Chapter VI: Part 6

I went away from the King’s house. I met many men, and I spoke to them, telling them of the terrible thing that the King had done to me. But each one I spoke to said: “Yes, such is Ku-pa, our King. He has not dealt with you harder than he has dealt with others.” And when they said this they looked at me; and I saw that their looks were hard, even as the King’s.

I went within my house, and I sat there thinking. To whom could I go for vengeance on the King? Who would be powerful enough to avenge me upon Ku-pa? And then I thought of you, Kau-hu-hu. You would be able to avenge me, and no one else would be able. And so I made up my mind to go to you—even to go into the cavern where no man had ever ventured before,

I took a pig as an offering, and I went hurrying on my way; no man going into danger ever went so swiftly before.

Mo-e Mo-e heard no more of the story then. He stood up. The two who were guarding him were so startled that they did not lay hands on him. He took up the spear that was between them, and he went off.

Back to his wife’s he went, and he left the long spear with its edge of shark’s teeth in the house. “I will have to make another journey,” he said, “and if again anything should happen to me that will prevent my coming back, and if a son is born to us, and if he should want to go in search of me, give him the spear so that I may know him; and give him the name that I told you.”

He went to work in the fields again, and he worked day and night, and his wife’s brother Po-po-lo-au and her servant Po-o were astonished at the work he did. And then, on the very night that his son was born, Mo-e Mo-e fell asleep. He slept for ten days and for another ten days. His wife, her brother, and her servant tried to waken him; all they could do could not waken Mo-e Mo-e, Then his wife shook him; she made noises; she poured water on his eyes, but still he slept. Then she said, “There is no doubt about it: Mo-e Mo-e is dead.”

She called her brother and her servant, and she said to them: “The Chief is dead. Wrap him up and carry him to the beach and cast him into the sea; that is the best that one can do for a dead man.” Her brother and her servant did as she ordered, and a wrap was put around Mo-e Mo-e, and then he was carried down to the beach and cast into the sea. Then Po-po-lo-au went home, and Po-o went home.

His wife’s name was Ka-le-ko’o-ka-lau-ae, and concerning her and her brother Po-po-lo-au and her servant Po-o a strange story is told. After they had left what they thought was the dead body of Mo-e Mo-e in the sea, Po-po-lo-au and Po-o went up the mountains to get timbers for the roofing of a house. They were far from home, and the night came on dark and rainy. Po-o wanted to go back to the house, but Po-po-lo-au would not return through the dark and the rain. Nothing would do him but that they should spend the night in a cave.

So they went into a cave that no one had ever gone into before. And at Po-po-lo-au’s desire they lighted a great fire to keep themselves from the cold. And then, although there were things in the cave that they should have been fearful about, they both went to sleep.

In the middle of the night Po-po-lo-au was startled by something that he thought was happening. He wakened up, and he saw that the fire was burning Po-o. He called him, but the servant would not waken up. He went to him and tried to rouse him, but still he would not awaken. The fire, which had been burning the man’s feet, went farther up his body. Po-po-lo-au lifted him and tried by every way to bring him to wakefulness, but there was no stir from Po-o. Then, when the fire had burned up to his neck, Po-po-lo-au let him lie there and ran out of the cave. He ran towards a hill. When he reached the top of it he heard a voice calling to him, “Wait until I come to you, and we will go home together.” He looked back, and he saw a head with fire streaming out of it coming up the hill after him.

He ran to the valley, and the head rolled down the hill after him. He looked back, and he saw tongues of fire shooting out of the rolling head, and he became more frightened than before. He ran on and on. Through many valleys he raced, and always the head raced behind him. He reached the plain, and then he could hardly go on because of the terror he was in.

It happened that at that time a wizard was walking with his friends along that plain. “Do you see the person who is coming towards us?” he said. “If he is not caught until he comes up to us, he will be saved. But if he is caught before that, I do not know what will happen to him.” As he said that, Po-po-lo-au came running up to them; and then the head did not come any nearer.

Po-po-lo-au told the wizard all that had befallen him. Then he went to his sister, the wife of Mo-e Mo-e. She asked about her servant, and he told her of how he had been burned and how his head had chased him.

Then the wizard came into the house. “I have come to you,” he said, “because I fear you may be burned. The head that chased this man will come here. It will want to come within and stay in the house, but do not ask it to come in, or you will come into its power. It will ask you to go outside to it, but do not go out. It will ask you to send your child out to it, but do not send him out.”

And then he said: “When you hear a whistle outside, it will mean that the head is near. Then move into a corner of the house and keep very still. When the outside is all lighted up you will know that it has come, and when the inside is lighted up you will know that it has entered the house.”

The woman stayed within the house, and about the middle of the night she heard a whistle outside; then all outside was lighted up, and the voice of Po-o called to her asking her to come without. “I will not go outside, for it is raining,” she said. “There is no rain,” said the voice of Po-o.

