by V. E. Ulett
He would attend this meeting, perhaps amidst hundreds of warriors, and take with him only a half dozen men. Yet Mercedes would not have him hanging fire and anxious. She thought back to his waking her the previous night; she knew in his professional life decision and action were all. Captain Blackwell came to what he really did want to consult her upon.
“Ka‘ahumanu has given us a residence ashore for the duration of our stay. It would be churlish to refuse, and aside from that I think you could do with a change of scene and fresh vittles. You won’t mind my saying so, sweetheart? You look a little peaky.”
“Why, that’s ungentlemanly in you.”
They tried to laugh it away, not to betray to themselves that her health could once again become a serious issue.
“Would you like to go in to shore with me this evening, and begin settling in?” Captain Blackwell said. “Or do you prefer to wait a day or two? I can ask Captain Bowles to take possession in my stead, that should satisfy Ka‘ahumanu.” He was not above a little simper. “And you can come ashore at your leisure.”
Mercedes wanted to keep up the lighthearted vein. “I daresay Ka‘ahumanu shall be best pleased if we send in Captain Bowles as the advance guard. I should prefer to wait a day or so, if you please. I know its childish, but I don’t like to arrive in a new place by night. But...will you return to the ship or sleep ashore tonight?”
Shore: with all its allures, the soft tropical night, willing, warm, and whole women. There would be no difficulties for a man like Captain Blackwell. A fine, manly figure still, in spite of his age, and of high social status. He could command any number of lovely coffee skinned wenches.
He jerked himself out of his chair, and went down on one knee before her. “Where ever you are, my dearest soul, that’s where I shall be. Of course I will return to the ship, since you choose to stay. You are my country, Mercedes, you must know that.”
At first she couldn’t speak. “I love you too, Jim.” Then, in order not to break down into full blubber, she put her chin up. “And you would never leave your gig ashore overnight in any case.”
Mercedes was right about that last; he would never leave one of his boats ashore unattended. Blackwell had lived among the natives long enough to know their ways, at least to some degree. They considered all property in common, saving that of their chiefs, and would see nothing amiss in taking the gig for a sail round to the leeward side of the island should the spirit move them. She was quite out though, in her notion that a file of marines, sea-officers, and men might protect him. The Hawaiians were uncommon efficient warriors in close combat; they could take down the marines before the lobsters had time to raise their muskets. One blow from a killing club and, as in his dream, its on to the next life.
None of this would he breathe to a soul, except perhaps to his son. Aloka and Emma had seen it for themselves. His gig came ashore at a most convenient landing place, alongside the outlet of a freshwater river, ideal for watering a ship. Blackwell gave orders to his boat’s crew. On the walk to the maneaba, the meeting place, Blackwell enlightened Captain Bowles and Mr. Parsons on the political economy of the islands.
The islands were divided into ahupua‘a or districts, ruled over by a high chief, his lesser chiefs and kinsmen, and his men of business. A priest or two was also usually involved. Many of these high chiefs were noblemen, members of the island’s ali‘i; in past times each island had also had its own king and queen. Ka‘ahumanu was the daughter of the king of Maui. At present the islands were united under one king, the descendants of King Kamehameha the Great. Given the structure of their society, it was natural that each ahupua‘a would have its cadre of warriors. To unite them in a single cause was the purpose of the meeting they were to attend.
Blackwell was heartily glad, on walking into the maneaba, he would not be the one to mold these men into an army. As with any gathering the men stood about in groups. The younger men were clustered together, talking and laughing loudly, some leaping about in demonstration of their skill in the steps of various hula. The local men of Hilo were huddled up, glancing with disdain at the first group. And then there was a gathering of men of a certain age, grave looks upon their faces, standing apart and distinguished by the staffs they held, each ornamented with feathers.
It was this group of ali‘i Blackwell approached, recognizing Kanakoa of Oahu, and feeling an unexpected relief that the man was still alive. The Hawaiians are not ones to forget a face, they speak and dance their history from generation to generation, and Kanakoa instantly knew him.
