Once There Was Fire: A Novel of Old Hawaii

by Stephen Shender

  Kamehameha would not hear of this. “He has offended me, certainly, but he has done nothing to warrant such treatment,” he said. “I will not turn him aside as long as he is willing to stand with me against Kalanikūpule.”

  In truth, Kamehameha had no further need of Ka‘iana or his services. His musket warriors were well trained and training others. He had gained sufficient command of English, and ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake had learned enough Hawaiian that they no longer needed Ka‘iana to interpret. Moreover, after Ka‘iana’s defeat at the hands of Keōua Kū‘ahu‘ula, Kamehameha had lost respect for his military acumen, and no longer counted him among his most trusted commanders. Thus, this proud ali‘i found himself increasingly isolated, unappreciated, and diminished in Kamehameha’s camp.

  B efore his assault on O‘ahu, Kamehameha’s armada made first for Maui. I was four at the time, and remember standing atop the wall of the Pu’ukoholā Heiau, along with my brother, Kekuaokalani, and Ka‘ahumanu’s brother, Kahekili Ke‘eaumoku, who were still too young to fight. From our vantage point above the bay we watched the grand spectacle of Kamehameha’s fleet as it set sail.

  Kamehameha had amassed so many canoes that the bay could not accommodate them all. Drawn up on the sand side by side, they spanned the entire curve of beach at Kawaihae and spilled out of sight around both of the bay’s points. The canoes’ prows bowed in an arc toward the Fair American and the Pelekane, which lay at anchor in the middle of the bay.

  Earlier that morning, Kamehameha and his chieftains had assembled at the heiau, where Holo‘ae once again sought the guidance of Kūkā‘ilimoku. The feather atop the war god’s head had stood erect. The god was with Kameha.

  Now a tumultuous cheer arose from the multitudes below as Kamehameha and his entourage filed down the hill to the beach. Waving their spears, clubs, and muskets, the warriors acclaimed their mō‘ī as he made his way through their ranks to his double-hulled war canoe. The men in the first ranks on either side of Kameha dropped to their knees and lowered their foreheads to the sand in observance of the prostrating kapu. They rose again, cheered, and waved their weapons with the rest of their comrades as Kamehameha boarded his canoe with his chieftains and crossed the water to the waiting Pelekane. Ka‘ahumanu had boarded the ship earlier. The other chiefesses, Ka‘ahumanu’s mother, Nāmāhana, among them, were already on board the Fair American.

  “Ka‘ahumanu was the only wahine permitted to sail with Kamehameha,” said my father. “It was Kameha’s way of demonstrating to Ka‘ahumanu that he valued her above all of other women.”

  Kamehameha had not invited Ka‘iana to sail with him and the other chieftains. He had allowed, however, that Ka‘iana could make the voyage to O‘ahu on the Fair American if he liked. But Ka‘iana was too proud for that. He perceived Kamehameha’s offer as an insult. “I am descended from Keawe the Great; I am higher born than Ke‘eaumoku, Kame‘iamoku, Kamanawa, and the others who sail with him and yet I am excluded from their company,” he foolishly complained to my father. “He would have me travel with the chiefesses. It is not right.”

  Kamehameha’s purpose, of course, was to deny Ka‘iana proximity to Ka‘ahumanu. My father could have reminded him of this, but he kept such thoughts to himself. Ka‘iana sailed separately with his own contingent of retainers and warriors, drawn from his holdings in South Kona.

  When Kamehameha, his kahuna nui, and his chieftains were at last aboard the Pelekane, the two ships weighed their anchors and unfurled their sails. Cannons roared from the deck of each ship as their bows swung round toward the open ocean. Conch shells sounded up and down the beach as Kamehameha’s army launched their canoes and followed their mō‘ī to sea.

  My brother, Kahekili Ke‘eaumoku, and I sat on the temple wall and watched until the fleet had disappeared from view, the warriors’ exuberant cheers, the reverberating cannon fire, and the calls of the conch shells still echoing in our ears.

  The fleet’s passage from the Big Island to Maui was much swifter than heretofore, as all of Kamehameha’s sail canoes were by now rigged in the haole fashion. The fleet landed at Lahaina unopposed, Kalanikūpule having diverted most of his warriors for the defense of O‘ahu.