Then the voice spoke again and said to her, “Send out to me your little child.” And the voice went on to say: “I have what your child liked well—ripe bananas. Send him out to me, and I will give them to him.”

“I will not send him out to you,” the woman said, “for the child is now asleep.”

Then the head came within the house, but the woman had hidden herself and was not to be found. The wizard stole in; he drew the woman out of the house, and he closed the door. The head called out: “Do not close the door on me; I wish to come outside.” But those outside blocked up the door and would not let it out, for they knew that what was within the house was the demon of the cave that had gone into the man’s head. Then fire burst out in the house; there were twelve loud sounds; the head was shattered, and after that there was nothing ever seen of it. And that is the strange story about Po-o.

And now we can speak of Mo-e Mo-e, or at least we can speak of Mo-e Mo-e’s son. He grew up with a stepfather, for his mother had married again. Now, the stepfather was not always kind to Mo-e Mo-e’s son, and the boy was often punished by him.

One day he said to his mother: “I will go in search of my real father.” “Your father is dead and in the sea,” said his mother. “Perhaps he is not,” said the boy. “I will go in search of him, and I will bring with me the spear that my father left for me.”

So he started off in search of Mo-e Mo-e, his father. Now when Mo-e Mo-e had been flung into the sea long before, he had gone down to the bottom. He lay there, for his slumber was still deep. The fish bit at him, but they did not awaken him, and the salt of the deep sea went into his skin. Still he lay there asleep. Then a thunder-storm came. He wakened up. He went to the surface of the sea. Then he swam to the shore.

He had been made bald by the salt water that had got into his skin. His skin had been scraped off by the bites of the fishes. He crawled to a pig-pen, and there he lay down. From that place he crawled to another place. There a wizard found him; he gave Mo-e Mo-e medicine that cured him.

Then he went back to his own home, to the place that he had first come from. He went on no more trips after that, and he took to sleeping like an ordinary man.

And now his son, with the great spear of dark-red wood with the ridges of shark’s teeth upon it, went off in search of him. He came to the Island where Mo-e Mo-e had lived when his name was O-pe-le. He went down into the valley where O-pe-le had had his farm.

The boy came to a field where a man was planting taro. He sat down to watch the man, holding the spear in his hands. Two men came along. Seeing the spear that the boy held, they stopped and looked at it. “Is it not like the spear we carried when we took away the man who slept all the way in our canoe and all the time on the black stones of the temple?” one said to the other. “It is the very same spear,” said the other. “You laid it down, and I was looking at it while I was telling you the story of Ka-ma-lo, who went to the cave of the Shark-God.” “I never heard the rest of that story,” said the first man, “and I should like to hear it.”

The two sat together, and then the man who had been telling the story that Mo-e Mo-e had heard, went on.

When Ka-ma-lo had told him all that had happened, the Shark-God said to him: “Go back to Ku-pa’s country and live there with his people. But make ready a great offering for me—an offering of black pigs, white fowl, and red fish—and when the new moon comes take the offering into the temple enclosure, and stay there until you see a cloud coming over the mountains of La-na-i. And when you see that cloud, leave the temple enclosure and get into your canoe and go out to sea.” So Kau-hu-hu said; then he lay down in the cavern and went to sleep. Ka-ma-lo did not stay any longer; he went quickly out of the cavern.

He went back, and he lived for a while under the cruel King who had destroyed his children and amongst the hard people that the King ruled over. He began to put together the offering for Kau-hu-hu the Shark-God; and by the time he had got all the black pigs and all the white fowl and all the red fish, the new moon had come.

He took his offering to the temple enclosure; he left the black pigs and the white fowl and the red fish within, and he stood upon the black stones, and he looked towards the mountains of La-na-i.

He heard the King beating upon his drum: it was to summon all his people to him. He heard the sound of the drum, but he did not go towards the King’s house; he stood upon the black stones that made the temple enclosure, and he watched and he waited, moveless as the stone that he stood on. Louder and louder beat the King’s drum. The people all gathered at his house. Then Ka-ma-lo saw a speck of cloud over the mountains of La-na-i. He watched, and he saw it coming nearer and nearer. He left the place that he had been watching from, and he went to the beach.

As he went he saw the crowd of people that were gathered together by the King’s drum. They called to him, but he went past them. He came to the beach, and he pushed but in his canoe.

When he looked back he saw that the end of the rainbow was now resting on the temple enclosure, and he knew that the Shark-God had set a guard on the offering that he had left there. The cloud was coming nearer, and it was growing bigger and bigger as it came. It made a darkness over all the land.

Ka-ma-lo paddled beyond the reef, and he went far out to sea. Out of the darkness that covered the land there came a fearful storm: down poured the rain; the trees in the forest cracked and broke; the rivers suddenly filled up; as they rushed into the valley, trees, houses, and men were swept away and out to sea. Ka-ma-lo, in his canoe, saw the red-covered drum of the King go floating by. That was the end of Ku-pa and his people. And if the spear that this young man holds in his hands be the same spear that I had when we were in the temple enclosure the day I told you the beginning of the story, that spear is the only thing that has come out of his kingdom.

