{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_24732/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_24732","id":"gutenberg_24732","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/24732","summary":null,"tags":["Category: History - Other","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Folklore","Tales -- Oceania","Tales -- West Indies"],"text":"Produced by Jeroen Hellingman and the Online Distributed\nProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This book was\nproduced from scanned images of public domain material\nfrom the Google Print project.)\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                            Myths & Legends\n                                 Of Our\n                            New Possessions\n                             & Protectorate\n\n                                   By\n                           Charles M. Skinner\n\n                         Philadelphia & London\n                        J. B. Lippincott Company\n                                  1900\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                             THIS  BOOK  IS\n                             AFFECTIONATELY\n                             DEDICATED   TO\n                             CORNELIA  OTIS\n                             SKINNER,   OUR\n                             NEW POSSESSION\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTABLE OF CONTENTS\n\n\n        In the Caribbean                               PAGE\n\n            The Mysterious Islands                       23\n            The Buccaneers                               33\n            The Boat of Phantom Children                 46\n            Early Porto Rico                             48\n            The Deluge                                   55\n            How Spaniards were Found to be Mortal        56\n            Ponce                                        58\n            Water Caves                                  61\n            How a Dutchman Helped the Spaniards          65\n            The Ghost of San Geronimo                    67\n            Police Activity in Humacao                   71\n            The Church in Porto Rico                     74\n            The Mermaids                                 78\n            The Aborigines                               83\n            The Caribs                                   88\n            Secret Enemies in the Hills                  92\n            Sacred Shrines                               98\n            Tobacco                                     103\n            The Two Skeletons of Columbus               106\n            Obeah Witches                               108\n            The Matanzas Obeah Woman                    113\n            How Havana Got its Market                   121\n            The Justice of Tacon                        127\n            The Cited                                   133\n            The Virgin's Diamond                        141\n            A Spanish Holofernes                        144\n            The Courteous Battle                        150\n            Why King Congo was Late                     153\n            The Chase of Taito Perico                   156\n            The Voice in the Inn                        163\n\n\n        In the Pacific\n\n            Finding of the Islands                      177\n            Ancient Faiths of Hawaii                    178\n            The Giant Gods                              188\n            The First Fire                              189\n            The Little People                           190\n            The Hawaiian Iliad                          194\n            The Hawaiian Orpheus and Eurydice           201\n            The Rebellion of Kamiole                    206\n            The Japanese Sword                          212\n            Lo-Lale's Lament                            217\n            The Resurrections of Kaha                   220\n            Hawaiian Ghosts                             224\n            The Three Wives of Laa                      225\n            The Misdoing of Kamapua                     226\n            Pele's Hair                                 233\n            The Prayer to Pele                          234\n            Lohiau and the Volcano Princess             237\n            A Visit of Pele                             239\n            The Great Famine                            243\n            Kiha's Trumpet                              248\n            How Moikeha Gained a Wife                   252\n            The Sailing of Paao                         254\n            The Wronged Wife                            256\n            The Magic Spear                             259\n            Hawaiian Witches                            262\n            The Cannibals                               267\n            The Various Graves of Kaulii                270\n            The Kingship of Umi                         273\n            Keaulumoku's Prophecy                       276\n            The Tragedy of Spouting Cave                277\n            The Grave of Pupehe                         283\n            The Lady of the Twilight                    285\n            The Ladrones                                286\n            Old Beliefs of the Filipinos                290\n            Animal Myths                                300\n            Later Religious Myths and Miracles          304\n            Bankiva, the Philippine Pied Piper          315\n            The Crab Tried to Eat the Moon              317\n            The Conversion of Amambar                   319\n            The Bedevilled Galleon                      322\n            Two Runaways from Manila                    329\n            The Christianizing of Wong                  333\n            The Devil's Bridge                          335\n            The Great Earthquake                        339\n            Suppressing Magic in Manila                 345\n            Faith that Killed                           348\n            The Widow Velarde's Husband                 351\n            The Grateful Bandits                        352\n\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n    Gate of the Walled City of Manila          _Frontispiece_\n    A Cuban Residence                               Page 146\n    Down the Valley came Pouring a Flood of Lava    Page 232\n    Avenue of Palms, Hawaii                         Page 262\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIN THE CARIBBEAN\n\n\nThe Mysterious Islands\n\n\nSomewhere--anywhere--in the Atlantic, islands drifted like those\ntissues of root and sedge that break from the edges of northern\nlakes and are sent to and fro by the gales: floating islands. The\nlittle rafts bearing that name are thick enough to nourish trees,\nand a man or a deer may walk on them without breaking through. Far\ndifferent were those wandering Edens of the sea, for they had\nmountains, volcanoes, cities, and gardens; men of might and women\nlovelier than the dawn lived there in brotherly and sisterly esteem;\nbirds as bright as flowers, and with throats like flutes, peopled\nthe groves, where luscious fruit hung ready for the gathering, and\nthe very skies above these places of enchantment were more serene\nand deep than those of the storm-swept continents. Where the surges\ncreamed against the coral beaches and cliffs of jasper and marble,\nthe mer-people arose to view and called to the land men in song,\nwhile the fish in the shallows were like wisps of rainbow.\n\nIt was the habit of these lands never to be where the seeker could\nreadily find them. Some legends pertaining to them appear to do\nwith places no farther from the homes of the simple, if imaginative,\ntellers than the Azores, Canaries, and Cape Verdes; but others indicate\na former knowledge of our own America, and a few may relate to that\nscore or so of rocks lying between New England and the Latin shores;\nbare, dangerous domes and ledges where sea fowl nest, and where a\ncrumbling skeleton tells of a sailor who outlived a wreck to endure\na more dreadful death from cold and thirst and hunger. Some of these\ntales reach back to the Greek myths: survivals of the oldest histories,\nor possibly connected America with the old world through voyages\nmade by men whose very nations are dead and long forgotten; for the\nsavages and ogres that inhabited these elusive islands may be European\nconcepts of our Indians. But in the earlier Christian era all was\nmystery on those plains of water that stretched beyond the sunset. It\nwas believed that as one sailed toward our continent the day faded,\nand that if the mariner kept on he would be lost in hopeless gloom.\n\nPerhaps the most ancient story in the world tells of the sinking of\nAtlantis. When the Egyptian priest told it to Solon it was already\nvenerable beyond estimate; yet he recounted the work and pleasures\nof the Atlantans, who were a multitude, who drank from hot and cold\nsprings, who had mines of silver and gold, pastures for elephants,\nand plants that yielded a sweet savor; who prayed in temples of white,\nred and black stone, sheathed in shining metals; whose sculptors made\nvast statues, one, representing Poseidon driving winged horses, being\nso large that the head of the god nearly touched the temple roof;\nwho had gardens, canals, sea walls, and pleasant walks; who had ten\nthousand chariots in their capital alone; the port of twelve hundred\nships. They were a folk of peace and kindness, but as they increased\nin wealth and comfort they forgot the laws of heaven; so in a day\nand a night this continent went down, burying its millions and its\ntreasures beneath the waters. A few of the inhabitants escaped to\nEurope in their ships; a few, also, to America. It has been claimed\nthat Atlantis may still be traced in an elevation of the ocean floor\nabout seven hundred miles wide and a thousand miles long, its greatest\nlength from northeast to southwest, and the Azores at its eastern\nedge--mountain tops not quite submerged. As some believe, it was from\nthis cataclysm that has sprung the world-wide legend of a deluge.\n\nFrom some of the enchanted lands, perhaps near the American shore,\nMerlin went to England, piled the monoliths of Stonehenge on Salisbury\nmoor, and after gaining respect and fear as a magician and prophet,\nsailed back across the waste. The Joyous Island of Lancelot; the island\nwhere King Arthur wrestled and bested the Half Man; Avalon, the Isle\nof the Blest, where Arthur lived in the castle of the sea-born fairy,\nMorgan le Fee, were probably near the British or Irish coasts.\n\nMany days' sail from Europe was the Island of Youth. A daring Irish\nlad reached it, borne by a horse as white as the foam, that never\nsank. He paused on the way to slay a giant who held a princess in his\nenchantment, and reached, at length, a land where birds were so many\nthat the trees shook with the burden of them, and the air rang with\ntheir song. There, with his wife and a merry band of youths and maids,\nhe spent a hundred years--one long joy of killing; for from dawn till\ndark the deer met death at his hand, bleeding from the stroke of dart\nand knife. A floating spear was found near the shore one day, rusted\nand scarred with battle, and as he grasped it memories of old wars\nreturned to him, so that he was sick with longing to go home and hurl\nthe cutting metal through the ribs of his enemies and see the good\nred flood burst from their hearts. He remounted his white steed and\nreached Ireland, careless of the happiness he had left: for those who\ndeserted the island might never return. He reached his home to find\nmen grown too small and mean to fight him, which probably means that\nhe had waxed so great as to make them seem like dwarfs. Appalled at\nthis change, dismayed at the loss of all chance for battle, he sank\nto the earth. His age came suddenly upon him, and he died.\n\nIn one of the great Irish monasteries lived St. Brandan, of the holy\nbrotherhood that tilled the soil, taught the permitted sciences,\ncopied and illumined the works of the early Christians, fed four\nhundred beggars daily, though living on bread, roots, and nuts\nthemselves, lodging and studying in unwarmed cells of stone. Once in\nseven years the people saw from shore the island of Hy-Brasail. The\nmonks tried to stop its wanderings by prayer and by fiery arrows,\nyet without avail. Kirwan claimed to have landed on it, and he\nbrought back strange money that he said was used by its people. So\nlate as 1850 Brasail Rock remained on the British Admiralty chart,\nto show how hard tradition dies. The appearance of this phantom land\nmade Brandan long to explore the realm of mystery wherefrom it had\nemerged. He hoped to find even the Promised Island of the Saints,\nwhen at last he was able to leave the convent where he had endured so\nmany hardships and embarked on Mernoc's ship; blessed region where\nfruit was borne on every tree, flowers on every bush; region strewn\nwith precious stones and full of perfume that clung to one's garments\nfor weeks, like an odor of sanctity.\n\nSeventeen priests set sail in the coracle, or boat of basket work\ncovered with leather. They had no fear, for they were holy men, and\nin those days Christians were immune from peril. Not long before a\ncompany of nuns had been blown across the sea and back again, seated\non a cloak that rode the waves like a ship. After forty days Brandan's\ncompany found a group of islands peopled by courteous natives. Next\nthey disembarked on what they thought to be a rock to cook a dinner,\nbut it was no rock; it was a whale, that, feeling the sting of flame\nthrough his thick hide, rushed off for two miles, carrying their fire\non his back. They hastily re-entered their boat before the monster\nhad gained much headway and ere long reached the Paradise of Birds,\nwhere they enjoyed the music made by thousands of little creatures\nwith their wings--a music like fiddling. After this came visits to a\nden of griffins; to a land of grapes such as the Norsemen told about;\nto a mountain country aflame with the forges of one-eyed people, or\ncyclops. Twice, on Easter Sunday, they put lambs to death, and so,\nbeing blessed for the sacrifice, were allowed to reach the Island of\nSaints, where an angel bade them take all the precious stones they\nwished, as they had been created for holy people, but to attempt no\nexploration beyond that point. No men appeared; still, in order to\nleave the impress of their calling, St. Malo, one of the company,\ndug up a giant who had died several years before, preached to him and\nbaptized him. These reformatory services revived the giant a little,\nthough he was pretty far gone, and he died again as soon as the priest\nstopped preaching. St. Brandan went back to Clonfert, where three\nthousand monks joined him in good works, and mendicants swarmed from\nall over the land to benefit by their labor. He often told the people\nand the brethren of the wonders he had seen in lands Columbus was to\nrediscover nine hundred years later, and he dwelt with marvelling on\nthe mercy of God as shown to Judas Iscariot, the betrayer of Christ,\nwho was encountered in the northern seas, lying naked on an iceberg in\nsilent delight. St. Brandan recognized him by portraits he had seen and\nhailed him. Judas then told his story; he was roasting in hell when\nthe Lord remembered that once in Joppa this disciple had thrown his\ncloak over the shoulders of a leper who was agonized by a wind that\nblew sharp sand into his sores. An angel was sent to tell the doomed\none that for this mercy he would be allowed, for one hour in every\nyear, to breathe the wholesome air of the upper world, and stretch his\nscorched body on the ice. Moved by this tenderness toward the most\ndespised of men, St. Brandan bowed and prayed, just as Judas, with\ndespair in his upturned face, slipped down again to the deeps of fire.\n\nSome men of Ross, Ireland, had killed their king, despite his\nsuccessful wars against his rival monarchs, some of whose kingdoms were\nas large as a township. For this offense the heir to the throne, or his\nadvisers, decreed that sixty couples should be set adrift on the ocean,\nto meet what fate they might. A guard was put along the shore to keep\nthem from landing again, and an easterly gale blew them quickly out of\nsight of their relatives and friends. For years none dared to seek for\nthem. Conall Ua Corra, of Connaught, had prayed in vain to the Lord for\nchildren, so in anger he prayed to the devil, and three boys were born\nto his wife. The neighbors jeered at them as the fiend's offspring,\nand harassed them and made them bitter. They said, one to the other,\n\"If we are really sons of Satan we will justify these taunts,\" and\ncollecting all the vicious boys of their village they robbed farmers,\nruined churches, killed men who resisted plunder, and were about to\nmurder their father when they were warned in a vision of the eternal\npunishment they would endure in blazing sulphur pits if they did not\nrepent. Their father had long regretted his hasty prayer to the evil\none, and had tried to regain the good-will of heaven by industry,\nand by giving freely of his substance to the sick and pauperized. By\nadvice of St. Finnen, to whom they confessed, the boys repaired the\nchurches they had injured and mourned the victims of their brutality;\nyet, as the people doubted their conversion, they resolved to leave\nthe country and go to some land where they would not be constantly\nexposed to the danger of breaking their good resolves by reproaches\nand attacks. Where to go? It was suggested by some designing neighbor\nthat if they were to search for the one hundred and twenty exiles they\nwould be doing a service to heaven and the world. This suggestion was\npromptly acted on. In a frail coracle they swept the sea, discovering\nstrange lands, in one of which the half-forgotten people of Ross were\nfound, living so contentedly that few of them cared to go back. The\nmost exciting incidents of the voyage were the three meetings with\nthe Island of Satan's Hand, a lone rock in icy waters, where fogs\nalways brooded. At the will of a malignant demon it changed its place\nfrom time to time, and it was the hand of this monster, a vast, rude\nshape looming out of the mist, which endangered all the ships that\npassed, for it struck at them,--as it did at the coracle of these\nthree voyagers,--injuring hulls, tearing sails, or knocking the crews\noverboard, when it did not send them to the bottom. If the blow fell\nshort it made the sea boil and sent billows rolling for a mile. Some\nof the shore folk said it was icebergs that the shipmen saw; but\nicebergs never sailed so far from the pole, they answered. Despite\nits wandering habit, the map-makers eventually agreed on a site for\nthis rock of the smiting hand, calling it Satanaxio. It can be seen\non charts of the eighteenth century.\n\nA thousand years before Columbus it was reported that tropic islands\nhad been discovered and ruled by Archbishop Oppas, of Spain, who\nwas fain to leave his country because he had betrayed his king to\nthe Moors. He found a race friendly and gentle, sharing with one\nanother whatever was given to them, as not knowing selfishness. This\nprelate burned his ships, that his people might not return, laid off\nthe largest island into seven bishoprics, and, impressing the natives\ninto his service, built churches and convents, for there were women in\nhis company whom he placed in nunneries. This island, which figures\non early maps as Antillia and as Behaim, was known also as the Land\nof the Seven Cities, from its seven bishoprics. When Coronado heard\nof the pueblos of Arizona and New Mexico, he may have confounded\nthem with the towns of Oppas, and to this day the seven cities of\nCibola are a legend of our desert. Harold's Norsemen were told by\nthe wild Skraelings of Maine of a pale-faced people farther south,\nwho walked in processions, carrying white banners and chanting.\n\nNear Florida was the island of Bimini, with its fountain of youth. Juan\nand Luis Ponce de Leon sought it vainly among the Bahamas, then\ncrossed to Florida and kept up the search among the pine barrens,\nthe moss-bearded cypresses, the snaky swamps, and alligator infested\nrivers. The Indians, strong, active, healthy with their simple,\noutdoor life, their ignorance of wine and European diseases, seemed\nso favored that the Spaniards believed they must have bathed in the\nmagic fountain and drank its waters. Green Cove Spring, near Magnolia,\nis the one where Luis bathed, hoping that he had found at last the\nrestorative fountain; but an angry Indian shot a poisoned arrow through\nhis body, and neither prayers nor water stayed long the little life\nthat was in him. So the spring is in the unfound Bimini, after all.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Buccaneers\n\n\nHow the free traders in the West Indies became smugglers, how by easy\nstages they passed from the profession of illicit dealing to piracy,\nare matters that concern history rather than legend. Their name of\nbuccaneers comes from buccan, an Indian word signifying a smoke-house,\nin which beef and other meats were dried; as one of the earliest\nenterprises of the rovers was the stealing of Spanish cattle in San\nDomingo, and the drying of their flesh in the native buccans for use\nat sea.\n\nA general hatred or jealousy of Spain, that was shared by the English,\nDutch, and French, led to the first privateering expeditions. Indeed,\nthroughout the seventeenth century the pirates operated principally\nagainst Spain, and were tolerated because of the injury they did to\nher ships, her people, her property, and her trade. Having finally\nruined her commerce, they sacked her colonies, and, the lust for blood\nand treasure having been roused to a sort of madness, they cast off\npatriotic allegiances and became mere robbers and outlaws. The history\nof the successes of L'Ollonois, Morgan, Davis, and the rest, is an\nexciting though painful one, inasmuch as all sense of right and mercy\nseems to have been crushed in the breasts of these men by their brutal\nbusiness. For a handful of dollars they were ready to wreck a city,\nreduce even its ruins to ashes, slaughter women and babes, and cut\nthe throats of the aged. They were as harsh and treacherous toward one\nanother as they were toward peaceable men, and for acts of rebellion\nagainst a leader they were killed off-hand, while it was customary,\nalso, to butcher a sailor whenever a chest of treasure was buried,\nand place his body on or in the chest, that his ghost might guard it\nand terrify intruders. Yet the ultimate influence of the buccaneers\nwas for good, inasmuch as they wrested a part of the rich Antilles from\nthe cruel and ignorant Spaniard and gave it to more enlightened powers.\n\nWhen the freebooting days were at their height there was no harbor\nof safety between Rio and Halifax; but there was, in every town the\nrascals visited, an element that profited by their robberies: the\nkeepers of inns, brothels, and gaming-houses, and, lastly, the royal\ngovernors. These bloody-fingered varlets would sack a church, get\ntipsy on the communion wine, and demand the blessing of the priests on\nthe next enterprise of the same kind they had in contemplation. With\nthe chalices, candlesticks, and altar furnishings, they would go\nto the nearest city, where they were sure of finding this friendly\nelement, and riot away the last piece of metal in their pockets; or,\nif pipes of wine were among the prizes, any island would serve for\na long debauch. Devil's Island, the place of Dreyfus's captivity,\nwas a popular rendezvous, though it is so named not because of these\ngatherings, but because of a particularly unmanageable prisoner who\nwas once confined there.\n\nThe governors of some of the West Indies were as keen on the scent\nof the sea-robbers as the latter were in the chase of merchant-men,\nand they were unable to see a good many sad goings-on when a few\npieces-of-eight were held before their eyes. Gaming was no disgrace\nin those times, nor was hard drinking, nor coarse speech, and even\npiracy had a sort of sanction when the victims were people of a nation\nwith whom the buccaneers were at war. Many tales of gamesters' luck\nare told, but a couple will suffice. Vent-en-Panne, a Frenchman,\nhad received five hundred crowns as his share of a robbery, and on\nthe first night ashore, at Kingston, Jamaica, he staked and lost\nit all, with three hundred more that a reckless comrade had lent to\nhim. Though penniless, he was not discouraged. He became a wine-drawer\nand pipe-lighter in the tavern, and with a few pennies received for\ntips he bet on the cards again. This time he won, and his fortune\nmounted to twelve thousand crowns. With this amount in hand he felt\nhe could be virtuous, so he took ship for home, intending to settle\nin Paris and fulfil the ambition of every honest Frenchman,--to own\na furnished room, fish in the Seine, and hear the bands play. He got\nonly as far as Barbadoes, for at that island a rich Jew came aboard,\npersuaded him to play for a small amount, and lost everything to\nVent-en-Panne,--money, houses, sugar, and slaves. The fever was on\nthem both, however, and so soon as the Jew could borrow a little his\nluck also turned, and Vent-en-Panne was stripped of every sou,--even\nthe clothes he wore. Paris became an iridescent dream, and the gambler\nfound his way to the Tortugas, where he doubtless shipped with Morgan,\nTeach, or some other of the scourges of the Spanish main.\n\nTwo rovers are credited with beating the governor of Jamaica at another\ngame, after they had lost to him a matter of ten thousand crowns,--the\nearnings of several weeks faithfully devoted to privateering. In\norder to continue the game (to their complete beggary), the fellows\nhad borrowed from acquaintances in Kingston, who, seeing no way to get\ntheir money back, decided to have them imprisoned for debt. Hearing of\nthis plan, the elder of the precious pair reported to the governor that\nhe had a negro whom he would like to sell, cheap, in order to pay his\ndebts and start in a mechanic trade, such as he had followed in years\ngone by. The governor bade him have the fellow brought in, and finding\nhim to be a sturdy, intelligent man, with a skin as black as the ten\nof clubs, he bought him and set him at work. Next day the negro had\ndisappeared. Notice and offers of reward were sent to all parts of the\nisland, but nothing came of it. The two ex-pirates followed a peaceful\nand thriving trade of making keys, possibly for burglars, and in a few\nyears had saved enough to enable them to return to England. Before\nsailing they called on the ex governor, who had drank and gambled\nhimself into poverty, and emptied a fistful of gold before him.\n\n\"That's for the nigger, with interest,\" said one.\n\n\"The nigger? What, the one that ran away?\" asked the governor.\n\n\"Oh, he didn't run far. Here he is.\" And the speaker clapped his\ncompanion on the shoulder. \"He had only to curl his hair with a hot\niron and rub charcoal on his chops to deceive a governor.\"\n\nThe tickled old fellow drank their health and wished them a safe\njourney, out of Jamaica.\n\nWhile luck seemed to bide with the rovers, it was not always smooth\nsailing on the Spanish seas. Now and then the buccaneers attacked\nan innocent looking ship that waited until they had come within\nmusket-reach, when it ran up the Spanish standard, opened a dozen\nports, and let fly at them with hot-shot and a hail of bullets. Now\nand again a mutiny would occur, and the victorious either forced the\ndefeated to walk the plank or marooned them on some desolate sand\nkey to perish of thirst and sunstroke.\n\nBlackbeard's men once found a fishing-vessel drifting off the Burmudas\nand eagerly boarded her to look for treasure. In a minute they tumbled\nout of the cabin and scrambled into the sea like the swine possessed\nof devils. The vessel had but one living man on board, and he had not\nmany hours of life before him, while corpses strewn about the floor\nwere spotted with small-pox. Half of the pirate crew were slain by\nthe pestilence.\n\nWhen Roberts was cruising off Surinam a supposed war-ship bore down on\nhim in a fog. He pelted her with all his guns, but she kept her way\nunheeding. The fog then breaking showed that it was not a frigate,\nbut a sloop, which had been magnified by the mist, and he quickly\ngrappled her and sent his men to see what manner of ship she was. Ten\nor twelve Spaniards lying about the deck with their throats cut proved\nthat some other buccaneer had been before him. As the men were about\nto leave their floating charnel-house to hold her way whither the\ngales might send her, a furious swearing in Spanish caused them to\nshiver and look back. Were the dead speaking? Had some crazed sailor\nescaped, and was he gibbering from the roundtop? No: it was a parrot\nin the rigging, and he was saying all he knew.\n\nMontbar, having discovered a company of Spanish on one of the Windward\nIslands, went ashore with guns, knives, and axes, and destroyed them\nall, except one. This man told how he and his fellows had been put\nashore. They were the crew of a slaver, and were on their way from\nAfrica to Cuba with a cargo of slaves, when the ship began to leak\nbadly. The carpenter, accompanied by several of the more intelligent\nof the blacks, made a careful inspection of the hold, yet could find\nno leak; so the constant inflow, that kept all hands at the pumps,\nwas at length declared to be the devil's work. The slaves wailed and\nwrung their hands, the captain swore and prayed, the crew toiled to\nexhaustion. When it seemed as if the ship could not float for another\nday the island appeared ahead, and quickly loading arms, provisions,\nand water into the boats, the Spaniards abandoned ship and left the\nnegroes to their fate. Great was their surprise and dismay when the\nslaves ran, cheering, over the deck, hoisted all sail, and squared away\nfor the eastward, the vessel rising higher in the water as her former\ncrew sat watching her. These blacks, who were confined in the hold,\nhad got possession of knives with which they cut through the outer\nplanking, causing the ship to leak alarmingly. They had also fitted\nplugs to these leaks, and packed them with oakum, so that when the\ncarpenter made his rounds no water came in. As soon as he returned\nto the deck the holes were opened again, for it was known that the\nAntilles were near, and the scheme to frighten their captors to land\nwas successful. These facts the crew learned from the negro cook,\nwho had accompanied them to shore.