  The landing at Lahaina was for provisioning, and a simple requisition of the Lahaina people’s stores would have been sufficient for this purpose. Kamehameha nevertheless ordered his men to plunder the village, but to avoid inflicting physical harm on its inhabitants or molesting their women. He also forbade them from destroying the villagers’ dwellings.

  “As we cannot spare enough warriors to hold Maui at this time, we must ensure that its people submit to us by demonstrating to them that Kalanikūpule can no longer protect them,” Kameha explained to his council. “And by sparing their lives and dwellings now, we will also give them to understand that worse things might have befallen them, and most surely will if they should oppose us while we are away at O‘ahu.”

  Kamehameha left one hundred warriors on Maui. He also left among the people there a certainty that Kalanikūpule was destined for defeat. This, along with the rapid spread of stories among the islanders about the size of Kamehameha’s fleet and army and of his many haole weapons, not to mention the people’s still-fresh memories of the slaughter at ‘Īao Valley, ensured that no one dared to rise up against Kameha’s small garrison in his absence.

  Next, Kamehameha moved on to Moloka‘i. Though nominally under Kalanikūpule’s rule, the Moloka‘i chieftains were unfriendly to him and still sympathetic to Kameha, who had grieved so deeply over Kalola’s death. They eagerly allied themselves with him, especially after seeing the size of the Hawai‘ian fleet and the strength of Kamehameha’s army.

  At Moloka‘i, Kamehameha called his chiefly intimates together for a final council before the invasion of O‘ahu. Once again, he excluded Ka‘iana. “Ke‘eaumoku, Kame‘iamoku, and Kamanawa strongly objected to Ka‘iana’s inclusion in the council,” said my father. “Moreover, Kamehameha deemed Ka‘iana’s presence unimportant, since his only role in the battle to come would be to lead his own small contingent of warriors.”

  When my father suggested to Kamehameha that he invite Ka‘iana rather than needlessly offending him, Kameha replied brusquely, “I will speak privately to Ka‘iana after the council. That should be sufficient for him.”

  Unadvised of the council beforehand, Ka‘iana assumed the others were plotting against him when he learned of it. Afterward, Kamehameha dispatched my father to summon him, to discuss tactics for the forthcoming assault. He had decided to ask Ka‘iana to lead the musket corps. “I searched everywhere for Ka‘iana, but I could not find him,” my father said.

  Ka‘iana was still nowhere to be found when the Hawai‘ian fleet made ready to sail for O‘ahu the next morning. He had put to sea under cover of night with about one hundred of his men. “Well, it is of no matter,” Kameha said when apprised of this. “I will lead the pū warriors.”

  Preceding Kamehameha’s fleet to Waikiki, Ka‘iana warned Kalanikūpule of the invasion. When the fleet announced its presence with a thundering fusillade of cannon fire from the Fair American and the Pelekane, he had already withdrawn his people to the Nu‘uanu Valley.

  Nu‘uanu Valley, 1795

  As I have said, Kalanikūpule chose to confront Kamehameha’s army in the Nu‘uanu Valley because he believed the ground there favored his fighters. The meandering Nu‘uanu Stream divides the valley’s floor. In the lower half of the valley, this stream flows through a gully of varying width and steepness. Kalanikūpule and his general, Kamohomoho, elected to make a stand at the village of Pu‘iwa, on the eastern side of the valley, where the gulley’s banks are the highest and steepest. They hoped to lure the Hawai‘ians into attacking them across the gully, wherein they would inevitably become bunched together and vulnerable to the defenders above. Moreover, once into the ravine, Kamehameha’s warriors would be compelled to fight their way up a slope rising nearly one hundred and thirty feet from the bottom of the gully to the village
itself. Even in the event of withdrawal, the ground would favor Kalanikūpule. This would have been a sound plan in other days, but Kalanikūpule and Kamohomoho unaccountably failed to reckon with Kamehameha’s artillery, despite the debacle at ‘Īao Valley.

  Kamehameha gathered his army at the foot of the valley and encamped there for the night. Early the next morning, with some local villagers pressed into service to lead the way, the army marched up the valley and swung around to face Pu‘iwa, just as Kalanikūpule had anticipated. Kalanikūpule’s people also had muskets, though not nearly as many as Kamehameha’s forces. Kalanikūpule had positioned these soldiers, under Ka‘iana’s command, at intervals in concealed positions along the length of the gully in front of the village.

  As the Hawai‘ians arranged themselves on the opposite side of the gully, Kalanikūpule taunted them. “Do not wait over there,” he called. “Come across to us! We will make it worth your while!”