Ka-le-lea then spoke up and said: “Yes, this is the spear you carried on that occasion, for my father, Mo-e Mo-e, heard you tell the beginning of that story; he related it to my mother, who told it to me. And now I am seeking him; I am seeking that man, for he is my father.” “If you are seeking the man who slept while we brought him to the temple and slept there while we were making the preparations to sacrifice him, you have not far to go,” said the men. “We have seen him since, and we know where he is.” “And where is he?” asked the boy. “The man planting taro there,” said the man, “is no other than he; he is O-pe-le, who came to be called Mo-e Mo-e.”

Then the boy called out to the man who was planting taro in the field, “Say, your rows of taro are crooked.” The man looked at his rows, and then he began to straighten them. But no matter how he straightened them, the boy would call out the same thing. Then the man said to himself: “How strange this is! Here I have been doing this work night and day, and my rows were never made crooked before. Now it seems that I cannot make them straight.” Thereupon he quit working and went to the edge of the patch where the boy was standing, the great spear in his hands. “Whose offspring are you?” said he, when he looked at the boy and looked at the spear. “Yours,” said the boy, “yours and Ka-li-ko’o-ka-lau-ae’s.” “What name have you?” said the man. “I am Ka-le-lea,” said the boy. “You have found me, my son,” said Mo-e Mo-e.

And thereupon the two went into the house.

The boy who came to Mo-e Mo-e, Ka-le-lea, is also known in our stories; in them he is called “The Mari Who Was Bold in his Wish,” and when you have lighted some more ku-kui nuts I will tell you how he came to get that name.

When he grew up he became a fisherman, and he and another youth had a house together. Ke-ino was the other youth’s name. Now whenever other houses were dark, Ka-le-lea’s and Ke-ino’s would be lighted up. They would have gathered many ku-kui nuts, they would string them together, and they would light them up. And the light that Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino had in their house would be seen by travellers and watchmen and those who looked out of their houses at night. What was being done in the house where there was so much light, people wondered?

Well, when Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino came into their house in the evening, they would, first of all, partake of their evening meal. Then they would light the ku-kui nuts and keep lighting them as they burned out. Then they would lie down on their mats with their pillows under their heads, and they would look up at the roof, Ka-le-lea looking at the gable end, and Ke-ino looking at the end opposite. They would watch the mice running along the ridge-pole of the house. Then one would say to the other: “Here are we, Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino, awake and with lights burning beside us. Let us keep watching the mice running along the ridge-pole of our house, and as we watch them, let each of us tell out his wishes.”

Then Ke-ino would say: “Here is my wish. I wish that we may sleep until the first crowing of the cock, then waken up, and go into the field and pull up a root for fish-bait. Then go down to the beach, pound the root and set it for eel-bait. Then catch an eel after having waited around the beach for a bit, go home with it, and wrap it in banana-leaves for cooking. Put it in the oven after a while. Then, at the second crowing of the cock, open the oven and put the eel one side to cool. Eat, after a while, until we have had enough. Then lie down on our mats, put the pillows under our heads, look up and watch the mice run along the ridge-pole of our house, and tell out our wishes. That is my wish, brother.”

Then Ka-le-lea would say: “It is a wish, but it is not a manly wish. Listen now, and I will tell out my wishes.

“I wish that we may eat King Ka-ku-hi-hewa’s dogs that bite the faces of the people. I wish that we may eat his hogs with the crossing tusks. I wish that we may eat the fat fish of his ponds. And when we have eaten all belonging to him, I wish that the King himself may prepare the drink for us, bring it to us, and put his own cup to our lips. And then, when we have eaten and drunken, I wish that the King may send for his two daughters, have them brought in, and have each of them marry one of us, and then have each couple go to live in a house that he has had built for them. That is my wish, my brother, and I want you to know it.”

But when Ka-le-lea would say this (and he would say it every night) Ke-ino would pull the mat over his face, and he would say: “No, not that wish. Never let it pass your lips again. We will surely get killed on account of that wish.”

Now the King whom Ka-le-lea had spoken of was at that time engaged in a war—the war of King Ka-ku-hi-hewa against King Pueo-nui. He had won nothing so far in the war, and he was becoming disheartened. His watchmen and his soldiers often saw the light in the house of Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino, and one day they told the King about it.

Then the King sent his spy to see or hear what was going on in that house. The spy stole up and lay outside. He heard Ke-ino tell his wish, and then he heard Ka-le-lea tell his. He heard nothing more; before the first cock crew he stole away, leaving his dagger stuck at the entrance of the house to let Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino know that the King’s servant had been there.

When the spy came back to the King’s house, the King was there with his Councillor beside him, and they were talking about what should be done to bring to some sort of end the war against King Pueo-nui. Said the King when the spy came to them: “What is happening in the house that I sent you to?”

