account for the apathy of Kanipahu in the face of the supreme danger confronting him. All we are told is that, finding it impossible to raise an army strong enough to suppress the formidable revolt, he left his sons with a trusted friend in the valley of Waimanu, in the district of Hamakua, and sought refuge for himself on the island of Molokai. Iola, fearing to meet her brother, or that he might learn that she still lived, also found an asylum with the young sons of Kanipahu in the secluded valley of Waimanu.

Thus Kamaiole assumed the sovereignty of Hawaii almost without opposition, and Kanipahu lived quietly and unknown at Kalae, on the small island of Molokai. He dressed and comported himself as a simple commoner, performing his own work, bearing his own burdens, and accepting all the hardships to which the poor and untitled were subject. He won the love of his neighbors for his kindness, and on two occasions took up arms to assist them in repelling plundering raids from Maui; and so well did he use his weapons that his humble friends were astonished, and thought he must have been trained in the arts of war, even if he was not of chiefly blood. It is well known that the chiefs, as a class, were physically larger than the masses, so much so that they claimed, and still claim, a descent distinct from that of the common people. Kanipahu was nearer seven than six feet in height, and his size was suggestive of rank; but he habitually stooped his head and shoulders, that his height might be subject to less remark, and labored more industriously than any of his neighbors in order to convince them that he was reared to toil. And in the end, as the years came and went, toil became a comfort to him, for it occupied his thoughts and gave him dreamless and refreshing slumber.

Let us now pass over a period of eighteen years from the accession of Kamaiole to the sovereignty of Hawaii. Kanipahu was still a laborer on the island of Molokai, and his sons had grown to manhood in the secluded valley of Waimanu, their rank and family ties known only to a few who could be trusted. One of these sons was Kalapana, and he had married Makea, the daughter of Iola. Her father was the dead Waikuku, and her uncle was Kamaiole, the moi of Hawaii.

Kamaiole’s reign had been eighteen years of almost continual domestic turmoil and popular dissatisfaction. He was cruel, selfish and arrogant; but he was also a cool and sagacious soldier, and his craft and courage had thus far enabled him to thwart the organization of discontent and enforce obedience to his authority. He had even succeeded in securing the allegiance of every prominent chief in the six districts of Hawaii—a political condition such as had never before been achieved by any of his predecessors.

Wide-spread changes in feudatory tenures were the principal causes of internal trouble. Under the Pili dynasty the land boundaries of the native chiefs had been greatly shifted and narrowed to make room for the chiefs of the new régime. In attempting to restore the old feudal boundaries as far as possible, and adjust the new, Kamaiole had not only stirred up bitter strifes among the nobles, but had unwittingly disturbed the vassalage of the masses and thereby rendered all classes restless and distrustful.

Finally the discontent became so general among the makaainana that they appealed to the head of the Paao family, the high-priest of the kingdom, for advice and assistance. They declared that they would no longer submit to the tyranny of Kamaiole and the exactions of his favored chiefs, and demanded a new ruler. Tradition ascribes this movement almost wholly to the laboring people, but it is more than probable that the priesthood took an early if not the initiatory part in it, since the high-priest seems to have known that Kanipahu was still living, and at once despatched a messenger to Molokai, informing the exiled king that the people were ripe for rebellion, and advising him to repair to Hawaii at once and place himself at the head of the discontented thousands who would rejoice at his coming. Fearful of treachery, Kanipahu declined to make any promises to the messenger, and, in disguise, the high-priest himself proceeded to Kalae and urged the old chief to return and reassert his authority on Hawaii.

Kanipahu was profoundly moved at the words of the high-priest, and no longer doubted the sincerity and good faith of the tempting offer; but he declined to accept it, and, when urged for the reasons, rose sadly to his feet and said:

“Look at these hands, hardened and crooked with toil; look at this face, begrimed and wrinkled with exposure to the sun and rain; behold my bent head, and the unsightly hump that old age and stooping labor have placed upon my shoulders! Is this the figure of a king? No! The oo better becomes the hand of Kanipahu now than the staff of sovereignty. Here have I contentedly dwelt for many years, and here it is my will to peacefully die.”

“Then are we without hope,” replied the priest, in a tone of unfeigned sadness.

“No, not without hope,” returned Kanipahu. “My sons are in the valley of Waimanu. I have heard from them many times. They are worthy of their blood. Seek out Kalapana. He is brave, manly, sagacious. Tell him that upon his shoulders Kanipahu, his father, places the burden of the war against Kamaiole, and in advance bequeaths to him all his valor may win, even the sovereignty of Hawaii.”

“You are right, great chief!” said the priest. “We are not without hope. Kalapana shall answer for his father, and from every heiau in Hawaii shall prayers be spoken for his success.”

The priest received the directions necessary to enable him to communicate with the sons of Kanipahu, and secretly returned to Hawaii to fan the smouldering fires of rebellion and prepare for the coming struggle.