“Blackwell,” he said, with a flash of white teeth, “I heard you had returned. I shall be happy to make you welcome on O‘ahu. Why do you not carry your staff of office?”
“Kanakoa, I trust I find you well?” Blackwell bowed. “I will be sailing to O‘ahu presently, thank you. My staff is with my son, it is by rights his own.”
Kanakoa considered the staff in his own hand. “My father passed me his, and then he went over the rainbow.”
The venerable old man had also been known to Blackwell, and he reached out and grasped Kanakoa in the native handshake. They bowed their heads together for a moment. No comment was required. One did not say ‘I am sorry for your loss’, because the Hawaiians believed death did not entirely remove their loved ones from this sphere.
After a decent interval, Blackwell said, “May I present my officers?”
Captain Bowles and Mr. Parsons were presented, and then Kanakoa did the honors for them among the ali‘i. When Ka‘ahumanu and Karaimoku walked in, Blackwell and his party had already found their places.
A hush fell in the maneaba, the Hawaiians had great respect for their chiefs and here were the joint regents of the entire archipelago. Ka‘ahumanu took a seat upon a raised wooden platform covered over in fine mats, and made a motion of her arm like a benediction. All of the men sat down. Had Mercedes attended, she would have noted there were no other women present.
“At Maui the ali‘i and haku‘āina agreed it would be proper to send two hundred men in canoes.” Ka‘ahumanu glared about, immediately launching her attack. “Where are those men? Karaimoku has seen none arrive in O‘ahu, and he has been forced to come here seeking them. Will you in Maui make me ashamed to call you brothers?”
A confused discourse broke out as the Maui chiefs tried to defend themselves.
“I wish you had waited until the black tapa covered me,” Ka‘ahumanu thundered, “before taking away my father’s honor.”
Ka‘ahumanu’s strong words caused another outcry, the Maui chiefs declaring they were quite willing to send the two hundred strong armies they’d committed to. The sticking point appeared to be they did not desire to go themselves to war. Blackwell had judged the Hawaiians a fierce and warlike people, so that here was his first diplomatic surprise. He could not make out if the Maui contingent dreaded a renewal of the bloodshed of Kamehameha’s time, or had grown accustomed like sensible beings to a peaceful, stable way of life. Then again, some particular fear of Kauai and her kings might be at work.
An older man stepped forward from the group of ali‘i Blackwell was attached to, and held up his hands. He was small, with a brown and leathery skin that contrasted with his pure white hair.
“Hear me, ye chiefs; ye who have warred under the great Tamehameha. Karaimoku and I were born upon the same mountain in this Island, and together we breasted yonder foaming waves. In manhood we fought side by side. When Karaimoku was wounded, I slew the chief whose spear had pierced him; and though I am now a dried and withered leaf, never be it said that Kaikeoeva deserted his friend and brother in arms in time of need. Who is on Karaimoku’s side? Let him launch his war canoe and follow me!”
Such a shock went through the gathering that Captain Bowles and Mr. Parsons stepped back as though evading the recoil of a great gun. Everyone was on their feet, the young warriors snatching up spears and killing clubs, war whoops rising up to the dark skies. A glance at his companions showed Blackwell pale faces, surpris
ed, and perhaps a little frightened. The idea that Mercedes might have been there made Blackwell shake his head. He reassured them all was well.
Karaimoku would not launch the canoes that night, but he took advantage of the fervor to organize the men, giving commands for parties to be formed under particular chiefs, and setting the next rendezvous on Maui. The two hundred war canoes in Hilo Bay belonged to Ka‘ahumanu’s followers, and they, together with Karaimoku and the gathered chiefs would proceed next to Maui, then Oahu. And at last together, to fall upon the rebel George in Kauai.
Blackwell was trying to recall every word of old Kaikeoeva’s speech, he’d never heard a finer, and he wanted to share it with the Englishmen, and perhaps write it down. He glanced over at Ka‘ahumanu and surprised a self-satisfied look on her face. Gone were the wounded pride and chagrin at the backwardness of her Maui connections. It made Blackwell wonder if there had been something of performance in what had played out at this meeting.