Said the spy: “This and this.” Thereupon he told all he had heard. When he spoke about Ka-le-lea’s wish the King became very angry. “Because I am not winning the war,” he said, “these people think they can make mock of me! Eat my dogs and my hogs and my fat fish indeed! Have me prepare the drink for them and put my own cup to their mouths! And then give my daughters in marriage to two such fellows! Tell me, my Councillor, how should I have them slain?”

But the Councillor was not for having Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino put to death in any way. “Rather carry out the wish that the boldest of them spoke out,” he said. “If any one can help you in the war, it is that man. Send for both of them and carry out the bold one’s wish to the very end. You have a wish too: it is to win the whole Island for yourself. That man, believe me, is the one who can help you to have that wish of yours made real.” The King agreed at last to let Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino live, and he even agreed to carry out to its very end the wish that Ka-le-lea had made. He ordered his men to cut timber and build houses for the two fishermen and the wives he was going to give them, and after that he sent an officer with soldiers to bring Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino to him.

Ke-ino was the first to waken up that morning. And when he went to the door he saw the dagger that was stuck at the entrance. Then he knew that the King’s servant had been listening in the night and that he had heard all that had been said. “We are going to be killed,” he said to Ka-le-lea; “your terrible wish has been overheard, and the two of us are going to die for it.”

But Ka-le-lea only stirred on the mat he was lying on; he didn’t even get up to go to the door. And then Ke-ino saw a company of people coming out of the King’s house. They carried axes. “Here are our deaths,” said Ke-ino. But the procession he saw was that of the King’s servants as they went towards the mountain to cut timbers for the two houses that were to be built, according to the Councillor’s advice and the King’s orders, for himself and Ka-le-lea and the wives who were to be given to them—the King’s two daughters.

Later on, another procession came from the King’s house. This one came straight towards their house. The men were armed with spears, and the officers had on their shoulders cloaks of bright feathers, and their war-helmets were on their heads. Ke-ino said: “Our deaths are now close to us.” But all that Ka-le-lea answered was: “Keep your eye on them.”

He did not move until then. Then he rose up from the mat he had been sleeping on, and he took up his club. He went outside, and by this time the armed men had come up. The officer said: “We have come to take you two before the king.” Ka-le-lea said never a word, but with his great club he struck the house a mighty blow, and he scattered its thatch and its timbers in all directions.

Then, very much to their surprise, Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino were put into a litter and carried on the shoulders of the soldiers. They were brought before the King. They were served according to the wish of Ka-le-lea: the dogs and the hogs and the fat fish were given them to eat; the King prepared the drink for them, and in his own cup he brought it to Ka-le-lea and Ke-ino. And when they had drunken, the King’s daughters were brought before them. One was wed to Ka-le-lea, and the other was wed to Ke-ino. And then each couple was given a house to live in, a house that the King had had built for them in a single day.

Ka-le-lea, the one who had uttered the bold wish, was not seen much after that. He stayed in the house that had been given him. Ke-ino was the one who was around all the time. And the King took Ke-ino and made him an officer, and gave him a feather cape for his shoulders and a war-helmet to go on his head. After that, Ke-ino went into the fight with a company of men; every day he won a victory. But, for all that, the war still went on.

Ka-le-lea stayed in the house all day with his wife, the King’s daughter. He had no war-helmet, no feather cape, and he never took a company of men out to battle. Ke-ino was the great man now, and Ka-le-lea was never spoken of.

Still the war went on. But after the first crow of the cock, a man with a great club used to go to Ha-la-wa, where the officers and chiefs of Pueo-nui’s army were, and do battle with them. This the man did every day. He would come upon a company of them, and fight with them, striking right and left with his club. He would slay them all. Then he would gather up their feather capes and their war-helmets, and he would run, run away. The fighting chiefs were all killed by him, and Pueo-nui’s army melted away. There were stories about how the chiefs were killed in the early morning, and of how their feather capes and their war-helmets were taken away. No one knew the warrior who fought with them and overcame them. But the King was sure that Ke-ino was the one who did it all.

When the last of Pueo-nui’s fighting chiefs was killed, an end came to the war, and Pueo-nui gave his lands and his kingdom to King Ka-ku-he-hewa. And that very morning, as the stranger warrior who had done battle with the chiefs was running back, he was seen by a watchman in the light of the early morning. The watchman flung a spear at the running man. It struck him on the arm, just above the wrist. He kept on running. The spear had a hook, and the watchman knew that it would be hard for the warrior to draw it out of the flesh of his arm.

And now the King made, up his mind to give a great reward to Ke-ino, and to get rid of Ka-le-lea, the fellow whom no one had ever seen outside his house. He made a proclamation, declaring his victory in the war, and telling how much of it was due to his son-in-law Ke-ino. And every one was satisfied, for every one was sure that Ke-ino had won the war. Every one, that is, except the King’s Councillor and the watchman who had flung the spear at the running man. The watchman kept on saying that it was not Ke-ino but another man who had slain the fighting chiefs of Pueo-nui’s army and had carried off their feather capes and their war-helmets.