\n\nThe devil, who was supposed in this case to have been the enemy instead\nof the ally of the slavers, often mixed in the affairs of a class\nthat must have filled him with admiration. Some of the pirates are\nreported to have placed themselves entirely in the hands of the foe of\nthe human race, swearing on strange objects to give their souls to him,\nand formally burying a Bible on shore as a token that they were through\nforever with religion and mercy. Yet they were a superstitious lot,\nfearful of signs and portents, and do not, therefore, appear to have\nbeen trusting subjects of His Satanic Majesty. They always had an ear\nand a coin for a fortune-teller, and early in the eighteenth century\nthere were negroes and Indians in the West Indies and the tropic\nAmericas who openly practised that trade and art of witchcraft for\nwhich their white brethren in Salem had been hanged. Their principal\ncustomers were pirates and buccaneers, who went to them for a forecast\nof fortune, and also bought charms that would create fair winds for\nthemselves and typhoons for their enemies. These witches kept open\nears in their heads, and information carelessly dropped by the outlaws\nthey sold for an aftermath of gain to the Spaniards, who found truth\nin so many of the prophesies that they respected the soothsayers and\nfully believed that the English were the chosen of the fiend.\n\nAmong the most trusted of the witches was a withered Indian woman\nof Nassau, the capital of the Bahamas. She was close upon her fifth\nscore of years before she departed this life, but the rumor that she\nhad lived in New Providence since the flood was not denied, for it\nmade her the more regarded. Her best commodity was strings. For a\nlarge price she would sell a string in which she had tied several\nknots, each one of which represented the particular wind that the\ncaptain might wish to prosper him on his way. Captain Condent was a\nblaspheming corsair from the wicked town of New York, who had left\nthat port as quartermaster on a merchant-man and next morning had\nappeared with a battery of pistols and had calmly taken the ship out\nof the hands of her officers. This fellow had bought a string from\nthe witch that carried him to the Cape Verdes and back to America,\nbut when he had cut off all the knots, except two or three, he feared\nthat he might run out of winds altogether; so he put upon certain\nservants of the Lord the task for which he had paid the servant of the\ndevil. He had with him two or three Spanish monks whom he had stolen\nin the Cape Verdes, though what he wanted of them neither he nor they\ncould have guessed. They were having a most unhappy time of it. Now\nand then the scallawag sailors would force them upon all fours, and\nsitting astride their backs would compel them to creep about the deck,\npretending to be horses, while Condent whipped them smartly with the\nrope's end. Thinking to save his precious twine, he ordered these\nmonks to pray for favoring winds, and he kept them on their marrow\nbones petitioning from daylight until sunset. Often they would fall\nexhausted and voiceless. At last, believing that the wind peddler\nof Nassau had more power over the elements than a shipload of monks,\nhe threw the wretched friars overboard, and, as luck would have it,\nthe wind he wanted came whistling along a few minutes after.\n\nHe came to the end of his string at Zanzibar, where he was caught\nin a tremendous storm, and was in hourly peril of destruction. His\nmasts had cracked, his sails had split, his water barrels had gone\nby the board. It was time to hold the witch to her bargain. He swung\nthe cord about his head three times, called the woman's name, and\nalthough eight thousand miles of sea and continent lay between them,\nshe heard the call. The string was pulled through his fingers so\nsmartly that it made them burn, and was whisked out of sight in the\nwind and the spray. Within an hour the gale abated. Next day Condent\nattempted to make his way by dead reckoning, but whenever he went\nwrong a bird flew in his face, and a ship crowded with skeletons\napproached him in the mist. He presently gained the Isle of Bourbon,\nor Reunion, where his stealings enabled him to cut such a figure in\nsociety that he married into the family of the governor and died in\nan odor of--well, maybe it was sanctity. At all events, he died.\n\nIt was a witch also that had foretold the march of the buccaneers\nacross Panama isthmus, and her warning was considered of such\nimportance that the Spanish troops and merchants were notified, though\nthey made but a feeble resistance when the foray actually occurred.\n\nOne of the Spanish slavers bound for our coasts was overhauled by the\nEnglish pirate Lewis. She was a fast sailer and had nearly escaped\nwhen Lewis ripped a handful of hair from his head, flung it to the\nwind, and shouted, \"Ho, Satan, keep that till I come.\" Instantly\nthe wind rose to a gale. In a few minutes the Spaniard was in the\nhands of the pirates, and the slaves, being only an encumbrance,\nwere tossed overboard to the sharks, as one might fling away a damaged\ncargo. One of the black men was a dwarf, gnarly, wrinkled, misshapen,\nwith eyes that blazed like a cat's in the dark. No sooner had this\nman been pushed over the side than he uttered an ear-splitting yell,\nand seemed to bound back to the deck. It was a cat, however, not a\nhuman being, that was seen to rush into the cabin, and it looked into\nLewis's face with the same shining, menacing eyes that he had seen\nin the dwarf. A negro boy who had been spared to act as a servant for\nthe captain having unconsciously roused his anger, Lewis rushed upon\nhim with his sword, cut him through the heart and beat his corpse,\nthe cat sitting by and squealing with glee at the sight. When a mate\nstruck at the animal in a tort of disgust and fear, the creature leaped\nat him and almost blinded him with its claws. From that time the cat\nbecame Lewis's familiar; was before him at the table, on his pillow\nwhen he slept, on his shoulder when he gave orders. The crew agreed\nthat it could be none other than the devil himself. On Lewis's last\nnight alive, while he was quite drunk, the cat seemed to be whispering\ninto his ear. He arose and staggered away, saying, \"The devil says\nI shall be killed to-night.\" An hour later his ship was boarded by\nFrench pirates, and Lewis was despatched. After scratching the faces\nof nearly all the enemy, the cat ran up the mainmast, throwing off\nsparks and screeching, scrambled to the end of the topsail-yard,\nand leaped off into the night.\n\nMorgan, the English sea robber, had captured a number of Spanish\nprisoners in Panama, among them a woman of beauty and distinction, who\nhad been left without other protection than that of a faithless servant\nduring her husband's absence in Peru. The dignity and refinement of\nhis prisoner made a certain impression on Morgan. After he had put to\nsea a cabin was reserved for her, she was treated with respect by the\ncrew, but a guard kept her in sight always. The gross nature of the\npirate disclosed itself in a few days, when, fresh from a debauch and\nreeking with the odors of rum, he forced her cabin door and attempted\nto embrace her. She sprang back with a cry of loathing, and grasping a\ndagger swore that if he ever intruded himself in her presence again she\nwould drive the weapon into her own heart, since she could never hope\nto reach his by any means, violent or gentle. In a fit of anger, the\npirate ordered his sailors to cast her into the hold among the slaves\nand hostages, there to endure fever, crowding, hunger, and thirst.\n\nA week or two later these lean, half-dead wretches were kicked out of\ntheir dark and stifling dungeon to be sold to some planters. A woman\namong them asked for a few words with Morgan. Haggard, tear-stained,\nragged, neglected as she was, the captain did not at first recognize\nher as the one whom he had insulted by his show of love. When he did\nrecall her name and state he asked indifferently what she wanted. She\ntold him that an injustice had been done; that she had at first told\nhim it was in her power to buy her liberty, believing it to be so; but\nher hope was destroyed, and she was so ill and wasted that she would\nbe useless as a slave. As she was going on board of the ship she had\nwhispered to a couple of Spanish priests telling them where her money\nwas concealed, and asking them to pay her ransom with it. They also\nwere under guard, but they persuaded one of the buccaneer officers to\ngo with them, recovered the money, bought their own freedom with it,\nand ran away. Hearing this, Morgan sent the woman back to Panama,\nsucceeded in capturing the priests, and sold them into slavery.\n\nIt is said of Morgan that he had a fire ship, which he would tow\nas close as possible to the fleets of his enemies, both to draw\ntheir fire and kindle a more disastrous one. What appeared to be\nits crew were logs of wood, placed upright between the bulwarks,\neach log surmounted by a hat. As to fire, it is recorded that Teach,\nor Blackbeard, now and then shut himself into his cabin and burned\nsulphur to prove to his crew that he was a devil. He used to tie his\nwhiskers with red ribbons into pigtails that he tucked over his ears,\nand he looked the part. Yet he was less of a monster than L'Olonnais,\nwho so hated Spaniards that he would not only slaughter his prisoners,\nbut would bite their hearts like a savage beast after he had cut them\nout. Beside Blackbeard there was a Redbeard and a Bluebeard. All three\nof these gentlemen had castles in St. Thomas, and that of Bluebeard\nhad a room in which it is alleged that he killed his wives after the\nfashion of his Eastern relative.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Boat of Phantom Children\n\n\nSir Francis Drake, destroyer of many of the \"invincible\" ships of\nSpain, came to America with Sir John Hawkins, to subdue the Spanish\ncolonies with the heaviest fleet he ever commanded. Though wrangles\nbetween the commanders made this expedition a comparative failure,\nstill wherever the head of a don was seen, a cracking blow was struck\nat it. War was a crueller business then than it is to-day, in spite\nof our high explosives, our armored ships, our mighty guns, and our\nnimble tactics, and things were done that no captain would dare in\nthese times; at least, no captain with a fear of the world's rebuke,\nor that of his own conscience. Just before Christmas, 1594, Drake\nwas scourging the coast of Colombia, burning houses, and shipping\nand despoiling the towns. The people of one village near Rio de la\nHache, having been warned of his coming, buried their little property,\nclosed their houses, put fifty of their children on a fishing smack,\nwhile they hurriedly provisioned some boats to carry all the people to\na distant cape, where they would remain in hiding until after Drake\nhad destroyed their homes and passed on. The fisherman who owned the\nsmack set sail too soon; he was separated from the others in a gale,\nand Drake, who then appeared, ran between him and the shore, and with\na couple of shots drove him farther into the wild sea. The smack never\nreturned. After the English had passed, the people watched for it,\nand, truly, on the next day, a boat was seen beating against the gale\nand trying to make the pier. As it came nearer, the parents saw their\nchildren holding out their arms and laughing. Then the outlines of the\nhull and sail grew dim, the children's forms drooped as if weary; and\nin another moment the vision had passed. Long was the grief and loud\nwere the curses on the English. When Drake learned that he had fired\non a harmless fishing vessel and driven a company of little ones away\nfrom land to be sunk in a tempest, he was filled with compunction and\nmisgiving. The same vision that the parents had seen crossed the path\nof his own ships. Before every storm the boat of phantoms appeared,\nand when he sailed for Escudo and Porto Bello it followed him. Wearied\nwith many wars, ill with tropical fever, repentant for this useless\nkilling, he sank into a depression from which nothing could rouse him,\nand in January he died on his ship, at Nombre de Dios. His remains were\nconsigned to a sailor's grave--the wide ocean--and as the ship moved\non her way, the crew, looking back to the place where the body had gone\ndown, saw the phantom smack rise from the deep, rush like a wind-blown\nwrack across the spot, and melt into the air as it neared the shore.\n\n\n\n\n\nEarly Porto Rico\n\n\nThough Columbus made his first landing in Porto Rico at Naguabo,\nwhere the Caribs afterward destroyed a Spanish settlement, he gave its\npresent name to the island when he put in Aguada for water. Charmed\nwith the beauty of the bay, the opulence of vegetation, the hope\nof wealth in the river sands, he christened it \"the rich port,\"\nand extending this, applied to the whole island the name of San Juan\nBautista de Puerto Rico--St. John the Baptist of the Rich Port. The\nnatives knew their island as Boriquen. Later came Ponce de Leon,\nwho founded Caparra, now Pueblo Viejo, across the bay from San Juan,\nto which spot he shifted a little later and built the white house\nthat may still be seen. San Juan is the oldest city of white origin\nin the Western world, except Santo Domingo, albeit Santiago de Cuba\nand Baracoa claim to be contemporary. The body of Ponce is buried in\nSan Juan, in the church of Santo Domingo.\n\nWhen this fair island was claimed by Spain, it had a population of\nover half a million, but Ponce at once set about the extinction of\nthe native element. The populace was simple, affectionate, confiding,\nand in showing friendship for the invaders it invited and obtained\nslavery. It has been ingeniously advanced that the Spaniards disliked\nthe natives because of the cleanliness of the latter. On account\nof the heat they wore no clothing, to absorb dirt and perspiration,\nand bathed at least once every day. In those times white people were\nfrugal in the use of water, Spain being more pronounced against it than\nalmost any other nation. Listen to one of the Spanish writers, though\nhe is talking, not of our Indians, but of the Moors: \"Water seems more\nneeded by these infidels than bread, for they wash every day, as their\ndamnable religion directs them to, and they use it in baths, and in a\nthousand other idle fashions, of which Spaniards and other Christians\ncan make little account.\" We know that a Spanish queen refrained,\nnot only from washing, but from changing her clothes for a whole\nyear. The Porto Ricans were naked, but unaware of their nakedness,\ntherefore they were moderately virtuous; at least, more virtuous than\ntheir conquerors. Had they been treated with justice and mercy they\nwould have remained friendly to the white men, and would have been\nof great service to them in the development of the island. As early\nas 1512, Africans were shipped to the island to take the places, at\nenforced labor, of the Indians who had been destroyed. A religion was\nforced down the throats of the natives that they did not understand,\nespecially as the friars preached it; and being unable at once to grasp\nthe meaning or appreciate the value of discourses on the spiritual\nnature, the trinity, vicarious atonement, transubstantiation, and the\nintercession of saints, the soldiers, always within call, followed\ntheir custom when the congregations proved intractable: killed them.\n\nIt is said that the Spaniards acquired such ease in the slaying of\nIndians that they would crack a man's head merely to see if it would\nsplit easily or if their swords were keeping their edge, and that they\nvaried their more direct and merciful slaughters by roasting one of\nthe despised infidels occasionally. Slavery in damp mines, fevers in\nswamps, unaccustomed work, strain, anxiety, grief, insufficient food,\nlack of liberty, separation from friends and families, killed more\nthan the sword. It was the same in all the conquered lands. In Hayti\na million people were oppressed out of existence or slain outright\nin fifteen years, and but sixty-five thousand were left. In less\nthan a century that island had not a single native. So in Porto\nRico: not a man is to be found there to-day who is a pure-blooded\naborigine. Even their relics and monuments, their traditions and\nhistory, were obliterated by their conquerors--the race that destroyed\nthe libraries of the Moors and the picture records of the Aztecs. Few\neven of their burial places are known, although the Cave of the Dead,\nnear Caguana, was so named because of the Indian skeletons found in it.\n\nSome of the tools and implements of stone found on the island are\nso strange that one cannot even guess their purpose. Of the heavy\nstone collars that have been preserved, a priest holds that they\nwere placed about the necks of the dead, that the devil might not\nlift them out of their graves, but this sounds like an invention of\nthe church, for there is no proof that a belief in the devil existed\namong these people. They had a god, as well as minor spirits, and sang\nhymns to them; they had some crafts and arts, for they made canoes,\nhuts, chairs, nets, hammocks, pottery, weapons, and implements,\nand, although the fierce Caribs vexed them now and again, they were\naccounted as the gentlest and most advanced of the native people in the\nAntilles. Speaking of the hammock, that is one of their devices that\nthe world has generally adopted, and the name is one of the few Indian\nwords that have survived the Spanish oppressions, though there are many\ngeographic titles. Other familiar survivals are the words hurricane,\ncanoe, tobacco, potato, banana, and a few other botanical names.\n\nIt is probable that these Boriquenos were allied in speech and custom,\nas well as in blood, to their neighbors the Haytiens, of whom saith\nPeter Martyr, \"The land among these people is common as sun and\nwater. 'Mine' and 'thine,' the seeds of all mischief, have no place\namong them. They are content with so little that in this large country\nthey have more than plenty. They live in a golden world without toil,\nin open gardens, not intrenched, defended, or divided. They deal truly\nwith one another, without laws, judges, or books. He that will hurt\nanother is an evil man, and while they take no pleasure in superfluity,\nthey take means to increase the roots that are their food--diet so\nsimple that their health is assured.\" Still, it is known that in their\ndefence against the marauding Caribs the Porto Ricans were courageous,\nand had become adept with arrow and club, and it was believed by some\nof the first explorers that they ate their captives.\n\nThe aborigines of Porto Rico probably differed little, if at all, from\nthe Haytiens in their faith in an all-powerful, deathless god, who\nhad a mother but no father, who lived in the sky and was represented\non earth by zemes or messengers. Every chief had his zemi, carved\nin stone or wood, as a tutelary genius, to whom he addressed his\nprayers and who had a temple of his own. Zemes directed the wind,\nwaves, rains, rivers, floods, and crops, gave success or failure in\nthe hunt, and gave visions to or spoke with priests who had worked\nthemselves into a rhapsodic state by the use of a drug (it may have\nbeen tobacco), in order to receive the message, which often concerned\nthe health of a person or of a whole village. The Spaniards regarded\nthese manitous as images of the devil, and in order to keep them the\nnatives hid the little effigies from the friars and the troops. In\nthe festivals of these gods there were dances, music, and an offering\nof flower-decorated cakes.\n\nHayti was the first created, the sun and moon came from the cave near\nCape Haytien known as _la voute a Minguet_, through a round hole in\nthe roof. Men came from another cave, the big ones through a large\ndoor, the little men from a smaller one. They were without women for\na long time, because the latter lived in trees and were slippery;\nbut some men with rough hands finally pulled four of them down from\nthe branches, and the world was peopled. At first, the men dared to\nleave their cave only at night, for the sun was so strong it turned\nthem to stone, though one man who was caught at his fishing by the\nsun became a bird that still sings at night, lamenting his fate. When\na chief was dying in pain he was mercifully strangled,--though the\ncommon people were allowed to linger to their end,--and his deeds were\nrehearsed in ballads sung to the drum. There was a belief in ghosts,\nalbeit they could not be seen in the light, unless in a lonely place,\nnor by many persons. When they did mingle with the people it was\neasy to distinguish them from the living, as they had no navel. What\nbecame of the wicked after death we do not know, but the good went\nto a happy place where they met those whom they loved, and lived\namong women, flowers, and fruits. During the day the departed souls\nhid among the mountains, but peopled the fairest valleys at night,\nand in order that they should not suffer from hunger the living were\ncareful to leave fruit on the trees.\n\nFrom these quaint and simple faiths the people were roused by the\nprofessors of a more enlightened one, who made their teaching useless,\nhowever, if not odious, to the brown people by their practises. It was\nan old belief, at least among the Haytiens, that a race of strangers,\nwith bodies clad, would cross the sea and would reduce the people\nto servitude. This prophecy may have made them the more unwilling\nto yield to the Spaniards, in respect of religious faith, despite\nthe signs and wonders that were shown to them. When chief Guarionex\nraided a Spanish chapel and destroyed the sacred images within,\nthe shattered statues were buried in a garden, and the turnips and\nradishes planted there came up in the form of the cross. But even\nthis did not convince the savages, whom it became necessary to burn,\nin order to smooth the way to reform.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Deluge\n\n\nLike many unschooled peoples, the Antillean tribes had their legend of\na time when the earth was covered by a flood. The island of St. Thomas\nwas one of the first to rise out of the sea. The Haytiens said that\nthe deluge did not subside and that the present islands are the\nsummits of mountains that formerly towered to a great height above\nthe plains. Far back in the days when people lived more simply, and\nwhite men, with their abominable contrivings for work, had not even\nbeen invented, a _cacique_ or chief of their island killed his son,\nwho had tried to harm him, albeit when the lad was dead a natural\naffection prompted the father to clean his bones and conceal them\nin a gourd. Some time afterwards the _cacique_ and his wife opened\nthis vegetable tomb, to look on the mortal relics of their child,\nwhen a number of fish jumped out. Believing that he now had in the\ngourd a magic receptacle, from which he could take food at any time,\nthe chief placed it on his roof, where mischief-makers might not reach\nit. While absent on a hunting-trip his four surviving sons took down\nthe gourd to see what peculiar properties it had, and why it had been\nthus set apart. In passing it from one to the other it fell and was\nbroken into little pieces. Instantly a vast quantity of water gushed\nfrom it, increasing in volume every instant. The water arose so that it\nreached their knees, and they had to climb the hills. Whales, sharks,\nporpoises, dolphins, and smaller creatures came swimming forth, and\nthe flow of the water never ceased until the whole world was flooded,\nas we see it now, for the ocean came from that gourd.\n\n\n\n\n\nHow Spaniards were Found to be Mortal\n\n\nThe first Spaniards to reach the American islands were everywhere\ngreeted as heavenly visitors, and the natives would not have been\nastonished had the caravels spread their sails--their wings, as they\nfirst were called--and flown into the clouds, carrying Columbus and his\nwrangling, jealous, sensual, gold-greedy company with him. Afterward\nthey would have been more astonished than sorry. When the white men\ndiscovered this simple faith among the savages they encouraged it,\nfor it induced the Indians to give up their wives, daughters, houses,\nweapons, and, above all else, their gold, to the strangers. The little\nbells and beads they gave in return were treasured because of their\ncelestial origin and adored as fervently as the bones of saints are\nadored in some of the European churches. Everywhere and always the\ndemand was for gold, and in the belief that the supply was going to\nlast forever, Spain began to ruin herself with more industry than\nshe had ever shown in peaceful callings. Her wars, her splendors,\nher vanities, her neglect of education and morality, bore their fruit\nwhen she pulled her flag down from the staff on Havana's Moro, and\ngave up her claims to the last foot of land in the Western world.\n\nPonce de Leon permitted the fiction that the Spaniards were\nangels--save the mark!--for it smoothed his progress in stripping\nthe Porto Ricans of their poor little possessions, taking their lands\nfor settlement, foraging over the island, forcing his religion upon\nthem, and compelling them to serve him as miners, carriers, farmers,\nfishermen, and laborers. Many died because it was thought to be cheaper\nto work them to death and get fresh ones than to feed them. After a\ntime the Indians began to have doubts, and when the friars enlarged\non the glories of heaven, and described it as the abode of Spaniards,\nmore of them than Hatuey were anxious to be allowed to go to the\nother place. They did not at first dare to attack the intruders,\nfor what could men avail against gods, and of what use were spears\nand clubs against their thunderous arms and smashing missiles?\n\nAs the aggressions increased and became less and less endurable,\nChief Agueynaba resolved, out of the soreness of his heart, to test\nthis reputed immortality of his guests. A messenger, one Salzedo, was\nto be sent away from San Juan on some official errand, with a little\ncompany of natives as freighters and servants. This was Agueynaba's\nchance. He ordered his men to slip Salzedo into a river and hold him\nunder water for a time. If he was an immortal this would not hurt\nhim, and if he died, why--they would try very hard to bear up under\nthe loss. While crossing the river--the spot is still shown--the\nmen who bore Salzedo on their shoulders pitched him off and detained\nhim beneath the surface for a couple of hours; then, fearing that he\nmight be still alive and vicious, they put him on a bank and howled\napologies to his remains for three days. By that time there was no\nlonger a doubt about his deadness. Reports of this discovery traversed\nthe island with the speed of a South American mail service, so that\nwithin a week people even forty miles away had heard about it. Thus\nencouraged to resistance by the discovery that white men were mortal,\nthe populace fell upon their persecutors and troubled them, although\nafter one defeat the Spaniards rallied and drove the Indians back to\nthe mines.\n\n\n\n\n\nPonce\n\n\nWhen Ponce de Leon visited and conquered Porto Rico he heard of the\nelixir of life. It may not have been among the springs of that island,\nbut the natives had a faith in it and some of them referred it to the\nBahamas. Their possible reason for this was to persuade the white men\nto go there and look for it, for they were not popular in Porto Rico,\nand this was the more to be regretted in Ponce's case, because he was\nfar from popular at home. At the court of Ferdinand and Isabella was\na page who was handsome, spirited, and saucy. One of the daughters of\nthe royal pair, wearied with the forms and ceremonies of her state,\nwhich, in the most punctilious court in Europe, were especially\ntrying, found means to converse with this well-appearing, quick-witted\nscamp. A tattling courtier, recalling a _faux pas_ of the last queen,\nand desiring no more scandals, reported that the princess had been\nseen to smile on the youngster. No guilt was proven upon him, but\nhandsome pages were ill-chosen company for young women of blue blood.\n\nPonce de Leon was the page, and he was sent to the New World\nto discover something to the advantage of his own modesty, and\nincidentally to accumulate for shipment anything that might be useful\nto the Spanish treasury. He landed in Boriquen, as Porto Rico was\nthen called, and began a general subjugation and slaughter of the\nnatives. Some were slain in battle, but thousands were carried away\nand made to work in mines and on distant plantations, as slaves, until\ntheir health was destroyed, and they, too, were no longer an obstacle\nto Spanish control, though the lack of their hands was a hindrance to\nSpanish enterprise. Ponce took his share of the gold and treasure he\nhad forced these unfortunates to supply, and went back to Spain with\nit. Sea air had spoiled his complexion, fighting had roughened his\nmanners, slave-driving had made his voice coarse. Possibly, also,\nhis princess had recovered from her disappointment. Maybe she had\nbeen married off to some nobody of Portugal, or France, or Austria,\nfor state reasons, and had entered on the usual loveless life of\nroyalty. Or she may have beguiled her maidenly solitude by drinking\nmuch wine of Oporto, Madeira, and Xeres with her dinner, thereby\nacquiring that amplitude of girth, that ruddiness of countenance, and\nthat polish of nose, which add so little to romance. At all events,\nwe hear nothing more of the affair.\n\nIn the course of years Ponce took to himself the gout, rheumatism,\ndyspepsia, and a few such matters, and he scolded his dresser more than\nusual because his clothes did not fit at the waist as they had done,\nonce. He parted his hair with a towel, and it was grizzled where\nit curled about his neck and temples. Then he recalled the tales\nthe Boriquenos had told of the bright waters that gushed from the\nearth amid banks of flowers,--waters so sweet that who drank would\ndrink again, and with every draught would throw off years and pain\nuntil at last he was a youth once more,--a youth with hot blood,\nsparkling eyes, lithe muscles; a youth who saw the world full of\nbeauty and adventure. Ah, to be once more as he was when the princess\nbeamed on him; to throw away his cares, his ails, his conscience,\nhis regrets; to sing and dance, to ruffle it with other cavaliers,\nto dice, to drink, to feast, to win the smiles of ladies! It was a\njoy worth trying to attain.