Although the high-priesthood had become too firmly established in the Paao family to be changed by Kamaiole, he could not disguise his dislike for the innovations made by the southern line upon the simpler worship of his fathers, and neither confidence nor cordiality existed between the political and religious authorities. The rebellion against Kamaiole was therefore secretly but earnestly assisted by the entire priesthood, and when Kalapana raised the standard of revolt the people flocked to his support by thousands.

The rebellion was organized with extraordinary rapidity, and when Kalapana suddenly made his appearance in Kohala at the head of a large army, Kamaiole was in no condition to meet him. He hurriedly despatched his lunapais, or war-messengers, to the chiefs of Kohala, Kona, Hamakua and Hilo, commanding their prompt assistance, and summoned the priests and diviners of the heiau of Mookini to make unusual sacrifices to the gods and to bring him at once the auguries of the uprising. But the chiefs responded with no alacrity to his call, and the diviners informed him that triumph to his arms was possible only in Kona. Kamaiole therefore abandoned Kohala, and, with such force as he was able to assemble, fell back into North Kona, where the quotas of warriors from the neighboring districts were ordered to join him.

Amidst great popular enthusiasm Kalapana marched into Northern Kohala without opposition, and took possession of the royal mansion from which his father had been driven into exile eighteen years before. Kanipahu had not overestimated the capacity of his son. By instinct he was a soldier, and from the moment that he appeared at the head of his army the chiefs who had been rallied to his support by the priesthood saw that the quiet and dreamy recluse of Waimanu was made to command; and their enthusiasm in his cause, which was soon shared by the people, made easy his way to victory.

Learning that Kamaiole had fallen back into Kona, Kalapana resolved to follow him without delay, and, if possible, bring him to battle before reinforcements could reach him from the south. The auguries were more than favorable. They were not even ambiguous. They expressly declared that Kamaiole would be killed in Kona. It was, therefore, with confidence and enthusiasm that Kalapana and his steadily increasing army started on their march for the adjoining district of Kona.

Meantime Kamaiole was not inactive. He had succeeded in gathering a force of eight thousand men, and, learning that Kalapana was advancing from Kohala, resolved to give him battle at a place called Anaehoomalu, not far from the northern line of Kona. The point was selected for its strategical advantages, and there Kamaiole, doubtful of the result—for he could see that the tide had set in against him—determined to end the struggle.

There was but a two days’ march between the hostile camps, and Kalapana pushed forward with cautious haste. The priests and kaulas had promised him success, and the most influential chiefs of Hamakua and Kohala were at his side. He had brought with him from Waimanu, where it had been secreted for eighteen years, the war-god of Pili, which had been redecorated, and was borne in front of him in charge of the high-priest. And with him, to share his fate, went his young wife, Makea, to care for him if wounded, to fight by his side, perhaps, should the tide of battle turn against him; for at that time, and later, the more courageous of the wives and daughters of the chiefs not unfrequently, in emergencies, took an active part in the field.

On the morning of the third day after Kalapana’s departure from Kohala the two armies confronted each other, and Kalapana immediately organized his forces for battle. Kamaiole saw that he was outnumbered, and resolved to await the attack behind his defences. In the face of the great odds against him in numbers he was by no means hopeful; and, besides, the auguries were unsatisfactory, and three times the night before he had heard the scream of the alae, the bird of evil omen. But no feeling of fear affected him. Filled with gloomy courage, he cheered his warriors with promises of victory, and, armed with a javelin and heavy laau-palau, or rude halberd, placed himself at the most exposed point of his defences and awaited the attack.

The battle opened, and with a wild rush a heavy division of Kalapana’s forces, armed with spears, clubs, and stone axes, was hurled against the rough stone wall, four or five feet in height, behind which the enemy found partial protection. The wall was leveled in places, and desperate hand-to-hand conflicts followed, but the assault was finally repulsed. Rallied and reinforced, a second charge was made, but with no better success. The loss of life was great, and the result began to look doubtful.

But Kalapana was not discouraged by these costly failures. Withdrawing and strengthening the attacking division, and announcing that he would lead the next assault in person, he ordered an attack in the rear of the enemy by his entire reserve. This involved a rapid march of two or three miles, and the passage of a deep ravine which Kamaiole relied upon as a complete defence of his right flank. While this movement was being executed Kalapana kept the enemy employed with heavy lines of skirmishers and frequent menaces of more decided assault.

For more than an hour this desultory fighting continued, Kalapana impatiently watching for the appearance of his flanking column on the hill above the enemy. At length he discovered the first of its advancing spears, and a few minutes later the entire body came into view and began to pour down the slope. The final assault in front was then ordered, Kalapana taking command in person.

