Kamehameha now saw Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula nearby. Red Cloak had not yet seen him. Leaping over bodies, Kameha charged, shouting and throwing his lei o manō aside as he ran. “He meant to break Red Cloak’s neck with his own hands,” said my father. But alerted by Kameha’s enraged shout, Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula danced away. He was carrying an ‘īkoi—a tripping club. Red Cloak lashed out with the ‘īkoi as he dodged Kamehameha. The ‘īkoi rope wrapped around Kameha’s ankles, bringing him to his knees. All at once, Kameha was hobbled, unarmed, and alone. But Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula, who also had a dagger, did not press his advantage. “Red Cloak still feared your uncle,” my father told me. “He fled.” Seeing their leader in retreat, Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula’s people fled with him, taking the captured muskets, but leaving Lopaka behind.
Kawaihae, 1791
After driving Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula from the Hāmākua district, Kamehameha returned to Kohala, temporarily relocating his court to Waimea, and commenced planning for an invasion of Red Cloak’s lands. “We will make Red Cloak and his people drink the water of Hilo Bay and swallow the dry earth of Ka‘ū,” he vowed.
To this end, he deputized ‘Olohana to help him acquire more muskets and cannons and increase his stores of powder and musket balls, and especially canister shot. Haole trading ships were now visiting our islands with increasing frequency. Thanks to ‘Olohana’s assistance, Kamehameha was able to acquire many haole weapons and munitions from these traders. Mindful of the seer’s prophecy, Kamehameha also directed Holo‘ae to begin construction of the new temple at Kawaihae.
In addition to trading and preparing for his invasion of the Big Island’s southern districts, Kamehameha was occupied at this time with the administration of his lands and the adjudication of the disputes that inevitably arose among his subordinates. As if commerce, day-to-day governance of his realm, and strife with his cousin Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula were not enough, Kamehameha also had to contend with his wife, Ka‘ahumanu.
“You forbid me to have relations with other men, yet you bring that wahine here to bed her!” Ka‘ahumanu raged at Kamehameha.
“I have forbidden you nothing. It is kapu for other men to have relations with you,” Kameha replied impassively.
Ka‘ahumanu clenched her fists. “That is the same thing!” she exclaimed.
“In either case it is my right as mō‘ī to impose any kapu I see fit,” Kameha responded. “Be thankful that my kapu is not directed at you.”
Ka‘ahumanu was infuriated when Kamehameha returned from Moloka‘i with his half-sister Keku‘iapoiwa Liliha and her daughter Keopuolani. “From the start it was clear to Ka‘ahumanu Kameha intended to partner with his niece Keopuolani and get children upon her,” my father said. Ka‘ahumanu had yet to bear Kameha a child.
“I can still give you keiki,” Ka‘ahumanu protested. “What need have you of Keopuolani?”
“For pleasure—none,” Kameha replied. “But because Keopuolani is my own niece and because she and I are both descended from the great Keawe, a son of our union would be of the highest birth, and no one would dispute his right to rule after I am gone. Surely you can understand that as mō‘ī, I must think of the future, Ka‘ahumanu.”
If Kameha thought that this explanation would appease his tempestuous wife, he was mistaken. “I can understand that as a kāne, you still think first of your own penis!” Ka‘ahumanu cried, and she ran from Kamehameha’s hale in tears, and into the arms of Ka‘iana, who—kapu or no—was eager to console her.
Though ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake enjoyed Kamehameha’s increasing confidence and were well treated by him, they were not yet reconciled to remaining among us for the rest of their lives. When a new opportunity presented itself, they sought to take their leave of our islands once more.
‘Olohana, ‘Aikake, Holo‘ae, my father, and Ka‘iana had accompanied Kamehameha to Kawaihae to inspect the work on the new heiau. When they arrived, they found a haole trading ship anchored in the small bay. Kamehameha asked ‘Olohana to assist him in bargaining with the haoles. During negotiations with the ship’s boatswain on shore, ‘Olohana let it be known that he and ‘Aikake wished to leave with the ship.