\n\nHe sailed once more, an older, sober man. He discovered Florida,\nbathed in its springs, drank from its flower-edged streams, but to no\navail. Bimini, the place of the living waters, evaded him. Boriquen,\nrenamed Porto Rico, could offer no more. But, though his living\npresence passed, the first building on the island--the White House,\nnear San Juan--remains, and he left his name in the town that was\nfirst among the Antillean cities to raise the flag of a republic\nthat should wave over the continent he had helped to discover and\ncolonize:--the city of Ponce.\n\n\n\n\n\nWater Caves\n\n\nAs in most of the Spanish American countries, so in Porto Rico, ghosts\nare common,--so common that in some towns the people hardly turn to\nlook at them; and if on a wild night in the hurricane season they hear\nthem gibbering at their doors, they patter an _ave_ or throw a piece of\nharness at the disturbance, and sleep again. Ponce, for instance, has\na number of these spooks, such as the man who searches for his hidden\nmoney, and the child with a snowy face that knocks on the panes, then\nstares fixedly in, with corpse eyes, at the windows. Best known among\nthese supernatural citizens are two lovers who \"spoon\" on dark nights,\nand are faintly outlined on the landscape as figures of quivering,\nsmoky blue. Their favorite haunt is their death-place, eight miles\nfrom Ponce, in a hollow among limestone hills, now environed by a\ncoffee plantation. Here are found three basins--results of erosion,\nmost likely--that are described as natural bath-tubs. The middle and\nlargest of these pools is partly filled with silt, probably occluding\nthe entrance to a cavern which formerly opened into it, a fathom or\nso below the water-surface. This cave was the hiding-place of a native\nwoman whose father had discovered her love for one of Ponce de Leon's\nsoldiers. He forbade her to have anything to do with the enemies of\nhis country, enlarged on their rapacity, cruelty, and treachery,\nand tried to create in her a sense of shame that she should have\nchosen a Spaniard, instead of a Boriqueno chief, for a lover. There\nwere no locksmiths in the Antilles for love to laugh at, but there\nwere spears and knives to fear, and the young couple, who seemed to\nbe inspired by genuine affection, met at this lonely spot to do their\ncourting. On the least suspicion of a hostile approach, the maid could\nslip into the water, enter the cave, and wait for an hour or a day,\nuntil the intruder had retired. However it happened nobody could\ntell,--or would,--but the Spaniard was found drowned one morning in\nthat pool. He may have been found waiting there, by the angry parent,\nthrown in, on general principles, and held to the bottom by his steel\narms and armor; or he may have been trying to find the cave in which\nhis charmer had secreted herself, and while so engaged may have bumped\nhis head against the rocky wall and stunned himself, or he may have\nbeen a poor swimmer and lost his wits and his wind. At all events,\ndrowned he was, and the dusky virgin who loved him, seeing his form\nat the bottom of the water, sang her sorrow chant, dived in, and,\nholding to his body, perished wilfully at his side. Their love endures,\nand that is why their luminous shadows sit at the brink of the pool,\nwith locked arms and meeting lips, to the disgust of voting women\nand confirmed bachelors.\n\nThis legend, with variants, is found in many parts of the world. There\nare two or three instances of it in the Hawaiian islands, and a\ntradition pertaining to Hayti is worth quoting here, as it refers to\nthe same period and illustrates the same enmity between the white and\nnative races. Near the city of San Domingo is, or was, a \"water cave,\"\nso named because the entrance to it was several feet below the lake\nwhose shore it undermines. When the young half-breed, Diaz, returned\nfrom Spain to his native island of Hispaniola in 1520, his mother,\nZameaca, queen of the Ozamas, had disappeared, possibly killed outright\nby the Spaniards, or more slowly killed by enslavement at the mines in\nvainly trying to satisfy the rapacity of the white race for gold. Diaz,\nthough partly of Spanish blood, was allied in his sympathies to the\nIndians. Hence, they planned to make him ruler. Their conspiracy was\nquelled for the time being, with such brutality that those natives\nwho escaped death hated their tyrants with a deeper hatred than\never, and fixed them the more strongly in their resolution to be\navenged. The leading chiefs and warriors of the Ozamas took refuge\nin the water cave, spying on their enemies and going about to make\nconverts among the islanders at night. It was not long before the\nwatchful Spaniards discovered that mischief was afoot, and there\nwere reasons for believing that the chiefs had their hiding place not\nmany miles from town. By following various suspects into the country,\nand noticing the time and way of their return, they became convinced\nthat the leaders of the rebellion were somewhere near the lake.\n\nA young woman, a slave in the family of the Spanish governor, was\nso often absent on mysterious errands that the authorities at last\nfixed on her as the one most likely to betray her countrymen. She was\nwon to their purpose through her vanity. Her mistress had a comb of\nelaborate and curious workmanship, and to have one like it was the\nprincipal object in her existence. The governor told her that she\nshould have this priceless treasure itself if she would tell him\nwhere the chiefs were meeting. To this act of treachery she finally\nagreed on condition that her lover, who was one of the chiefs, should\nbe pardoned. That evening she carried bread and fruit to the lake,\nand sitting on the bank sang loudly for some minutes. The Spanish\nsoldiers, who were watching from the shrubbery, were astonished to\nsee a man rise like a seal from the water, swim to the shore, take\nthe parcel from the girl's hands, exchange a few words with her,\nand disappear again beneath the surface. The song was a signal for\none of the men to come out and receive the food, and it was heard\nthrough a crevice in the cave roof. Next day the girl sang again,\nand the whole company left the cave. They had no sooner gained the\nshore than the Spaniards sprang from the shrubbery and surrounded\nthem. As they were led away to death, one of the chiefs levelled\nhis finger at the girl and said, \"I am going to a land of peace. You\nwill never find the way to it.\" Her lover cast her off with bitter\nreproaches. Then, as the murderous volley pealed across the fields,\nand the rebellion was ended, her heart broke. She still sits at the\nlakeside in the evening, weeping over her comb.\n\n\n\n\n\nHow a Dutchman Helped the Spaniards\n\n\nHad any Dutchman been charged with intending a kindness to the dons\nwhen his country was smarting under the Spanish scourge he would\nhave offered the life of some distant relative to disprove the\naccusation. Without a guess that he could be injuring his own land\nand enriching that of his enemy, an innocent magistrate of Amsterdam\ndid that for which he would afterward have submitted to the abuse of\nhis friends, and if sackcloth and ashes had been in vogue he would\nhave worn them. It all came about through his wish to be pleasant\nto a Frenchman, the same being Louis XIV. He sent to this monarch a\ncuriosity in the form of a young coffee-tree, thinking, no doubt, that\na warm corner could be found for it in the Jardin des Plantes among\nthe orchids and cacti, and little recking that Louis had a Spanish\nfather-in-law. At that time Holland enjoyed, in her colonies, almost\na monopoly of the coffee trade of the world, but that one little tree\nbroke her monopoly, just as one little leak in her dikes led to the\neating away of miles of earthen wall and an in-rush and devastation\nof the sea.\n\nFor Louis was more clever than some other kings, almost clever enough\nto have been in trade, or else he had smart advisers. He had slips\ncut from the coffee tree, and ere many moons had passed a promising\ndozen of young plants were ready for shipment to Martinique, the\nnew French colony in the Antilles. A botanist was sent in charge of\nthem, it being the purpose of Louis to turn the island into a coffee\nplantation and be free of obligation to Holland. The voyage was long,\nbecause of head winds and storms, and the precious plants were in\nperil. Long before the American shores were reached the water supply\nhad run low, and there was much suffering; yet the loyal botanist gave\nup half of his daily allowance in order that his coffee-trees should\nlive. Salt water would have killed them, and in those days ships had\nno distilling apparatus. Martinique was reached in safety, however,\nthe little trees struck their roots into congenial soil, and thus the\nseeds, such as first yielded their aroma to a surprised and gratified\nAbyssinian chief more than a thousand years before, now spring from\nthe strong earth of the Western world. Whether Spaniards stole some\nof these trees, or bought them, or whether they got away by accident,\ncertes, they reached Porto Rico, and so became a source of pleasure\nand profit to people whom the Dutchman did not have in mind when he\nmade his little gift to King Louis. It is believed that all the coffee\nraised in Batavia for the Dutch also grew from a handful of seeds\nthat had been sent from Arabia to Java. And, oh, that ever the time\nshould have come when France had to buy coffee from her own plant in\nPorto Rico, and send to that same island for logwood to make claret\nwith,--the kind she sells to New York for bohemian tables d'hote!\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Ghost of San Geronimo\n\n\nThe castle of San Geronimo, San Juan de Porto Rico, was founded\na century ago. It occupies a rocky point at the east end of San\nJuan Island, and year by year had been strengthened until, when the\nAmerican ships appeared in the offing, it was thought important enough\nto garrison. Six guns were emplaced, two other gun mounts were found by\nour troops when they entered, and a hole was discovered extending from\na dungeon fifteen feet toward the breastworks. This had been freshly\ndug, and, it is believed, was devised for the storage of explosives,\nthat the citadel might be blown up when the boys in blue entered to\ntake possession. That the fort was abandoned without resorting to\nthis revengeful and unmilitary act may be due to the ghost. He would\nnaturally be in evidence at such a time, and would do what he could\nto thwart the schemes of his enemies. For he gave his body to the\nworms fifty years or more ago. In the flesh he was a revolutionist,\nand had been dreaming vain things about liberty for his beloved\nisland. It is not recorded that he ever harmed any one, or that\nhis little insurrection attained the dignity of anything more than\na rumor and an official chill, but the Spaniards caught him, threw\nhim into the dark prison of this castle, and after he had undergone\nhunger, thirst, and illness, they went through their usual forms\nof trial and condemned him to death. This among the civilized would\nhave meant that he would be sent to the gallows or the garrote; but\nthis victim was alleged to have accomplices, and quite likely he was\nsuspected of having a small fund; for the first thing to do when you\noverthrow a government, or want to, is to pass the hat. To secure the\nnames of his fellow-conspirators, but more especially their money,\nthe revolutionist was therefore consigned to the torture chamber,\nwhere the rack, the thumb-screw, the hot irons, the whip, and other\nsurvivals of the Inquisition were applied. When the officers had\nextorted what they wanted, or had made sure there was nothing to\nextort, the poor, white wreck of a human being was delivered by the\njudges to an executioner, and a merciful death was inflicted.\n\nShortly after this occurrence the officers of the San Geronimo garrison\nbegan to request transfers, and the social set that had been formed in\nand near the castle was broken up. Gradually the troops thinned away,\nand although the works were kept in moderate repair and occasionally\nenlarged, the regular force was finally withdrawn, and even the\nsolitary keepers who were left in charge died unaccountably. This\nwas because the ghost of the tortured one pervaded its damp rooms\nand breathed blights and curses on the occupants. Its appearance was\nalways heralded by a clatter of hoofs on the stone bridge leading\ninto the court. The on-rush of spectre horses is variously explained,\nsome believing that the dead man is leading an assault on the fort,\nothers wondering if it may not be a conscience-smitten governor\nhurrying to rescue or reprieve his victim, and arriving too late,--a\ntheory quite generally rejected on the ground that there never was\nthat kind of a Spanish governor.\n\nAn American officer, who took up his home in San Geronimo after the\noccupation, was disturbed for three successive nights by the ghost,\nand on learning the tradition of the place he investigated the palace\nand brought to light the torture chamber with its rows of hooks and\nrings and chains about the walls. The piercing of its roof, so that\nthe sun came in and the ghosts and malaria went out, the removal of\nthe grim relics of mediaevalism, the cleaning and whitewashing of the\napartments, have probably induced the spectre to take up his quarters\nelsewhere, for his old haunts are hardly recognizable, and he can have\nno grudge against the soldiers of a republic who carried out his plans\nwith a perfection and promptness of which he could not have dreamed.\n\nThe climate of the West Indies has ever been favorable to the\npreservation of spirits, and this haunted castle of San Juan has\ncounterparts in the island, and in other islands, and the ghosts are\nnot always victims of the Spaniards, either. The appearance of spectres\nin the New World was almost contemporary with Columbus. Indeed,\none of the most startling of supernatural appearances occurred in\nthe town he founded,--the town of Isabella, Hayti, the first white\nman's city in America. It was created by the great navigator on his\nsecond voyage, but it remained for only a few years on the map. The\ndons whom he brought with him refused to work, even when the colony\nwas starving, and reported him in Spain as a tyrant for asking them\nto put up their own shelters, cook their own food, and grind their\nown flour. They would not even work in the mines where gold could\nbe seen in the river sands, because they had expected to pick up\nthe metal in lumps, or force it from the natives in such quantities\nthat each adventurer might return with a bushel. Hardship, illness,\nshort commons, the need of occasional labor, the heart-breaks over the\ngold failure, the retaliations of the natives for the cruelties and\ninjustices of the invaders, led to the rapid decline of the city of\nIsabella. Its foundations may still be visible; at least they were a\nfew years ago; but it is peopled only by ghosts. Some years after it\nhad been deserted, two Spaniards, who had been hunting in that part\nof the island, entered its ruined streets. They had heard from the\nIndians of strange, booming voices that echoed among its dead houses,\nbut had dismissed this tale as invention or fancy. The sun was low\nand mists were gathering. As the hunters turned a corner they were\nastonished to see a company of cavaliers drawn up in double rank, as\nif for parade, sword on hip, plumed hats aslant, big booted, leather\njacketed, grim, and silent. The two men asked whence they had come. The\ncavaliers spoke no word, but all together lifting their hats in salute,\nlifted their heads off with them, then melted into air. They were\nthe dead of the fated town. The two spectators fainted with horror,\nand did not recover their peace of mind in many days.\n\n\n\n\n\nPolice Activity in Humacao\n\n\nFor three centuries a Spanish convict station was kept in Porto\nRico. The unpleasant and undesirable found, not a welcome here,\nbut a more congenial company than in the home land. Life was easier\nbecause one needed less food and clothes, and they were furnished\nby the authorities, anyway. What with the convicts and discontented\nslaves, it is a wonder that any sort of comfort or safety existed on\nthe island, and especially that so much of pleasant social life was\nto be found in the cities. Those who knew Porto Rico in those days,\nhowever, say that class distinctions were not sharply marked; that\nthe master was kind to the slave, and the slave felt as if he were a\nmember of his master's family, rather than a dependent; that the two\nwere often seen at the cockpit sitting elbow to elbow, kneeling side\nby side in the same church, greeting the same friends or cracking\nthe heads of the same enemies before the church doors at Epiphany,\nand in the humbler homes sitting at the same table.\n\nIn those simple times the robber gangs were a great vexation. Killing\nwas something to grow used to, and a disagreement over cards was\nliable to result in having one's head snipped off by a machete; but to\nbe robbed of one's machete, or of one's jug of rum, or of one's only\ntrousers, was a sad affliction, and soldiers and police were as active\nas Spanish functionaries could persuade themselves to be, in running\ndown--or walking down--these outlaws. It is said that the detectives\nwere especially amusing. They would go about in such obvious disguises,\nwith misfit wigs, window-glass spectacles, and the costumes of priests\nor notaries, that a robber could barely keep his countenance when he\nmet them in the street. The thief always escaped, either through the\nincompetence of the officers, or by sharing his profits with them.\n\nBut there was one fellow who made such trouble that the police\nbegan to chafe beneath the public criticism. To impugn their honor\ndid not hurt them much, though they ruffled a good deal under it,\nbut to threaten them with reduction of pay or removal was a serious\nmatter; so the chief of the San Juan constabulary bestirred himself,\nafter a particularly daring robbery had occurred in his bailiwick,\nthe rogue making off with six thousand dollars' worth of jewelry. He\ngot safely away from town and was traced to Humacao, where his\nfootprints were found leading to the door of a small, tumble-down,\ndeserted house, and none of these prints could be seen with toes\npointing away from it. The chief dismissed his men and prepared to\nconduct a siege. He had a dagger, a machete, two pistols, and a gun,\nwith a box of ammunition. Thus equipped he went to the front door,\ngave it a sounding whack with the flat of his machete, and bawled,\n\"Open, in the name of the law!\"\n\nThere was no response, so he struck his weapon impatiently against\nthe panels two or three times and called on the bandit to emerge\nand give himself up. Again there was no reply. A bolder move was\nnecessary. He pushed open the window, crouching down outside, that he\nmight not become a target for the fellow, who was probably lurking\nin the dark interior, and after calling on him for a third time to\nappear and go to jail, he thrust his firearms in and began to blaze\nin all directions over the floor.\n\nAfter emptying the pistols and gun he shouted, \"If you don't come\nout I'll blow you to the bad place, for I have one hundred and fifty\ncartridges here, and I can surely shoot you.\"\n\nAll this time the robber had been lying on the floor, just below\nthe window, very flat and very still. As the chief did not show\nhimself to take aim, but reached up from his kneeling position and\nfired at random, the bold, bad man in-doors began to feel a return\nof confidence. He waited until a second fusillade was over, when\nhe slipped softly through the back door, went around to the front,\nwaited until a third volley had been fired, when he pounced on the\nchief from behind, and in a trice had a stout rope around him. In\na few seconds more he had the astonished and indignant functionary\ntied securely to one of the posts of the veranda. Then, calmly taking\npossession of the weapons, he lifted his hat, wished the officer a\nvery good day and a pleasant siesta, and sauntered off to some other\ntown where the police were still less active.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Church in Porto Rico\n\n\nIf the Spanish colonies have been immoral, it must be granted that they\nhave been religious. This fact has made them easier to govern, for the\nwords of the priests and friars have been accepted as divinely inspired\nat times when, as a matter of fact, they have been inspired only by the\ngovernor or the garrison colonel. The church in the colonies is nothing\nlike the modern and American institution that we know. It is a survival\nfrom the Middle Ages. Yet it has shown shrewdness in Porto Rico,\nCuba, and the Philippines, its prosperity proving that the Spaniard\ncan be a thrifty mortal whether he wears a monkish cowl or a military\nuniform. Much money has been demanded by the church, but much of it has\nbeen honestly spent in the beautifying of altars and the dressing of\nthe statues. Our Lady of the Remedies, in the Church of La Providencia,\nSan Juan, for example, wears a cloak worth fifteen hundred dollars,\nand is emblazoned with twenty thousand dollars' worth of jewels; but\nthen, she is the patron of the island. The priests have been quick to\nsee an advantage in benefits or disasters and have often impressed\nthe natives by lessons drawn from natural phenomena. Thus, in 1867,\na conspiracy for the overthrow of Spanish rule had been organized,\nand violence was hourly expected: but on the eve of an uprising the\nisland was shaken by an earthquake. The priests made the most of\nthis, assuring the natives that it was a warning from heaven never\nto interfere with Spaniards; so the insurrectos stealthily laid down\ntheir arms and stole away to their various substitutes for employment,\nleaving their Lexington unfought.\n\nIn one way this willingness to keep out of fights has been a\nbad thing for the island, because insurrection became a matter\nof business with some of the natives. They used it as a mode of\nblackmail. These insurrectos would throw a wealthy planter into a\nstate of alarm by pretending to hold meetings on his premises. He knew\nthat if the authorities got wind of this it might go hard with him,\nfor if he were suspected of being a member of a lodge of the White\nSaber or the Red Hand, it could mean imprisonment, perhaps death;\nso he paid the revolution something to move on and occur on some\nother man's land. By levying thus on fear and policy a few members\nof an alleged junta managed to live quite comfortably without work,\nand it is whispered that the padres of certain villages received\ntheir share of the reluctant tributes.\n\nPorto Rico has been the place of abode of some noted fathers of\nthe church, including two martyrs who were canonized by Pius IX. as\nsaints: Charles Spinola and Jerome de Angelis. They left Portugal\nfor Goa in 1596, but having been blown far out of their course,\nthey put in at this island to repair their ship, and there for two\nmonths they preached with success. On their return to Lisbon they\nwere captured by English pirates, who treated them kindly, however,\nand set them safely down in London. They reached Portugal eventually,\nand ended their work in Japan, where the people killed them. These and\nother saints receive the prayers of the people on stated occasions,\nfor in Porto Rico the saints have not only their special days, but\ntheir special crops, and guard them from special injuries. Thus, the\nfarmer prays to St. James, it is said, when he asks for deliverance\nfrom tobacco-worms, while he must address St. Martial if he wants to\nfree his field from ants.\n\nOf the holy hermits who have resided on the island, several have\ndwelt in the caves where Caribs or Arawaks buried their dead, but\nthe best-known shrine is that of Hormigueros. The Church of Our Lady\nof Monserrate, which crowns a hill and is a conspicuous landmark,\nis said to have been copied from the chapel of a Benedictine\nmonastery in Barcelona, which is famous in Spain for its statue of\nthe Virgin, carved by St. Luke and carried to Barcelona in the year\n50 by St. Peter. The Monserrate church was founded in 1640 by a poor\nfarmer. He had been ploughing over the hill-top, though weak with\nfever, and before he could finish his work he fell to the ground\nexhausted. After he had partly recovered, and had gone back to the\nplough, he turned a tile up from the earth, on which was engraved a\nportrait of the Virgin, and no sooner had he taken this object into his\nhands than his pain, his fever, his lassitude disappeared. Convinced\nthat the relic was sacred, he carried it to his priest, and on that\nvery day he gave the land he had ploughed for a votive church. It\nhas become the best known sanctuary in Porto Rico, for the large\npainting of the Virgin, copied from the smaller portrait on the tile,\nis just as potent as the original in curing diseases. In the last\nhalf-century a hundred miracles have been performed, and the silver\nand golden arms, legs, ears, eyes, fingers, feet, livers, and hearts\nthat have been given to the church, in thanks and testimony, amount\nin value to sixty thousand dollars; for a patient who has been cured\nor helped is expected to send a little model, in precious metal, of\nthe part of him that needed mending. At intervals these offerings are\nmelted up for the altar service and decorations, and few churches in\nAmerica have such resplendent candlesticks, chalices, draperies and\nvestments. The altar is of silver plates, and the gold cross upon\nit weighs thirteen pounds. Pilgrims to Hormigueros go from all parts\nof the West Indies. They are lodged, free of charge, in an old house\nbehind the church, each cripple or invalid receiving a bed and chair,\nbut no food. The pilgrims must supply their own sustenance. On entering\nthe church, in procession, they are sprinkled with water from the\nJordan, and then kneel before the cross, where the cures are worked.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Mermaids\n\n\nIn dime museums and county fairs one may still find among the\n\"attractions\" a mermaid, dried and stuffed, consisting of the upper\nhalf of a monkey artlessly joined to the lower half or two-thirds of\na codfish, the monkey's head usually adorned with a handful of oakum\nor horse-hair. When this kind of thing was first exhibited by the\nlamented P. T. Barnum, it is just possible that some bumpkin really\nbelieved it to be a mermaid, but the invention has become so common\nof late that it is found in the curio-shops of every town, and as\nan eye-catching device is often put into show-cases by some merchant\nwho deals in anything rather than mermaids. Trite and ridiculous as\nthis patchwork appears, it symbolizes a belief of full three thousand\nyears. Men have always been prone to fill with imaginations what they\nhave never sounded with their senses, and it is to this tendency we\nowe poetry and the arts. The sea was a mystery, and is so still. It\nwas easy to people its twilight depths with forms of grace and beauty\nand power, for surely the denizens taken from it were strange enough\nto warrant strange beliefs.\n\nAnd so the old faith in men and women who lived beneath the water\nwas passed down from generation to generation, and from race to race,\nchanging but little from age to age. Ulysses stopped the ears of his\ncrew with wax that they should not hear the sirens luring them toward\nthe rocks as his ship sailed by, and knowing the magic of their song\nhad himself bound to the mast, so, hearing the ravishing music, he\nmight not escape if he would. In a later day we hear of the Lorelei\nsinging on her rock, striking chords on her golden harp, and, as the\nraptured fisherman steered close, with eyes filled by her beauty and\nears by her music, he had a moment's consciousness of a skull leering\nat him and harsh laughter clattering in echoes along the shore; then\nhis boat struck and filled, and the dark flood curtained off the\nsky. Wagner has made familiar the legend of the Rhine daughters,\nsinging impossibly under the river as they swim about the reef\nof gold,--the treasure stolen by the gnome, Alberich, who in that\nact brought envy, strife, greed, and injustice into the world, and\naccomplished the destruction of the gods themselves. The wild tales\nof Britain and Brittany, of thefts and revenges by the sea-creatures,\nare among the oldest of their myths, and when we cross to our side\nof the sea, the ocean people are close in our wake and they follow\nus through the fresh waters and far out in the Pacific.\n\nAmong the Antilles, as in the South Seas, the tritons blow their\nconchs and shake their shaggy heads, while the daughters of the deep\ngather, at certain seasons, on the water, or about some favorite\nrock, and sing. Always, in Eastern versions of the myth, there is\nmusic, save in the case of Melusina, who became a half fish only\non Saturdays, when her husband was supposed not to be watching,\nand this music follows the myth around the world. Among the vague\ntraditions of certain Alaskan Indians is one of an immigration from\nAsia, under lead of \"a creature resembling a man, with long, green\nhair and beard, whose lower part was a fish; or, rather, each leg a\nfish.\" He charmed them so with his singing that they followed him,\nunconsciously, and reached America. We find in Canada the tale of a\ndusky Undine, a soulless water sprite, who, through love of a mortal,\nbecame human. Some of the beings of the sea were of more than human\npower and authority,--gods, in fact; barbarian Neptunes. Such was\nthe Pacific god, Rau Raku, who, being entangled in a fishing-net, was\nlugged to the surface, sputtering tremendously. Yet he had no grudge\nagainst the fisherman. That trembling unfortunate was too small for\nhis revenge. He would devastate the whole earth to which he had been\nthus unceremoniously dragged, and, bidding his captor take himself\naway while he made trouble, he deluged the globe until all upon it\nhad perished, except the fish, the fisherman, and a few land animals\nthat the sole human survivor had taken to a lofty island with him.