The Devil in Paradise--Captain Putnam in Hawaii

by James L. Haley

  Full light of day found them riding through a dry forest and then down through another sun-spattered dell that resounded with flute-like bird calls. “This is remarkable,” said Clarity at last. “I have never been so far from home that every tree, every bush and flower, every bird and its song, I am seeing and hearing for the first time. Your country is beautiful.”

  Kapiolani was clearly pleased. “We think this also.”

  “These large trees that we see: some grow straight and tall, some have branches that are gnarled and twisted. What is it called?”

  “That is the koa; it is our boldest tree, and the word means fearless or warrior. The great bowls in which our poi is served is made from its wood.”

  “Yes, I have seen them. They are beautiful, as much works of art as serving bowls. Tell me, where are the sandalwood trees, which have become such an article of commerce?”

  “They are deeper in the forest, but there are not so many as there once were.”

  “Yes, that would follow, wouldn’t it?”

  “Some chiefs have cut all they have, so there are places where there is no sandalwood left at all.”

  “You have not done this?”

  “No. Before he died, the old king saw what was happening and laid a kapu against cutting the small sandalwood trees, so that there would always be more growing. After he died, the new king and his retainers, such as Boki, have cut all that they can to get all the money they can. The ship captains have advanced them great amounts of money to deliver sandalwood in the future, but more of them have none left, and they are greatly in debt with no way to pay.”

  “I see. So then sandalwood would not be a wise investment for a newcomer.”

  Kapiolani reined her horse to a dead stop and stared at her. “I thought you came here to share the word of God.”

  “I did, and to be near my husband, who is coming on his ship. However, I believe that being kind to the poor is a virtue. Being poor is not a virtue.”

  “Ha! That is true enough.” She flicked her reins and they walked on. “There may still be enough sandalwood for a small venture, but do not depend upon it. And take care, Mrs. Putnam, that your people do not become like sandalwood.”

  Clarity pondered this for a moment. “You mean expensive and fragrant?”

  Kapiolani smiled. “No. Come, I will show you.” She gave orders to one of her retainers, most of which Clarity did not understand, and he galloped ahead of them, into a patch of forest higher up the mountain slope than they were.

  He led them to a tree perhaps twenty feet tall, with a bush-like crown of leaves that were thick, waxy-looking emerald-green ovals, and a trunk surprisingly thick for being so short. Next to it, sprouting seemingly from the same square foot of ground, was a koa tree of about the same size but desiccated and almost leafless.

  “Do you see?” Kapiolani pointed. “The sandalwood gets its start by sucking off the life from the larger tree, which must eventually die. The sandalwood grows by killing that which gives it life.”

  “I believe I take your meaning, Chiefess. Thank you for showing me this.”

  * * *

  * * *

  IT WAS ANOTHER day to reach Henry’s grandmother in her village on the bay of Kearakekua, among the bushes and low trees that found root in the crevices of a lava shelf that lay as flat as a wharf at the water’s edge. When they arrived, Kapiolani led her onto it, to a white stone with a cross chiseled into it. “You may be interested,” she said. “This is where the great Captain Cook fell.”

  “Really?” Clarity looked about a mile across the bay to a similar brushy forest, but with the addition of a beach, and looked high up on her left at a looming cliff a thousand feet high. “Isn’t that beautiful?”

  “You see beauty,” said Kapiolani. “I see the place where they cast off women who ate bananas.”

  “Like poor Henry’s aunt?” She grew faint at the thought of being pushed from such a height.

  “This was the place. Listen, now. When you meet his grandmother, do not enter her house, and do not sit on her mats. I have stools for us to sit on.”

  “Why? Is that considered rude?”

  “No. I am sorry to tell you that the common people are all infested with lice. It will be well to take her by the hand, but do not embrace her.”