The sudden attack in the rear carried consternation to Kamaiole’s warriors; but their undaunted leader coolly and resolutely prepared for the worst. Hastily taking from the front defences such spears as could be spared, he summoned the entire reserve, and with the united force sprang like a lion to meet the attack from the hill. It came like an avalanche and could not be stayed. The struggle was desperate. As his warriors fell on every side of him, Kamaiole moved like a tower of destruction through the conflict. He seemed to bear a charmed life, and men fell like grass before the sweep of his laau-palau.

Suddenly an old man of large mould, with head bent and long, white hair and beard sweeping his breast and stooping shoulders, stepped in front of Kamaiole, and with a heavy spear-pointed club calmly but dexterously warded a blow of the terrible laau-palau aimed at his head, and, answering quick as thought, felled the royal warrior to the earth like a forest tree. Around and over the body of the fallen chief a desperate struggle ensued. But it was of short duration. Under the command of Kalapana the front defences had been carried, and such of the royal army as had escaped slaughter were soon wildly leaping over the walls and retreating in confusion in all directions.

Pressing toward the rear at the head of his victorious warriors, Kalapana was attracted to the fierce hand-to-hand conflict taking place over the body of Kamaiole. Without stopping to inquire the cause, he promptly plunged into the thickest of the combat, backed by a few resolute followers, and speedily relieved the old white-haired warrior from a struggle which was taxing his strength to the utmost. This was the last stand made by the enemy in a body; what remained of the battle was a merciless massacre of the wounded, and the capture and retention alive of a few prisoners for sacrifice.

Resting for a moment and taking a survey of the field, Kalapana’s eyes fell upon the old warrior. With one foot upon the breast of Kamaiole, he was leaning upon his war-club and scanning the face of Kalapana. His ponderous weapon still dripped with gore, and his wrinkled face was splashed with the blood of his enemies.

“Where is Kamaiole?” suddenly inquired Kalapana, grasping his weapon, as if his work of death had not yet been finished. “Where is Kamaiole?” he repeated to those around him. “Who has seen him?”

“Here is Kamaiole,” replied the old warrior, pointing with bloody finger to the face of the dying king.

Kalapana abruptly turned, and for a moment gazed in silence upon the face of his fallen enemy. Although wounded to the death, Kamaiole was still living, and his eyes showed that he was conscious of what was transpiring around him.

“By whose hand did he fall?” inquired Kalapana.

“By mine,” briefly answered the old man.

“And who are you?” continued Kalapana, with something of a feeling of awe, “who have thus come unsummoned, in the guise of a god from our sacred temples, to strike for the son of Kanipahu?”

The old man slowly raised his head, and, brushing back the white hairs from his face, was about to speak, when the high-priest, with kahus bearing the war-god of Kalapana, approached to greet his victorious chief. Recognizing the venerable warrior, the astounded high-priest dropped on his knees before him, exclaiming, “Kanipahu! Kanipahu!”

Almost in a dream, Kalapana, making himself known, embraced his father, whom he had not seen for eighteen years, and then respectfully chided him for coming secretly from Molokai and joining the army as a common warrior, when his rank and abilities entitled him to supreme command.

The old chief smiled sadly as he replied:

“The purpose of my coming has been accomplished. With my own hand I have answered in blood to the treachery of Kamaiole, and paid him for the hump he has placed upon my shoulders. I shall return to Molokai, and there the old hunchback will spend his few remaining days in peace.”

These words were heard and doubtless understood by Kamaiole, for he closed his eyes, and a smile of defiance played for a moment about his lips.

Just then Makea joined her husband, and was overjoyed to find him victorious and unhurt. With the first lull of battle she had started in search of him with a calabash of water, and to reach him had been compelled to pick her way through ghastly heaps of dead. At the sound of her voice, sweetly replacing the din of battle, Kamaiole opened his eyes and fixed his gaze upon her face. Finally his lips moved as if he would speak. Instinctively she approached the dying chief, and, kneeling, poured into his open mouth a few swallows of water.

Kalapana turned and smiled at Makea’s humanity, unusual on barbarous battle-fields. A grateful look came into the eyes of Kamaiole, and with a questioning glance he faintly syllabled “Iola!” the name of his sister, and the mother of Makea, whom she closely resembled. Kalapana caught the word, and, understanding its meaning, in a tone not far from kind replied:

“No, not Iola, your sister, whom you failed to kill, but Makea, her daughter, who is Kalapana’s wife.”

Kamaiole convulsively raised his head and arms—whether in a spirit of rage or conciliation will never be known—and then dropped back dead.

The remainder of the story may be briefly told. In disregard of all persuasion, Kanipahu returned at once to Molokai, where he lived and died in obscurity, earning his own living and assuming no rank.

Kalapana was anointed king of Hawaii on his return to Kohala, and a hundred prisoners were sacrificed to the gods at Mookini. His reign was conciliatory and peaceful, and with Makea, whose full name was Makeamalamaihanae, he became the ancestor of Kamehameha the Great.