The Councillor advised the King to bring all his people together, men, women, and children. All came to a place near the King’s house—all but those who fell down and who were not able to get up again. “Are all your people here, O King?” asked the Councillor. “All are here,” said the King, “except that fellow Ka-le-lea. He is asleep at home. His father, they say, was a good sleeper, and my son-in-law takes after his father.” “Nevertheless,” said the Councillor, “send for him, and bring him here.”

Then Ka-le-lea was sent for. He came, and he saw all the people gathered before the King’s house. He saw Ke-ino there in great state, with a bright feather cape on his shoulders and a war-helmet on his head. He looked at Ke-ino, and Ke-ino looked at him. The watchman, who had been looking at all who came, saw him, and he made a sign to the Councillor.

Then said the Councillor to the King: “Send to this man’s house, and have a search made in it. And all that your men find hidden in it, have them bring here.” Men were sent to Ka-le-lea’s house. They returned with feather capes and war-helmets enough to make a great pile. And then the watchman pointed to Ka-le-lea’s arm, and showed the hook of a spear in the flesh of it.

And when the watchman told of how he had flung his spear at the warrior who had slain the last of Pueo-nui’s fighting chiefs, it was seen by all that Ka-le-lea, and not Ke-ino, was the man who had won the war. After that he was made the King’s chief officer. But he did nothing against Ke-ino, who came to serve under him.

And this is the story of Mo-e Mo-e’s son, Ka-le-lea. Soon after, Ka-ku-he-hiwa died. Ka-le-lea came to rule in his stead, for all the people clamored to have over them the Man Who Was Bold in His Wish.

THE WOMAN FROM LALO-HANA, THE COUNTRY UNDER THE SEA.

Long, long ago, my younger brothers, there lived in Hawaii a King whose name was Koni-konia. He sent his fishermen out to catch deep-sea fish for him, and they, without knowing it, let down their lines and fish-hooks at a place where, before this, strange things had happened.

In a while after they had let them down, the hooks were taken off the lines. The fishermen wondered at this, for they knew that no fish had bitten at their baits. They went back to the King, and they told him what had happened. There had come no quiver on their lines, they said, as there would have come if fish had touched their baits, and their hooks had been cut off the lines as if some one with a knife had done it.

Now the King had heard before of strange things happening at the place in the sea where the fishermen had been; and after they had shown him the lines with the hooks cut off, he sent for a wizard, that he might learn from him how these strange things had come to be.

The wizard (he was called a Kahuna) came before the King, and after he had been told of what had happened to the fishermen’s lines he said: “Your fishermen let their lines down over Lalo-hana, a country that is at the bottom of the sea, just under the place where they let their canoes rest. A woman lives there, a very beautiful woman of the sea whose name is Hina; all alone she lives there, for her brothers, who were given charge of her, have gone to a place far off.” When the King heard of this beautiful woman of the sea, he longed to see her and to have her for his wife.

The Kahuna told him how she might be brought out of the sea to him. The King was to have a great many images made—images of a man, each image to be as large as a man, with pearl-shell eyes and dark hair, and with a malo or dress around it. Some of the images were to be brought out to sea, and some of them were to be left on the beach and along a path that went up to the King’s house; and one of them was to be left standing by the door of the house.

The Kahuna went with the men who had taken the images in their canoes. When they came to that part of the sea that the country of Lalo-hana was under, the Kahuna told the men to let down one of the images. Down, down, the image went, a rope around it. It rested on the bottom of the sea. Then another image was let down. But this image was not let as far as the bottom of the sea: it was held about the height of a house above the bottom. Then another image was let down and held above that, and then another image, and another image, all held one above another, while other images were left standing in canoes that went in a line back to the beach. And when all the images were in their places, a loud trumpet was blown.

The Woman of Lalo-hana, Hina, came out of her house, that was built of white and red coral, and she saw the image of a man of dark color, with dark hair and eyes of pearl-shell, standing before her. She was pleased, for she had never seen even the likeness of a man since her brothers had gone away from her; and she went to the image, and she touched it. As she did so she saw an image above her; and she went and she touched this image too. And all the way up to the top of the sea there were images; and Hina went upward, touching them all.

When she came up to the surface of the sea she saw canoes, and in each canoe there was an image standing. Each one seemed to be more beautiful than the others; and Hina swam on and on, gazing on each with delight and touching this one and that one.

And so Hina, the Woman of the Sea, came to the beach. And on the beach there were other images; and she went on, touching each of them. And so she went through the grove of coco-nut trees and came before the King’s house. Outside the house there was a very tall image with very large pearl-shell eyes and with a red malo around it. Hina went to that image. The wreath of sea-flowers that she had in her hair was now withered with the sun; the Woman of Lalo-hana was wearied now, and she lay down beside the image and fell asleep.