Many years later, when I was old enough to ask him about such things, ‘Olohana explained why he and ‘Aikake wanted to escape. “We were weary of the incessant warfare,” he explained to me in fluent Hawaiian. “We had only just escaped death in the fight at Pa‘auhau, and we feared no matter how pleasant our lives might be at the moment, we would not live much longer if we remained here.”
Upon learning that the two seamen were desirous of leaving, the captain of the ship sent a crewman ashore with a letter to ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake in which he offered them his protection in exchange for their help in effecting some repairs to his ship. ‘Olohana wrote back at once to accept this offer. But the youth to whom he entrusted his letter encountered Ka‘iana on his way to deliver it to the ship and showed the letter to him. Ka‘iana could not read ‘Olohana’s letter, but under the circumstances, he intuited its meaning and he took the letter to Kamehameha.
“The haoles taught me to understand their markings when I sailed with them to far-off Kahiki,” he said, and he proceeded to make a great show of translating ‘Olohana’s letter, speaking slowly as he traced ‘Olohana’s written words with an extended forefinger. The words Ka‘iana spoke were wholly his own and the story he told Kameha was kaao—an imaginative fabrication.
“Ka‘iana told Kamehameha that ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake wanted the haole kāpena to lure Kameha aboard his own big canoe and hold Kameha hostage until he agreed to let them go,” my father said.
Ka‘iana resented ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake for displacing him in Kamehameha’s favor and he wanted them out of the way. Knowing that Kamehameha already feared that if ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake should ever gain the deck of a haole ship, they would reveal the fate of the Fair American’s crew, Ka‘iana hoped that this lie would incite Kameha to put the two haoles to death for plotting against him.
When ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake set out for the shore the next morning, they were immediately surrounded by a crowd of Hawai‘ians, orchestrated by Ka‘iana. Though the two men were armed with muskets, they did not try to fire them. “We wanted to leave, but we did not want to hurt anyone,” ‘Olohana said.
‘Olohana and ‘Aikake submitted to the crowd and were conducted before Kamehameha by Ka‘iana. “Ka‘iana was quite pleased with himself, for all was proceeding as he had hoped,” my father said. But to Ka‘iana’s chagrin, events now took a different turn.
Kamehameha had no intention of putting the two haoles to death, let alone of punishing them in any other way, for they had proved too useful to him. Instead of being angry with them, he was conciliatory. Speaking haltingly in their own language, Kamehameha begged the haoles to stay. “‘Olohana, ‘Aikake, why you still want go? You stay here. I give you all you want.” Then he added sternly, “But you no leave. It is kapu for you to leave; to leave is death for you.”
‘Olohana and ‘Aikake turned away from the shore without argument. They disowned their hopes of leaving Hawai‘i to rejoin their haole comrades at sea. With an acceptance at first resigned but eventually enthusiastic, they settled on the Big Island and aspired to become more like us.
As he had promised, Kamehameha was generous with ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake, awarding them substantial land grants and elevating both men to chiefly status. To appease Ka‘iana, Kameha granted him a small fiefdom of two ahupua‘a in South Kona. Pleasant though these holdings were, with their fresh-water streams, good fishing, and productive uplands, they were not nearly so large as the holdings Kameha had granted to ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake, and Ka‘iana was not placated. “Why does he favor these haoles and slight me?” he complained.
Even more to Ka‘iana’s displeasure, Kamehameha also invited ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake to join his innermost circle of advisers. ‘Olohana soon became one of Kamehameha’s closest counselors, delegated to negotiate transactions with the h
aole trading vessels that visited the Big Island with increasing frequency and in increasing numbers, and advise him on all matters pertaining to these foreigners.
After inspecting the heiau works at Kawaihae, Kamehameha moved on to Kailua to organize his latest assault on Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula. Before Kamehameha departed, Holo‘ae complained that he did not have enough workers to complete the temple’s construction in timely fashion. “You must give me more people,” he said.
“I cannot give you more people now, Holo‘ae. I need every able-bodied man at my disposal to defeat Red Cloak.”
