On the Makaloa Mat and Island Tales

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by On The Makaloa Mat


  settling herself to begin on some work in hand.

  "Yes," he nodded half-sadly to me, "in her last years Hiwilani went

  back to the old ways, and to the old beliefs--in secret, of course.

  And, BELIEVE me, she was some collector herself. You should have

  seen her bones. She had them all about her bedroom, in big jars,

  and they constituted most all her relatives, except a half-dozen or

  so that Kanau beat her out of by getting to them first. The way

  the pair of them used to quarrel about those bones was awe-

  inspiring. And it gave me the creeps, when I was a boy, to go into

  that big, for-ever-twilight room of hers, and know that in this jar

  was all that remained of my maternal grand-aunt, and that in that

  jar was my great-grandfather, and that in all the jars were the

  preserved bone-remnants of the shadowy dust of the ancestors whose

  seed had come down and been incorporated in the living, breathing

  me. Hiwilani had gone quite native at the last, sleeping on mats

  on the hard floor--she'd fired out of the room the great, royal,

  canopied four-poster that had been presented to her grandmother by

  Lord Byron, who was the cousin of the Don Juan Byron and came here

  in the frigate Blonde in 1825.

  "She went back to all native, at the last, and I can see her yet,

  biting a bite out of the raw fish ere she tossed them to her women

  to eat. And she made them finish her poi, or whatever else she did

  not finish of herself. She--"

  But he broke off abruptly, and by the sensitive dilation of his

  nostrils and by the expression of his mobile features I saw that he

  had read in the air and identified the odour that offended him.

  "Deuce take it!" he cried to me. "It stinks to heaven. And I

  shall be doomed to wear it until we're rescued."

  There was no mistaking the object of his abhorrence. The ancient

  crone was making a dearest-loved lei (wreath) of the fruit of the

  hala which is the screw-pine or pandanus of the South Pacific. She

  was cutting the many sections or nut-envelopes of the fruit into

  fluted bell-shapes preparatory to stringing them on the twisted and

  tough inner bark of the hau tree. It certainly smelled to heaven,

  but, to me, a malahini (new-comer), the smell was wine-woody and

  fruit-juicy and not unpleasant.

  Prince Akuli's limousine had broken an axle a quarter of a mile

  away, and he and I had sought shelter from the sun in this

  veritable bowery of a mountain home. Humble and grass-thatched was

  the house, but it stood in a treasure-garden of begonias that

  sprayed their delicate blooms a score of feet above our heads, that

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  were like trees, with willowy trunks of trees as thick as a man's

  arm. Here we refreshed ourselves with drinking-coconuts, while a

  cowboy rode a dozen miles to the nearest telephone and summoned a

  machine from town. The town itself we could see, the Lakanaii

  metropolis of Olokona, a smudge of smoke on the shore-line, as we

  looked down across the miles of cane-fields, the billow-wreathed

  reef-lines, and the blue haze of ocean to where the island of Oahu

  shimmered like a dim opal on the horizon.

  Maui is the Valley Isle of Hawaii, and Kauai the Garden Isle; but

  Lakanaii, lying abreast of Oahu, is recognized in the present, and

  was known of old and always, as the Jewel Isle of the group. Not

  the largest, nor merely the smallest, Lakanaii is conceded by all

  to be the wildest, the most wildly beautiful, and, in its size, the

  richest of all the islands. Its sugar tonnage per acre is the

  highest, its mountain beef-cattle the fattest, its rainfall the

  most generous without ever being disastrous. It resembles Kauai in

  that it is the first-formed and therefore the oldest island, so

  that it had had time sufficient to break down its lava rock into

  the richest soil, and to erode the canyons between the ancient

  craters until they are like Grand Canyons of the Colorado, with

  numberless waterfalls plunging thousands of feet in the sheer or

  dissipating into veils of vapour, and evanescing in mid-air to

  descend softly and invisibly through a mirage of rainbows, like so

  much dew or gentle shower, upon the abyss-floors.

  Yet Lakanaii is easy to describe. But how can one describe Prince

  Akuli? To know him is to know all Lakanaii most thoroughly. In

  addition, one must know thoroughly a great deal of the rest of the

  world. In the first place, Prince Akuli has no recognized nor

  legal right to be called "Prince." Furthermore, "Akuli" means the

  "squid." So that Prince Squid could scarcely be the dignified

  title of the straight descendant of the oldest and highest aliis

  (high chiefs) of Hawaii--an old and exclusive stock, wherein, in

  the ancient way of the Egyptian Pharaohs, brothers and sisters had

  even wed on the throne for the reason that they could not marry

  beneath rank, that in all their known world there was none of

  higher rank, and that, at every hazard, the dynasty must be

  perpetuated.

  I have heard Prince Akuli's singing historians (inherited from his

  father) chanting their interminable genealogies, by which they

  demonstrated that he was the highest alii in all Hawaii. Beginning

  with Wakea, who is their Adam, and with Papa, their Eve, through as

  many generations as there are letters in our alphabet they trace

  down to Nanakaoko, the first ancestor born in Hawaii and whose wife

  was Kahihiokalani. Later, but always highest, their generations

  split from the generations of Ua, who was the founder of the two

  distinct lines of the Kauai and Oahu kings.