  They returned to the village, and as they approached the pili Clarity saw that it was tiny, the whole house smaller than her bedroom in Litchfield. Everything about Henry’s grandmother when she came out evinced her poverty: the dirty tapa in which she was wrapped, the cast-off blouse with which she covered her wizened dugs. But there was a kettle by the fire, and some tin cups, and she served them tea as Kapiolani’s steward unfolded the stools for them to sit on.

  With Kapiolani helping her still-elementary Hawaiian, Clarity explained Henry’s life in America, the beloved place that he made for himself there, his brilliance in translating the holy book from the ancient language straight into their own, to share with them. To all of it the old woman listened with what Clarity believed were the softest eyes she had ever seen, eyes that shed tears as she described the serenity of his death. At length Clarity produced a small case, which she opened to reveal two silver cuff links, with a design engraved on them that she explained was the initial of the name he was known by, Henry, and gave them to her.

  Clarity was certain that she recognized the tea, and realized that Kapiolani had sent it ahead so that Henry’s grandmother might have something to offer them. And when they left, she heard the chiefess instruct her steward to make sure that Henry’s grandmother had enough to eat, and to maintain her.

  Word of their return to Kawaihae preceded them, and Reverend Bingham met her at the beach. “Sister Putnam, I am rejoiced at your safe return. How was your journey?”

  “Useful in so many ways, thank you.”

  “Did you meet Obookiah’s grandmother?”

  “Yes. She was touched deeply that we sought her out.”

  “Well, nations are won to the Lord by such small steps.” Clarity looked out into the bay and saw the Thaddeus, which had not moved a yard. Bingham continued, “Mrs. Putnam, I must tell you that progress here has been mixed. I preached a sermon to the chiefs, which they heard respectfully, and they questioned me closely about its meanings and our intentions. They have agreed to disperse us among the various islands, in the care of the chiefs; you, and Sybil and I, Mrs. Albright, and the Chamberlains and the Loomises are to go to Honoruru, where you may await your husband.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!”

  “However, we reached a positive impasse on the subject of preaching to the common people. I surmise that the chiefs are accustomed to having the best of everything, and intend to keep heaven to themselves as well. I have not been able to overcome this as yet, but even they are so intrigued at the possibility of eternal life, they are allowing us to stay for the time being. Come, the queen has ordered to see you immediately upon your return.”

  They found her sitting in the palm frond lanai, attended by her four ladies and Kapiolani already with her, and Blanchard and George Tamoree. Boki and Liliha, strangely, were also in attendance. “Aloha, Mrs. Putnam,” called out Kahumanu. “The high chiefess Kapiolani has reported to me that you carried through your duty with the grandmother of Opukaha’ia with grace and kindness. This pleases me very much.”

  “I thank Your Majesty.” She approached and curtsied. “I was glad to meet her and have the opportunity to tell her what a fine man, what a kind and brave man, her grandson grew into, and that when he came to die he was in perfect peace, and was thinking of her and how good she had been to him.”

  Much affected, Kahumanu swallowed. “Did she weep?”

  “Yes, ma’am, she did weep, but I believe that sweet tears were mixed in with the bitter ones.”

  “Tell me, what did you learn from this?’

  Clarity ref
lected for a moment. “Perhaps I learned that when someone we love has left us, the loss is easier to bear if we learn how much he loved us in return.”

  “Mrs. Putnam, has Mr. Bingham told you of our pleasure to send you to Honoruru to await your husband, and minister to the people there?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

  “It is our desire to keep Dr. Holman and his wife with us for the time being. However, we lords come to Kawaihae for rest and pleasure. Before he died, my husband had two capitals, this and Lahaina, but because Honoruru has the most trade and the best harbor, he determined to make that place his one capital. It is our determination to move the court to Honoruru to govern our foreign relations, so as your time draws near to have your baby, Dr. Holman shall be at hand for you.”

  “You are most kind, Majesty.”

  “Not so kind: you can continue making dresses for me of your Boston chintz!”

  Clarity laughed easily. “I will be happy to, ma’am.”