“But the seer prophesied that to conquer all the islands, you must first build and consecrate this new heiau,” Holo‘ae objected.
“The other islands can wait,” Kamehameha replied. “But Red Cloak will only grow stronger on this island the longer I delay. And if I cannot unify our own island, how can I subdue the others? No, Holo‘ae, we will deal with Red Cloak first.”
Kamehameha planned to break Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula’s hold on the Ka‘ū, Puna, and Hilo districts with two simultaneous offensives, one overland from Waimea down the Hāmākua Coast to Hilo, and the other by sea from Kailua down the Kona Coast to Ka’ū. Ke‘eaumoku was to lead the land attack, while Ka‘iana was to command the seaborne assault. ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake were to remain with Kamehameha at Kawaihae.
Kamehameha’s designation of Ka‘iana to command the assault on Ka‘ū signaled his confidence in Ka‘iana’s military ability, but there was more to it. “Kameha wanted to keep Ka‘iana away from Ka‘ahumanu,” my father said.
While Kamehameha was marshaling his forces, a disaster befell Keōua Red Cloak’s army. Portents of this calamity reached Kameha and his people at Kailua days before the actual details. “One afternoon, we saw a thick cloud rising in the direction of Mauna Loa. It was black like the darkest night,” my father said. Shot through with glowing streaks of fire and lightning, the cloud climbed into a clear sky, billowing in all directions and casting a spreading shadow. Its first sighting at Kailua was followed minutes later by a deep rumble that intensified into a continuous roar.
“It sounded like many pū kuni ahi, shooting all at once,” said my father. “Then the ground began to shake under our feet. It was Pele, emerging angrily from her home at Kilauea.”
Whether the wrath of the goddess or a natural event, the eruption wreaked havoc on Red Cloak’s people. After he had been repulsed from the Hāmākua Coast, Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula remained for some time at Hilo. Then, leaving a contingent of warriors behind to defend the village, he started for Ka‘ū with the bulk of his army, which he had reorganized into two divisions, one under his own command. As was customary in those times, the warriors’ wives and children accompanied them.
Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula’s division set off first. “Red Cloak led his people to Ka‘ū by way of ‘Ōla‘a, mauka of Kilauea,” said my father. At Kapāpala, Keōua halted to rest while he and his warriors awaited the arrival of the rest of the army. But the army’s second division never reached Kapāpala. Seeking to ease their march by avoiding the ascent into the uplands of ‘Ōla‘a, the second group’s commander led them south, across the caldera at Kilauea, where they were caught by the volcano’s sudden eruption. Only a few women survived. Their account of what happened at Kilauea, told and retold from village to village, reached Kailua nearly a week after the event.
As Kamehameha, my father, and ‘Olohana heard the story, Red Cloak’s second division was just makai of the Halema‘uma‘u crater at Kilauea when the wrath of Pele fell upon them. One moment, they were marching in good spirits and making good time across the Kilauea caldera. In the next, the ground under their feet shook and fire suddenly erupted from the crater, searing them. Choking vapors smothered them, and ash and rocks fell from the sky, burying them. “We heard that these falling rocks were as large as hales,” my father told me. “None of the people there could escape.”
By some estimates, more than eight hundred men, women, and children perished. The few who were not killed survived only by chance. There were some women attached to the second division of Red Cloak’s army who were menstruating. For this reason, they were kapu and not allowed to march with the rest of their party. This group was well behind the others when the volcano erupted and were thus spared. “They threw themselves to the ground as it shook and covered their ears,” my father said. “They remained were they were for the rest of that day and through the night.”
The next morning, they descended into the caldera. The air was still thick with hazy smoke and pervaded by a sulfuric stench. The women’s eyes stung; they covered their noses and mouths with their hands as they walked. When they came upon the place where the others had died, they encountered a scene of horrific devastation. All around, the ground was covered with thick gray pumice, firm enough to walk on and still warm underfoot. As they picked their way across this desolate landscape, the women began to see odd shapes: an elongated form here and a rounded one there—a few at first and then more and more. To their horror, they realized that they were looking at the bodies of their husbands, sisters, brothers, and cousins, embalmed in the freshly laid lava stone. Some of them had fallen on their backs, while others were lying face down with their hands over their heads, as if they thought they could somehow shield themselves from Pele.