  In the eleventh century A.D., by the Lakanaii historians, at the

  time brothers and sisters mated because none existed to excel them,

  their rank received a boost of new blood of rank that was next to

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  heaven's door. One Hoikemaha, steering by the stars and the

  ancient traditions, arrived in a great double-canoe from Samoa. He

  married a lesser alii of Lakanaii, and when his three sons were

  grown, returned with them to Samoa to bring back his own youngest

  brother. But with him he brought back Kumi, the son of Tui Manua,

  which latter's rank was highest in all Polynesia, and barely second

  to that of the demigods and gods. So the estimable seed of Kumi,

  eight centuries before, had entered into the aliis of Lakanaii, and

  been passed down by them in the undeviating line to reposit in

  Prince Akuli.

  Him I first met, talking with an Oxford accent, in the officers'

  mess of the Black Watch in South Africa. This was just before that

  famous regiment was cut to pieces at Magersfontein. He had as much

  right to be in that mess as he had to his accent, for he was

  Oxford-educated and held the Queen's Commission. With him, as his

  guest, taking a look at the war, was Prince Cupid, so nicknamed,

  but the true prince of all Hawaii, including Lakanaii, whose real

 
and legal title was Prince Jonah Kuhio Kalanianaole, and who might

  have been the living King of Hawaii Nei had it not been for the

  haole (white man) Revolution and Annexation--this, despite the fact

  that Prince Cupid's alii genealogy was lesser to the heaven-boosted

  genealogy of Prince Akuli. For Prince Akuli might have been King

  of Lakanaii, and of all Hawaii, perhaps, had not his grandfather

  been soundly thrashed by the first and greatest of the Kamehamehas.

  This had occurred in the year 1810, in the booming days of the

  sandalwood trade, and in the same year that the King of Kauai came

  in, and was good, and ate out of Kamehameha's hand. Prince Akuli's

  grandfather, in that year, had received his trouncing and

  subjugating because he was "old school." He had not imaged island

  empire in terms of gunpowder and haole gunners. Kamehameha,

  farther-visioned, had annexed the service of haoles, including such

  men as Isaac Davis, mate and sole survivor of the massacred crew of

  the schooner Fair American, and John Young, captured boatswain of

  the snow Eleanor. And Isaac Davis, and John Young, and others of

  their waywardly adventurous ilk, with six-pounder brass carronades

  from the captured Iphigenia and Fair American, had destroyed the

  war canoes and shattered the morale of the King of Lakanaii's land-

  fighters, receiving duly in return from Kamehameha, according to

  agreement: Isaac Davis, six hundred mature and fat hogs; John

  Young, five hundred of the same described pork on the hoof that was

  split.

  And so, out of all incests and lusts of the primitive cultures and

  beast-man's gropings toward the stature of manhood, out of all red

  murders, and brute battlings, and matings with the younger brothers

  of the demigods, world-polished, Oxford-accented, twentieth century

  to the tick of the second, comes Prince Akuli, Prince Squid, pure-

  veined Polynesian, a living bridge across the thousand centuries,

  comrade, friend, and fellow-traveller out of his wrecked seven-

  thousand-dollar limousine, marooned with me in a begonia paradise

  fourteen hundred feet above the sea, and his island metropolis of

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  Olokona, to tell me of his mother, who reverted in her old age to

  ancientness of religious concept and ancestor worship, and

  collected and surrounded herself with the charnel bones of those

  who had been her forerunners back in the darkness of time.

  "King Kalakaua started this collecting fad, over on Oahu," Prince

  Akuli continued. "And his queen, Kapiolani, caught the fad from

  him. They collected everything--old makaloa mats, old tapas, old

  calabashes, old double-canoes, and idols which the priests had

  saved from the general destruction in 1819. I haven't seen a

  pearl-shell fish-hook in years, but I swear that Kalakaua

  accumulated ten thousand of them, to say nothing of human jaw-bone

  fish-hooks, and feather cloaks, and capes and helmets, and stone

  adzes, and poi-pounders of phallic design. When he and Kapiolani

  made their royal progresses around the islands, their hosts had to

  hide away their personal relics. For to the king, in theory,

  belongs all property of his people; and with Kalakaua, when it came

  to the old things, theory and practice were one.

  "From him my father, Kanau, got the collecting bee in his bonnet,

  and Hiwilani was likewise infected. But father was modern to his

  finger-tips. He believed neither in the gods of the kahunas"

  (priests) "nor of the missionaries. He didn't believe in anything

  except sugar stocks, horse-breeding, and that his grandfather had

  been a fool in not collecting a few Isaac Davises and John Youngs

  and brass carronades before he went to war with Kamehameha. So he

  collected curios in the pure collector's spirit; but my mother took

  it seriously. That was why she went in for bones. I remember,

  too, she had an ugly old stone-idol she used to yammer to and crawl

  around on the floor before. It's in the Deacon Museum now. I sent

  it there after her death, and her collection of bones to the Royal

  Mausoleum in Olokona.