  Ke‘eaumoku answered him from the Hawai‘ians’ front line. “You are welcome to stay over there, Kalanikūpule, while Kamehameha rules the rest of the island!” he shouted, brandishing a pololū spear. “Our priests will come to collect your tribute at Makahiki time.”

  “Here is our tribute!” Kalanikūpule shouted. Ragged musket fire erupted from his side of the gully. Though the Hawai‘ians in the front line were fully exposed, Kalanikūpule’s people were poor marksmen, and it was to no effect. A musket ball did, however, pass through the crest of Ke‘eaumoku’s helmet, showering feathers all around him.

  “Is that the best tribute you can offer?” Ke‘eaumoku demanded. “Here is ours!”

  Now, the Hawai‘ian front-line warriors parted ranks to reveal a dozen swivel guns. At signal from Kame‘iamoku, the guns roared in unison, sending a hail of lethal canister shot into the hidden positions of the musket troops on the gully’s opposite bank. Shrieks erupted as mortally wounded men tumbled into the gully and others jumped up and ran for their lives toward the village. The Hawai‘ians elevated their guns as they had been taught by ‘Olohana and ‘Aikake, reloaded them, and sent a salvo of canister shot into Pu‘iwa itself. The canister shot tore through the village, felling men, women, and children alike. The air filled with the screams of the wounded and the dying. Kamehameha’s people reloaded again and this time fired a volley of small-caliber round shot; and then yet another volley. The cannon balls sent up geysers of dirt, dust, and thatch as they thudded into the earth and into the roofs and walls of people’s hales. Pu‘iwa was now hidden in a dirty cloud.

  Kalanikūpule tried to rally his men amid the growing confusion. “Warriors of O‘ahu, stand with me!” he cried. “They must still come across to us! They cannot use their pū kuni ahi against us then. Hold fast here and wait for them!”

  Somehow, his warriors managed to regroup in the pall and form a ragged line in front of the village. They were still several thousand strong, carrying spears, clubs, and iron axes and knives. They still had many muskets among them. Ka‘iana had survived the cannon barrages and now stood with them. “All you men!” he called out. “Look at me!” Ka‘iana dropped to one knee and gestured at the warriors to do likewise. “Crouch low so that you will not be easy targets for the enemy’s pū kuni ahi!”

  As they faced the Hawai‘ians massed on the other side of the gap, Kalanikūpule, Kamohomoho, and Ka‘iana failed to see Kamehameha approaching under the cover of the gloom on their side of the gully, leading several hundred warriors armed with muskets.

  “Kamehameha had sent scouts to spy out Kalanikūpule’s position,” my father said. “When they reported that Kalanikūpule and his people were waiting for us at Pu‘iwa, Kameha led his pū warriors across the stream well below the village and advanced along the opposite bank. Then he and his men waited for the rest of our people to form up across the gully. Our pū kuni ahi attack was a diversion.”

  The diversion continued, now with taunts and insults instead of cannon rounds. “Is that pig Ka‘iana hiding with you over there, Kalanikūpule?” Ke‘eaumoku shouted. “Are you so afraid that you crouch like a wahine taking a piss, Ka‘iana? Stand like a man so that I can see you!”

  “Stand like men! Stand like men!” the Hawai‘ians chanted, brandishing their weapons at their enemies. “Do not crouch and pee like women! Stand like men! Pee like men!” This taunt rippled across the Hawai‘ians’ front rank, and then rolled to the rear through successive echelons until ten thousand warriors were screaming, waving their spears and clubs, and shaking their fists. As the Hawai‘ian host chanted, the cannon corps reloaded their guns.

  Amid this commotion, Kamehameha and his people emerged like apparitions from the settling haze, alongside and behind Kalanikūpule’s men, whose attention was still fixed on the jeering enemy across the ravine. They leveled their muskets. Kamehameha waved at Ke‘eaumoku, who signaled in turn to Kame‘iamoku and the warriors at the cannons. Now the Hawai‘ians’ guns and muskets spoke as one. The cannon rounds flew over the heads of Kalanikūpule’s men, crashing harmlessly into the village behind them, but musket fire from Kamehameha’s men tore into their ranks from the flank and rear.

  Kalanikūpule and most of his fighters did not understand what was happening at first. They ascribed the screams of their comrades to the cannon fire. They did not flinch as men toppled over beside them. “Hold! Hold!” Kalanikūpule shouted again. His men waited obediently for the frontal assault that would not come.