\n\nThe mermaid of story was a damsel fair to view, until she had risen\nfrom the waves so as to show her fish-like ending. It was her habit\nto sit on sunny beaches, comb her golden hair with a golden comb, and\nsing delightfully, though her wilder sisters would perch on juts of\nrock on lonely islands and scream in frightening ways when a gale was\ncoming. When the sea-maidens went ashore they sometimes met sailors\nand fishermen, and if they liked these strangers a frank avowal of\nlove was made; for it is always leap year in the ocean. It was a most\nuncomfortable position for a mortal to be placed in, especially one\nwho had a wife waiting for him at home, because if their addresses\nwere rejected the mermaids were liable to throw stones, and always\nwith fatal results; or they would brew mists, and set loose awful\nstorms; yet, if the man who inspired this affection was not coy, and\nyielded to one of these slippery denizens, she dragged him under the\nsea forthwith, unless he could persuade her to compromise on a cave or\na lonely rock as a home, for it is reputed that mortals have formally\nwedded them and raised amphibious families. On the Isle of Man they\ntell of one caught in a net, who was woman to the waist and fish as\nto the rest of her. As she sulked in captivity, refusing to eat or\nspeak,--perhaps they forgot to offer raw fish for her supper,--it\nwas decided to let her escape; and as she wriggled over the beach she\nwas heard to tell her people (in Manx?), as they arose to greet her,\nthat the earth-men did nothing wonderful except to throw away water\nin which they had boiled eggs!\n\nThe home of the mermaids was at the bottom of the deep. A diver, who\nsaid he had reached it, reported a region of clear water, lighted\nfrom below by great, white stones and pyramids of crystal. These\nhaunts contained bowers of coral, gardens of bright sea weeds and\nmosses, tables and chairs of amber, floors of iridescent shell and\npearls, gems strewn about the jasper grottoes,--diamonds, rubies,\ntopazes,--and the sea people had combs and ornaments of gold. Columbus\nwas disappointed in the mermaids that he saw in the Caribbean. They\nwere not, to his eyes, so handsome as the romancers had alleged,\nnor were their voices sweet. The doubters claim that he was asleep\nwhen the mermaids appeared, and that he saw nothing but the sea cow,\nor manatee, which is neither tuneful nor pretty.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Aborigines\n\n\nIn following the southern coast of Cuba, Columbus supposed he\nwas working toward India. He died ignorant of the fact that he had\ndiscovered a new world, and he gave up the exploration of this island\nwhen almost in sight of open water at its western end. Of the first\ninhabitants of Cuba (called by some Macaca, and by others Caboi,\n\"land of the dead,\" for the people killed their prisoners), little is\nknown, for they were exterminated as a distinct race, and their few\nrelics were disregarded as worthless or destroyed as idolatrous. It\nis believed, however, that they had some knowledge of the arts;\nthey worked gold into ornaments, and copper and stone into tools\nand weapons, and they wore helmets of feathers, like those of the\nHawaiian chiefs. Near Bayamo have been found farming tools, painted\npottery, and little statuettes supposed to represent gods. Their\nhouses were hardly more than shelters, frames of bamboo or light\nboughs, though they were prettily environed by walks and flowers,\nand their clothing--sometimes of fur, oftener of leaves and coarse\ncloth--was of the scantiest. Heavy dresses in a tropic country,\nor in a temperate country in tropic weather, are manifestly absurd.\n\nAs on the other Antilles, the people of Cuba were brown, broad,\nstraight-haired, flat-faced, and decorated with slashes and\ntattooing. They were singularly mild, honest, and trusting. They were\nfrightened by the Spanish ships, believing them to be great birds\nthat had come down from the sky, bringing the white adventurers in\ntheir brave array; but when Columbus had sent a few beads and hawks'\nbells to them, they expressed their confidence and delight in a hundred\nways, swam and rowed about his caravel offering fish and fruit, not in\ntrade, but as gifts, and when a crowd of hungry sailors ashore invited\nthemselves to a feast that had been prepared for a religious ceremony\nthe Indians made no objection, because they could prepare one like it\nby another night's work. Food, indeed, was free to whoso needed it,\nlike air and water, and no stranger needed to go hungry. While the\nSpaniards did little to invite their confidence, were insolent to\nmost other people and even to one another, the Indians set an example\nof charity in conduct and in faith. The dons were intolerant of all\nreligions except their own, whereas the Cubans were quick to realize\nthat the performance of the mass was of some sacred significance,\nand they preserved a reverent attitude throughout a ceremony whose\ndetails they did not understand. When missionary work had fairly\nbegun it is said that some Spaniards drove Indians into the water,\nforcibly baptized them, then cut their throats that they might not\nrepent their acceptance of the true faith. In their own belief there\nappeared to be a purgatory and a paradise, but no hell or devil;\nand, as beliefs reveal the character of the people who hold them, it\nspeaks well for the Cubans that the grewsome images invoked by certain\nmediaeval theologians had never been created in their more generous\nimaginations. When a soul left the body it had two journeys before it:\none to a dismal place, where the cruel and unjust awaited; the other\nto a fair land, like the best of earth, where all was pleasant and\npeaceful; for, in spite of the warlike undertakings made necessary\nby irruptions of the fierce Caribs, these people held to peace as\nthe highest good.\n\nOf these Indians hardly a dozen are remembered by their names, but the\nchief Hatuey was revered among them for his courage and his military\nskill. He had fled from Hayti to Cuba in a vain hope of escaping his\nwhite enemy, and counselled the natives to throw all their gold into\nthe sea, that the Spanish might not linger on their coasts. He might\nhave been the one who ordered gold to be melted and poured down the\nthroats of his prisoners, that for one and the last time they might\nhave enough. The Spaniards caught him and burned him to death at\nBaracoa. As he stood on the logs in chains, just before the flames\nwere applied, the friars pressed about him and earnestly advised him\nto become a Christian, that he might not be required to roast in hell,\nwhich would be worse than the torture he was about to endure, and which\nwould last forever. If only he would be baptized he could go direct\nto heaven. \"The white man's heaven?\" he asked. \"Yes.\" \"Are there any\nSpaniards in that heaven?\" \"Oh, yes, many.\" \"Then light the fire.\"\n\nColumbus was the more convinced that he had reached Asia because\nthe name of one Cuban province, Mangon, he assumed to be Mangi, a\nrich district of China. That its people had tails, like monkeys, was\nnothing against this theory; that footprints of alligators should be\nthe tracks of griffins, which had the bodies of lions and the wings\nand heads of eagles, was quite in order; but most convincing of all\nwas the discovery by an archer, who had entered a wood in search of\ngame, of thirty men with pale faces, armed with clubs and lances,\nand habited in white gowns, like friars. The man fled in fear. When\nhis comrades returned with him to find this white company, not a\nhuman being appeared to them, and, except for the chatter of birds\nand the clicking of land-crabs as they scuttled over the stones,\nthe place was still. The coast Indians were understood to say\nthat among the mountains dwelt a chief whom they called a saint,\nwho wore a flowing robe of white and never spoke aloud, ordering\nhis subjects by signs. This was surely Prester John, the shadowy\nking of a shadowy kingdom, of whom much was said and written a few\ncenturies ago. He was declared by one author to rule a part of India\nand was reputed to be a Nestorian priest who had made himself king\nof the Naymans. Other travellers placed him in China, Persia, and\nTimbuctoo. In a battle with the infidel Tartars Prester John mounted\na number of bronze men on horseback, each figure belching clouds of\nsmoke from a fire of punk within, and lashed the horses against the\nenemy, filling them with such terror, and so veiling in smoke the\ndash of his flesh and blood cavalry, that his victory was easy. So,\nit was a great satisfaction to Columbus to think that he had reached\nthe confines of a Christian kingdom.\n\nWhile working through the thousand little islands off the southern\ncoast of Cuba, that he called the Queen's Gardens, Columbus found\nadded reason for believing that this was the Asiatic shore, and he\nhoped shortly to reach Cipango, or Japan, where pearls and precious\nstones abounded, and where the king abode in a palace covered with\nplates of gold more than an inch thick. The attempts of the Mongols to\noverrun the Asian islands were defeated, because the Cipangalese were\ninvulnerable, having placed between the skin and the flesh of their\nright arms a little stone that made them safe against swords, arrows,\nclubs, and slings. The people of Cuba fell too easy a prey to Spanish\nblades--of both sorts--to allow a belief like this to last long.\n\nThat Columbus thought he was approaching the earthly paradise, the\nmountain-guarded Eden where our first parents lived, when he neared\nthese lovely shores, inhaled the fragrance of fruits and flowers,\nheard the cries of birds and saw the flash of bright waters, is\nprobable. That paradise he sought. The serpent of oppression and wrong\nhas left it, and as America comes into her own, that paradise shall be.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Caribs\n\n\nHad it not been for the Caribs the Antilleans would have led a placid\nexistence. Those warlike and predacious Indians would not keep the\npeace, nor would they allow other people to do so. Though they had\ntheir capital in Guadaloupe, they extended their military enterprises\nin every direction, and Cuba, Porto Rico, Hayti, Jamaica, and the\nlesser islands suffered from their assaults. They were trained to\nfight from childhood, and attained to great proficiency in arms. Being\nactive voyagers, they had some knowledge of astronomy. When operating\nin the waters of a hostile country it was their custom to mask their\nboats with palm leaves, for in this guise they stole upon the enemy the\neasier. Like the red men of our plains, they painted their faces, and,\nindeed, they retained many of the practices common to our tribes. In\ntheir traditions they came from the North, like other strong races,\ntheir old home being among the Alleghanies, and they conquered their\nway from Florida to Brazil. Their tribe, they say, grew up from stones\nthat their remote ancestors had sowed in the soil. They buried their\ndead in a sitting posture that they might be ready to leap up when\nthe spirit came for them, and they faced the sunrise that they might\nsee the day of resurrection the quicker.\n\nIn their mythology the first men came down from heaven on clouds to\npurify the world and make it as clean as the moon; but, while they were\nlooking about at this untidy planet, the clouds floated back and they\nwere left in a sorry plight, for they had brought no provisions with\nthem. Their hunger having sharpened so as to become unbearable, they\nscraped up clay and baked it to make it less tough and more eatable,\nand were grieved when it came out of the fire as hard as stone. Then\nthe birds and beasts had pity on them, and led them to the groves and\nfields where they could find fruit, nuts, maize, and yams. One tree\nwas of such size that they chopped it with stone axes for ten months\nbefore it fell, and they ate all of it. Beneath its roots, in a cave,\nlived the Water Mother, who, possibly because she was angered by the\ndestruction of the tree, released a flood that would have covered the\nearth had not a rock fallen into the throat of the cavern and stopped\nthe flow. This rock had life and speech. It warned the new race that\nwhen its founders should grow old they were to expect a deluge. Until\nthat appeared they should find in the atone their best adviser and\nprotector, and if they would pray to it, giving a deaf ear to the\nwood-devils, it would cure them of illness, gray hair, and age. After a\ntime came the monkey out of the woods, beguiling and wheedling, while\nat every chance, with a monkey's love of mischief, he worked at the\nstone, trying to dislodge it from the mouth of the cave. At last he\nsucceeded, and out poured the flood. An old woman ran to a palm that\ntouched the sky with its vast leaves, and climbed with feverish haste,\nbut fright and fatigue brought her to a stop when half-way up, and\nshe hardened to stone, thus blocking the way to all behind her, who,\nwhen they touched her, became stone likewise. Some scrambled down,\nsplashed through the rising waters, and reached another palm tree,\nwhich they climbed to its top, and so saved their lives.\n\nAs the waters were subsiding, Amalwaka came sailing across the ocean\nfrom the east, ascended the Orinoco, carved the figures found near\nthe head of that river, without leaving his canoe, smoothed the rugged\nhills and invented the tides, so that men might go from place to place\non the current, but, being unable to make the Orinoco flow up stream,\nhe sailed away again into the arch of the rising sun, guided at night\nby the constant star and by the tapir and Serikoai,--which is another\nstory, told by the Arawaks, to this effect: The bride of Serikoai\nwas seduced by the tapir god, who had first aroused her curiosity and\ninterest by his attentions, and had finally won her love by promising\nto put off his swinish shape and reveal himself as a finer being than\nher husband. If only she would follow him to the edge of the earth,\nwhere the sky comes down, she would see that he was a god. The poor\nhusband was crippled by the wife, that he might not follow, for she\nchopped off his leg as he descended an avocado pear-tree, in which\nhe had been gathering fruit for her. He nearly bled to death, but a\nwandering spirit revived him and called his mother, who healed the\nwound with gums and helped to make a wooden leg, on which he stumped\nover the earth in search of his runaway wife. It is known that the\naborigines performed trepanning with skill, but this is probably the\nearliest appearance in an American legend of a wooden leg. Though\nhe found no foot-prints, it was easy to trace the couple, because\navocados were springing up from seeds that the woman spat out as she\njourneyed on. At the edge of the earth he caught the tapir and killed\nhim; yet the creature's shadow arose from the body and kept on its\nflight with the wife. Straightforth she leaped into the blue vast,\nand there she hangs, only we call her the Pleiades. The brute is the\nHyades. He glares and winks with his red eye: Aldebaran. The husband\nis Orion, who follows the others through the sky.\n\nThe Caribs were a handsome people, and one tradition narrates the\nmadness that afflicted a governor of Antigua, because of his jealousy\nof a native chief. In 1640 this dusky Paris stole the English woman and\nher child, and carried them to Dominica. The governor pursued. Arrived\nwhere Roseau now stands, he learned that a captive woman and her child\nhad been landed there, and had been taken to some stronghold in the\nforest. Drops of blood, pricked out by cactus thorns on the march,\nformed a trail which he was able to follow, and believing that they\nbetokened murder, he killed all the Caribs he encountered. His wife\nand boy were safe, however, except for their bleeding feet, and he\nfound them in the otherwise deserted cabin of the chief and took\nthem back to Antigua. The affair preyed on his mind. He began to\ndoubt his wife, thinking she had accompanied the savage willingly,\nand his jealousy so increased that his friends had to secrete her,\nto save her from his wrath. He probably recovered his senses in time.\n\nThe Spaniards chased the Caribs out of several of the islands. That\nof Grenada terminates on the north in a tall cliff called Le Morne\ndes Sauteurs, over which the white men compelled the flying Indians\nto leap to their death. Not one Carib was left alive on this island.\n\n\n\n\n\nSecret Enemies in the Hills\n\n\nThe brutalities of the Spaniards who first occupied the West Indies\nwould seem incredible if so many of them had not continued to our\nown day. It is estimated that half of the natives of Porto Rico were\nkilled, and within sixty or seventy years after the seizure of Cuba\nits populace of three hundred thousand had been destroyed or removed\nby war, murder, slavery, hunting with blood-hounds, imported vices\nand diseases, flight and forced emigration. These natives are said to\nhave been a peaceful and happy race, practised in the simpler arts,\nobserving the moralities better than their oppressors, holding a faith\nin one god--a god of goodness, not of hate--and in the immortality of\nthe soul, and abstaining from useless forms and ceremonies. They held\nthat when the soul had left the body it went into the woods and hills\nor abode in caves, and took its food and drink as in the flesh. When a\nman calls out in a solitary place among the mountains and an answering\nvoice comes back, it is not an echo, but a wandering soul that speaks.\n\nEven the relics of these folk--the Cubans or Siboneyes--have\nvanished, save in the instance of the temple remains near Cobre, and\nan occasional caney or mound of the dead, a truncated cone of earth\nand broken stones. Some fossil skeletons found in caves, and of an\nalleged age of fifty thousand years, denote an ancient race of large,\nstrong people. There are other skeletons of Siboneyes, Chinese, and\nnegroes in the caves,--victims of herding, slavery, fever, cruelty,\nand suicide. There is little doubt that of the aboriginal stock not\na man remains. Yet there are stories of strange people who were\nseen by hunters and explorers among the mountains, or who peered\nout of the jungle at the villagers and planters and were gone again,\nwithout track or sound,--people with swarthy faces, sinewy forms, long\nblack hair, decorations of coral shells and feathers, and bracelets,\narmlets, and anklets of gold. Almost from the first, the conduct of\nthe Spaniard toward his enemies and dependents was such as to earn\nfor him a permanent hate; so, when his cruelty had been practised, and\nthe futility of opposing arms against his heavy weapons and his coat\nof steel had been proved, it was natural that those who escaped him\nshould keep as far from reach as possible, and it is idle to suppose\nthat he traversed the seven hundred and thirty miles of Cuba's length,\nwhipping every forest and climbing every mountain, for no more than\nthe pleasure of killing. Negro slavery was introduced into the New\nWorld before its existence had been known in Spain for a century, and\nalthough the black men have usually been tractable, the severities of\ntheir masters led to many revolts and to the organization of bands for\nretaliation. These bands often degenerated, and during this century\nthe Spanish Antilles have been troubled by companies of beggars and\noutlaws, mostly blacks and half-breeds, who have robbed and murdered\nin the dark, run off stock from the farms, burned houses and shops,\nand because of their secret and cowardly methods have been feared as\nmuch as the Spaniards were hated.\n\nThe Nanigos originally formed a secret order of negroes, banded for\nprotection against unkind slave-owners and overseers, but feeling\ntheir power, and being swayed by passion and superstition, they\nconstituted, after a time, a body correspondent to the voodoos,\nor wizards, of our Gulf States. With hideous incantations, with mad\ndances, with obscene songs, with the slaughter of animals, with oaths\non an altar and crucifix, they invoked illness, ruin, and death on\ntheir enemies. In time they gained accessions to their fraternity\nfrom Spanish residents,--thieves, vagrants, deserters from the army,\nthe half-witted and wrong-hearted outcasts from the towns,--and the\nfantastic ceremonies of the jungle came to mean something more to the\npurpose of mischief, for the newer Nanigos had more skill and courage\nthan the slaves, and were familiar with more sins. To enter this\norder it was required of the candidate that he steal a cock, kill it,\nand drink the warm blood. A darker tale is that they were required to\ndrink human blood. In Havana this part of the initiation was performed\non the Campo Marti. The man's right nostril was pierced, and a skull\nand crossbones branded on his chest. It was then expected of him\nthat within fifteen days he would kill an official or a policeman,\na white, black, or yellow marble, drawn by chance from a globe,\ndeciding whether he was to slay a white man, negro, or mulatto. When\nhe had, by this crime, attained to full membership, a little shield\nwas given to him which he might wear beneath his coat, and which was\ndecorated with the device of a skull and bones. For every murder he\ncommitted a red stitch was put in at the edge of the skull. Once\na month, in the dark of the moon, the Nanigos paraded the streets\nof the towns, their naked forms painted fantastically, their faces\nghastly with flour, tramping and leaping to the thud of drums and\nclash of cymbals, yelling defiance to the military, brandishing knives\nand firing pistols. It was a kind of thing that in an American city\ncould have happened for one consecutive time, but no more. In Havana\nthe Spaniards were terrorized. The police refused to make arrests,\nlest they should fall victims to the outlaws. One judge who refused\nto liberate an assassin was slain in his own house by his servant.\n\nAs a partial revenge on the Cubans for wishing liberty the Spanish\ncaptains-general have at times pardoned some hundreds of these rascals\nand set them free to prey on the people; while, in retaliation, the\ninsurgents adopted some of the methods of the Nanigos and carried on\na guerilla warfare that neither troops nor trochas could abate. Many\nare these more or less bold spirits of the hills who are celebrated in\ninland stories: aborigines, Frenchmen, Creoles, mulattoes, who have\ngathered bands of reckless fellows about them from time to time and\nraided the Spaniard, flouting him in his strongholds, pillaging from\nhis farms, striking him, hip and thigh, and making off to the woods\nbefore he knew how or by whom he had been struck. Sometimes even the\nname of the guerilla has been forgotten, but the tradition remains of a\npredecessor of Lopez, Gomez, and Garcia, who aided the English before\nHavana in 1762. In that year Lord Albemarle took the town with two\nhundred ships and fourteen thousand soldiers, beating a Spanish army\nof almost double that size, though it was covered by heavy walls and\nwell provided with artillery. It took two months to reduce the city.\n\nDuring one of the land operations the red-coats lost themselves in a\ndense wood, and were in considerable peril from bodies of Spaniards\nwho were almost within speaking distance. To advance or to retreat\nwas an equal risk. As the column was halted, pending a debate and a\nreconnoissance, there was a rustle in a clump of bushes beside which\nthe colonel was standing; then, as every sword was drawn and a row\nof muskets held ready, a tall man bounded into the space, laid his\nfinger on his lip to enforce silence, and, beckoning all to follow,\ncrept on stealthily through the chaparral. He was a man advanced in\nyears, a long white beard flowed over his chest, yet he was lithe and\nquick, and his look and manner were those of one who lives in the\nopen and in frequent danger. He spoke not a word, but after a time\ndrew himself erect and pointed before him. He had led the English\nto the rear of one of the Spanish batteries. The colonel, who had at\nfirst regarded him with doubt, as a lunatic or a false guide, ordered\nhis men to attack, and after a short fight he returned to his lines\nwith prisoners and trophies of victory. He sought in all directions\nfor the old man, to thank him, but the jungle had swallowed him,\nand he was never seen again.\n\n\n\n\n\nSacred Shrines\n\n\nCuba has many shrines containing evidences of divine blessing,\nand some of these are of wide renown. When the image of our Lady\nof Charity was found in Nipe Bay it was delivered to the priests of\nCobre, the centre of the copper-mining industry, and they erected a\nchurch above it. The statue is fifteen inches high, and is seemingly\ncarved from gold. A splendid shrine has been made as a setting, and\nfor years it has been the object of pilgrimages during the Lady's\nfestival in September. Those who ask for special favors, such as\nthe cure of lameness and blindness, ascend the long flight of steps\nbefore the statue on their knees. The figure was found in 1627 by\ntwo Indians and a Creole boy who were crossing the bay at dawn in\na search for salt. It appeared to them as a white body rising from\nthe water, but as they approached it revealed itself as the image\nof the Virgin, the holy child on her left arm, a golden cross in\nher right hand. The board on which it stood was inscribed, \"I am the\nVirgin of Charity.\" After it had been shown in the fold at Verajagua\nand venerated by the multitude it was placed in a chapel, a number\nof priests leading the march with a pomp and joy of banners, while\nbells and guns signalized its progress. The Virgin was dissatisfied,\nhowever, with the lack of splendor in her shrine and with the site\non which the chapel had been placed. She told her displeasure to a\ngirl named Apolonia, while she burned pale lights on a hill above\nthe mines, to mark the place on which she wished her church to be\nerected. Her request was heeded so soon as the needed funds could be\ncollected. It was generally believed that the statue was given by\nOjeda to a native chief who, afraid of the enmity of his people as\na result of accepting a gift from a treacherous and hated race, or,\nmore reasonably, afraid that the Spaniards would kill him for the\nsake of the gold that adorned it, set it afloat in the bay. A thief\ndespoiled it of thirty thousand dollars' worth of jewels after the\nAmerican occupation.\n\nThis ambulatory practice of sacred images is not uncommon, and a\nsimilar instance is recorded in Costa Rica, where in 1643 the state\nhad been thrown into a panic by the devil, who lives in the volcano\nof Turrialba, when he is at home, and who generally was at home in\nthose days, for he seized upon every wayfarer who ventured on the\npeak. General joy was therefore felt at the discovery of a Madonna\nby a peasant woman at Cartago. She carried it to her hut, but it was\ndissatisfied and ran away--twice--three times. The village priest\nthen took it and put it under lock and key in his house. Again it\nran away. It was carried to church in procession, and it ran away\nagain. Then the priest laid a heavy assessment on his flock for silk\nand gold and emeralds with which to deck the image, and this concession\nhaving been made to a feminine fondness for appearance, the statue has\nremained patiently on its pedestal ever since. One of the treasures\nof the Church of Mercy, Havana, is a painting of the cross, with a\nwoman seated on one arm of it, holding a child. Spanish soldiers and\nproud-looking Indians are gathered about the emblem. The origin of the\npicture is involved in doubt, but it was installed in recognition of an\nappearance vouchsafed by the Virgin to Columbus at Cerro de la Vega,\nin presence of the Indians. The natives, alarmed at this vision in\nthe air, and associating it--justly, as it fell out--with calamity,\ndischarged their arrows at it, and were still more frightened when\ntheir darts passed through the apparition without causing a flow of\nblood. This onslaught put the Spaniards into an instant rage, and,\nencouraged by the Virgin's smiles, they fell upon the heathen with\nsword and musketoon and stamped them out of existence.\n\nSome of these supernatural appearances had so occult a purpose that it\nhas never been fathomed. At Daiquiri, for example, where the American\ntroops landed in the late war, a native reported to the wondering\ncommunity that while walking through the wood he met a tall, shaggy\nstranger, who looked as though he might have been one of the fisherman\ndisciples, and who pointed to the earth with an imperious gesture. So\nsoon as the Cuban had looked down the tall man melted into air. On\nthe ground was the print of the face of Christ. A stone was placed\non the spot to mark the miracle.\n\nWhen the fiery Ojeda set out on his several voyages of discovery and\nadventure,--and no man ever had more excitement and tribulation,--he\ncarried in his knapsack a small painting of the Virgin, the work\nof a Fleming of some artistic consequence. During his halts in\nthe jungle it was his custom to affix this picture to a tree, say\nhis prayers before it, receive spiritual assurance of protection,\nthen, grasping sword and buckler, to undertake the slaughter of the\nnatives with fresh alacrity and cheer. So confident was he in his\nheavenly guard that he exposed himself recklessly in fight, and the\nIndians were fain to believe him deathless, until one of their arrows\npierced his leg. If this injured his confidence it did not stint\nhis courage. He ordered his surgeon to burn the leg with hot irons,\nthreatening to hang him if he refused, for he fancied that the arrow\nwas poisoned. When wrecked on the south coast of Cuba with seventy\nvarlets, who had no concern for exploration and much for booty,\nhe struck out bravely for the east end of the island, floundering\nthrough marshes and breaking his way through tangles of vegetation,\nthe company living for several days on a few pounds of raw roots,\nmoldy cassava, and cheese, and at last breaking down in despair. In\nthirty days they had crossed ninety miles of morass, and were too\nfeeble to go farther. Ojeda set up his picture for the last time and\nbesought the thirty-five cut-throats who survived to pray to it also,\nassuring the Virgin that if she would only guide them through their\nperil this time he would make a chapel for her in the first village\nhe might reach.