  "I don't know whether you remember her father was Kaaukuu. Well,

  he was, and he was a giant. When they built the Mausoleum, his

  bones, nicely cleaned and preserved, were dug out of their hiding-

  place, and placed in the Mausoleum. Hiwilani had an old retainer,

  Ahuna. She stole the key from Kanau one night, and made Ahuna go

  and steal her father's bones out of the Mausoleum. I know. And he

  must have been a giant. She kept him in one of her big jars. One

  day, when I was a tidy size of a lad, and curious to know if

  Kaaukuu was as big as tradition had him, I fished his intact lower

  jaw out of the jar, and the wrappings, and tried it on. I stuck my

  head right through it, and it rested around my neck and on my

  shoulders like a horse collar. And every tooth was in the jaw,

  whiter than porcelain, without a cavity, the enamel unstained and

  unchipped. I got the walloping of my life for that offence,

  although she had to call old Ahuna in to help give it to me. But

  the incident served me well. It won her confidence in me that I

  was not afraid of the bones of the dead ones, and it won for me my

  Oxford education. As you shall see, if that car doesn't arrive

  first.

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  "Old Ahuna was one of the real old ones with the hall-mark on him

  and branded into him of faithful born-slave service. He knew more

  about my mother's family, and my father's, than did both of them

  put together. And he knew, what no living other knew, the burial-

  place of centuries, where were hid the bones of most of her

  ancestors and of Kanau's. Kanau couldn't worm it out of the old

  fellow, who looked upon Kanau as an apostate.

  "Hiwilani struggled with the old codger for years. How she ever

  succeeded is beyond me. Of course, on the face of it, she was

  faithful to the old religion. This might have persuaded Ahuna to

  loosen up a little. Or she may have jolted fear into him; for she

  knew a lot of the line of chatter of the old Huni sorcerers, and

  she could make a noise like being on terms of utmost intimacy with

  Uli, who is the chiefest god of sorcery of all the sorcerers. She

  could skin the ordinary kahuna lapaau" (medicine man) "when it came

  to praying to Lonopuha and Koleamoku; read dreams and visions and

  signs and omens and indigestions to beat the band; make the

  practitioners under the medicine god, Maiola, look like thirty

  cents; pull off a pule hee incantation that would make them dizzy;

  and she claimed to a practice of kahuna hoenoho, which is modern

  spiritism, second to none. I have myself seen her drink the wind,

  throw a fit, and prophesy. The aumakuas were brothers to her when

  she slipped offerings to them across the altars of the ruined

  heiaus" (temples) "with a line of prayer that was as unintelligible

  to me as it was hair-r
aising. And as for old Ahuna, she could make

  him get down on the floor and yammer and bite himself when she

  pulled the real mystery dope on him.

  "Nevertheless, my private opinion is that it was the anaana stuff

  that got him. She snipped off a lock of his hair one day with a

  pair of manicure scissors. This lock of hair was what we call the

  maunu, meaning the bait. And she took jolly good care to let him

  know she had that bit of his hair. Then she tipped it off to him

  that she had buried it, and was deeply engaged each night in her

  offerings and incantations to Uli."

  "That was the regular praying-to-death?" I queried in the pause of

  Prince Akuli's lighting his cigarette.

  "Sure thing," he nodded. "And Ahuna fell for it. First he tried

  to locate the hiding-place of the bait of his hair. Failing that,

  he hired a pahiuhiu sorcerer to find it for him. But Hiwilani

  queered that game by threatening to the sorcerer to practise apo

  leo on him, which is the art of permanently depriving a person of

  the power of speech without otherwise injuring him.

  "Then it was that Ahuna began to pine away and get more like a

  corpse every day. In desperation he appealed to Kanau. I happened

  to be present. You have heard what sort of a man my father was.

  "'Pig!' he called Ahuna. 'Swine-brains! Stinking fish! Die and

  be done with it. You are a fool. It is all nonsense. There is

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  nothing in anything. The drunken haole, Howard, can prove the

  missionaries wrong. Square-face gin proves Howard wrong. The

  doctors say he won't last six months. Even square-face gin lies.

  Life is a liar, too. And here are hard times upon us, and a slump

  in sugar. Glanders has got into my brood mares. I wish I could

  lie down and sleep for a hundred years, and wake up to find sugar

  up a hundred points.'

  "Father was something of a philosopher himself, with a bitter wit

  and a trick of spitting out staccato epigrams. He clapped his

  hands. 'Bring me a high-ball,' he commanded; 'no, bring me two

  high-balls.' Then he turned on Ahuna. 'Go and let yourself die,

  old heathen, survival of darkness, blight of the Pit that you are.

  But don't die on these premises. I desire merriment and laughter,

  and the sweet tickling of music, and the beauty of youthful motion,

 

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