Twelve
The chiefs had pressured Captain Blackwell to take part in the war against the upstart George, to use Albion as a transport to carry men across the treacherous channel between Oahu and Kauai. His refusal had been steadfast and unmoving. Karaimoku’s war party departed three weeks before the Blonde arrived in Hilo. Captain Blackwell’s duty was to rendezvous with Blonde, and not to interfere in the internal upheavals of a sovereign nation.
Captain Blackwell was too old to be incited with the prospect of glory in battle; he knew what it was to kill other men. He had an amor patriae and though he would have continued in his own country’s wars, the battle in the Aix Roads had shown him how little his heart was in it. His first diplomatic decision could not but please his lady. In that quarter at least, Captain Blackwell could feel some satisfaction. Color had returned to Mercedes’ cheeks, and she had nearly as much spirit and cheerful energy as in previous times.
They’d taken up their shore residence, trading sleeping quarters with Captain Bowles. He’d come back aboard Albion with a look of relief that seemed to indicate a certain affright with his conquests ashore. The Blonde meanwhile continued a happy ship, in spite of her commander’s taciturnity. Captain Verson was a deeply introverted man, but he was a good seamen, and a better leader of men. Blonde’s people were intent on profiting from their refreshment and run ashore.
Aloka and Emma joined a party from Blonde sent to map the great volcanic crater Kilauea. They peered from its black edge into a chasm the cartographer’s calculations later put at over 900 feet deep. From parts of the crater smoke and flames constantly rose. Closer to Hilo, Aloka hiked up the Honolii river and rode its many waterfalls down with other daring young kanakas.
The bloom on those two young faces, Emma’s and Aloka’s, accounted for a great part of Mercedes’ improvement. She had but to look at Emma to feel happy. She was indeed the beauty of the world, as good Doctor Russ had once said. Mercedes was thinking of her and Aloka at church earlier, very correct and polished—he in his lieutenant’s uniform, and she in a neat morning gown—never touching one another, as she walked home from the service arm in arm with the local missionary’s wife.
Hawaii, Oahu, and Maui all had missionary establishments. White missionaries and their families, living on land and in houses granted by the ali‘i and built and maintained by the people. Kauai had a Tahitian missionary, Mercedes had been told. She strolled along, enjoying the soft air, the sounds of the dry coconut fronds clacking in the mild breeze, and the peeping of the small yellow birds that were always about the green grasses. Old Mr. and Mrs. Bing were on her mind, once the only missionaries in the Sandwich Islands.
“Does not it gladden your heart,” Mrs. Lyon said to Mercedes, “to see the natives in their Sunday clothes? Quite apart from the enlightenment of their benighted souls, were our presence here to produce nothing more than the desire of clothing, the benefit to the people would be great indeed. Besides all the decencies, and the virtues that spring from the decencies of life, the additional incitement to industry which the desire of clothing affords is of incalculable value to a people in a state of incipient civilization.”
Mercedes had the distinct impression, from Mrs. Lyon’s mooing tone, she was reciting something she’d heard her husband say, or seen written down in a letter.
“Every want that stimulates the breast, becomes a source of pleasure when redressed.” She quoted Goldsmith, feeling piqued at the religious and commercial zeal of the Americans.
Mrs. Lyon was looking perplexed, as if trying to work out whether she’d been insulted. From round the back of the house Ka‘ahumanu had given for their use, the great queen herself appeared. She wore nothing but a pa‘ū. Ka‘ahumanu was otherwise bare, her astonishing large breasts and trunk like thighs exposed below the short tapa cloth skirt. Mercedes stepped out of her path and made the queen a curtsey as she passed. Without looking at them Ka‘ahumanu arranged herself upon her carriage, and nodded to her bearers. Mrs. Lyon’s mouth was agape.
Emma appeared from the back of the house, clad much like Ka‘ahumanu below her slim waist. On top her breasts were covered by an abbreviated chemise of the type she’d fashioned for Mercedes, to cover her wounded chest. In one arm Emma clutched a float board, feathered round the edges. She was followed by Aloka, carrying his own float board and sporting the native breeches round his loins.