\n\nIn answer to this prayer a path was disclosed that led them to dry\nground, and they soon arrived at the hamlet of Cuebas, where the\nnatives received them with every kindness, and went to the marsh\nto rescue such of the party as had been abandoned but were still\nalive. These rascals afterward reached Jamaica, where some were hanged\nfor their various murders and sea-robberies, while others re-enlisted\nin various freebooting enterprises. Ojeda kept his promise. He\nexplained to the chief at Cuebas the principal points in the Christian\nfaith, built a little oratory in the village, and placed the picture\nabove the altar, with orders that the Indians should always treat it\nwith reverence. Though they did not comprehend the relation of the\npainting to the white man's religion, they saw from the demeanor of\nOjeda and his friends that it was a thing of value and might avert\nhoodos. Therefore it was attired and cared for with as much assiduity\nas if it had been consigned to a Spanish cathedral, and although\nthe Indians had not been Christianized, they decorated the oratory,\noverhung its walls with sacrifices, while at stated intervals they sang\nand danced before it. When Father Las Casas tried to get this picture\naway from them, afterward, it was hidden in the forest until he had\npassed on. Ojeda reformed, killed several of his associates who had\nattempted his life, turned monk, and was buried under the door-stone\nof his monastery, that the populace might trample on his pride.\n\n\n\n\n\nTobacco\n\n\nTobacco suggests Cuba, or Cuba more than suggests tobacco. Havana\ncigars are the synonym for excellence, and it was on this island that\nthe native American was first seen with a cigar in his mouth. It\nwas not much like the cigars of our day, for it consisted of loose\nleaves folded in a corn-husk, as a cigarette is wrapped in paper. It\namazed the Spaniards as much to see these dusky citizens eating fire\nand breathing smoke as it astonished the Filipinos when the Spaniards,\nhaving learned the trick, and having landed on their islands, proceeded\nto swallow flame and utter smoke in the same fashion,--a proceeding\nwhich convinced the people of the Philippines that the strangers were\ngods. The white adventurers never found the palace of Cubanacan, whose\ngates were gold and whose robes were stiff with gems, but they found\nthe soothing and mischievous plant that was eventually to create more\nwealth for them than the spoil of half a dozen such palaces. The Cuban\nword for this plant was cohiba. The word tobago, which we have turned\ninto tobacco, was applied to a curious pipe used by the Antilleans,\nwhich had a double or Y-shaped stem for inserting into the nostrils,\nthe single stem being held over a heap of burning leaf. The island\nof Tobago was so named because its explorers thought its outline to\nresemble that of the pipe.\n\nIn one form or another the use of the weed was prevalent throughout\nthe Americas. Montezuma had his pipe after dinner, and rinsed his\nmouth with perfume. For medicinal purposes snuff was taken through\na tube of bamboo, and tobacco leaves were chewed. The practice of\nchewing also obtained to a slight extent among the natives as a\nstay against hunger, and they are said to have indulged it in long\nand exhaustive marches against an enemy. They would chew in battle,\nbecause in a fight at close range they tried to squirt the juice\ninto the eyes of their foemen and blind them. The herb was taken\ninternally as a tea for medicinal reasons, was used as a plaster,\nand was valued as a charm. Francisco Fernandez took it to Europe;\nDrake and Raleigh introduced it in England, and though its use was\nregarded as a sin, to be checked not merely by royal \"counterblasts\"\nand by edicts like that of William the Testy, but by laws prescribing\ntorture, exile, whipping, and even death, it was not long in reaching\nthe uttermost parts of the earth.\n\nMen of all races and conditions incline to the tradition of the\nSusquehannas, that the plant was the gift of a benevolent spirit. In\ntheir account this manitou had descended to eat meat, which they had\noffered to her in a time of famine. As she was about to go back to\nthe skies she thanked them for their kindness, and bade them return\nto the spot in thirteen months. They did so, and found maize growing\nwhere her right hand had rested, beans at her left, and tobacco where\nshe had been seated.\n\nThe Indians of Guiana say that tobacco was given by a sea-goddess to a\nman who was begging the gods to do something for him,--he didn't know\nexactly what; he would merely like to have somebody do something for\nhim on general principles. As a divine gift, therefore, it was used\nin certain of the rites of the Indians, and the man who wished to go\ninto a trance and see visions would starve for a couple of days, then\ndrink tobacco water. He generally saw the visions,--if he lived. In\nsome islands the priests inhaled the smoke of a burning powder and\nthereupon fell into a stupor or a frenzy in which they talked with\nthe dead. Was this the smoke of tobacco, plus a little abandon, a\nlittle falsehood, a little enthusiasm? Its enemies in King James's\ntime would have said that the smokers deserved not merely to talk\nwith the dead, but to join them.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Two Skeletons of Columbus\n\n\nFollowing the return of the vanquished army of Spain to its home\ncountry was another solemn voyage, undertaken for the transfer of the\nbones of Christopher Columbus from the world he had discovered to the\nland that grudgingly, cautiously permitted him to discover it. Spain\nclaimed all the benefits that arose from his knowledge, his bravery,\nhis skill, his energy, and his enthusiasm, and rewarded his years\nof service with dismissal from office and confinement in chains as\na prisoner, but now it repented, and wished to house his unwitting\nrelics in state. Once before these bones had crossed the sea. After\nthe death of the great navigator, in Valladolid, Spain, in 1506,\nhis body remained in that city for seven years. Then it was taken\nto Seville and placed in Las Cuevas monastery with that of his son,\nDiego. In 1536 both bodies were exhumed and sent to Santo Domingo,\nor Hispaniola, an island that Columbus appeared to hold in a warmer\nliking than either of the equally picturesque, fertile, and friendly\nislands of Cuba, Porto Rico, or Jamaica. In the quaint old cathedral\nof Santo Domingo, built in 1514, the bodies of the great admiral,\nhis son, and also his grandson, Louis, first Duke of Veragua, rested\nfor more than a century without disturbance.\n\nOn the appearance of the English fleet, however, in 1655, the\narchbishop was so fearful of a raid on the church and the theft of\nthe bodies that he ordered them to be hidden in the earth. During\nthe years in which they remained so covered the exact burial-place of\nthe admiral may have been forgotten, or, it may be, as several people\nallege, that the San Dominicans tricked the Spaniards when, in 1795,\nthe latter gave their island to France and carried with them to Havana\nthe supposed skeleton of Columbus. Bones of somebody they certainly\ndid take, but it is no uncommon belief in the Antilles that the monks\nof Santo Domingo had hidden the precious ones and sent to the monks\nof Havana the bones of the son, Diego, albeit a monument was erected\nto the memory and virtues of the great Columbus in Havana cathedral.\n\nIn 1878 the old church in Santo Domingo was undergoing repair when\nthe workmen came upon a leaden box containing the undoubted remains\nof the first Duke of Veragua. Breaking through the wall of the vault\nthey found themselves in a larger one, and here was a box two feet\nlong, enclosing a skull, bones, dust, jewelry, and a silver plate\nbearing the words \"C. Colon,\" and on the end of the box, according to\nsome witnesses, the letters \"C. C. A.,\" meaning Christopher Columbus,\nAdmiral (the English initials being the same as for the name and title\nin Spanish). A more circumstantial account places the time of this\nrediscovery in 1867, and says that a musket-ball was the only object\nfound in the little coffin, while the silver plate on the lid was thus\ninscribed, \"Una pt. de los restos del Primar Alm. to Du Christobal\nColon.\" The Santo Dominicans claim their right to the relics on the\nground that in his life the Spanish misused the discoverer, though\nhis grief was not deep enough to justify the ancient rumor of his\nelecting to be buried with the chains in which he was carried back to\nSpain. Meantime Seville is to build a monument, and Santo Domingo is\nputting up another, each city claiming to have his only real skeleton.\n\n\n\n\n\nObeah Witches\n\n\nFrom the earliest days of Spanish occupancy the Antilles have been the\nhaunt of strange creatures. Mermen have sung in their waters, witches\nand wizards have perplexed their villages, spirits and fiends have\ndwelt among their woods. Everybody fears the jumbie, or evil spirit\nthat walks the night; and the duppy, the rolling calf, the ghost of\nthe murdered one; all pray that they may never meet the diablesse,\nthe beautiful negress with glittering eyes, who passes silently through\nfields where people are at work, and smiling on any one of them compels\nhim to follow her,--where? He never returns. Anansi (grotesquely\ndisguised sometimes as Aunt Nancy) is a hairy old man with claws,\nwho outwits the lesser creatures, as Br'er Rabbit does. To him and\nhis familiars are attributed all manner of queer tales, one of which,\nfrom Jamaica, may be quoted as an illustration:\n\nSarah Winyan, an orphan of ten, lived with her aunt, while her two\nbrothers kept house by themselves a mile or two away. This aunt was\nan Obeah witch, the duppy, or devil ghost, that was her familiar,\nappearing as a great black dog that she called Tiger. Sarah stood\nbetween this old woman and a little property, and after finding that\nthe child endured her abuse with more or less equanimity and was\nnot likely to die, she told her that she was too poor to support\nher any longer, and she must go. Sarah sat on a stone before the\nhouse, wondering how she could make a living, and all the time sang\nmournfully. A racket as of some heavy creature plunging about in the\nbushes aroused her with a start and she scrambled into a tree. It was\nTiger who had been making the disturbance. He told her to descend at\nonce. If she would go with him peacefully, and would be his servant,\nall would be well, but if she refused he would gnaw the tree down and\ntear her into a thousand pieces. He showed his double row of teeth,\nlike daggers, whereupon Sarah immediately descended. As she walked\nbeside him to his lair she sang low, in the hope of being heard\nand rescued. It was well that she did so, for her brothers, who were\nhunting in the wood, recognized her voice and softly followed. Peering\nin at the cave where Tiger made his home, they saw him sleeping\nsoundly with his head in Sarah's lap. Cautiously, slowly, she drew\naway, leaving a block of wood for his head to rest upon, and crept\nout of the cavern. Then the boys entered, and with their guns blew\nthe head of the beast into bits, cut his body into four parts, buried\nthem at the north, south, east and west edges of the wood; then killed\nthe wicked aunt. And since that day dogs have been subject to men.\n\nThe evil eye is not uncommon in the Antilles. It blights the lives of\nchildren, and it is one of the worst of fates to be \"overlooked\" by an\nObeah man possessing it. Higes, or witches, too, are seen, who take off\ntheir skins, and in that state of extra-nudity go about looking for\nchildren, whose blood they suck, like vampires. Lockjaw is caused by\nthis loss of blood. There is a three-footed horse, also, that gallops\nabout the country roads when it has come freshly out of hell and is\nlooking for victims it can eat. If it halts before a house, that stop\nmeans death to somebody within, and the peculiar sound made by its\nthree hoofs tells what has passed. It is not well to look, because\nthe creature has an eye in the centre of its forehead that flashes\nfire. One who meets it is so fascinated by this blazing eye that he\ncannot look away. He stares and stares; presently paralysis creeps over\nhim, and in a little while he falls dead. Sometimes a creature is seen\nriding on this horse,--a man with a blue face, like that of a corpse,\nand with that face turned toward the tail. Related, in tradition,\nto the horse was the king-snake of Carib myth, a frightful creature\nthat wore a brilliant stone in its head, which it usually concealed\nwith a lid, like that of the eye, but which it would uncover when it\nwent to a river to drink, or played about the hills. Whoever looked\non this dazzling stone would lose his sight on the instant.\n\nThe Obeah man has an hereditary power that comes to him in advanced\nage, and that, when at its strongest, enables him to send an evil\nspirit into any object he pleases. Not only do the people believe in\nhim, but he has the fullest faith in himself. When he boils a witch\nbroth of scorpions' blood, toads' heads, snake bellies, spider poison,\nand certain herbs picked by moonlight (an actual mixture used by\nObeah witches),--boils it over a fire of dead men's bones, between\nmidnight and dawn,--he has no more doubt of its power to harm than\nthe physician doubts the power of his quinine and antipyrin for good.\n\nA Cuban planter who suspected one of his older slaves of being an Obeah\nman determined to punish him if he were found guilty, and to suppress\nthe diabolism attending the midnight meetings. Watching his chance,\nhe followed his slaves into the wood, peeped through the crevices of\nthe deserted hut which they had entered to perform their fantastic\nrites, saw their mad dance, when, stripped and decorated with beads,\nshells, and feathers, they leaped about with torches in their hands;\nthen saw his suspected slave enter through a back door, his black skin\npainted to represent a skeleton. The old man held up a fat toad, which,\nhe said, was his familiar, and the company began to worship it with\ngrotesque and obscene ceremonies. Though he felt a thrill of disgust\nand even a dim sense of fear at the spectacle, the planter broke in at\nthe door and confronted the Obeah man. Had he ordered the old fellow\nto do any given task about his house or grounds in the daytime, that\norder would have been obeyed. What was the planter's astonishment,\ntherefore, when the slave calmly disregarded his command to return\nto quarters, and bade his master leave the place at once and cease\nto disturb the meeting, or prepare for a great misfortune. Enraged,\nand fearing lest this defiance might encourage the other slaves\nto mutiny, the master shot the old man dead. A few days later the\nplanter's wife died while seated at the table. A week after his\ndaughter died, a seeming victim of poison. All the latent superstition\nin his nature having been aroused, he sought out another Obeah man,\nto beg that he would intercede with the powers of darkness, but the\nwizard was stern. He told him that the slave he had killed was the\nmost powerful master of spirits in the country, and that nothing\ncould stay the revenges of fate. When the planter reached his home\nhe found a letter there announcing the death of his only son in Paris.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Matanzas Obeah Woman\n\n\nOn a hillock near Matanzas, with a ragged wood behind it, stood for\nmany years an unkempt cottage. In our land we should hardly dignify it\nby such a name. We would call it, rather, a hovel. Some rotting timbers\nof it may still be left, for the black people who live thereabout\nkeep away, especially at night, believing that the hillock is a resort\nof spirits. Yet not many of them remember the incident that put this\nunpleasant fame upon it, for--that was back in the slavery days. The\nbrutal O'Donnell was governor-general then. He found Cuba in its usual\nstate of sullen tranquillity, and no chance seemed to offer by which he\ncould make a name for himself, so he magnified every village wrangle\ninto an insurrection. It looked well in his reports when he set forth\nthe skill and ease with which he had suppressed the uprisings, and,\nas he did not scruple to take life in punishment for slight offences,\nnor to retaliate on a community for the misconduct of a single member\nof it, he almost created the revolution that he described to his home\ngovernment. The merest murmur, the merest shadow was enough to take\nhim to the scene of an alleged outbreak, and he would cause slaves\nto be whipped until they were ready to confess anything.\n\nA black boy in Matanzas, arrested on suspicion of inciting\nto rebellion, was condemned to seven hundred blows with the\nlash. At the end of the flogging, being still alive, he was shot, at\nO'Donnell's order. He would confess nothing, because he had nothing to\nconfess. This boy had been brought up in a well-to-do Spanish family,\nand was the play-mate, the friend, of the son of that family, rather\nthan his slave. The white boy begged for the life of his associate,\nthe family implored mercy, and asked for at least a trial, but the\ngovernor-general would not listen to them, and after the shooting\nthe white boy became insane with shock and grief. Thus much of the\nlegend is declared to be fact.\n\nIt was the mother of the black boy who lived in this cabin outside of\nthe town. She had also been a slave until the Spanish family, giving\nup its plantation, moved into the city, sold the younger and stronger\nof their human properties, and set free the elderly and rheumatic,\ntaking with them only a couple of servants and the boy, who went with\nhis mother's consent, for she knew he would be cared for, and she\ncould see him often, the relation between slave and owner, being more\ncommonly affectionate than otherwise. At its best, slavery is morally\nbenumbing to the enslaved, destructive of the finer feelings, and\nwhen the old woman learned of her son's death,--and such a death--she\ndid not go mad, as his playfellow had done. She lamented loudly, she\nsaid many prayers, she accepted condolences with seeming gratitude,\nbut the tears had ceased to flow ere many weeks, and she was seen to\nsmile when her old mistress, whose affliction was indeed the heavier,\nhad called on her in her cabin, no doubt feeling as much in need of\nher servant's sympathy as the servant felt of the creature comforts\nshe took to her.\n\nYet deep in Maumee Nina's nature a change had taken place. She did not\nknow it herself for many months. Her loss had not affected her conduct\nor appearance greatly, yet her heart had hardened under it and she\nbegan to look upon the world with a different eye. She cared less for\nher friends, and went to church less often,--a suspicious circumstance,\nfor when a negro failed to go to mass, and kept away from confession,\nit was surely because he had something mischievous to confess. The\nrumor got about that Maumee Nina had become an Obeah woman,--a voodoo\nworker, a witch. It is not unlikely that the accusation inspired her\nto live down to it. Not only were witches held in respect and fear,\nbut she might be able, through evil arts, to plague the race that\nhad worked her husband to death in the mines, and now had killed her\nonly son. She kept still more at home, brooding, planning, yielding\nfarther and farther to the evil suggestions that her repute as a\nvoodoo priestess offered to her, yet keeping one place in her heart\neven warmer than before,--the place filled by her daughter, Juanita.\n\nThis girl of fifteen or sixteen was not black, like her mother. She\nwas a handsome mulatto. In a country where relations are so easily\nestablished without marriage, and where marriage is so difficult and\nhas so little force, the fatherhood of many children is in doubt. If\nJuanita knew her father's name she was not known to him. It mattered\nlittle. The old woman intended to bring her up as a lady,--that is,\nto qualify her for a place as waiting-maid in the house of some\ngood family; so she made many sacrifices on her account, clothing\nher vividly, requiring less work of her than she should have done,\nand even, it was said, paying money to have reading taught to her,\nand that was an accomplishment, indeed.\n\nConsidering the pains and self-denials that the rearing of this child\nincurred, it was a trifle inconsistent that Maumee Nina should have\nopposed the friendly advances of gallants from the town. She was not\nof a class that is wont to consider the etiquette of such attentions,\nnor would she have refused to give her daughter in marriage to any\nCuban. It was that her feeling toward the Spaniards was deepening\ninto hate, and it rejoiced her to learn that a revolution was really\nintended. By her native shrewdness she was able to do something for her\npeople's cause. Whenever a young negro went to her to have his fortune\ntold,--and from this art she began to realize a steady income,--she\nmanaged to hint at his future greatness as a military leader, his\ngains in the loot of Spanish camps, his prowess in bush-fighting when\nhostilities should really have begun.\n\nIn this way she really incited a number of the ambitious, the\nquarrelsome, and the greedy to enlist in the schemes for Cuba's\nliberation. Nanigo meetings were held in and near her house; there\nwere wild dances and uncanny ceremonies, sacrificing of animals in\nthe moonlight, baptisms of blood, weird chants and responses, and\ncrime increased in the town. All this being reported to the military\nthe guard lines were extended and a squadron was posted at a house\nnot over a mile from Maumee Nina's, with Lieutenant Fernandez in\ncommand. Fernandez was a dashing fellow, with swarthy countenance,\nmoustachios that bristled upward, close-trimmed hair and beard, a\nlaughing, pleasure-loving eye, and he wore a trig uniform that set\noff his compact shape to advantage. Old Nina heard, though it was not\ntrue, probably, that he had carried out the order of O'Donnell for the\nshooting of her boy. Naturally he was the last man she could wish to\nsee, and she made no secret of her dislike when, on returning to her\nhome from a visit to Matanzas, she found this young officer seated\non a chair before her door, twirling his moustache and gayly chatting\nwith her daughter. She instantly ordered the girl to go indoors, and\nbade the lieutenant pack off about his business. Being an easy-going\nfellow, with no dislike for the people among whom the fortunes of his\ncalling had cast him, and with a strong fondness for pretty maids,\nthe young man deprecated the anger of the woman, but finding, after\nsome persiflage, that it was of small use to try to make friends with\nher, he marched away toward his quarters, trolling a lively air and\ndrumming with his fingers on his sword-hilt. On the next evening he\nwas at Maumee Nina's again, and before the very nose of that indignant\ndame chaffed her daughter, whom he also chucked under the chin; and he\ngazed long and searchingly at a couple of low-browed, shifty-looking\nblacks who were talking with the old woman when he entered.\n\n\"Who are these fellows?\" he demanded.\n\n\"What right have you, senor lieutenant, to question me about my guests,\nin my own house?\" replied Nina. \"It is enough that they were invited,\nand you were not.\"\n\nThe lieutenant glanced sharply at Juanita. She looked at the shabby\nfellows for an instant, smiled contemptuously, and gave her head a\nsaucy fling. The officer's good-nature was restored in a moment. \"Give\nme a calabash of water from that spring of yours, your grace, and\nI'll take myself off,\" said he. \"But, mind, there are to be no more\ndances here,--no more voodoo practice.\"\n\nOld Nina left the room grumbling to herself, while Fernandez talked\nwith Juanita, quite disregarding the sour and silent pair of black\nmen. As he glanced through a crack in the timbers of the house he saw\nthe old woman raise a gourd of water, wave her hand above it three\ntimes, mutter, and shake her head. Then she drew from her pocket a tiny\nobject and dropped it in the water, stirring it around and around,\nas if to dissolve it. There was a quiet smile on the lieutenant's\nface as he received the calabash from the old woman's hand.\n\n\"In the old days, senora,\" he said, \"it was the way to sweeten the\ndrink of a cavalier by getting the fairest lady of the house to sip\nfrom it before he drank. Senora Juanita, you will take a little from\nthis shell, and I will then drink to your eyes.\"\n\nJuanita had taken the calabash and had lifted it to her mouth, when\nNina sprang forward and struck it to the floor. The lieutenant looked\nsteadily into the face of the old woman. Her eyes, at first expressing\nfear, then anger, dropped under his gaze. \"I thought so,\" he said,\ncalmly, and left the house without a backward look or another word.\n\nLate that night a subaltern, who had called on Fernandez to carry\na report to headquarters, set off alone in the direction of the\ncity. When half a mile on his way a man suddenly confronted him\nand asked him for a light. He promptly offered his cigar. Puffing\nfiercely the stranger created a glow, and in the shadow behind it he\neagerly scanned the face of the soldier. He then returned the stump,\nsaying, \"Pass on, sir. You are not he I seek. Your cigar has saved\nyour life.\" There was a click, as of a knife thrust into its sheath,\nand the stranger was gone.\n\nFernandez heard of this and drew an inference, but it did not deter\nhim from another visit to the Obeah woman's house next evening. The\nold woman was away. Juanita was there alone. Truly, the girl was fair,\nher eye was merry, she had white teeth and a tempting lip; moreover,\nshe appeared by no means indifferent to the young officer. In ten\nminutes they were talking pleasantly, confidently, and Fernandez held\nthe maiden's hand.\n\nThe hours went by without any one there to take account of them. It\nwas a fair and quiet night, except for the queer and persistent\ncall of some insects that seemed always to be drawing nearer to the\nhouse. Faint now came the sound of the clock in Matanzas striking\ntwelve. As if it were a signal to the dead, shadows appeared about\nthe house of the Obeah woman, creeping, nodding, motioning, moving\ntoward the door. One stood close beside it and struck it twice, loudly,\nwith a metal implement that rang sharply; then it waited. Steps were\nheard inside,--the steps of a man in military boots: Fernandez. There\nwas a swish of steel, too, like a sword whipped out of its scabbard,\nbut almost at the instant when this was heard the door was opened. A\nblow, a faint cry, a fall, a hurry of steps in the grass; then a\nlight. Fernandez held it. A long, agonized scream quavered through\nthe darkness, and Maumee Nina, with blood on her hands, fell prone\non the body of her daughter, her Juanita, lying there on the earth\nwith a knife in her heart.\n\n\n\n\n\nHow Havana Got its Market\n\n\nAmong the Spanish governors of Cuba, some of whom managed by strict\neconomy to save a million dollars out of a salary of forty thousand\ndollars,--men of Weyler's stamp,--it is pleasant to know of one or\ntwo who really had the good of the island at heart. Such was the\nhonest Blanco, and such was Tacon, to whom Havana owes much of its\nbeauty and architectural character. He did what he could to abolish\nbrigandage, which under preceding administrations had become common. He\norganized a force of night watchmen; he dealt with offenders according\nto their deserts, and if at times he was too severe it was because he\nbelieved that a lesson in the impartiality of justice was needed by\ncertain favored classes. He had a Latin's love of the sensational\nand spectacular, though in conduct, rather than in appearance,\nand in these days some of his acts would be set down to a love of\nself-advertising. As they had their effect, those who profited by\nincreased safety could afford to be incurious of reasons. He startled\nthe populace on the very day he landed. Cuba had been overrun with\nbandits, some masquerading as insurgents, while others prowled through\nthe towns cutting throats in the shadow of the church. Cries of \"Stop\nthief!\" and \"Murder!\" were common at midday. More than one hundred\npeople had been stabbed to death before the Chapel of Our Lord of the\nGood Death. Police and soldiery were terrorized, and no man cheerfully\nwent through the side streets after dark. Startling depravity was\ninstanced. Jose Ibarra, a mulatto, had killed seventeen people before\nhe was hanged at the age of seventeen. It was supposed that Tacon\nwould arrive with a flourish of trumpets and would try to impress\nthe public. The Spanish army was represented at the landing-place by\ngenerals and colonels bedizened with bullion and buttons; there were\ntroops with silken flags and glittering sabres and bayonets; there was\na copious exhibit of bunting; society was there in carriages, with\nliveried footmen and outriders; foreign diplomats were in uniform,\nas if to meet royalty, and the clergy had a place of honor. The boat\ntouched the pier. A small man in civilian dress walked smartly to the\nland. He had a riding-whip in his hand,--symbol of his rule: for this\nwas Tacon, and within a month he was to whip crime into its dens and\nmake the capital of Cuba safe. His first order carried consternation\nto the advocates of fuss and feathers. It was to dismiss the parade,\nremove the decorations, send the police to their posts, and declare\nHavana in a state of siege. This was startling, but it gratified\nand assured those who had long begged for an honest and watchful\ngovernment, and had continued not to get it. Crime recognized and\nfeared this master. \"In a little while,\" says a Cuban, \"you could\nhave gone about the streets at any hour of the night with diamonds\nin your open hands and nobody would have touched you, not even the\nSpanish Robert Macaire or Robin Hood, who is remembered bitterly in\nAndalusia,--Diego Corrientes.\" Merchants going to and from the bank\nwith money had formerly been compelled to hire soldiers as guards,\nand when they complained of violence the magistrates had said, \"Go to\nbed at seven, as we do, and you'll have no trouble.\" Thieves bought\ntheir liberty from jailers. Tacon arrested the jailers in that case.\n\nIt does not take long to erect a reputation when it has a basis of\ndesert. An odd modern instance is told in the case of an American\nnewspaper reporter, John C. Klein, who, after ten years of absence,\nwas canonized by the Samoans, among whom he had lived for some years,\nas a hero in battle, a slayer of Germans, and a wizard who closed\nhis own wounds by magic. The gods approved him, and the people in\ntheir trouble prayed for the return of Talaini o le Meleke (Klein,\nthe American) to rescue them. And with Tacon it took hardly longer to\nbecome a sort of national hero. The qualities he showed in reforming,\nbuilding, extending, and protecting Havana were so unusual that the\npeople willingly credited others to him he may not have possessed. He\nhas become legendary already.