  “We have given Captain Blanchard our commission to return Tamoree here to his home on Tauai. You will sail with him, and Mr. Blanchard will leave you and the others at Honoruru as he passes by. Boki and Liliha bear my command to see to your comfort and safety.” Liliha still evinced the shifting posture of a seductress, clinging to her husband’s arm as the badge of her office, taking amusement in the foreigners who stared at the breasts she refused to cover, and that in itself registered all of her opinions about God and missionaries. “Boki is the brother of our trusted prime minister, and high chief on Oahu. We have made him responsible for your safety and well-being.”

  And he is also the black sheep of the family, Clarity remembered darkly, but she had the presence of mind to curtsy to them. “Ka mea ki-eki-e.” Boki looked at her impassively, but Liliha nodded to her.

  “Mind you,” the queen said clearly, “we do not know how long you may stay. Your visit is . . . they tell me the word is ‘probationary.’ You may have been told that Mr. Bingham and I had a lively talk about who may hear this preaching. We lords are responsible for the happiness of our people; thus we govern what they may learn, and keep from them what may upset or disquiet them. Mr. Bingham has said they must hear the preaching also.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I have heard that you had a disagreement.”

  “What do you think about it?”

  “Majesty, all men and women are equal before God, and God commands that His word be told to all. But this does not mean that all men and women are equal. Some men are great warriors, and some are not. Some men, and indeed women, have the intelligence to lead a nation, but most do not. Those who lead nations well deserve the love and obedience of their people, but all people high and low have the right to be treated with justice and kindness. That is the law of our religion, and it is well known to your people also. Kapiolani showed this. Henry’s grandmother is very poor, and when we left Kearakekua she told her steward to see that the old woman had enough food and did not want for anything. When I told Kapiolani that this was the very heart of our religion, she was surprised; she said this was the duty of the chiefs to take care of the elderly and the poor. They did not need to be told to do this, for a chief would be ashamed not to do it. Much of our religion you practice already, and I believe it will only strengthen your position to allow the word of God to be heard by everyone.”

  Kahumanu leaned back and shifted her weight. “We might also say, Mrs. Putnam, that some women make better preachers than men. We will consider all that you have said. Now, since you left us, I have had long talks with your friends Hopu and Tamoree. They tell me that your given name is Clarity, and that Opukaha’ia turned this name into Miss Clear Day, and that this became an endearment between you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that is true.”

  “Henceforward, then, that shall be your name in my court, as my endearment to you, Missy La Laelae.”

  HONORURU, SANDWICH ISLANDS

  MAY 15, 1820

  Dearest Harriet,

  With fondest greetings, my young friend, your correspondent once again set foot upon land upon the opposite side of the world, after a passage of one day more than five months.

  This was six weeks ago, and I take advantage of the departure on the morrow of the brig Viper, William Rea, to write and apprise you of events since our parting. She will be bound home, to Providence, and Capt. Rea has promised to forward this so soon as she drops anchor there.

  Oh, Harriet—is not the vastness of God’s creation almost more than the mind can take in? To think, that you are half a year older since I left, and will be another half a year older by the time you read this, and I a year older from today by the time I can read a reply! If these Sandwich Islands were more forsaken, I should feel myself very isolated indeed, but in fact, there are at any time two or three ships in the bay, so there are always new people to meet.

  Here in Honoruru I have been given a house, which, and you may wonder at this, was built in the native style, of sheaves of grass stitched together. If the Bible tells us that a house built on sand cannot last, can you imagine a house made of grass? Its advantage, however, lies in its very impermanence. The storms and tempests that occasionally strike these islands, they say, are of such force that even the strongest stone house of New England could not stand against them. Their perfect answer to this is to build houses of such a temporary nature that if one blows away, it can be rebuilt in a day or two.