When she wakened it was not the image, but the King, who was beside her. She saw him move his hands, and she was frightened because of the movements she saw him make and the sounds that were around her after the quiet of the sea. Her wreath of sea-flowers was all shrivelled up in the sunlight. The man kissed her, and they went together into the house.

And so the Woman of Lalo-hana, the Country under the Sea, came to Hawaii and lived there as the wife of Koni-konia, the King.

After a while, when she had learned to speak to him, Hina told Koni-konia about precious things that she had in her house in Lalo-hana, the Country under the Sea, and she begged the King to send a diver to get these things and bring them to her. They were in a calabash within her house, she said. And she told the King that the diver who brought it up was not to open the calabash.

So Koni-konia the King sent the best of his divers to go down to Lalo-hana, the Country under the Sea, and bring up the calabash that had Hina’s precious things in it. The diver went down, and found the house of red and white coral, and went within and took the calabash that was there. He brought it back without opening it and gave it to Hina.

After some days Hina opened the calabash. Within it was the moon. It flew up to the heavens, and there it shone clear and bright. When it shone in the heavens it was called Kena. But it shone down on the sea too, and shining on the sea it was called Ana.

And then, seeing Ana in the sea, the Woman of Lalo-hana was frightened. “My brothers will come searching for me,” she said. And the next day she said, “My brothers will bring a great flood of waters upon this land when they come searching for me.” And after that she said, “My brothers will seek me in the forms of pa-o’o fishes, and the Ocean will lift them up so that they can go seeking me.” When the King heard her say this he said, “We will go far from where the Ocean is, and we will seek refuge on the tops of the mountains.”

So the King with Hina, with all his people, went to the mountains. As they went they saw the Ocean lifting up. Hina’s brothers in the forms of pa-o’o fishes were there, and the Ocean lifted them up that they might go seeking her.

Over the land and up to the mountains the Ocean went, bearing the pa-o’o fishes along. Koni-konia and his people climbed to the tops of the mountains. To the tops of the mountains the Ocean went, bearing the pa-o’o fishes that were Hina’s brothers. Koni-konia and Hina and all the people climbed to the tops of the trees that were on the tops of the mountains. And then the Ocean, having covered the tops of the mountains, went back again, drawing back the pa-o’o fishes that were Hina’s brothers. And it was in this way that the Great Flood came to Hawaii.

And after the waters of the Ocean had gone back to their own place, Koni-konia the King, with Hina and his people, went back to the place where their houses had been. All was washed away; there were mud and sand where their houses and fields had been. Soon the sun dried up the puddles and the wetness in the ground; growth came again; they built their houses and cultivated their fields; and Koni-konia, with Hina and with his people, lived once again in a wide land beside the great ocean.

HINA, THE WOMAN IN THE MOON.

A weary woman was Hina, and as the years grew on her she grew more and more weary. All day she sat outside her house beating out tapas for clothes for her family, making cloths out of the bark of a tree by beating it on a board with a mallet. Weary indeed was Hina with making tapas all the day outside her house. And when she might see no more to beat out the tapas, she would have to get her calabash and bring water to the house. Often she would stumble in the dark, coming back with her calabash of water. There was no one in her house to help her. Her son went sailing from island to island, robbing people, and her daughter went to live with the wild people in the forest. Her husband had become bad-tempered, and he was always striving to make her do more and more work.

As Hina grew old she longed more and more to go to a place where she might sit and rest herself. And one day, when she was given a new task and was sent to fish up shrimps amongst the rocks with a net, she cried out, “Oh, that I might go away from this place, and to a place where I might stay and rest myself.”

The Rainbow heard Hina and had pity on her. It made an arching path for her from the rocks up to the heavens. With the net in her hands she went along that path. She thought she would go up to the heavens and then over to the Sun, and that she would go into the Sun and rest herself there.

She went higher and higher along the arch of the Rainbow. But as she went on, the rays of the Sun beat on her more and more strongly. She held the net over her head and went on and on. But when she went beyond the clouds and there was nothing to shelter her, the rays of the Sun burnt her terribly. On and on she went, but as she went higher she could only crawl along the path. Then the fire of the Sun’s rays began to torture her and shrivel her. She could go no farther, and, slipping back along the Rainbow arch, she came to earth again.

It was dark now. She stood outside her house and saw her husband coming back from the pool with a calabash of water, stumbling and saying ill-tempered words about her. And when she showed herself to him he scolded because she had not been there to bring the calabash of water to the house.

Now that the Sun was gone down and his rays were no longer upon her, her strength came back to Hina. She looked up into the sky, and she saw the full Moon there; and she said: “To the Moon I will go. It is very quiet, and there I can sit for a long, long time and rest myself.”

But first she went into the house for the calabash that held all the things that on earth were precious to her. She came out of her house carrying the calabash, and there before her door was a moon-rainbow.

Her husband came and asked her where she was going; because she carried her calabash he knew she was going far. “I am going to the Moon, to a place where I can rest myself,” she said. She began to climb along the arch of the Rainbow. And now she was almost out of her husband’s reach. But he sprang up and caught her foot in his hand. He fell back, twisting and breaking her foot as he fell.