\n\nTacon, after gathering in two thousand of the riff-raff and putting\nthem at work on roads, piers, and prisons, applied himself with\nspecial energy to the suppression of Marti, the most daring, yet the\nslyest and most cautious of all the robbers in the country. He and\nhis band thought no more of splitting the weasand of a soldier than\ntossing off a glass of brandy, and the people were more than half\nhis friends, because he joined smuggling to his other industries,\nand was therefore able to provide them with many necessities, such\nas wine and bandanas, at a price much lower than they commanded in\nthe shops. Yet the secret agents, the constabulary, and the troops\nbegan to make it perilous for these law-breakers, and General Tacon\nwas hopeful of their speedy capture. On a certain morning he looked\nup abstractedly from some letters he was writing on the case of\nMarti and was astonished to see a burly but well-dressed stranger\nstanding before his desk. \"How in the devil did you get in here, sir,\nunannounced?\" he asked, in some irritation.\n\n\"I come on secret business,\" replied the other, in a lower tone.\n\n\"Ha! About ----\"\n\n\"Exactly. About Marti.\"\n\n\"Speak, then. You will not be overheard. What do you know?\"\n\n\"First, your Excellency, let us understand the situation. There is\na large reward for this man, is there not?\"\n\n\"There is. Capture him and the money is yours. Ah, I see! You wish\nto turn state's evidence. So much the better. You shall be protected.\"\n\n\"But suppose I had been associated with the worst of these men? Suppose\nI had committed crimes? Suppose I had been a leader?\"\n\n\"Even in that case you shall be protected.\"\n\n\"Give me your word, as an officer and a gentleman, that, no matter\nwhat my offences have been, I shall have an official pardon when I\nput you on the track of the outlaws.\"\n\n\"You must earn the pardon. If you know the haunts of the smugglers\nwe shall expect you to pilot us to every one of them.\"\n\n\"I will do it. I am tired of an evil life, tired of hiding, tired of\nfear, tired of hate. I wish to come back and live among men.\"\n\n\"Well spoken. And Marti?\"\n\n\"I shall be pardoned, absolutely, when I bring him here?\"\n\n\"Absolutely. When may we expect him?\"\n\n\"Now.\"\n\n\"Where?\"\n\n\"Here.\"\n\n\"What! To-day? This Marti ----\"\n\n\"You are looking at him.\"\n\nTacon started, and his glance fell on a couple of pistols that\nlay on the desk before him. He always kept them there, primed and\nloaded. Marti smiled, drew from beneath his coat two larger ones,\nhandsomely mounted with silver, and placed them on the desk. \"I am\nthrough with them,\" said he.\n\nTacon looked at him almost with admiration. \"You begin well,\"\nhe admitted, \"and you shall have your pardon. But until you have\nfulfilled your promise and helped us to break up these bands of\nsmugglers and--ah----\"\n\n\"Oh, speak out: Thieves! That is right.\"\n\n\"Well, thieves,--we must keep you under guard.\"\n\n\"I am satisfied; only, let us get to work as soon as possible, and\nhave the business over.\"\n\n\"We will start to-morrow.\"\n\nMarti was placed in a large room in a hotel under watch of the\nconstabulary, but free to order any comfort or luxury he could pay\nfor. On the very next morning he set out with a posse of soldiers and\nvisited all the resorts of his former associates in the vicinity. The\nfellows had evidently suspected something, for they had made off. Their\nhaunts being thus disclosed, however, much of their plunder was\nafterward recovered, and Marti's surrender having left them without\na leader, they retreated to distant provinces, and safety and peace\nwere restored to the island.\n\nIf Marti had any misgivings as to the certainty of his pardon after\nthis exploit, he did not show them. He returned to General Tacon's\noffice as cool and self-possessed as if he were running a boat-load\nof spirits under the noses of the customs officers.\n\n\"You have been true to your part of the agreement,\" said the general,\n\"and I will be to mine. Here is your pardon, signed and sealed, and\nthis is my order on the treasury for the reward for your arrest. Sly\ndog!\"\n\n\"I accept the pardon with gratitude, your Excellency, but I do not need\nthe money. My country is poor. Let her keep it. I am rich. Never mind\nhow I became so. Yet, if I may claim a reward, give me a monopoly of\nthe fisheries on this coast. Havana will not suffer if your generosity\ntakes this form.\"\n\nAnd it did not. He got the fisheries, but he spent his profits freely,\nand one of the first of his benefactions was the construction of\na market that had no superior in beauty and fitness elsewhere in\nthe world.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Justice of Tacon\n\n\nWhen the parades were over, or church was out, or it was near time for\nthe play, one always found a dozen officers and gallants sauntering\ndown the Calle de Comercio, bound for the same place: the tobacco shop\nof Miralda Estalez. In 1835 Miralda was known all over the town as\n\"the pretty cigar girl,\" and it was quite the thing for young sprigs\nof family to lounge against her counter, tell her how charming she\nwas, make her light their cigarettes and sometimes take the first\npuff from their cigars. All this she took with jesting good-nature,\nchaffing all of her customers, commiserating with them in mocking tones\non their fractured hearts, and lamenting the poverty that confined\ntheir purchases to the cheaper brands of her wares. She knew how far\nto allow a compliment to go. If it became too free the smile faded\nfrom her lip, her black eyes flashed, and an angry rose mounted into\nthe clear olive of her cheek.\n\nIf there was one young man who, more than any other, caused these\nangry symptoms to appear it was the Count Almonte. His attentions had\nbecome annoying. She had told him that his flattery was distasteful;\nthat her betrothed was Pedro Mantanez, the boatman, and that they were\nwaiting to be married only until their savings had reached a certain\nfigure. After one of these dismissals of more than usual frankness,\nthe count went to his apartments in town, arrayed himself in his\nuniform of honorary lieutenant of the guards, asked the commandant to\nlet him have an escort of half a dozen men, as he expected trouble\nat his country-place at Cerito, and within an hour or two appeared\nbefore Miralda's little shop. He entered this time with an easy,\nconfident air and an evil smile. \"You must come with me, my beauty,\"\nhe said, trying to chuck her under the chin.\n\n\"Leave my place at once, senor. I have nothing more to say to you.\"\n\n\"Oh, but I have much to say to you; and to begin with, I have a\nwarrant for your arrest.\"\n\n\"Arrest!\"\n\n\"For theft,--the theft of a heart,--my heart.\"\n\n\"Your jokes are always in such wretched taste. Your heart! You never\nhad one.\"\n\n\"Then my duty becomes all the easier. You see this paper? It is an\norder for your arrest. Will you go quietly, or do you prefer to go\nunder guard of a whole company.\"\n\nAstonished, confused, afraid, yet hoping that one of those wretched\npleasantries known as practical jokes would be the upshot of this\nseeming outrage, the girl locked her door, allowed the count to assist\nher into the carriage that was in waiting, and was rapidly driven,\nnot to the jail, not to the forts, not to the police office, but out\nof town--to Cerito. He assisted her to alight, urged her hastily in at\nthe door of a handsome residence, where she was received by a couple\nof servants, and escorted to a large, comfortably furnished apartment,\nwith windows barred after the fashion usual in Spanish houses.\n\n\"This, my pretty one, is your home for the future,\" explained the\ncount, dropping easily upon a divan and lighting a cigar.\n\n\"What place is this?\"\n\n\"It is my house. Ah, but it shall be yours, if only you are kind. It\nis for you to say how long you will be a prisoner.\"\n\n\"But the arrest--the order----\"\n\n\"Ha! ha! Mere sham. I was bound to have you in one way, if I could\nnot get you in another. All's fair in love and war. You made war. I\nmade love.\"\n\nThere was an explosion of wrath, of scorn, of hate; there were tears,\ncries, prayers, threats, promises. Count Almonte merely laughed,\nand left the young woman to weep herself into a state of resignation\nor exhaustion.\n\nMantanez, the boatman, learned before long that the shop was closed,\nand naturally fearing that Miralda had been taken ill, he hurried\naround to make inquiry. What he heard was disquieting enough, but he\ncould not, would not believe it, until he had gone to Cerito to see\nfor himself. In the gown of a monk he gained access to the grounds,\nand walked slowly by, singing the verse of a song that Miralda liked,\nmeanwhile scanning the windows closely. His heart gave a leap, and then\nsank miserably low, for his love appeared behind the bars of an upper\nwindow. She stretched her hands to him appealingly, told him in a few\nhalf-whispered words the story of her abduction, implored him to hurry\nback to town, put the case before General Tacon and demand justice.\n\nMantanez did so. The tale was so unusual that the general made him\nswear to the truth of it on his knees before the crucifix. Then he\nsent for the count and ordered him to bring the girl with him. In\ntwo hours they were at the palace. The general looked searchingly at\nAlmonte. \"It is a strange charge that has been brought against you,\ncount,\" said he, \"that of stealing a woman in open day, taking her\nto your house and keeping her under lock and key.\"\n\n\"The young woman has been well treated, general.\"\n\n\"You arrested her?\"\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"In our uniform?\"\n\n\"It was the only way. I loved her.\"\n\n\"You still love her?\"\n\n\"To distraction.\"\n\n\"Humph! We shall see. Orderly, send a priest to me, and tell him to\ncome prepared to perform a marriage ceremony.\"\n\nTacon was sphinx-like, and busied himself with his papers. The count\nwas puzzled, yet smiling, and disposed to be incredulous. The girl\nand her lover wore looks of doubt and fear. The priest arrived.\n\n\"Father,\" said Tacon, \"you will make the Count Almonte and Miralda\nEstalez man and wife.\"\n\n\"Impossible!\" exclaimed the count.\n\n\"You have just said that you loved her.\"\n\n\"But, your Excellency, you seem to forget that she is but a girl of\nthe people. I have to remind you that I am of the Spanish nobility;\nthat my ancestors--\"\n\n\"Tush, tush! What have your ancestors to do here? You have ruined\nthe girl, and you shall make amends, here and now.\"\n\nMiralda clasped her hands in a passion of entreaty, and her betrothed,\nthe boatman, sank upon a bench, overcome with despair.\n\n\"I am sorry for you,\" continued Tacon, \"but there is no other\nway. Proceed with the ceremony.\"\n\nKnowing Tacon to be inflexible, and with a wholesome dread of\npunishment in case of refusal, the young rake finally expressed his\nwillingness to yield to the command, and with a freckled trooper\nfor bridesmaid, and another for groomsman, the marriage rites were\nsaid. While the priest was speaking Tacon had written a note which he\ngave to an orderly, instructing him to deliver it to the captain of\nthe guard. After the nobleman, flushed and trembling with anger, and\nthe half-fainting girl had been pronounced man and wife, the boatman\nmeanwhile abandoning himself to a frenzy of tears, Tacon said to the\ncount, \"Your wife will remain here for the present. It is my order\nthat you return to your country-house alone. You will depart at once.\"\n\nWith blazing eye, widened nostril, and hard-set jaw, Count Almonte\nleft the room without any recognition of his bride, without the\nusual acknowledgment of the governor-general's presence. Tacon bade\nthe young woman be seated, and told Mantanez also to remain, as he\nwished to speak with them after a time. Ten minutes passed. Some\nguns were heard at a distance. In ten minutes more an officer hastily\nentered the room. Tacon looked up from his writing. \"Report, captain,\"\nhe commanded.\n\n\"I have to inform your Excellency that your orders have been\nobeyed. The Count Almonte lies dead with nine bullets in his body.\"\n\nThe general arose, took the hand of the young woman and placed it in\nthat of the boatman. \"Countess,\" he said, \"you are the widow of a rich\nman. You are sole heir to the estate of the late Count Almonte. As\nto you, sir, I presume you have no objection to wedding a lady so\nwell provided with this world's goods. Adieu, Madame Countess, and\nmay your second marriage be happier than your first.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Cited\n\n\nDid Alonzo Morelos begrudge liberty or happiness to Felipe\nGuayos? Surely the life of a Havanese artisan could have mattered\nlittle to a prosperous lawyer. Politics may have set the big man's\nenmity against the little one, or it may possibly have been that more\nadvanced form of politics that is called patriotism. It was a good\ntime for a man to refrain from airing his opinions, unless they were\northodox, for the revolution of 1829 had just been declared. If Guayos\nwas a party to this rising he was an indifferent and inactive one,\nor else he kept his counsel wondrous well. His acquaintances testified\nthat he was industrious,--that is, he practised what in Havana passed\nfor industry,--was fond of his wife, cared little for cock-fighting\nor the bull-ring, was of placid demeanor, and was altogether the sort\nof man who could be relied on _not_ to attend secret meetings or lose\nvalued sleep by drilling in hot barns or chigger-infested clearings\nin the woods. Yet it was on Morelos's oath that this obscure citizen\nwas arrested.\n\nThe tongues clacked up and down the by-ways: What was the rich\nman's interest in the poor one? the professional man's in the\nmechanic? the man of society in the man unknown? Then it was true,\neh? that the mulatto (for Guayos was a \"yellow man\") had spoken\nto the lawyer familiarly in the street in presence of ladies and\nofficers? Maybe. The laundress at the second house down the street had\nsaid so, but, fie! it was only on a matter of business. Tut! Business\nwas no excuse, considering that Don Alonzo was of Spanish parentage,\nwhile the other had been nothing but a Cuban for two centuries. To\nforget this breach or try to bridge it, to presume on the tolerance of\nan occasional employer, unless one were a slave or a servant and used\nto indulgence--that was not to be forgiven. A rumor that travelled\nmore quietly was that Morelos himself was a revolutionary and had\ncaused this arrest as a blind, or in order to silence a tongue that\nmight speak damage. A third rumor, that went in a whisper, and so went\nfarther than the others, said that the yellow man had a pretty wife,\nand that the lawyer had been seen to call at the little house in the\nmaster's absence. This tale seemed to be doubted, for the wife of the\nbutcher gave it as her opinion that the Senora Guayos was too rusty\nof complexion to be pleasing, and the Senor Morelos was so faultless\nin his appearance and his taste; the club steward's unmarried sister\ndeclared the senora's manners to be rustic and her voice loud; the\nwoman in the carpenter's family would lend no ear to such a scandal\nbecause the subject of it was dumpy, shapeless, and dressed absurdly,\neven for the wife of a stonemason. Howbeit, the little woman was now in\ngrief, for her husband lay in jail awaiting trial on the gravest charge\nthat could be brought against a Cuban,--the charge of treason. In\nthat day, as on many sad days that were to follow, to be charged with\ndisaffection toward the crown was virtually to be sentenced to death.\n\nCuban law was at least as tardy and involved as any, but on the day\nwhen they tried Guayos it was strangely brisk. The stifling, unclean\ncourt-room was crowded, but of all the company none seemed to feel so\nlittle concern in the proceedings as the accused man himself. Through\nan open window he saw a couple of palms swinging softly against the sky\nin the warm wind. The trees appeared to pacify, to fascinate him. They\nwere his realities, and the goggling throng, the judge, the officers,\nwere visions. Often when his name was spoken by a witness or examiner\nhe would look around with a start, then fall into his dreams again. His\ncase was traversed without waste of words. Evidence was adduced to\nprove that he had once owned a gun, had attended a certain meeting,\nhad carried letters to such and such persons, had spoken equivocal\nphrases, had been seen to lift his nose in passing certain men, had\nadmitted a suspect to his house at night. He was declared guilty. The\ncelerity in reaching this verdict led his friends to believe that it\nhad been agreed upon in advance.\n\nDuring the last hour of the trial Guayos had aroused from his revery,\nhad turned from the window, and had fixed his eyes steadily on Morelos,\nwho was seated among the lawyers in the centre of the room. Morelos\nreturned the gaze calmly for a time; then he frowned and turned the\npages of a law-book. After a little he moistened his lips with his\ntongue, took a studied attitude of listlessness, and showed signs of\nweariness and boredom. He did not look at the prisoner again until\nthe verdict had been given.\n\nWhen the chief judge put the usual question as to whether the convicted\nman had anything to say why death-sentence should not be passed upon\nhim, Guayos arose, his face pale but fixed in a stony calm. Looking\nat neither judge nor audience, but straight at his accuser, with eyes\nthat were no longer the eyes that had dreamed upon the palms, so great\nand black they were and searching, he said, in a clear, tense voice,\n\"I go to my death. It is useless to speak, for you have condemned\nme. But I cite you, Don Alonzo Morelos, to appear beside me at the bar\nof God, one year from my death-day, and testify how I came to my end.\"\n\nThere was a moment of silence; then moans and murmurs in the crowd. The\nlawyer was white, as with wrath. The judges gestured to the officers\nand left the bench. The court was cleared. As he was led away,\nGuayos looked once more at the palms, and half smiled as a breath of\nfreshened air came in at the window. Palms! Where had he been told of\nthem? What did they mean? Had they not somewhere, in some far land,\nbeen waved in victory when One innocent was about to suffer? Were\nnot palms awarded in another world to the meek and the honest who\nhad been despitefully used in this?\n\nLast to leave the room was Morelos. He had remained, seated at a\ntable, biting a pen, fingering some papers, gazing abstractedly at\nthe vacant bench. The whoop of a barefooted, black-faced urchin in\nthe corridor roused him. With a scowl and a shrug he slowly resumed\nhis hat and went to his home by a roundabout way.\n\nPriests called daily at the prison. Guayos made no appeal, asked for\nno delay. The loyalists were clamoring for an example that should\nstay the revolution. In a week the condemned man was hanged. An\nodd thing happened at the execution: the rope had slipped a little,\nand the knot, working toward the front, had left an impress there\nafter the body was cut down, as of two crossed fingers. The friends\nof Guayos held this to be a sign of grace.\n\nNow, if there were any in the world to pray for the peace of a human\nsoul, it was not the soul of Guayos that asked it. He had affirmed his\ninnocence to the end, had been shrived, had gone to the gallows with\na dauntless tread, and there were palm branches on his coffin. But\nthe lawyer? In a month after the trial white hairs appeared among\nhis locks, hitherto as black as coal. He grew gray and dry in his\ncomplexion, his shoulders began to stoop, his eyes lost their clearness\nand boldness, his mouth was no longer firm. Often he wore a harried,\nhunted look. Yet they said he was growing softer in his humor, that\nhe oftener went to church, that he gave more for charity than other\nmen of his means, and that if the widow Guayos did not know from whom\nthe five hundred pesetas came that a messenger left at her home one\nnight the neighbors pretended to. Don Morelos became an object of a\nwider interest than he knew. Even the boys in the street would point\nas he passed, with head bent and hands clasped behind his back, and\nwhisper, \"There goes El Citado\" (the cited), and among the commoners\nhe was known as well by that name as by the one his parents had given\nto him. But he appeared less and less in public. He began to neglect\nhis practice; he resigned from his club; he avoided the company of\nhis former associates, taking his walks at night alone, even though\nthe sky was moonless, storms were threatening, and the cut-throat crew\nwere abroad that made life at some hours and in some quarters of the\ncity not of a pin's fee in value. His housekeeper told a neighbor\nthat on some nights he paced the floor till dawn, and that now and\nagain he would mutter to himself and appear to strike something. Was\nhe smiting his own heart?\n\nBefore long it was rumored, likewise, that the grave of Guayos was\nhaunted, or worse, for a black figure had been seen, on some of the\ndarkest nights, squatted or kneeling before his tomb. It was remarkable\nthat this revolutionist should have had a burial-place of his own,\nwhen all his relatives and a majority of the people in his station\nwere interred in rented graves, and their bones thrown into the common\nditch if the rent were not paid at the end of the second year. Certain\nold women affirmed that this watching, waiting figure in the dark had\nhorns and green eyes, like a cat's, while other people said that it\nwas merely the form of a man, taller, thinner, more bent than Guayos;\ntherefore not his ghost. But what man?\n\nThe anniversary of the hanging had come. The small hours of the\nmorning were tolling, heavily, slowly, over the roofs of the sleeping\ncity. Sleeping? There was one who had no rest that night. An upper\nwindow of the house of Morelos looked out upon a court in which two\npalm trees grew. They had been tall and flourishing. One might see\nthem from the court-room. But for a year they had been shedding their\nleaflets and turning sere. Tonight their yellow stems had clashed and\nwhispered until the wind was down, leaving the night sullen, brooding,\nthick, starless, with dashes of rain and a raw chill on the ground that\nbrought out all the malefic odors of the pavement. The window on the\nside toward the court was closed and curtained. The one overlooking\nthe street was slightly open, and if the night-bird prowling toward\nthe den he called his home had looked up, or had listened, he would\nhave seen the glimmer of a candle and heard the eager scratching of\na pen and rustling of papers. For an hour in the first half of the\nnight Morelos had been walking about his chamber. At about three in\nthe morning the housekeeper, whose room was at the opposite end of a\ncorridor from her master's, found herself sitting upright in bed. She\ndid not know why. Nobody had called to her. Listening intently, as if\nshe knew that somebody was about to speak, she distinguished a faint\nsound of crumpling paper. A chair was moved hastily, and there was a\ncry in a strained voice, \"No, no! My God!\" Then the house shook. She\nbolted her door and prayed. In the morning twilight Don Alonzo Morelos\nlay very still on the floor of his chamber, with a mark on his throat\nlike that made by the pressure of two crossed fingers.\n\nThe citation had been obeyed!\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Virgin's Diamond\n\n\nMiguel Jose was a loving and dutiful son, but he could help the old\nfolks only a little. He had a heartache every time a letter came\nfrom Leon, for he knew it held a request for money, and a private's\npay, which at best is small, is frequently nothing in a Spanish\nregiment. Young Miguel had been on service in Havana for a couple of\nyears, and his parents had been growing steadily poorer. He could\nhardly buy cigarettes. First it was a pig that was wanted at home;\nthen a better roof on the cottage; then a contribution for a new\naltar in the village church; finally it was illness, and his mother\nneeded medicines and delicacies. How could he get money? The paymaster\nhad received none in months, he said, and even the officers were in\ndebt. His fellow-soldiers? No; they were as poorly off as he,--so he\ncould not borrow. He could not steal in the streets, for his uniform\nwould betray him. He was not allowed to accept work from civilians,\nfor that was against the army regulations. After dress-parade one\nevening he went to a lonely place behind the barracks and cried. Then,\nhaving leave of absence, he went to one of the churches and knelt for\na long time before the Virgin's shrine, imploring her, with moans and\ntears, to give him some means of relieving his mother's distress. She\nwas a mother. She would understand. She would pity the sufferings\nof others. There was no answer. He left the dark and empty building\ntired and disheartened.\n\nNext evening he returned, and for an hour and more he begged the\nVirgin to bestow some material mercy on his mother. Looking up he was\nstartled, though delighted, to see that the statue of Mary was rolling\nits glass eyes upon him, and tears stood in them. He bent to the floor,\novercome by his emotions. Then a light step sounded over the stones,\nand, behold! the Virgin had left her pedestal and was regarding him\nwith kindness and pity in her face. Slowly she extended her hand. He\ngazed with new astonishment, for this was the right hand, bearing\nthe famous diamond which had been placed upon it some years before\nby a pious resident of Havana. It could not be that she intended\nthis treasure for him! Yes, she smiled and nodded assuringly. With\ntrembling fingers he withdrew the jewel, kissed the outreached hand,\nstammered his thanks, and, hardly waiting till she had remounted her\npedestal, ran from the church.\n\nThere was in the city at that time one Senor Hyman Izaaks, whose\nbusiness--which a cruel law required him to follow in secret--was the\nrelief of pecuniary embarrassments, on security, and our soldier went\nstraightway to the office of that philanthropist, arriving breathless\nbut happy. Senor Izaaks advanced a larger sum on the diamond than\nJose had dared to hope for. He wrote a hasty letter, enclosing the\nbanknotes, and mailed it to his parents on that very night.\n\nNext morning the sacristan of the church, who was making his\nrounds and placing fresh candles on the altar, received a shock. The\nVirgin's diamond was gone! The priests, the bishop, the governor, the\ngeneral, the police were notified, and there was a mighty coil. What\nsacrilegious wretch had done this thing? Miguel had been seen to enter\nthe church on the previous night; therefore suspicion attached to\nhim. He was arrested and charged with the crime. To the astonishment\nof all, he made no secret of it, though he protested against the word\n\"theft.\" He was proud to have been the recipient of kindness from\nheaven, and he related, frankly and circumstantially, how he had\nappealed to the Virgin, for what good purpose, how she had answered,\nhow Senor Izaaks had taken the stone and given him money for it. A\nmilitary court was ordered to try him, but it was puzzled to know\nwhat to do with him. If the fellow were a common thief he deserved\nmore than prison: he merited the gallows and a quicklime burial,\nfor he had added sacrilege to robbery. But if he were a thief, why\ndid he confess so freely, and even glory in his sin? Then, too, if\nit were the wish of the Virgin that he should receive this gift, by\nwhat right did any civic or military body interfere, for would it not\nbe blasphemy to doubt or deny the designs of Providence? Was not the\naccused soldier under the acknowledged protection of the Virgin? Would\nshe not visit with indignation, if she did not vigorously punish,\nthe attempt to set aside her benefits?\n\nTruly, here was a pickle! The confession of the accused man had\nenabled the police to secure the diamond,--which they did without any\nformalities of payment to Senor Izaaks, to his unbounded grief,--and\nthe ring being restored to the finger of the statue, and the money\nbeing on its way across the sea, and the soldier being entitled to\nsome part of it as back-pay, the court-martial at length resolved to\nrelease Miguel Jose from arrest. It did so with the historic finding of\n\"Not guilty, but don't do it again.\"\n\n\n\n\n\nA Spanish Holofernes\n\n\nWhile it has been the fate of women in the Spanish islands to suffer\neven more than their husbands and brothers from severity and injustice,\ninstances are not lacking in which they have shown an equal spirit\nwith the men. In the insurrections a few of them openly took the\nfield, and the Maid of Las Tunas is remembered,--a Cuban Joan of Arc,\nwho rode at the head of the rebel troops, battled as stoutly as the\nveterans, and was of special service as scout and spy. Three times\nshe fell into the hands of the Spaniards. Twice she coaxed her way\nto freedom. The third time the governor gave her to a crowd of brutal\nsoldiers, who afterward burned her alive.\n\nQuite another sort of woman was Nina Diaz, whom Weyler intended to\ncompliment when he said she was the only loyal Cuban, and who is hated\nby all other Cubans as a fiend. Her love for a Spanish captain was\ncleverly played upon by Weyler, who induced her to become his spy. She\nbegged contributions for the insurgents. Of course, those who gave\nwere in sympathy with the insurrection, so that all she had to do was\nto place her list of subscribers in the hands of Weyler, who promptly\nshot or imprisoned them, or herded them among the reconcentrados to\ndie of starvation. When the Cubans caught her she said that she had\na father and a brother in their ranks,--which was true,--and was on\nher way to them. Where could they be found? They told her and set\nher free, and in the morning the Spanish troops were on the march to\ntheir hiding-place.