Pele and Hiiaka: A Myth From Hawaii

Hiiaka, having—by her marvellous skill—extricated her charge from the toils of the enchantress, turned a deaf ear to Pele-ula’s urgent persuasions to abide yet longer and taste more deeply the sweets of her hospitality. Her determination arrived at, she wasted no time in leave-taking but made all haste to put a safe distance between the poor moth and the flame that was the focus of his enchantment. Their route lay eastward across the dusty, wind-swept, plain of Kula-o-kahu’a—destined in the coming years to be the field of many a daring feat of arms;—then through the wild region of Ka-imu-ki, thickset with bowlders—a region at one time chosen by the dwarf Menehune as a sort of stronghold where they could safely plant their famous ti ovens and be unmolested by the nocturnal depredations of the swinish Kama-pua’a. Hiiaka saw nothing or took no notice of these little rock-dwellers. Her gaze was fixed upon the ocean beyond, whose waves and tides they must stem before they reached and passed Moloka’i and Maui, shadowy forms that loomed in the horizon between her and her goal.

Hiiaka, standing on the flank of Leahi and exercising a power of vision more wonderful than that granted by the telescope, had sight of a wild commotion on her beloved Hawaii. In the cloud-films that embroidered the horizon she saw fresh proof of her sister’s unmindfulness of the most solemn pledges. It was not her fashion to smother her emotions with silence:

At Kuliouou, which they reached after passing through Wai-alae, Wai-lupe and Niu, they came upon some women who were catching small fish and crabs in the pools and shallow water along the shore and, to satisfy their hunger or, perhaps, to test their disposition, Hiiaka begged the women to grant her a portion of their catch to satisfy their need. The answer was a surly refusal, coupled with the remark that Hiiaka would better do her own fishing. As the sister and representative of the proud god Pele, Hiiaka could not permit the insult to go unpunished. Her reply was the utterance of this fateful incantation:

After this outburst of retribution, Hiiaka turned aside to address in words of consolation and compliment two forlorn mythical creatures whom she recognized as kindred. They were creations of Pele, Ihihi-lau-akea, manifest to us to-day as a lifeless cinder-cone, and Nono-ula, as a clear spring of water welling out of the mountain. It was a nice point in Hiiaka’s character that she was always ready, with punctilious etiquette, to show courtesy to whom courtesy was due.

Fortunately for Hiiaka, her lofty perch afforded a wide-embracing view that included the shadowy forms of Maui and the lesser islands that nested with it. Not the smallest pirogue could steal away from the strip of rocky beach at her feet without her observation. At this moment she caught sight of two sailor-men in the act of launching a trim canoe into the troubled waters of the Hanauma cove, and she made haste, accordingly, to come to them, on the chance of securing a passage, if so be that they were voyaging in the desired direction. Their destination proving to be Moloka’i, Hiiaka begged the men to receive herself and party as passengers. Nothing loath, they gave their consent.

His companion, with better show of cheer in his speech, spoke up and said, “It’s but common luck to be swamped in this rough channel. To avoid it needs only skill. Even if the craft swamps, these people need not drown; we can swim for it, and we shall all fare alike. We’ll take you with us. Come aboard.” Aboard they went.

The voyage to Moloka’i proved uneventful. They landed at Iloli, a barren place that offered no provision to stay their hunger. When Hiiaka, therefore, learned that these same canoe-men were bound for the neighboring island of Maui, she wisely concluded to continue the voyage with them.

On landing in Kohala, Hiiaka took the road that led up through the thickly wooded wilderness of Mahiki, the region that had been the scene, now some months gone, of the most strenuous chapter in her warfare to rid Hawaii of the mo’o—that pestilent brood of winged and crawling monsters great and small that once infested her wilds and that have continued almost to the present day to infest the imagination of the Hawaiian people. On coming to the eminence called Pu’u O’ioina,—a name signifying a resting place—being now in the heart of the damp forest of Moe-awa, they found the trail so deep with mire that the two women drew up their paü and tucked them about their waists. At sight of this action, Lohiau indulged himself in some frivolous jesting remarks which called out a sharp rebuke from Hiiaka.

As they cleared the deep woods, there burst upon them a view of the Hamakua coast-wall here and there dotted with clumps of puhala and fern, at intervals hung with the white ribbons of waterfalls hastening to join the great ocean. As Hiiaka gazed upon the scene, she uttered her thoughts in song:

(In literature, as in other matters, the missing sheep always makes a strong appeal to the imagination. Urged by this motive, I have searched high and low for this mele, the utterance of Hiiaka under unique conditions; but all my efforts have been unavailing.)

When they had passed through the lands of Kukia-lau-ania and Maka-hana-loa and were overlooking the town of Hilo, Hiiaka was better able to judge of the havoc which the fires of Pele had wrought in her Puna domains. The land was desolated, but, worst of all, the life of her dearest friend Hopoe had been sacrificed on the altar of jealousy. In her indignation, Hiiaka swore vengeance on her sister Pele. “I have scrupulously observed the compact solemnly entered into between us, and this is the way she repays me for all my labor! Our agreement is off: I am free to treat him—as my lover, if I so please. But it shall not be here and now. I will wait till the right occasion offers, till her own eyes shall witness her discomfiture.”