  It was Ka‘iana who first comprehended what was happening. “Kamehameha attacks us on the flank with muskets!” he shouted. The O‘ahu men looked at him in bewilderment. They did not understand him. “Pū! Pū!” Ka‘iana shouted now.

  At last, Kalanikūpule understood. Now recalling the first days of fighting at ‘Īao Valley, he cried, “Form up on me! Charge them before they can feed their pū again!” He and some of his men wheeled around to face Kamehameha and his warriors, but it was too late. Another musket volley lashed the O‘ahu ranks, felling a score of warriors and igniting panic in all the rest. They broke and fled for their lives. Kalanikūpule and Kamohomoho fled with them. Only Ka‘iana remained, disbelieving and momentarily transfixed in place.

  A moment was all Kamehameha required. Kameha, who had never deigned to master the musket, carried an iron-tipped pololū spear. Now he stepped forward. “Ka‘iana!” he shouted. “I am here!” As Ka‘iana turned to look his way, Kamehameha hurled the spear. Ka‘iana’s eyes widened in astonishment as Kamehameha’s spear struck him in his chest. For a moment he stood there, regarding the spear’s shaft and the blood spilling from the surrounding wound in bewilderment. Then his eyes glazed over and he crumpled to the ground.

  Kamehameha jerked the spear from Ka‘iana’s chest as he rushed by in pursuit of Kalanikūpule and his warriors. He did not spare so much as a glance at the dying turncoat.

  B locked from escaping to the coast, Kalanikūpule and his people retreated deeper into the Nu‘uanu Valley, and Kamehameha gave chase. Seeing the enemy fleeing, Ke‘eaumoku ordered the Hawai‘ian army massed on his side of the gully to pursue and outrun the O‘ahu warriors.

  “Just up the valley from Pu‘iwa, the ravine becomes shallower,” said my father, “and then it deepens again. Ke‘eaumoku had only just learned of this. Now he wanted to get there before Kalanikūpule could cross the stream at that place, and block his escape.”

  “Follow them! Follow them! Quickly!” he shouted. “We must not let them cross!”

  But an army the size of Kamehameha’s does not move all at once on its general’s command. By the time Ke‘eaumoku’s order had filtered through the ranks and the army had begun its pursuit, the O‘ahu warriors had reached the stream crossing. Ke‘eaumoku and the few score of his warriors who reached the crossing with him could only stand and watch as Kalanikūpule and his men fled up the valley.

  Once across the ravine, Kalanikūpule’s people gained a narrow stretch of land along the valley’s western wall. Kamehameha and his commanders could not deploy their army in breadth here, nor
could they outflank Kalanikūpule’s men. Here, Kalanikūpule stood and fought.

  “Kalanikūpule’s warriors were a match for us at this place because we could not bring up all of our men at once,” my father said. “The fighting was bitter and hand to hand.” In this close-quarter combat, with spears, clubs, and knives, Kamehameha’s muskets and artillery were of no use. By mid-afternoon, hundreds of warriors on both sides had fallen.

  Kamehameha, Ke‘eaumoku, Kame‘iamoku, my father, and the other Hawai‘ian chieftains were everywhere during this fighting, urging men forward to take the places of fallen warriors. Kalanikūpule and Kamohomoho were similarly pressing their people into the fray. The O‘ahu forces slowly gave ground, but they made the Hawai‘ians pay in blood for every yard they gained. Unable at last to replenish his front ranks in sufficient force to counter the Hawai‘ians’ offensive, Kalanikūpule was compelled to order a general retreat. Once again, he and his people turned and fled. The Hawai‘ians were by then exhausted and reluctant to follow them, but Kamehameha spurred them on.

  “We have them now!” he shouted. “Do not let the enemy rest; do not let them regain their strength. Our fallen brothers have already paid dearly for this moment! Let us finish this today!”

  The advance continued. Now, where the valley floor broadened, Kamehameha’s forces had room to maneuver again.

  Kalanikūpule and his men were making for the very end of the valley, where a high pali overlooks the distant coastal village of Kailua. A narrow footpath descends from this cliff to the plain hundreds of feet below—a path that promised the O‘ahu fighters escape if they could gain it in time.

  With Kamehameha leading them, the Hawai‘ians picked up their pace and lengthened their line as they sought to overtake, flank, and encircle Kalanikūpule’s warriors.