On the Makaloa Mat and Island Tales

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by On The Makaloa Mat


  many more of their own retainers--a royal progress. It was

  Princess Lihue's progress, of course, she flaming and passing as we

  all knew with the dreadful tuberculosis; but with her were her

  nephews, Prince Lilolilo, hailed everywhere as the next king, and

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  his brothers, Prince Kahekili and Prince Kamalau. And with the

  Princess was Ella Higginsworth, who rightly claimed higher chief

  blood lines through the Kauai descent than belonged to the reigning

  family, and Dora Niles, and Emily Lowcroft, and . . . oh, why

  enumerate them all! Ella Higginsworth and I had been room-mates at

  the Royal Chief School. And there was a great resting time for an

  hour--no luau, for the luau awaited them at the Parkers'--but beer

  and stronger drinks for the men, and lemonade, and oranges, and

  refreshing watermelon for the women.

  "And it was arms around with Ella Higginsworth and me, and the

  Princess, who remembered me, and all the other girls and women, and

  Ella spoke to the Princess, and the Princess herself invited me to

  the progress, joining them at Mana whence they would depart two

  days later. And I was mad, mad with it all--I, from a twelvemonth

  of imprisonment at grey Nahala. And I was nineteen yet, just

  turning twenty within the week.

  "Oh, I had not thought of what was to happen. So occupied was I

  with the women that I did not see Lilolilo, except at a distance,

  bulking large and tall above the other men. But I had never been

  on a progress. I had seen them entertained at Kilohana and Mana,

  but I had been too young to be invited along, and after that it had

  been school and marriage. I knew what it would be like--two weeks

  of paradise, and little enough for another twelve months at Nahala.

  "And I asked Uncle John to lend me a horse, which meant three

  horses of course--one mounted cowboy and a pack horse to accompany

  me. No roads then. No automobiles. And the horse for myself! It

  was Hilo. You don't remember him. You were away at school then,

  and before you came home, the following year, he'd broken his back

  and his rider's neck wild-cattle-roping up Mauna Kea. You heard

  about it--that young American naval officer."

  "Lieutenant Bowsfield," Martha nodded.

  "But Hilo! I was the first woman on his back. He was a three-

  year-old, almost a four-year, and just broken. So black and in

  such a vigour of coat that the high lights on him clad him in

  shimmering silver. He was the biggest riding animal on the ranch,

  descended from the King's Sparklingdow with a range mare for dam,

  and roped wild only two weeks before. I never have seen so

  beautiful a horse. He had the round, deep-chested, big-hearted,

  well-coupled body of the ideal mountain pony, and his head and neck

  were true thoroughbred, slender, yet full, with lovely alert ears

  not too small to be vicious nor too large to be stubborn mulish.

  And his legs and feet were lovely too, unblemished, sure and firm,

  with long springy pasterns that made him a wonder of ease under the

  saddle."

  "I remember hearing Prince Lilolilo tell Uncle John that you were

  the best woman rider in all Hawaii," Martha interrupted to say.

  "That was two years afterward when I was back from school and while

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  you were still living at Nahala."

  "Lilolilo said that!" Bella cried. Almost as with a blush, her

  long, brown eyes were illumined, as she bridged the years to her

  lover near half a century dead and dust. With the gentleness of

  modesty so innate in the women of Hawaii, she covered her

  spontaneous exposure of her heart with added panegyric of Hilo.

  "Oh, when he ran with me up the long-grass slopes, and down the

  long-grass slopes, it was like hurdling in a dream, for he cleared

  the grass at every bound, leaping like a deer, a rabbit, or a fox-

  terrier--you know how they do. And cut up, and prance, and high

  life! He was a mount for a general, for a Napoleon or a Kitchener.

  And he had, not a wicked eye, but, oh, such a roguish eye,

  intelligent and looking as if it cherished a joke behind and wanted

  to laugh or to perpetrate it. And I asked Uncle John for Hilo.

  And Uncle John looked at me, and I looked at him; and, though he

  did not say it, I knew he was FEELING 'Dear Bella,' and I knew,

  somewhere in his seeing of me, was all his vision of the Princess

  Naomi. And Uncle John said yes. That is how it happened.

  "But he insisted that I should try Hilo out--myself, rather--at

  private rehearsal. He was a handful, a glorious handful. But not

  vicious, not malicious. He got away from me over and over again,

  but I never let him know. I was not afraid, and that helped me

  keep always a feel of him that prevented him from thinking that he

  was even a jump ahead of me.

  "I have often wondered if Uncle John dreamed of what possibly might

  happen. I know I had no thought of it myself, that day I rode

  across and joined the Princess at Mana. Never was there such

  festal time. You know the grand way the old Parkers had of

  entertaining. The pig-sticking and wild-cattle-shooting, the

  horse-breaking and the branding. The servants' quarters

  overflowing. Parker cowboys in from everywhere. And all the girls

  from Waimea up, and the girls from Waipio, and Honokaa, and

  Paauilo--I can see them yet, sitting in long rows on top the stone

  walls of the breaking pen and making leis" (flower garlands) "for

  their cowboy lovers. And the nights, the perfumed nights, the

  chanting of the meles and the dancing of the hulas, and the big

  Mana grounds with lovers everywhere strolling two by two under the

  trees.