  My nearest neighbor here is a Mr. Marín, a Spanish immigrant who came to these islands many years ago, and has made a place of honor for himself. It seems, he is no less than a wizard in the arts of agriculture. He is beloved of the King for his aptitude in distilling rum and brandy, for which he is made a captain in the royal household. He also brought grapes from Europe and has a small winery, although I cannot attest to its quality. He has introduced fruits new and wonderful to the people here, such as oranges, and a delicately flavored melon called a mangoe. Several years ago he was the first to grow pine apples, a fruit that you know from the carvings on the corner posts of your bed right there in Litchfield, which have come to symbolize hospitality. But my dear, the taste of the real thing is beyond description, and pork roasted slow in its juices will make you imagine the joys of Heaven!

  We cannot know how long we are to remain here, for our presence is probationary only. The Queen who holds the most power, whose name is Kahumanu, and her prime minister, who is a mighty and forceful soldier named Karaimoku, are receptive to the gospel—indeed they are baptized Papists, for the French preceded us here. But, they are suspicious what its effects might be upon the common people, who are still recovering from the evils of their native religion, under which many were sacrificed to the pagan gods. Of this I shall write more at a later time.

  I expect that our Capt. Putnam is even now on his way to the Pacific, sailing in my very wake, as I hope—for if he does not hasten, he will find me prepared with a very great surprise. This will be news to you as well, that in three months’ time, God willing, I shall become a mother, and our Captain will find our child in my arms! Now Harriet, you must have no apprehension for my safety. One of our company of missionaries, Mr. Holman, is a physician of good education and experience, and many ships that call have surgeons on board, so I shall be as well looked after as if I were at home.

  Oh, Harriet! Here is something for you to do. I know you will wish to convey this happy news to your father. By all means may you do so, but when you do, tell him not of Dr. Holman, whom he knows, but tell him that I have made the acquaintance of the most charming native sorcerer, who has assured me that he will see me safely through the enterprise. (I should like to see the Reverend’s face when you do.) Then you may tell him the true case of the matter. If he scolds you, you may show him my letter, which will admit that I put you up to it. He may also gratify his curiosity by reading its entirety, if he pleases.

  After the success of my novel about
the Barbary War—at which I do still rather blush, but you know me well enough to know that too great modesty from me would be suspect—the publisher was inquiring previous to my departure what I might give him for an encore. Knowing this, you will excuse the inordinate length of this and my future letters to you, which I pray you to keep safe for my return. Then, with you having read and, as I hope, enjoyed them, you may return them to me to refresh my memories of the facts and events for use in my next opus.

  To the common people we are objects of the greatest curiosity. We must walk a quarter of a mile to a stream in which to wash our clothes, and going and coming, the native women gather, and laugh, and often ask if they may touch us. One scrubbed at my arm quite hard, and I am certain she was curious whether we are painted white, and if our color would rub off! They are shrewd, however, and mischievous, and I can tell you they know how to drive a bargain. We are always in need of firewood, and when one comes to our door with an arm load of wood, he can act very put out that we offer the going price, and not more for his kindness and trouble. Nor is it any rare occurrence to find ourselves being baldly cheated, no doubt because they believe from our pale skin that we are “pale” of mind as well! When they are found out, though, they laugh and take it in good part, and I am certain the same is expected of us.

  The government here is one that any European would recognize. Just as in England, where the king is over the dukes, and the dukes are over the earls: here, the king is over the high chiefs, and the high chiefs are over the chiefs. Until quite recently there existed this one great difference: there was no right of succession. Whenever a king died, there was a general fracas of everyone fighting everybody, until one was left standing. This as you can see made for a very bloody country to live in, indeed this was the circumstance that claimed the lives of our dear departed Henry Obookiah’s family.

  The last King, whose name was Ta-meha-meha, ended this awful cycle, not by negotiation but by conquest, and he becoming King of all the islands, and his heirs are recognized by all. So, only in the few months preceding our arrival, this became a much safer place in which to live. His victories made the throne safe for his son the new King, whose name is Reho-reho, but he is a drunk and a wastrel whom even his advisors admit is incompetent beyond help. Yet, deposing him would throw the country back into civil war, so his ministers hide him as much as possible, make excuses for him, govern for him, clean up the messes that he makes, and hope for a better future. May God grant that our country should never be in such a condition!