But Hina went on. She was lamed, and she was filled with pain; and yet she rejoiced as she went along through the quiet night. On and on she went. She came to where the Stars were, and she said incantations to them, that they might show her how to come to the Moon. And the Stars showed her the way, and she came at last to the Moon.

She came to the Moon with the calabash that had her precious possessions; and the Moon gave her a place where she might rest. There Hina stayed. And the people of Hawaii can look up to the bright Moon and see her there. She sits, her foot lamed, and with her calabash by her side. Seeing her there, the people call her, not “Hina” any more, but “Lono Moku”—that is, “Lame Lono.” And standing outside the door you can see her now—Hina, the Woman in the Moon. But some say that, instead of the calabash, she took with her her tapa-board and mallet; and they say that the fine fleecy clouds that you see around the Moon are really the fine tapa-cloths that Hina beats out.

NOTES.

THE BOY PU-NIA AND THE KING OF THE SHARKS

Given in the Fornander Collection of Hawaiian Antiquities and Folk-lore, Memoirs of the Bernice Pauahi Bishop Museum of Polynesian Ethnology and Natural History, Vol. V, Part II, with the title Kaao no Punia, Legend of Pu-nia.

Like many another Polynesian hero, Pu-nia had a mother whose name was Hina. The shark’s name, Kai-ale-ale, means “Sea in great commotion.” But the kindling of the fire inside the shark with the fire-sticks could not have been so easy as it is made to appear. Melville, in Typee, describes the operation of fire-making as laborious. This is how he saw it being done:

“A straight, dry, and partly decayed stick of the hibiscus, about six feet in length, and half as many inches in diameter, with a smaller bit of wood not more than a foot long, and scarcely an inch wide, is as invariably to be met with in every house in Typee as a box of lucifer matches in the corner of the kitchen cupboard at home. The islander, placing the larger stick obliquely against some object, with one end elevated at an angle of forty-five degrees, mounts astride of it like an urchin about to gallop off upon a cane, and then grasping the smaller one firmly in both hands, he rubs its pointed end slowly up and down the extent of a few inches on the principal stick, until at last he makes a narrow groove in the wood, with an abrupt termination at the point furthest from him, where all the dusty particles which the friction creates are accumulated in a little heap.

“At first Kory-Kory goes to work quite leisurely, but gradually quickens his pace, and waxing warm in the employment, drives the stick furiously along the smoking channel, plying his hands to and fro with amazing rapidity, the perspiration starting from every pore. As he approaches the climax of his effort, he pants and gasps for breath, and his eyes almost start from their sockets with the violence of his exertions. This is the critical stage of the operation; all his previous labours are in vain if he cannot sustain the rapidity of the movement until the reluctant spark is produced. Suddenly he stops, becomes perfectly motionless. His hands still retain their hold of the smaller stick, which is pressed convulsively against the further end of the channel among the fine powder there accumulated, as if he had just pierced through and through some little viper that was wriggling and struggling to escape from his clutches. The next moment a delicate wreath of smoke curls spirally into the air, the heap of dusty particles glow with fire, and Kory-Kory, almost breathless, dismounts from his steed.”

THE SEVEN GREAT DEEDS OF MA-UI

The number seven has no significance in Polynesian tradition; the number eight has. It just happened that the number of Ma-ui’s deeds that had interest for me as a story-teller was seven. Fornander has only short and passing notices of Ma-ui, and all the material for the stories given here has been taken from Mr. W. D. Westervelt’s valuable Ma-ui the Demi-God. Ma-ui is a hero for all the Polynesians, and Mr. Westervelt tells us that either complete or fragmentary Ma-ui legends are found in the single islands and island groups of Aneityum, Bowditch or Fakaofa, Efate, Fiji, Fotuna, Gilbert, Hawaii, Hervey, Huahine, Mangaia, Manihiki, Marquesas, Marshall, Nauru, New Hebrides, New Zealand, Samoa, Savage, Tahiti or Society, Tauna, Tokelau, and Tonga. Ma-ui is, in short, a Pan-Polynesian hero, and it is as a Pan-Polynesian hero that I have treated him, giving his legend from other sources than those that are purely Hawaiian. However, I have tried to make Hawaii the background for all the stories. Note that Ma-ui’s position in his family is the traditional position for a Polynesian hero—he is the youngest of his brothers, but, as in the case of other heroes of the Polynesians, he becomes the leader of his family.