\n\nIt is pleasanter to read of Spanish women serving their own cause\nthan of Cuban women who betrayed their country, and the Spanish dames\nhave often shown as much grit and pride as the dons. Pauline Macias\nis alleged to have led the soldiers back to their guns in San Juan\nde Puerto Rico after they had run from Sampson's shells. She seized\na sword from an officer, beat the runaways with it, roused them by\npleas and commands, and kept them at their work until their pieces\nwere disabled or the ammunition had given out.\n\nIn the tradition of an earlier and slighter war the heroine is a\nwoman of still different type. Isabella, wife of the Doctor Diaz, was\noften called \"the queen\" in Bayamo, not merely because of her name,\nbut because of her piety, her charities, her beauty, and her dignified\nbearing. She was young, well reared, distinguished, and her home was a\ncentre for the best society of the town. Among those who felt free to\ncall without invitation were several of the officers of the garrison,\nmost of them models in deportment and dress, and of sufficient breeding\nto refrain from allusion to politics; for the Diazes, though Spanish\nby only one remove, were avowedly Cuban in their sympathies, and the\nrevolution was fast coming to a focus. It was understood, however,\nthat Doctor Diaz would remain a non-combatant, for the duty he owed\nto suffering humanity was higher than the duty his friends tried to\npersuade him he owed to his country. Hence, the physician and his\nwife would be under the white flag, it was supposed, and if remarks\nwere made as to their share in the approaching hostilities, it was\nalways with a frank and laughing admission on their part and a jest\non that of the accusers.\n\nAmong all the men in the garrison but one was actually disliked by\nthe young practitioner and his wife. Captain Ramon Gonzales had been\nquartered upon them once for a week in an emergency, and his removal\nto another household had been asked for. It was not that he lacked\nmanners or was obviously disrespectful, but his compliments to the\nlady of the house were something too frequent, his regard of her too\nadmiring, his air toward the doctor that of the soldier and superior,\nrather than the friend. Senora Diaz never saw him alone, never invited\nhim to call. He disappeared one afternoon, and it was understood that\nhe had received a summons to return to Havana.\n\nThe rising came at last. Fires glimmered on the hills, bodies of men\nassembled in the woods, the drumming and brawling of troops were heard\nin hitherto quiet villages, and prayers for the success of the Cuban\narms were offered in a hundred churches. But not all the women were\ncontent to pray. They were helping to arm their husbands, brothers,\nsweethearts, sons; they worked together in assembling supplies,\nhospital stores, clothing, and even in casting bullets.\n\nOne or two nights after the first blow had been struck there came\na loud summons at the door of Doctor Diaz. Thinking it a call for\nhis services, he stepped into the dark street, when he was seized,\nhandcuffed, placed between two lines of soldiers, and marched away\nto prison. The despairing cry of his wife, as she peered from the\nopen door and saw this arrest, was the only farewell. He never heard\nher voice again. He was shot a few days later as an enemy to Spain,\nthe specific charge against him being that of \"aiding and sheltering\"\na rebel, the said rebel being a feeble-minded youth, a \"moon-struck,\"\nto whom, as a matter of charity, he had given occasional work in\nweeding his garden. On the night after Doctor Diaz's arrest his\nwife was requested by a messenger to go quickly to a small house\non the edge of the town to meet one who might secure his release,\nbut wished to consult with her as to the means. Hastily wrapping a\nmantilla about her, she followed the messenger to the street; then,\nas acting under sudden impulse, left him waiting for a moment, while\nshe returned to bolt a door. In that moment, unseen by the messenger,\nshe slipped a sheathed stiletto into the bosom of her dress.\n\nThe house was a ramshackle cottage, with a damp and moldy air pervading\nit within and without. The negro messenger opened the door without\nknocking, held it open while she passed in, then abruptly closed it\nand turned a key on the outside. The woman was trapped. In a minute\nvoices were heard in the street; that of the messenger, and one that\nshe knew better,--and worse,--the voice of Captain Gonzales.\n\nThe situation flashed upon her. Her husband had been falsely\ncharged. She had been lured to this place, and would leave it dead or\ndishonored. The walls of the cabin swam before her, and she had nearly\nfallen when the sound of the key in the lock aroused her. A fierce\nchill shook her frame. She held to a table for support. A tumult of\nthought possessed her, but as the door swung open it quieted to a\nsingle idea: hardly a thought: a purpose.\n\nIn the light of the single candle that stood on the table she saw\nCaptain Gonzales enter. He had been at the wine. His eyes were heavy,\nhis cheeks a dusky red, his mouth was more sensual, his jaw more\ncruel than ever. He stepped inside and locked the door. \"Your pardon,\nsenora, for these strong measures,\" he said, in a thick tone. \"I\nam a victim of love and hate. Your hus--another--has hated me. Your\nhusband is--is--likely to be absent for some time. You will require\na protector. I have the honor to offer myself. I throw myself at the\nfeet of the loveliest lady in Cuba. I tell her of the love that for\nthe past year has turned my life to torture. I will be her companion,\nher adorer, only--ha! You smile! It is not possible you care for\nme? It is joy too great. Senora! Isabella! Can it be?\"\n\n\"And you never suspected it before?\"\n\nThe face was white, the lips twitched, but the smile remained. The\nwoman cast down her eyes--what star-bright eyes they were!--then\nslowly opened her arms. With a roaring laugh Gonzales strode across\nthe room. The laugh changed to a gurgling cry as he placed his hands\nupon her waist. His hand went to his sword, but fumbled; his knees\nshook; then he fell backward at full length, with his heart's blood\npulsating from a dagger-wound. The wife of Doctor Diaz picked up the\nkey that had fallen from his fingers, unlocked the door, and returned\nto her home alone.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Courteous Battle\n\n\nIn the bay where more than three and a half centuries later the Spanish\nfleet was to be destroyed the don once fought the enemy with different\nresult. It was in 1538, in the harbor of Santiago de Cuba, that the\nbattle occurred,--Santiago of sad memory, with its shambles, where\ninsurgents were shot by platoons; with its landings, where slaves were\nunloaded at night and marched thence to the plantations, like mules and\ncattle; with its Morro, connected by wells and traps with caves in the\nrock beneath, where bodies of men mysteriously done to death slipped\naway on the tide. A French privateer had appeared before the town,\ndemanding ransom or surrender. Luckily for Santiago, a Spanish caravel\nhad arrived a few days before, under command of Captain Diego Perez,\nand this gallant sailor offered to go out and defend the town. His\nship was attacked as soon as it came within range of the enemy's guns,\nand, turning so as to deliver an effective fire, he gave as good as\nhe got. All that day the people of the town heard the pounding of\nthe brass pieces and saw the smudge of powder against the blue to\nthe south, yet at the fall of evening little damage had been done:\nthe ships lay too far apart, and the aim on both sides was ridiculous.\n\nEach commander had seen enough of his adversary to respect him,\nhowever, and moved by a common impulse they raised white flags,\ndeclared for a cessation of hostilities through the night, and every\nnight, so long as they should continue to oppose one another. Then\nfollowed an exchange of fruit and wine, of which both crews were in\nneed, and, confident in the honor of their enemies, all hands slept\nas tired men usually sleep. Said the Spanish captain to the French\ncommander in the morning, \"Artillery is a cowardly and abominable\ninvention. It is desired to hurt a foe while those who serve it run\nno risk. How say you if we put the tompions back into our cannon and\nfight, as chivalric men should ever fight, with sword and pike?\"\n\nTo this the Frenchman gave willing consent, and, the ships ranging\nnear, the battle reopened, after prayers and breakfast, to some\npurpose. With cries of \"Santo Iago!\" the Spanish tried to board the\npirate ship, but could not secure a footing. Blows were exchanged\nthroughout the day, save when one ship or the other drew off, that\nthe wounded might have attention, and the dying prayers, for much\nblood was shed and several lost their lives. At the end of the day\nboth commanders declared their admiration for the skill and courage\nof their opponents, and again gave presents of fruit and wine as they\nstopped work until the morrow. Perez sent ashore that night to tell\nthe people of Santiago that fighting was an exhausting business,\nand to some extent a risky one, and would they kindly send a few\nable-bodied fellows to replace the dead and disabled on his ship?\n\nThe response to this call was so meagre that he began to mistrust\nhis countrymen, and he asked if, in case he lost his ship, the town\nwould reimburse him, considering that he was risking his all in\ntheir defence. After much debate the townsmen replied, through their\nofficials, that they were not in a position to make good his loss,\nbut they trusted that such a calamity would not be possible; that he\nwould maintain a stout heart and fight on to prove the superiority\nof Spanish valor to French craft; that the blessed Santo Iago would\nwatch over him and his gallant crew; that their best wishes were\nwith him, and that his kindness would never, never be forgotten. A\ntrifle disheartened, Captain Perez nevertheless resumed the fight\non the next day, and again on the fourth day, and after the usual\nexchange of courtesies at evening, he told the privateer on the fifth\nday that he would encounter with him as usual. The persistence of the\nSpaniard in thus holding out against seeming odds--for the Frenchman\nhad the larger crew--set the privateer to thinking, and a sudden\nfear arose within him that Spanish reinforcements were on their\nway, and that Perez was merely fighting for time until they should\narrive. This fear grew until it became belief, though a baseless one,\nand, hoisting sail as quietly as possible, he stole out of Santiago\nBay on the fourth night after hostilities had opened. As thanks are\ncheap, Perez received a good many of them.\n\n\n\n\n\nWhy King Congo was Late\n\n\nAs in all the Spanish Americas, there were churchly feasts and\ncelebrations in Cuba whose origin has been forgot. Why did the\nslaves serenade their masters on New Year morning, jingling huge\ntambourines, and in the villages how came it to be thought that the\ncause of righteousness was advanced by parades and music on saints'\ndays? Hatred of the Jews was an inheritance rather than an experience,\nand for lack of Jews to prove it upon there was an annual display\nof wrath at Judas, who was represented by a grotesque effigy made\nup of straw, old clothes, and a mask. In the cities this figure was\nmerely called The Jew, and after being carried through the streets\nwith revilings, on the day after Good Friday, it was hanged in some\nconspicuous place and there stoned and shot by the crowd.\n\nIn Santiago there used to be a queer celebration on the 6th of\nJanuary, \"the day of the kings,\" or \"All Kings' day,\" meaning the\nkings who journeyed to Bethlehem to worship the new-born Christ. In\ntime this function lost its dignity and became a sport, a gasconade,\nin which the slaves attired themselves extravagantly and paraded about,\nbegging, blowing horns, beating drums, and bandying jokes with the\nspectators. In the days of King Congo the procession had some claim\nto show and importance, if only because he was at the head of it,\nfor he had, in ways known only to himself, come into possession of\nthe chapeau of a captain-general, a lieutenant's coat, one epaulette,\na pair of blue breeches, and a belt; hence, attired in all these\ngrandeurs at once, and mounted on a mule, he looked every inch the king\nhe said he was. For, albeit, he had been a slave, he claimed an African\nking as his father, and as that parent was dead, for aught he could\ncertify to the contrary, the title, if not the crown and emoluments,\ndescended to him; leastwise, nobody on this side of the sea could\ndispute it; and he bore it with conscious dignity. His family name,\nif he had one, has been lost, and it is as King Congo that he was\nknown. That his royalty was genuine the other negroes never doubted,\nand to parade on the day of the kings without a real king of their\nown color to marshal the procession was not to be thought of.\n\nEl Rey Congo was aware of his power and of the impression he made on\nthe humbler residents of Santiago. Every now and then he heightened his\nsuperiority to common clay by appearing in public in a starched collar,\nlooking over the top of it with an assumption of pride and ease, as\nof one born to such luxury, but in reality chafing his neck against\nits ragged edges and longing to be in the fields, where he would not\nneed to be spectacular. One year the day of the kings dawned without a\ncloud, and Santiago was in a holiday humor. Everybody who had work to\ndo postponed it till to-morrow, as if All Kings' Day were like every\nother day; for the procession that year was to be extra large and\nfine. King Congo was to ride with spurs, though barefooted, and was\nto have a military guard of four men. The band had been increased,\nespecially in the drum department, and the ladies, who would have\nfigured in the king's court if he had had a court, were turbaned\nin new bandanas of red and yellow. The clergy and officers of the\ngarrison had promised to review the parade, and the cooper, down by\nthe custom-house, suggested that he'd better put a few hoops around\nKing Congo to keep his swelling heart from cracking his ribs.\n\nA long trumpet-call from the square announced the hour for assembly,\nand all eyes turned toward the street through which the king had been\nused to make his entry. He did not come. Tardiness is a privilege\nof kings. It proves them superior to the obligations laid upon the\nvulgar herd. Beside, what is an hour in a manana country? But as\nthe hour went by and the king kept refraining from his arrival, some\npresuming subjects went to look him up, and after much inquiry and\npedestrian exercise they found the sovereign in jail. His Majesty\nexplained that he had been arrested for debt a few days before,\nand that because of a shortage in the paltry coin of a white man's\nstate--a wretched matter of $4.15--he was doomed to remain behind\nthe bars, perhaps forever. The messengers ran back to the square,\nmade an excited appeal to the populace, scratched the required sum\ntogether in penny subscriptions, paid the innkeeper every centavo\nthat the king owed him, woke up the sheriff and the magistrate,\nand before noon King Congo was a free man, in the same old uniform,\nriding the same old mule, and stiffly bowing to the admiring populace\nas he passed. The parade was a great success. So was the scheme\nconceived that morning by el Rey Congo; for, every year thereafter,\nthree or four days before the festival of the adoration, he laid in\nsupplies of rum and cigars, with even a new hat or a second-hand\nmedal, and after getting the goods safely bestowed in his cabin,\ndefied his creditors to collect their pay. The shopkeepers winked at\nthis device, and regularly sent him to jail, for they knew that on the\n6th of January their royal customer would pay, though by proxy. And\nthat is more than you can say of some kings. Isn't it?\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Chase of Taito Perico\n\n\nIn 1779 the Bishop of Havana took into his household as servants,\nand into the cathedral as altar-boys, three harum-scarum Indians, then\nsaid to have come from Florida, now believed to have been of Mexican\norigin, though there were not wanting citizens who solemnly declared\nthat the trio had come from a warmer place than any on the surface of\nthis planet. The object in the bishop's mind was to Christianize the\nscapegraces and turn them loose among their own people, that they, too,\nmight be made to see the light. The poor old clergyman little knew with\nwhom he had to deal. When the astonishment of the youngsters at the\nglories of Havana had subsided, and even a regiment with a band could\nparade without their company, the Indian in them asserted itself once\nmore, and they grieved the bishop by playing hookey, shirking mass,\nrunning off to the mountains on hunting trips, and once, when he went\nout in his night-cap to inquire the cause of a rumpus in his yard,\nthey tripped him up and circled around and around, whooping like\ndemons while he was trying to regain his feet and apply his cane.\n\nAt last they upset, not the clergy but the laws. Their offence was\nnot grave, being rather a result of high spirits than of malice, but\nit brought the constabulary upon them and they were carried to the\narsenal to work out the term of their imprisonment at loading ships\nand other heavy, uncongenial labor. Not many days had passed here\nbefore a chance offered for their escape, and they seized upon it,\nvanishing under the noses of the guard--at least, that was the way\nthe guard reported it--like shadows before the sun. In fact, from\nthat hour they were looked upon as a bit uncanny. The three lads\nfound a hiding-place in the Falaco vegas, among a vagrom populace\nof brigands, runaway slaves, and wreckers, and there for several\nweeks they supported themselves by hunting, fishing, gambling, even\nworking a little when sore pressed. Better if they had been left\nalone to live out their lives there. If useless, they at least were\nharmless. But, no; the majesty of the law again asserted itself. They\nwere caught by a company of soldiers and marched back to Havana. Their\nprotector and friend, the bishop, was dead. Again they were laden with\nchains and returned to the arsenal to work out some months of penal\nservitude. Their natures seemed to change in a day. To them Spaniards\nand Cubans now stood for tyranny and injustice. They did not understand\ntheir imprisonment as a correction: it was an act of oppression, and\nhow were they to know that it would not last for the remainder of their\nlives? Every waking moment from the time of their second arrest they\ngave to plots for liberty and vengeance. The escape came presently. It\nseemed as if walls and bars were not made that could restrain them.\n\nTwo days after this last escape the country-side was stirred with\nhorror, for just before dawn a hamlet near Guanes was burned, and\nwhen the neighbors, attracted by the flame and smoke seen above the\ntree-tops, arrived on the ground they found the gashed bodies of the\ninhabitants lying about on the gore-sodden earth. The quickness, the\nsecrecy of the act were terrifying. All sorts of fantastic reports\nwere spread about the province, especially after the massacre and\nthe burning had been repeated in a second village--and a third--and\na fourth. The vega was in a panic. The people went from place to\nplace only in armed bands. The Vuelta Abajo was completely cowed, and\nsentries patrolled every settlement. It was reported that the murders\nhad been committed by three giants who cut down men, horses, and cattle\nas they stalked across the country, and whose weapons were charmed,\nso that they always struck a vital spot, no matter how carelessly\nthey were aimed. The three monsters were of vast strength and horrible\ncountenance; they climbed tall cliffs as cats climb fences, and leaped\nchasms fifty feet across as other men skip over gutters.\n\nA cave near Cape San Antonio that the aborigines had chambered for\ntombs was their reputed hiding-place, where they also worshipped\ntheir master, Satan, with fantastic ceremonies, and sacrificed in his\nhonor the best of the cattle, sheep, and horses they captured on their\nraids. And the utter helplessness of the Spanish authorities gave a\ncertain color to these rumors, for the giants snapped their fingers\nat their pursuers and went on killing, looting, burning, running off\nstock, always appearing in unexpected places and disappearing like\nmists at sunrise. Thus, two and a half years went by, and the offer of\nfive thousand dollars each for the heads of the devil-brigands had come\nto nothing. Finally the Havana authorities were prayed and pestered\ninto a spell of activity. They organized a troop of one hundred and\nfifty men and sixty dogs, put twenty officers at the head, and sent\nalong four chaplains to pray the evil charms away. The three savages\nwere cornered on a mountain, where two of them were killed after they\nhad inflicted many hurts on their pursuers. The heads of these two\nwere lopped, forwarded to the capital, and every one supposed that\nthe reign of terror was at an end.\n\nBut, as if the strength of the slain ones had passed into his arm,\nthe third man, Taito Perico, who had escaped during the fight, became\na greater scourge than ever. He was fury incarnate, and so sudden\nwere his visitations, so quick and deadly his work, so complete\nhis disappearances, that more than ever it was believed he was a\nfiend. He resumed the work of slaughter in the Vuelta Arriba. He\nhad a horse now, carried a huge lance, and killed or wounded almost\nevery one he met,--but not all. There was in this black heart a core\nof sympathy. Once he stole a little child and kept her with him for\nsome time, lavishing on her the affection of a barbarian big brother,\nand so endearing him to her that when she was rescued from his jungle\nhaunt, while he was absent hunting, she wept for the kind Taito Perico,\neven in her parents' arms. Then he stole a boy of eight years and\nkept him for some months, allowing him at the end of that time to\nreturn unharmed to his parents.\n\nIt was in one of these abductions that he worked his own undoing. Near\nSt. John of the Remedies lived the pretty Anita de Pareira, daughter\nof a frugal and worthy couple and fiancee of a prosperous planter of\nthe district. The time for the wedding having been set, the father\nand mother were in their little garden discussing ways and means,\nand Anita was indoors trimming the gown in which she was to walk to\nthe altar. Her head was full of pretty fancies, and she hummed softly\nto herself as she plied her needle or gazed into the distance, smiling\nat the pictures created by her own fancy. She was rudely awakened from\nthese pleasing reveries. The door was burst in by a tremendous blow\nwith a fist and there stood glaring upon her a Caliban with mighty\nneck and shoulders, great goggling eyes, a hooked nose, a bush of\ncoarse hair erect upon his head, and a stout lance in his hand. As\nthis creature advanced into the room with extended arms she swooned\nand did not regain her senses until she had been carried for a mile\nor more from her home. She found herself lying across the back of a\nhorse that was galloping furiously toward the hills with the savage\nin the saddle behind her.\n\nThe father and mother ran into the road tossing their hands in despair;\na dozen belated rescuers hurried to them, each arrival adding his\nscreams to the hubbub; then each advising the rest what should be done,\nand nobody doing anything. The young planter, Anita's betrothed, was\nquickly on the ground, and he alone was resolute and cool. He gathered\nthe bolder men about him, saw that they were supplied with proper arms\nand mounts, and with encouraging words to those who were left behind,\nhe rode away on the outlaw's trail. Over pastures, through ravines,\nacross rivers, under forest arches dim as twilight, they hurried on,\na pack of hounds yapping in advance, a broken branch, a trampled bush,\na hoof-print in the margin of a stream also giving proof that they were\non the right path; a herder, who had seen the ruffian pass, likewise\ntestifying to the fact, and giving his service to the company; and\nso they came to a clearing, where they found the marauder's abandoned\nand exhausted horse.\n\nPutting their own horses under guard of negroes, twenty of the men\npressed on afoot through tangled vines and thorny bushes, still led\nby the dogs, until they brought up at the bottom of a tall cliff,\nand here the hounds seemed to be at fault, for they ran around and\naround a tree, looking up into it and whining. The herder swung himself\ninto the branches and scrambled almost to the top. \"Nobody here,\" he\ncalled. Then, when he had partly descended, they heard him utter an\nexclamation of surprise. He crept to the end of a long branch and swung\nlightly to a shelf on the face of the crag. \"Footsteps!\" he exclaimed,\nin a low, strained voice, and pointed to a thin turf that covered the\njut of rock. The dogs were right. Taito Perico had climbed the tree and\nscaled the cliff. The dogs were hoisted by means of a lariat, the men\ngained the shelf, and clambering along in single file they presently\nreached the summit. A furious barking led them on; then those in the\nrear heard a shout. The savage was seen, half a mile away, crossing\nan opening at a run and striking at the dogs that leaped and yelped\naround him. Leaving his companions to follow the Indian, the lover\ndevoted himself to the search for Anita, and presently found her at\nthe foot of a tree, bound, gagged, but safe and thankful.\n\nFor several days and nights the chase went on and on with\nreinforcements, and the Indian was at last overtaken on the mountain\nthat, in memory of the event, bears the name of Loma del Indio,\nwhere he was slain, to the great relief of the whole island. Even\nin death his aspect was so terrific that the people along the way\nwere set a-shaking and a-praying as his body was carried on to Puerto\nPrincipe. Though he could do harm no longer, the post-mortem punishment\ninflicted on him gave general satisfaction; for the corpse was first\nhanged, then dragged at a horse's heels, then chopped apart and buried\nin several places, and the head, in a cage, was exposed on a pole in\nTanima. And if three men like Taito Perico could terrorize all Cuba,\na hundred of such would have freed it.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Voice in the Inn\n\n\n\"No trifling, senor. Speak up plainly and say what you heard.\" The\nprosecuting attorney gave a nervous twitch at his pointed beard,\na habit peculiar to him, and leaned a little toward the witness. The\nelder judge blinked drowsily, straightened in his chair, then turned\nand looked at the crucifix on the wall, for when the sun touched the\nbloody figure on the cross it was time for lunch. It was still in\nshadow. He sighed. His associates of the tribunal were duly attent.\n\n\"I'm afraid you will not believe me,\" objected the witness.\n\n\"Never mind your fears. Come, now: You were passing the deserted inn\non the Minas road, you say, when you heard a voice. The voice of one\nof the brigands?\"\n\n\"I hardly think so, senor.\"\n\n\"How? You charge this defendant here ----\"\n\n\"With attempted robbery. Yes, senor attorney. But it was not his\nvoice that spoke. I think worse mischief has been done near the inn.\"\n\n\"Worse mischief?\"\n\n\"Truly. For when this thief heard the words he let his pistol fall\nand dropped the bridle of my mule. By the moon I could see his face\nglisten with sweat, and it looked white.\"\n\n\"He was afraid, eh? He was a coward? This poor cheat of a creature\ncould not even be a brigand?\"\n\n\"Afraid! Any one would be. As for myself, I gave my mule a cut and he\nwas off at a lope, with this fellow coming after as fast as his legs\ncould carry him, until he ran plump into the arms of the civil guard.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes. You have told all that. But this voice. You heard it\nplainly?\"\n\n\"Why, yes, although it sounded as if it came from a distance, or from\nunder a building, or--or--out of a tomb. I couldn't--I couldn't help\nthinking it sounded like a man beneath a floor.\"\n\nThe attorney twisted his beard again impatiently, coughed, then tightly\nfolded his arms. He was silent for a little. Then, as if surprising\nhimself out of a revery, he commanded, \"Well, well. Go on.\"\n\n\"This voice, senor,\" resumed the witness, leaning forward and speaking\nmysteriously, \"it was so hollow and low, and spoke the words so long,\nlike a creature dying and in pain, and it gave me a chill.\"\n\n\"Are you never to tell us what it said?\"\n\n\"It moaned, 'For the sake of the Virgin, of Her Blessed Son, of the\nHoly Saint Peter, of the Good God, pray for me. Pray for a sinner. Beg\nthe good fathers at Nuevitas to say a mass for the soul of Enrique\nCarillo.' Then there was a sort of groan----\"\n\n\"My God!\" It was the prosecutor who had gasped the words.\n\n\"Yes, just like that. Ah! Pardon, senor. I did not see. You are ill.\"\n\nFor the lawyer's face had become of a deathly pallor, his head had\nsunk forward, his lips trembled, his hands shook as they clutched\nthe edge of the table behind him. The idlers in the back of the room\nwere awake in a moment. The sun touched the figure of Christ, splashed\nwith blood in the fashion of the official crucifix, and it seemed to\nlook down on the scene below as in torture. The prisoner's counsel\nsprang forward, placed a chair for his opponent and helped him to be\nseated. An officer brought a glass of water, which the lawyer drank\neagerly, then sat as in a daze for an instant, shuddered, passed his\nhands over his face, and said, \"I ask the indulgence of the court. I\nhave lost my sleep for the last few nights. I--I----\"\n\nThe senior judge had half-risen, his wig awry, his hands gripping\nthe arms of the chair. \"Clear the court! It is the fever!\" he cried.\n\nThere was a stampede of the unoccupied in the back of the room. The\nothers in the court reached for their hats and drew away, leaving the\nprosecutor alone. He smiled faintly. \"No, your Honor,\" he said. \"It\nis over now. It was a touch of faintness; nothing more.\"\n\n\"With the consent of counsel I will adjourn the case.\"\n\nThe face of the prosecutor hardened; he set his jaw doggedly, he\nregained his feet with a sort of spring. The judges slipped back\ndeeper into their seats; the elder wiped his brow and puffed.\n\n\"We will go on,\" said the attorney, in a calmer voice. \"The testimony\nis practically exhausted. I have to confess that I have been somewhat\ndisappointed in the witnesses, but I submit the case on the evidence\nwithout argument.