Kalima had been sick for many weeks, and at last died. Her friends gathered around her with loud cries of grief, and with many expressions of affection and sorrow at their loss they prepared her body for its burial.

The grave was dug, and when everything was ready for the last rites and sad act, husband and friends came to take a final look at the rigid form and ashen face before it was laid away forever in the ground. The old mother sat on the mat-covered ground beside her child, brushing away the intrusive flies with a piece of cocoanut-leaf, and wiping away the tears that slowly rolled down her cheeks. Now and then she would break into a low, heart-rending wail, and tell in a sob-choked, broken voice, how good this her child had always been to her, how her husband loved her, and how her children would never have any one to take her place. "Oh, why," she cried, "did the G.o.ds leave me? I am old and heavy with years; my back is bent and my eyes are getting dark. I cannot work, and am too old and weak to enjoy fishing in the sea, or dancing and feasting under the trees. But this my child loved all these things, and was so happy. Why is she taken and I, so useless, left?" And again that mournful, sob-choked wail broke on the still air, and was borne out to the friends gathered under the trees before the door, and was taken up and repeated until the hardest heart would have softened and melted at the sound. As they sat around on the mats looking at their dead and listening to the old mother, suddenly Kalima moved, took a long breath, and opened her eyes. They were frightened at the miracle, but so happy to have her back again among them.

The old mother raised her hands and eyes to heaven and, with rapt faith on her brown, wrinkled face, exclaimed: "The G.o.ds have let her come back! How they must love her!"

Mother, husband, and friends gathered around and rubbed her hands and feet, and did what they could for her comfort. In a few minutes she revived enough to say, "I have something strange to tell you."

Several days pa.s.sed before she was strong enough to say more; then calling her relatives and friends about her, she told them the following weird and strange story:

"I died, as you know. I seemed to leave my body and stand beside it, looking down on what _was_ me. The me that was standing there looked like the form I was looking at, only, I was alive and the other was dead. I gazed at my body for a few minutes, then turned and walked away. I left the house and village, and walked on and on to the next village, and there I found crowds of people,--Oh, so many people! The place which I knew as a small village of a few houses was a very large place, with hundreds of houses and thousands of men, women, and children. Some of them I knew and they spoke to me,--although that seemed strange, for I knew they were dead,--but nearly all were strangers. They were all so happy! They seemed not to have a care; nothing to trouble them. Joy was in every face, and happy laughter and bright, loving words were on every tongue.

"I left that village and walked on to the next. I was not tired, for it seemed no trouble to walk. It was the same there; thousands of people, and every one so joyous and happy. Some of these I knew. I spoke to a few people, then went on again. I seemed to be on my way to the volcano,--to Pele's pit,--and could not stop, much as I wanted to do so.

"All along the road were houses and people, where I had never known any one to live. Every bit of good ground had many houses, and many, many happy people on it. I felt so full of joy, too, that my heart sang within me, and I was glad to be dead.

"In time I came to South Point, and there, too, was a great crowd of people. The barren point was a great village, I was greeted with happy _alohas_, then pa.s.sed on. All through Kau it was the same, and I felt happier every minute. At last I reached the volcano. There were some people there, but not so many as at other places. They, too, were happy like the others, but they said, 'You must go back to your body. You are not to die yet.'

"I did not want to go back. I begged and prayed to be allowed to stay with them, but they said, 'No, you must go back; and if you do not go willingly, we will make you go.'

"I cried and tried to stay, but they drove me back, even beating me when I stopped and would not go on. So I was driven over the road I had come, back through all those happy people. They were still joyous and happy, but when they saw that I was not allowed to stay, they turned on me and helped drive me, too.

"Over the sixty miles I went, weeping, followed by those cruel people, till I reached my home and stood by my body again. I looked at it and hated it. Was that my body? What a horrid, loathsome thing it was to me now, since I had seen so many beautiful, happy creatures! Must I go and live in that thing again? No, I would not go into it; I rebelled and cried for mercy.

"'You must go into it; we will make you!' said my tormentors. They took me and pushed me head foremost into the big toe.

"I struggled and fought, but could not help myself. They pushed and beat me again, when I tried for the last time to escape. When I pa.s.sed the waist, I seemed to know it was of no use to struggle any more, so went the rest of the way myself. Then my body came to life again, and I opened my eyes.

"But I wish I could have stayed with those happy people. It was cruel to make me come back. My other body was so beautiful, and I was so happy, so happy!"