Ma-ui’s mother was Hina. She is distinguished from the numerous Hinas of Polynesian tradition by being “Hina-a-ke-ahi,” “Hina-of-the-Fire.” I follow the New Zealand tradition that Mr. Westervelt gives in telling how Ma-ui was thrown into the sea by his mother and how the jelly-fish took care of him. Ma-ui’s throwing the heavy spear at the house is also out of New Zealand. His overthrowing of the two posts is out of the Hawaiian tradition. But in that tradition it is suggested that his two uncles were named “Tall Post” and “Short Post.” They had been the guardians of the house, and young Ma-ui had to struggle with them to win a place for himself in the house. Ma-ui’s taking away invisibility from the birds and letting the people see the singers is out of the Hawaiian tradition. So is Ma-ui’s kite-flying. The Polynesian people all delighted in kite-flying, but the Hawaiians are unique in giving a kite to a demi-god. The incantation beginning “O winds, winds of Wai-pio” is Hawaiian; the other incantation, “Climb up, climb up,” is from New Zealand.

The fishing up of the islands is supposed by scholars to be a folk-lore account of the discovery of new islands after the Polynesian tribes had put off from Indonesia. The story that I give is mainly Hawaiian—it is out of Mr. Westervelt’s book, of course—but I have borrowed from the New Zealand and the Tongan accounts too; the fish-hook made from the jaw-bone of his ancestress is out of the New Zealand tradition, and the chant “O Island, O great Island” is Tongan.

The story of Ma-ui’s snaring the sun is Hawaiian, and the scene of this, the greatest exploit in Polynesian tradition, is on the great Hawaiian mountain Haleakala. The detail about the nooses of the ropes that Ma-ui uses—that they were made from the hair of his sister—is out of the Tahitian tradition as given by Gill.

The Hawaiian story about Ma-ui’s finding fire is rather tame; he forces the alae or the mud-hen to give the secret up to him. I have added to the Hawaiian story the picturesque New Zealand story of his getting fire hidden in her nails from his ancestress in the lower world. There is an Hawaiian story, glanced at by Fornander, in which Ma-ui obtains fire by breaking open the head of his eldest brother.

The story of Ma-ui and Kuna Loa, the Long Eel, as I give it, is partly out of the Hawaiian, partly out of the New Zealand tradition, and there is in it, besides, a reminiscence of a story from Samoa. All of these stories are given in Mr. Westervelt’s book. That Kuna Loa tried to drown Ma-ui’s mother in her cave—that is Hawaiian; that Hina was driven to climb a bread-fruit tree to get away from the Long Eel—that is derived from the Samoan story. And the transformation of the pieces of Kuna Loa into eels, sea monsters, and fishes is out of the New Zealand tradition about Ma-ui. “When the writer was talking with the natives concerning this part of the old legend,” says Mr. Westervelt, “they said, ‘Kuna is not a Hawaiian word. It means something like a snake or a dragon, something we do not have in these islands.’ This, they thought, made the connection with the Hina legend valueless until they were shown that Tuna (or Kuna) was the New Zealand name of the reptile which attacked Hina and struck her with his tail like a crocodile, for which Ma-ui killed him. When this was understood, the Hawaiians were greatly interested to give the remainder of the legend, and compare it with the New Zealand story.” “This dragon,” Mr. Westervelt goes on, “may be a remembrance of the days when the Polynesians were supposed to dwell by the banks of the River Ganges in India, when crocodiles were dangerous enemies and heroes saved families from their destructive depredations.” Mrs. A. P. Taylor of Honolulu writes me in connection with this passage: “There is a spring in the Palama district in Honolulu called Kuna-wai (‘Eel of Water’). In Hawaiian, kuna-kuna means eczema, a skin disease.”

The story of the search that Ma-ui’s brother made for his sister is from New Zealand. Ma-ui’s brother is named Ma-ui Mua and Rupe. His sister is Hina-te-ngaru-moana, “Hina, the daughter of the Ocean.”

The splendidly imaginative story of how Ma-ui strove to win immortality for men is from New Zealand. The Goblin-goddess with whom Ma-ui struggles is Hina-nui-te-po, “Great Hina of the Night,” or “Hina, Great Lady of Hades.” According to the New Zealand mythology she was the daughter and the wife of Kane, the greatest of the Polynesian gods. There seems to be a reminiscence of the myth that they once possessed in common with the New Zealanders in the fragmentary tale that the Hawaiians have about Ma-ui striving to tear a mountain apart. “He wrenched a great hole in the side. Then the elepaio bird sang and the charm was broken. The cleft in the mountain could not be enlarged. If the story could be completed it would not be strange if the death of Ma-ui came with his failure to open the path through the mountain.” So Mr. Westervelt writes.

The Ma-ui stories have flowed over into Melanesia, and there is a Fijian story given in Lorimer Fison’s Tales of Old Fiji, in which Ma-ui’s fishing is described. Ma-ui, in that story, is described as the greatest of the gods; he has brothers, and he has two sons with him. With his sons he fishes up the islands of Ata, Tonga, Haabai, Vavau, Niua, Samoa, and Fiji. Ma-ui’s sons depart from the Land of the Gods and seize upon the islands that their father had fished up. Then Disease and Death come to the islands that the rebel gods, Ma-ui’s sons, have seized. Afterwards Ma-ui sent to them “some of the sacred fire of Bulotu.”

AU-KE-LE THE SEEKER