Many of our people believed the eruption was Pele’s punishment of Keōua Red Cloak for his brutality and ambition. Kamehameha saw more in it. “The god Kūkā‘ilimoku is with us,” he said. “Victory over Red Cloak is assured.” He dispatched his forces to Hilo and Ka‘ū forthwith.
Ke‘eaumoku marched unopposed into Hilo and pushed on to the upper Puna district, occupying it with ease. Ka‘iana and his army, however, were rudely greeted by Red Cloak, who still had substantial forces at his disposal, despite the disaster at Kilauea.
Ka‘iana’s army had sailed south from Kailua in one hundred double-hulled war canoes. Holding a third of his forces offshore in reserve, Ka‘iana led the rest of his men ashore at Pulehua in Ka‘ū. They were unopposed at first. But as they advanced inland they found Red Cloak’s people waiting for them mauka of the beach. Ka‘ū skirmishers rained sling stones and spears down upon the invaders, and numerous Kona and Kohala warriors fell. They managed only one musket volley under this sudden onslaught.
Urging his people on, Ka‘iana and his warriors continued to advance, bent over against the hail of stones and spears. When they gained the higher ground, they found Red Cloak’s army drawn up in a long line, waiting for them. Before they could bring their firearms to bear on their enemies again, Red Cloak’s fighters rushed Ka‘iana’s men, and in the pitched battle that followed, pushed them back to the beach.
As the warriors of Ka‘ū jeered at them from the shore, Ka‘iana and his people retreated to sea in their canoes. Ka‘iana renewed his assault on Red Cloak the following day, but Red Cloak lured Ka‘iana’s people into a trap and inflicted such heavy casualties on his men that they broke and ran. Ka‘iana was reduced to following them in their flight to safety. Red Cloak did not pursue him. “Ka‘iana returned to Kailua bloodied and embarrassed,” my father said.
Having failed to subdue Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula, Kamehameha now turned his full attention to the construction of the new heiau. “You were right about the prophecy, Holo‘ae,” Kamehameha confessed to his kahuna nui.
Kameha now called upon all the able-bodied men of Kona, Kohala, Waimea, and the Hāmākua Coast to work on the new heiau. Thousands answered his call. Women came as well, with their young children in tow.
Ali‘i and maka‘āinana labored alongside each other, Kamehameha foremost among them. Thousands of men formed a human chain to transport lava rocks from the Pololu Valley to Kawaihae, a distance of fourteen miles. At the construction site overlooking the bay, hundreds of other workers received the rocks and labored to build the temple’s massive lava-stone platform. From Pololu to Kawaihae, men worked in shifts, with time allotted for meals and rest. The work never ceased
as long as there was daylight to guide the laborers’ hands. Hour by hour, day by day, as the rocks continued to arrive from Pololu, the heiau rose from the hillside like a living thing.
Men and women settled in encampments along the way from the Pololu Valley to Kawaihae and near the temple site. Scores of men were assigned to gather food and cook. Women were set to such tasks as pounding bark into kapa cloth for new malos for the men, to replace the ones they tore while hauling stones. Others wove baskets for carrying smaller stones, or crafted articles such as drinking gourds. Older women who could no longer work watched keiki who were too young to work, shooing them away from the men who conveyed the lava rocks, and from the construction site.
None of Kamehameha’s women were at Kawaihae at this time. Kameha had decreed the temple site kapu to them and ordered them all to remain at Waimea. “Kamehameha intended the kapu for Ka‘ahumanu,” my father said. “He wanted to keep her away from Ka‘iana.”
This kapu angered Ka‘ahumanu. “If I cannot go to Kawaihae with you, then why should your brother’s women be allowed to go?” she demanded.
“Fine!” Kamehameha replied. “It is kapu for them as well.” Thus, my mother, then heavy with me, remained at Waimea with the others.
Once There Was Fire: A Novel of Old Hawaii Page 36