VIII

KAPEEPEEKAUILA; OR, THE ROCKS OF KANA

_Rev. A. O. Forbes_

On the northern side of the island of Molokai, commencing at the eastern end and stretching along a distance of about twenty miles, the coast is a sheer precipice of black rock varying in height from eight hundred to two thousand feet. The only interruptions to the continuity of this vast sea wall are formed by the four romantic valleys of Pelekunu, Puaahaunui, Wailau, and Waikolu. Between the valleys of Pelekunu and Waikolu, juts out the bold, sharp headland of Haupu, forming the dividing ridge between them, and reminding one somewhat of an axe-head turned edge upward. Directly in a line with this headland, thirty or forty rods out in the ocean, arise abruptly from the deep blue waters the rocks of Haupu, three or four sharp, needle-like points of rock varying from twenty to one hundred feet in height. This is the spot a.s.sociated with the legend of Kapeepeekauila, and these rocks stand like grim sentinels on duty at the eastern limit of what is now known as the settlement of Kalawao. The legend runs as follows:

Keahole was the father, Hiiaka-noholae was the mother, and Kapeepeekauila was the son. This Kapeepeekauila was a hairy man, and dwelt on the ridge of Haupu.

Once on a time Hakalanileo and his wife Hina, the mother of Kana, came and dwelt in the valley of Pelekunu, on the eastern side of the ridge of Haupu.

Kapeepeekauila, hearing of the arrival of Hina, the beautiful daughter of Kalahiki, sent his children to fetch her. They went and said to Hina, "Our royal father desires you as his wife, and we have come for you."

"Desires me for what?" said she.

"Desires you for a wife," said they.

This announcement pleased the beautiful daughter of Kalahiki, and she replied, "Return to your royal father and tell him he shall be the husband and I will be the wife."

When this message was delivered to Kapeepeekauila, he immediately sent a messenger to the other side of the island to summon all the people from Keonekuina to Kalamaula; for we have already seen that he was a hairy man, and it was necessary that this blemish should be removed. Accordingly, when the people had all arrived, Kapeepeekauila laid himself down and they fell to work until the hairs were all plucked out. He then took Hina to wife, and they two dwelt together on the top of Haupu.

Poor Hakalanileo, the husband of Hina, mourned the loss of his companion of the long nights of winter and the shower-sprinkled nights of summer. Neither could he regain possession of her, for the ridge of Haupu grew till it reached the heavens. He mourned and rolled himself in the dust in agony, and crossed his hands behind his back. He went from place to place in search of some powerful person who should be able to restore to him his wife. In his wanderings, the first person to whom he applied was Kamalalawalu, celebrated for strength and courage. This man, seeing his doleful plight, asked, "Why these tears, O my father?"

Hakalanileo replied, "Thy mother is lost."

"Lost to whom?"

"Lost to Kapeepee."

"What Kapeepee?"

"Kapeepee-kauila."

"What Kauila?"

"Kauila, the dauntless, of Haupu."

"Then, O father, thou wilt not recover thy wife. Our stick may strike; it will but hit the dust at his feet. His stick, when it strikes back, will hit the head. Behold, measureless is the height of Haupu."

Now, this Kamalalawalu was celebrated for his strength in throwing stones. Of himself, one side was stone, and the other flesh. As a test he seized a large stone and threw it upwards. It rose till it hit the sky and then fell back to earth again. As it came down, he turned his stony side toward it, and the collision made his side rattle. Hakalanileo looked on and sadly said, "Not strong enough."

On he went, beating his breast in his grief, till he came to the celebrated Niuloihiki. Question and answer pa.s.sed between them, as in the former case, but Niuloihiki replied, "It is hopeless; behold, measureless is the height of Haupu."

Again he prosecuted his search till he met the third man of fame, whose name was Kaulu. Question and answer pa.s.sed, as before, and Kaulu, to show his strength, seized a river and held it fast in its course. But Hakalanileo mournfully said, "Not strong enough."

Pursuing his way with streaming eyes, he came to the fourth hero, Lonokaeho by name. As in the former cases, so in this, he received no satisfaction. These four were all he knew of who were foremost in prowess, and all four had failed him. It was the end, and he turned sadly toward the mountain forest, to return to his home.

Meantime, the rumor had reached the ears of Niheu, surnamed "the Rogue." Some one told him a father had pa.s.sed along searching for some one able to recover him his wife.

"Where is this father of mine?" inquired Niheu.

"He has gone inland," was the reply.

"I'll overtake him; he won't escape me," said Niheu. So he went after the old man, kicking over the trees that came in his way. The old man had gone on till he was tired and faint, when Niheu overtook him and brought him back to his house. Then Niheu asked him, "What made you go on without coming to the house of Niheu?"

"What, indeed," answered the old man; "as though I were not seeking to recover thy mother, who is lost!"

Then came question and answer, as in former cases, and Niheu said, "I fear thou wilt not recover thy wife, O my father. But let us go inland to the foster son of Uli." So they went. But Niheu ran on ahead and told Kana, the foster son of Uli: "Behold, here comes Hakalanileo, bereft of his wife. We are all beat."

"Where is he?" inquired Kana.

"Here he is, just arrived."