“Mama!” Emma called to her. “Her Majesty is taking us out. She was a cracking great float boarder in her day.”
“You should see the size of the one she uses now,” Aloka said sotto voce, as he passed them, winking.
Mercedes and Mrs. Lyon watched the two hurry off after Ka‘ahumanu’s litter. The lively step and eagerness of the young people bespoke health, beauty, and vigor. Mrs. Lyon’s mouth was still open, while her eyes followed Aloka’s manly form with great attention.
“Well,” said Mrs. Lyon, seeming to feel some comment called for, “she is after all merely your daughter-in-law.”
“How badly did you blow her up after that?” asked Captain Blackwell, when Mercedes told him of the incident.
“I fancy we shall not be troubled by any further visits from the Lyons.” Mercedes sighed. “I should like to be well with the Christian community but—”
“But your children and your husband are half heathen, so it will not do.”
“She made me angry. And when my blood is up I become defiant. I’m too proud I know, too proud of Emma, too proud in general. Just like a Spaniard.”
“I saw them at it,” he said, then abruptly closed his mouth.
From the deck of Albion, where he’d been discussing the ship’s trim with the Master and Captain Bowles, Captain Blackwell had seen the interested stares of men on both British vessels. Aloka, Emma, Ka‘ahumanu, and her people, passed the two ships at anchor on the way out to meet the waves on their float boards.
Little of duty went forward after that, with all eyes turned on this novel spectacle. It was interesting to watch, Captain Blackwell would freely admit, as the natives launched their boards into the surf and rode the waves. The most adept at it could stand upon their boards. But the fascination had as much to do, he thought, with the costume Emma was wearing. Somehow with her breasts shielded by that little bit of cloth, Emma was more alluring even than the bare-breasted native women.
Captain Blackwell blushed.
“Sure it is immodest,” Mercedes said, “but the longer I live the less I think of what Mrs. Lyon calls the decencies. They are young and beautiful, why should they not show their bodies and paddle about like sea creatures. I wish I could.” She looked at him and laughed. “You should have seen the way Mrs. Lyon looked at Aloka in his malo. Devoured might be a better word. Ogres ain’t in it.”
Captain Blackwell laughed heartily. He treasured Mercedes and he told her so, ill-natured Spaniard though she was.
Emma and Aloka would have got up to further capers; they had heard a shipment of horses was to be landed at Kona on the other side of Hawaii, and were talkin
g of sailing over to watch; but that a messenger from Oahu arrived with a letter for the two British captains.
‘O‘ahu, May 6th, 18XX
My Lords,
With very respectful congratulations on your arrival, I am requested to present you the cordial salutations of the people of O‘ahu, Hawai‘i, Maui, and Kaua‘i, where latterly the rebellion of the upstart Kaumuarii George has been put down. The king and princess of these Islands are highly satisfied at the event, and send their united and respectful request, that if it may be agreeable to yourselves, you will be pleased to favor them with your company on shore in O‘ahu, bringing with you your ship’s officers, the Admiral of Hawai‘i, and our beloved countrymen and our late sovereign’s remains. The present is a time of great sympathy among the chiefs and people. I myself will come on board at your arrival in O‘ahu to bring you to the presence of their Royal Highnesses. Allow me, my lords, the honour to be,
Very respectfully and truly yours,
Karaimoku
regent of Hawai‘i’
A short letter, most handsome as Captain Blackwell put it, and one that caused consternation on many sides. Boki, Li‘liah, and their companions could not help but feel a depression of spirit, given the hopes with which they’d left these islands for England, and the sad circumstances under which they returned. For Aloka, the reference to the Admiral of Hawaii inspired something like dread.
Blonde and Albion sailed in company for Oahu before Aloka had a chance to talk matters over with his father. He longed to open his mind to the one person who’d always advised him before on a professional level. Now Aloka was not at all certain he would meet with a willing and sympathetic ear. He might have forfeited his claim to his father’s patience and indulgence. The most important of his choices though, Aloka could not regret.