  "And the Prince . . . " Bella paused, and for a long minute her

  small fine teeth, still perfect, showed deep in her underlip as she

  sought and won control and sent her gaze vacantly out across the

  far blue horizon. As she relaxed, her eyes came back to her

  sister.

  "He was a prince, Martha. You saw him at Kilohana before . . .

  after you came home from seminary. He filled the eyes of any

  woman, yes, and of any man. Twenty-five he was, in all-glorious

  ripeness of man, great and princely in body as he was great and

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  princely in spirit. No matter how wild the fun, how reckless mad

  the sport, he never seemed to forget that he was royal, and that

  all his forebears had been high chiefs even to that first one they

  sang in the genealogies, who had navigated his double-canoes to

  Tahiti and Raiatea and back again. He was gracious, sweet, kindly

  comradely, all friendliness--and severe, and stern, and harsh, if

  he were crossed too grievously. It is hard to express what I mean.

  He was all man, man, man, and he was all prince, with a strain of

  the merry boy in him, and the iron in him that would have made him
/>   a good and strong king of Hawaii had he come to the throne.

  "I can see him yet, as I saw him that first day and touched his

  hand and talked with him . . . few words and bashful, and anything

  but a year-long married woman to a grey haole at grey Nahala. Half

  a century ago it was, that meeting--you remember how our young men

  then dressed in white shoes and trousers, white silk shirts, with

  slashed around the middle the gorgeously colourful Spanish sashes--

  and for half a century that picture of him has not faded in my

  heart. He was the centre of a group on the lawn, and I was being

  brought by Ella Higginsworth to be presented. The Princess Lihue

  had just called some teasing chaff to her which had made her halt

  to respond and left me halted a pace in front of her.

  "His glance chanced to light on me, alone there, perturbed,

  embarrassed. Oh, how I see him!--his head thrown back a little,

  with that high, bright, imperious, and utterly care-free poise that

  was so usual of him. Our eyes met. His head bent forward, or

  straightened to me, I don't know what happened. Did he command?

  Did I obey? I do not know. I know only that I was good to look

  upon, crowned with fragrant maile, clad in Princess Naomi's

  wonderful holoku loaned me by Uncle John from his taboo room; and I

  know that I advanced alone to him across the Mana lawn, and that he

  stepped forth from those about him to meet me half-way. We came to

  each other across the grass, unattended, as if we were coming to

  each other across our lives.

  "--Was I very beautiful, Sister Martha, when I was young? I do not

  know. I don't know. But in that moment, with all his beauty and

  truly royal-manness crossing to me and penetrating to the heart of

  me, I felt a sudden sense of beauty in myself--how shall I say? as

  if in him and from him perfection were engendered and conjured

  within myself.

  "No word was spoken. But, oh, I know I raised my face in frank

  answer to the thunder and trumpets of the message unspoken, and

  that, had it been death for that one look and that one moment I

  could not have refrained from the gift of myself that must have

  been in my face and eyes, in the very body of me that breathed so

  high.

  "Was I beautiful, very beautiful, Martha, when I was nineteen, just

  turning into twenty?"

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  And Martha, three-score and four, looked upon Bella, three-score

  and eight, and nodded genuine affirmation, and to herself added the

  appreciation of the instant in what she beheld--Bella's neck, still

  full and shapely, longer than the ordinary Hawaiian woman's neck, a

  pillar that carried regally her high-cheeked, high-browed, high

  chiefess face and head; Bella's hair, high-piled, intact, sparkling

  the silver of the years, ringleted still and contrasting definitely

  and sharply with her clean, slim, black brows and deep brown eyes.

  And Martha's glance, in modest overwhelming of modesty by what she

  saw, dropped down the splendid breast of her and generously true

  lines of body to the feet, silken clad, high-heeled-slippered,

  small, plump, with an almost Spanish arch and faultlessness of

  instep.

  "When one is young, the one young time!" Bella laughed. "Lilolilo

  was a prince. I came to know his every feature and their every

  phase . . . afterward, in our wonder days and nights by the singing

  waters, by the slumber-drowsy surfs, and on the mountain ways. I

  knew his fine, brave eyes, with their straight, black brows, the

  nose of him that was assuredly a Kamehameha nose, and the last,

  least, lovable curve of his mouth. There is no mouth more

  beautiful than the Hawaiian, Martha.

  "And his body. He was a king of athletes, from his wicked, wayward

  hair to his ankles of bronzed steel. Just the other day I heard

  one of the Wilder grandsons referred to as 'The Prince of Harvard.'

  Mercy! What would they, what could they have called my Lilolilo

  could they have matched him against this Wilder lad and all his

  team at Harvard!"

  Bella ceased and breathed deeply, the while she clasped her fine

  small hands in her ample silken lap. But her pink fairness blushed

  faintly through her skin and warmed her eyes as she relived her

  prince-days.

  "Well--you have guessed?" Bella said, with defiant shrug of

  shoulders and a straight gaze into her sister's eyes. "We rode out

  from gay Mana and continued the gay progress--down the lava trails

  to Kiholo to the swimming and the fishing and the feasting and the

  sleeping in the warm sand under the palms; and up to Puuwaawaa, and

  more pig-sticking, and roping and driving, and wild mutton from the

  upper pasture-lands; and on through Kona, now mauka"

  (mountainward), "now down to the King's palace at Kailua, and to

  the swimming at Keauhou, and to Kealakekua Bay, and Napoopoo and

  Honaunau. And everywhere the people turning out, in their hands

  gifts of flowers, and fruit, and fish, and pig, in their hearts

  love and song, their heads bowed in obeisance to the royal ones

  while their lips ejaculated exclamations of amazement or chanted

  meles of old and unforgotten days.

  "What would you, Sister Martha? You know what we Hawaiians are.

  You know what we were half a hundred years ago. Lilolilo was

  wonderful. I was reckless. Lilolilo of himself could make any

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  woman reckless. I was twice reckless, for I had cold, grey Nahala

  to spur me on. I knew. I had never a doubt. Never a hope.

  Divorces in those days were undreamed. The wife of George Castner

  could never be queen of Hawaii, even if Uncle Robert's prophesied

  revolutions were delayed, and if Lilolilo himself became king. But

  I never thought of the throne. What I wanted would have been the

  queendom of being Lilolilo's wife and mate. But I made no mistake.

  What was impossible was impossible, and I dreamed no false dream.

  "It was the very atmosphere of love. And Lilolilo was a lover. I

  was for ever crowned with leis by him, and he had his runners bring

  me leis all the way from the rose-gardens of Mana--you remember

  them; fifty miles across the lava and the ranges, dewy fresh as the

  moment they were plucked, in their jewel-cases of banana bark;

  yard-long they were, the tiny pink buds like threaded beads of

  Neapolitan coral. And at the luaus" (feasts) the for ever never-

  ending luaus, I must be seated on Lilolilo's Makaloa mat, the

  Prince's mat, his alone and taboo to any lesser mortal save by his

  own condescension and desire. And I must dip my fingers into his

  own pa wai holoi" (finger-bowl) "where scented flower petals

  floated in the warm water. Yes, and careless that all should see

  his extended favour, I must dip into his pa paakai for my pinches

  of red salt, and limu, and kukui nut and chili pepper; and into his

  ipu kai" (fish sauce dish) "of kou wood that the great Kamehameha
<
br />   himself had eaten from on many a similar progress. And it was the

  same for special delicacies that were for Lilolilo and the Princess

  alone--for his nelu, and the ake, and the palu, and the alaala.

  And his kahilis were waved over me, and his attendants were mine,

  and he was mine; and from my flower-crowned hair to my happy feet I

  was a woman loved."

  Once again Bella's small teeth pressed into her underlip, as she

  gazed vacantly seaward and won control of herself and her memories.

  "It was on, and on, through all Kona, and all Kau, from Hoopuloa

  and Kapua to Honuapo and Punaluu, a life-time of living compressed

  into two short weeks. A flower blooms but once. That was my time

  of bloom--Lilolilo beside me, myself on my wonderful Hilo, a queen,

  not of Hawaii, but of Lilolilo and Love. He said I was a bubble of

  colour and beauty on the black back of Leviathan; that I was a

  fragile dewdrop on the smoking crest of a lava flow; that I was a

  rainbow riding the thunder cloud . . . "

  Bella paused for a moment.

  "I shall tell you no more of what he said to me," she declared

  gravely; "save that the things he said were fire of love and

  essence of beauty, and that he composed hulas to me, and sang them

  to me, before all, of nights under the stars as we lay on our mats

  at the feasting; and I on the Makaloa mat of Lilolilo.

  "And it was on to Kilauea--the dream so near its ending; and of

  course we tossed into the pit of sea-surging lava our offerings to

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  the Fire-Goddess of maile leis and of fish and hard poi wrapped

  moist in the ti leaves. And we continued down through old Puna,

  and feasted and danced and sang at Kohoualea and Kamaili and

  Opihikao, and swam in the clear, sweet-water pools of Kalapana.

  And in the end came to Hilo by the sea.

  "It was the end. We had never spoken. It was the end recognized

  and unmentioned. The yacht waited. We were days late. Honolulu

  called, and the news was that the King had gone particularly

  pupule" (insane), "that there were Catholic and Protestant

  missionary plottings, and that trouble with France was brewing. As

  they had landed at Kawaihae two weeks before with laughter and

  flowers and song, so they departed from Hilo. It was a merry

  parting, full of fun and frolic and a thousand last messages and

 

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