\"\n\nIt was plain that the people's representative was not at his best\nthat morning. The trial was hurried on, the lawyer for the defence\ninsisting principally that, as the complainant had fled from the\nscene of the attempted robbery without looking back, he could not\npossibly swear that the man in the prisoner's dock was the one who\nhad held his bridle. Was it not at least probable that the accused\nhad told the truth when he said he had been roused by the outcry of\nthe man on mule-back and had run down the road to see what the matter\nwas? Moreover, as no loss had been suffered, was it not a slender\nground for prosecution? The old judge looked back at the crucifix. The\nillumination was passing. The knees were already in shadow. He was\nan hour late for his lunch. He whispered with the other judges for\na moment, then smote the desk before him. \"No evidence. The prisoner\nis discharged. Adjourn the court,\" he exclaimed. And for once in the\nhistory of Puerto Principe the law had been prompt. The accused, who\nhad been stolid and dull throughout the trial, now smiled cunningly to\nhimself, and saying no word to any one, but with a sidelong look at the\nlawyers, left the building without loss of time, and after investing\na few coppers in bad brandy at the least inviting groggery in town,\ndisappeared down the road leading toward Minas. There were several\nanxious inquiries at the house of Prosecutor Ramirez that evening,\nbut he was in his usual health. There was no occasion for alarm as\nto the fever.\n\nTwo nights after this a couple of planters were stopped near the old\ninn by a man of rough appearance, whose face was masked, and were\nforced at the pistol's point to give up their watches and money. A\nfew nights later a man left town with money to discharge a bill. He\nnever reached his destination. In each case the criminals left no\ntrace. The environs of Puerto Principe were growing in ill-repute.\n\nThe prosecutor was leaving home on an evening when rain seemed\nthreatening. This was probably his reason for wearing a cloak,--a\nprotection seldom needed, except at night and in bad weather. It\nwas against his usual habit that he had drawn his cloak high about\nhis shoulders, so that his face was half-concealed, and this made it\nthe more difficult for one who was following to know if he were, or\nwere not, the man he sought. Convinced, after a little, that he was,\nhe hurried forward and placed his hand on his arm. The lawyer started\nand uttered an exclamation. \"Are you not Don Pablo Ramirez?\" asked\nthe unknown.\n\nThe prosecutor looked long and searchingly at the frank-faced stranger,\nthen answered, shortly, \"I am he.\"\n\n\"I thought so. Allow me: I am Captain Alfonso Garcia Estufa, of\nthe Engineer Corps. I come from Havana with authority from the\ngovernor-general to confer with you about the brigands in this\nprovince.\"\n\n\"Ah, indeed! You are welcome, senor captain. I was about to make a\nbusiness call on a tenant in this street. May I ask if you will make my\nhouse your own till I return? I shall be absent but a few moments. I\nwill go back with you and open the door. Enter, if you please. The\nsherry is on the sideboard. Cigars you will find on the table. Call my\nservant, if you require anything.\" Then, hurrying out once more, the\nlawyer almost ran upon his errand. In a quarter of an hour he returned\nand the two began their discussion over a decanter of choice Madeira.\n\n\"It still seems to me,\" said the young officer, after the talk had\nbeen going on for some minutes, \"that the bold policy is the better,\nthough we may need secrecy in certain cases, for these devils of\nbrigands smell powder a mile away. On my life, they do. I've dealt\nwith them in Pinar del Rio, and they tell me they are more slippery\nand far-seeing, or far-smelling, in this province. They must have\nconfederates here in town.\"\n\n\"Confederates? Preposterous, senor! Why do you think that?\"\n\n\"Oh, I've been investigating a little. Either the brigands here\nare clever, or some man who is more clever has them in hand, and\nknows enough not to mix with them,--some man who can persuade them,\nor terrorize them, or shield them. Have you no conceit as to who in\nthis city is fitted for a chieftainship like that?\"\n\n\"I? None.\"\n\n\"I had hoped you knew your fellow-citizens well enough to advise me\nwhom to watch. No? Then, at least, tell me where it would be best to\nplace my men.\"\n\n\"The trails toward Sibanicu.\"\n\n\"Trails? Sibanicu? Why, there's no travel in that quarter. The\nrobberies have happened between here and Minas.\"\n\n\"Exactly. So many have happened that the brigands must abandon it\nhenceforth. They know they are watched, and I'll warrant your coming\nhere, and the object of it, are already common talk among them.\"\n\n\"Humph!\"\n\n\"People who are bound for the coast are beginning to go around already,\nso as to avoid the Minas road. If our scamps are as clever as you\nthink, they will not be long in following.\"\n\n\"There is something in that, and I thank you for the hint. We will\nmeet again shortly. Meanwhile, pray study the situation.\"\n\n\"You are not going?\"\n\n\"I cannot stop with you, senor, greatly as I should be pleased to do\nso, for I have agreed to meet my lieutenants at the other end of the\ntown. Good-night.\"\n\n\"Good-night, then, if you will not stay. Tell me early what success\nyou have in the chase of our good citizens of Puerto Principe.\"\n\nThe captain left the house with a light and jaunty step, yet he looked\nabout him thoughtfully. He had not gone far when the night stillness\nwas broken by the crack of a fire-arm not ten paces away. A bullet cut\nhis hat. He turned quickly. Nobody was in sight. The air was thick\nwith mist, and nobody was stirring. \"Scoundrel!\" cried the officer,\nshaking his fist at the darkness. \"You shall pay dear for that--you\nand your people. Do you hear?\"\n\nThere was no answer. He walked on at a faster pace.\n\nBefore the sun was up next morning the captain and his men had\nwithdrawn from Puerto Principe. Few in the town knew that he had been\nthere. None knew whither he had gone.\n\nIt was nine o'clock on the night following the interview. A fitful\nwind stirred the trees that densely shadowed the Minas road. From\na chink in the walls of a dilapidated house that stood back from\nthe highway a light shone faintly, but except for the sough of the\nleaves and the whirring and lisping that betoken the wakefulness of\ninsect life there was no sound. None? What was that? Down the road,\nfrom Nuevitas way, came a blowing and stamping of horses laboring\nthrough mud. The crack of light still shone, and nothing moved along\nthe wayside. As the horses came nearer a lantern could be seen hanging\nfrom the sheep-neck of the older one, and two voices could be heard in\ntalk,--such village gossip as farmers might exchange when the way was\ntiresome. The horses plodded on till they were abreast of the house,\nwhen there was a whistle; the crack of light widened, suddenly there\nwas a rush of feet, a torch was brandished, and brown hands fell upon\nthe bridles.\n\nOne of the riders cried out, flung up his arms, and begged for\nmercy. They might take his master's money, if they would, but for\nthe sake of St. Isaac, St. Matthew, and St. John, let them spare\nhis life. The other horseman, tall, spare, wrapped in a cloak,\nswung down from his saddle in a business-like way, addressed a\nremark in a low tone to the brigands, took the lantern from the\nneck of his neighbor's nag,--it was a fine, mettled black he rode\nhimself,--turned up the flap of his hat a little, only a little,\nnot enough to reveal his face, and proceeded to rifle the pockets\nand saddle-bags of his amazed companion. The lantern and the torch\nshone on six or eight as hang-dog faces as would be met in a day's\njourney, and among them was one closely resembling the prisoner who\nhad been discharged on a trial two or three weeks before for lack of\nevidence. The victim of this robbery having given up all he seemed\nto possess was told to ride straight into town without word or halt,\nelse he would be shot, and a fierce stroke being given with the whip,\nhis horse was off at such a gallop that he had much ado to keep his\nseat. The thieves heaped the saddle-bags and parcels into the middle\nof the road and bent near, while the man in the cloak opened them and\nexamined their contents in the flickering light. A gust of wind made\nthe torch flare and put the lantern out. The cloaked man muttered an\noath, and had partly risen to his feet, when there came a sound that\ncaused him to stagger and hold his hands to his head as if in mortal\nterror. It was a wailing voice, and it pleaded, \"For the sake of the\nVirgin, of Her Blessed Son, of the Holy Saint Peter, of the Good God,\npray for me. Pray for a sinner. Beg the good fathers at Nuevitas to\nsay a mass for the soul of Enrique Carillo.\"\n\nThe cloaked man groaned. The others crouched, shuddering, and their\neyes in the red torch-flame were the eyes of goblins. In another\nmoment a shock ran through the group, for another voice, clear and\nstern, commanded, \"As you value your lives, don't stir. Men, do not\nfire unless I tell you.\"\n\nA light flashed up, then another, and the bandits discovered themselves\nin the centre of a ring formed by twenty men, with the young captain\nin command. Resistance would have been foolish, flight impossible; yet,\nas the captain stepped toward the brigand leader, the man in the cloak\nattempted the foolish and impossible; he fired his pistol full at the\ncaptain's head, flung the weapon after the bullet, missing his aim each\ntime, then started to run, upsetting one of the soldiers as he did so.\n\n\"Fire!\" cried the captain.\n\nTwo musket-shots came upon the word. The tall man tumbled headlong. \"It\nis one the less to hang,\" exclaimed the officer, as he snatched a torch\nfrom the hand of one of his men. He bent over the prostrate form:\nthe robber had been killed instantly. He withdrew the cloak from\nthe face and looked long without speaking. Finally he said, \"I was\na better ghost than I supposed. These brigands will have to elect a\nnew leader, and Puerto Principe must have a new prosecuting attorney.\"\n\nIn the deserted inn, under the kitchen floor, were found the remains\nof Enrique Carillo and several other victims of the robbers. And\nit is said that on All Souls' eve their ghosts block the road and\nbeg all who pass to pray for them and to pay for a few masses. Most\nimportunate of all is the ghost of Pablo Ramirez.\n\n\n\n\n\n\nIN THE PACIFIC\n\n\nFinding of the Islands\n\n\nOne of the oldest legends of the Hawaiians relates to the finding\nof their islands by Hawaiiloa, a great chief and great-grandson\nof Kinilauamano, whose twelve sons became the founders of twelve\ntribes. Guided by the Pleiades he sailed westward from America, or\nnorthward from some other group,--doubtless the latter,--and so came\nto these pleasant lands, to the largest of which he gave his own name,\nwhile the lesser ones commemorate his children. In another tradition\nthe islands of Oahu and Molokai were the illegitimate children of two\nof his descendants, who were wedded, but jealous of one another and\nfaithless. Still another folk-tale runs to the effect that an enormous\nbird, at least as large as the American thunder-bird or the roc of\nArabia, paused in its flight across the sea and laid an egg which\nfloated on the water. The warmth of the ocean and the ardor of the sun\nhatched the egg, and from it came the islands, which grew, in time,\nto their present size, and ever increased in beauty. Some years after\nthey were found by a man and a woman who had voyaged from Kahiki in\na canoe, and liking the scenery and climate, they went ashore on the\neastern side of Hawaii, and remained there to become the progenitors\nof the present race. It suggests the ark legend that this pair had in\ntheir canoe two dogs, two swine, and two fowls, from which animals had\ncome all that were found running wild there a hundred years ago. The\npeople can never be thankful enough that these visitors differed from\nNuu in their lack of regard for the snakes, scorpions, centipedes,\ntarantulas, and mosquitoes that are so common to tropic lands, for,\nhaving neglected to import these afflictions, the islands got on\nwithout them until recently. Mosquitoes were taken to Hawaii on an\nAmerican ship. The hogs and dogs are descendants of animals that\nescaped from the wreck of the Spanish galleon Santo Iago in 1527.\n\n\n\n\n\nAncient Faiths of Hawaii\n\n\nHawaiians claim descent from the Cushites of Arabia, and in their\nfolk-lore they have the same agreement with the Jewish myths which\nwe find so strangely in other tribes that seem to have no relation\nto one another. Like the Israelites, they believed in a first pair\nthat forfeited paradise by sinning, and were put out of it. Like\nthe Israelites, they built temples and places of worship. Like the\nIsraelites, they practised circumcision. Their priests and chiefs\nwere kin of the gods, and well may they have seemed so if it is true\nthat the kings of the islands were men whose height was nine feet,\nand who flourished spears ten yards long. Even Kamehameha, who died\nin 1819, and who was politically the greatest of these rulers, as he\nestablished one government over all of the islands, is said to have\nbeen a giant in strength.\n\nWithout compasses, guided only by sun and stars, the people made long\nvoyages in their canoes--vessels of a length of a hundred feet--and did\nbattle with other races, fighting with spears, slings, clubs, axes,\nand knives, but not with bows or armor. Doubtless they exaggerate\ntheir numbers and their heroism, and in the last great battle, by\nwhich Kamehameha became ruler of the group, it may be that there\nwere not quite the sixteen thousand men he claimed to have when he\nforced the troops of Oahu over the cliff of Nuuanu. The language of\nHawaii resembles the tongues spoken in the southern archipelagoes,\nthereby bearing out the legend of early migrations. As, in the East,\nwe hear tales that seem to hark back to the lost Atlantis, so among\nthe Pacific tribes are faint beliefs in a continent in the greater\nocean that sank thousands of years ago, and of coral islands built on\nits ruins that crumbled or were shaken down in their turn, albeit they\nserved their purpose as stepping-stones between the surviving groups.\n\nThe Columbus of Hawaii was Nanaula, a Polynesian chief, who reached\nthem in the sixth century, either blown upon them by gales or actuated\nin a long search by love of adventure. He carried dogs, swine,\nfowls, and seeds of food-plants, and for several centuries the people\nincreased, lived in comfort, and enjoyed the blessings of peace. Four\nhundred years later a large emigration occurred from Samoa and the\nSociety group to these islands, and the new-comers proved to be the\nstronger. Each island had its chief or chiefs until this century,\nbut their families had intermarried until a veritable aristocracy had\nbeen set up, with a college of heraldry, if you please, that recorded\nthe ancestry brags of the Four Hundred. Captain Cook chanced on evil\ndays when his turn came to discover the islands again, for although\nthe people at first thought him to be the god Lono, they were so busy\nhating each other that they had not time to extend as many courtesies\nto him as they might have granted at some other period. When they\nkilled him he had incurred their wrath by his overbearing manner, his\ncontempt for their customs, and by trying to make prisoner of a chief\nwho was innocently pulling one of the ship's boats apart to get the\nnails out. Juan Gaetano, a Spanish captain, sailing from Mexico to the\nSpice Islands in 1555, is said to have discovered Hawaii, but he said\nlittle about it. There are traditions of other white visitors likewise.\n\nWhile Christian missionaries claimed to have worked the moral\nregeneration of the islands, the Martin Luther of the group anticipated\nthem by half a year. Liholiho--that was his name--publicly kicked\nthe idols, burned the temples, ate from the dishes of women, and\ndefied the taboo. So soon as the natives discovered that the sea\ndid not rise nor the sky fall, they rejoiced exceeding, and when one\nof the priests gathered an army and mutinied against the new order,\nthey vehemently suppressed him. Yet the gods whom this soldier-priest\ndefended are said to lament his fall in battle, and the south wind,\nstirring the shrubbery about his grave, is often heard to sob. The\nfirst missionaries were Yankees. They made some converts, acquired\nreal estate, their example and teaching in political and industrial\nmatters were profitably heeded, and peace and prosperity returned to\nthe islands. Catholic missionaries were forbidden by the government\nto land until 1839, when they were put ashore under the guns of a\nFrench man-of-war, and have remained in safety ever since.\n\nThe religious faith that white men drove from Hawaii, or think they\ndid, is based on the customary moral precepts, while the theogeny\ncomprehends a trinity, composed of Kane, who plans and who lives in\nthe east; Ku, who builds, and Lono, who directs. These three gods in\none, who had existed from the beginning, created light; next they\nbuilt the three heavens; they then made the earth, sun, moon, and\nstars. The angels were spat from their mouths, and after the fruitless\nor experimental creation of Welahilana and Owe, the chief god, Kane,\nwith his saliva, mixed with red earth, made the first man, Kumuhonua,\nand from his rib took the first woman, Keolakuhonua. These parents of\nthe race were put into a beautiful garden, divided by three rivers that\nhad their source in a lake of living water, which would bring the dead\nto life when sprinkled over them, and which was filled with fish that\nfire could not destroy. This living water was found again, ages after,\nby Kamapikai, who led some of the Hawaiians back to it that they might\nbathe, and they emerged young, strong, and handsome; but from their\nthird voyage to the lake they never returned. In the garden stood\na bread-fruit tree and an apple tree, both taboo. Whether Kanaloa,\nthe rebellious angel, persuaded the first pair to pluck the forbidden\nfruit, or whether he wrought their downfall in some other fashion,\nwe do not know; but he was angry because they refused to worship him,\nand because the man whom he had created could neither rise nor speak;\nso, in the form of a lizard, he went into the garden and beguiled the\npair. Kane sent a large white bird and drove them out. Of the three\nsons of the parents of the race the elder slew the second, and in\nthe thirteenth generation came the deluge, from which Nuu was saved,\nfor at the command of Kane he built an ark, took refuge in it with his\nfamily, and, with pairs of every species of bird, beast, and reptile,\nwas released by the gods after the water had gone down, and found\nthat his ark was resting on the top of Mauna Loa. The rainbow was the\nstair by which Kane descended to him, and it was left in the sky as a\ntoken of forgiveness. As the history proceeds we recognize the story\nof Abraham, and of Joseph and his brethren, and the likeness to the\nBible narrative ceases after an account of the long wanderings and\ntroubles of the people in their search for the land set apart for\nthem by Kane,--a search in which they were led by two brothers.\n\nIt was only in the eleventh century that the priesthood became a power,\nexalted itself above the kings, prescribed senseless ceremonials and\nforms of worship, invented so many gods that they often forgot the\nnames of them, and devised the prohibition, or taboo, the meaning\nof that word being \"Obey or die.\" Among these gods none are more\ncurious than the stones of Kaloa beach, Ninole, Hawaii. The natives,\nwho believed that they had sex, and propagated, chose male specimens\nfor their household deities. In order to make sure whether or not they\nwere really gods, the stones were blessed in a temple, wrapped in a\ndress, and taken to see a game of skill or strength. If the owner of\nthe god won he gave to the piece of stone the credit for his victory\nand established it in his house; but if he lost, the stone was thrown\naside. If the believer wanted to make sure of finding a god he would\ntake a beach pebble of each sex, wrap the two in cloth, and put them\naway for a time. When they were brought back to the light a smaller\npebble, the result of their union, was found with them. This grew,\nlike an animal, until it was of a size to be blessed by the priests and\nformally declared to be a god. The original pebbles are of black trap,\ncompact lava, and white coral. Beside the gods there were spirits that\ncould be called from the grave by wizards, although this power rested\nonly with the strongest and most righteous of the class. The soul of a\nliving creature might also leave his body and exhibit itself to one at\na distance, as Margrave projected his luminous apparition in Bulwer's\n\"Strange Story.\"\n\nIt was the gods of the second rank, however, that seemed most busy\nfor good or mischief in human affairs: such gods as Pele, the spirit\nof the volcanoes, with her five brothers and eight sisters who lived\nin the flaming caverns of Kilauea; or as Kalaipahoa, poison-goddess\nof Molokai, and her two sisters, who put a bane on the trees so deadly\nthat they rivalled the fabled Upas of Java, and birds fell lifeless as\nthey attempted to fly above them (a volcanic sulphur vent was probably\nthe origin of this tale); or, as Kuahana, who slew men for sport;\nor, as Pohakaa, who rolled rocks down the mountains to scare and hurt\ntravellers; or, as the shark and lizard gods that lashed the sea into\nstorms and wrecked canoes. War gods of wood were carried in battle,\namong them the fierce-looking image of Kalaipahoa, born in the van of\nthe army of Kamehameha, and made at a cost of many lives from one of\nthe trees poisoned by that goddess. Its fragments were divided among\nhis people after the king's death. Apropos of this figure, a gamester\nhad lost everything except a pig, which he did not dare to stake,\nas it had been claimed for a sacrifice by a priest with a porkly\nappetite. At the command of a deity, however, who appeared in his\ndreams, he disregarded the taboo and wagered the pig next day. Being\nsuccessful in his play, he in thankfulness offered half of his gains\nto the deity. This god appeared on a second night and told him that if\nthe king would make an idol of a certain wood growing near she would\nbreathe power into it, and would make the gambler her priest. So the\nking ordered a tree to be cut. As the chips flew into the faces of\nthe choppers they fell dead. Others, covering their bodies with cloth\nand their faces with leaves, managed to hew off a piece as large as\na child's body, and from this the statue was carved with daggers,\nheld at arm's-length; and Kalaipahoa means Dagger-cut. Another god\nof the great king was Kaili, which was of wood with a head-dress of\nyellow feathers. This image uttered yells of encouragement that could\nbe heard above the din of conflict.\n\nStatues of the gods were kept in walled enclosures, sometimes four\nor five acres in extent, within which stood the temples and altars of\nsacrifice, and there the people read the fates, as did the Greek and\nRoman soothsayers, in the shapes of clouds and the forms and colors of\nentrails of birds or of pigs killed on the altars. Human sacrifices\nwere offered on important occasions, but always of men,--never of\nwomen or children. If no criminals or prisoners were available,\nthe first gardener or fisherman was captured, knocked on the head,\nand his body left to decay on the altar. Oil and holy water were\nused to anoint the altar and sacred objects, and when a temple was\nnewly finished its altar was piled with the dead. There is a striking\nuniversality among people in the brutal stage of development in this\npractice of pacifying their deities by murder. When a king or high\npriest offered a sacrifice of a foeman the butcher gouged the left eye\nfrom the body and gave it to his superior, who pretended to eat it. If\na victim succeeded in escaping to a temple of refuge he was safe,\neven though he had killed a king or slapped the chops of a wooden god.\n\nAll over the islands are natural monuments associated with instances\nthat prove the faith of the people in gods, fiends, spirits, and\nheroes. At Mana Beach the \"barking\" or whistling of the sands under\nthe tread is held to be the wailing of buried Hawaiians, complaining\nthat they are disturbed. Here, too, dwells the ghost of the giant\nKamalimaloa, rising through the earth with spear and helmet at certain\nseasons and seeking two beautiful girls who scorned him in life, and\nwhom he is doomed never to meet in death. Holes and caves that abound\nin the lava--old craters, bubbles, and steam-vents--also have their\nstories. On Kauai they show a series called Pele's Jumps, because when\nthe fire-goddess was driven from that island by the water-gods she\nmade three long steps in the soft crust before undertaking the final\nleap that landed her on the slope of Kilauea. Each of these pits would\nhold a hotel. Another chasm was made by pulling a monster turtle out\nof his lair, while he slept, with the intent of eating him. This pit\nis thousands of cubic yards in extent, and the turtle may be seen on\na neighboring mountain, turned to stone by the curses of the chief\nfrom whom he tried to sneak away when he noticed that preparations\nfor cooking were forward. Near the famous Hanapepe Falls is the cave\nof Makaopihi, variously regarded as a chief, a devil, and a god, who\ntook refuge here from his enemies, but every now and then showed his\ncontempt for them by going down the long slope that is still called\nhis slide,--a recreation that to an ordinary mortal would mean death.\n\nIt is curious, if not significant, that in the language of Tahiti,\nwhich is related to that of these islands, Maui appears, not as a\nplace, but as a sun god who destroyed his enemies with a jaw-bone,\nwhile the word hawaii means hell. Strange, indeed, that one of the\nmost heavenly corners of the earth should have taken on a name like\nthat. The volcanoes may have terrified the early comers to such a\ndegree that it seemed the only fitting one if they chanced to arrive\nin the time of an eruption.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Giant Gods\n\n\nGods and demi-gods as vast as their mountains are celebrated in the\ntraditionary chants of the Hawaiians. While the largest island in the\ngroup seems to have been their favorite residence, it was the easiest\nthing imaginable to move, since they had only to step on board of\ntheir enchanted canoes and make a wish and they were at once wafted\nto any port they desired. A few of them did not need any canoes:\nthey were of such height they could step from island to island,\nand could wade through the deepest oceans without submerging their\nheads. Kana would often straddle from Kauai to Oahu, like a colossus\nof Rhodes, and when a king of Kahiki, who was keeper of the sun,\nundertook to deprive the people of it, because of some slight, Kana\nwaded across the sea and forced that king to behave himself instanter;\nthen, having seen the light properly placed in the sky, he spread\nhis breech-clout over a few acres of volcano to dry, and took a nap\non a mile or so of lava bed. This deity had the power of compressing\nhimself into a small space, and likewise of pulling himself out to\nany desired length, like an accordion, so that there was not water\nin the eight seas deep enough to drown him.\n\nAnd Maui, the demi-god, was even more tremendous in his bulk. Whales\nwere his playthings, and sharks were minnows beside him. He had to\nswim in water that reached only to his waist, because there was no\ndeeper, and even then his head was circled by clouds. He had a wife\nof an immensity comparable to his own. Once, while busily beating\nout a piece of bark-cloth, the sun sank low before she had finished\nher task. Like the excellent housewife that she was, she did not wish\nthe day to end on work unfinished, so, at her request, Maui reached\nout into the west, seized the sun, without burning his fingers much,\npulled it back to noon and held it there for two or three hours while\nthe making of the cloth proceeded. Then it resumed its journey through\nthe heavens, and has kept excellent time ever since.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe First Fire\n\n\nThe demi-god Maui lived near Mauna Kea, and in roaming over that\nmountain he often felt the chill that is in high places. It set him\nwondering why the volcano gods had never given to men the secret\nof fire, that so warmed and comforted one at night. To take it from\nthe craters was dangerous. One was liable to be stifled by sulphur,\nblinded by dust, scalded by steam, and destroyed by lava, for the crust\nwas continually breaking and falling. The mud-hens, or bald coots,\nhad the secret, however, and when he came upon their little fires\nin the woods, Maui hid among the trees and watched. Despite his vast\nbulk, he was not observed, or was more probably mistaken for a hill,\nfor presently the mud-hens assembled in a glade, before his eyes, and\nmade a fire by rubbing dry sticks together. They cooked fish and roots\nover the fire, and the savor of the banquet was so appetizing that\nMaui could not resist the temptation: he reached out and confiscated\nthe dinner, and the mud-hens flew off crying.\n\nHis attempt to catch the hens and learn from them how to make fire\ndid not succeed until he had rolled himself in bark-cloth; for, so\ndisguised, and after patient waiting, he captured the mother hen. She\ntried to deceive him, for she did not want the secret to leave her\nfamily. She told him to rub taro stalks on the line of their spirals,\nthe twist being put there for that purpose. He tried it without effect,\nand gave the old hen's neck a twist to make her tell the truth. She\nfinally showed him how to make sparks with old, dry chips, and he\nlet her go, but not until he had rubbed her head until it was raw,\nto punish her delay and falsehoods. And to this day the head of this\nbird is bare of feathers.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Little People\n\n\nHawaiians believe in \"little people\" that live in deep woods and peep\nand snicker at travellers who pass. This belief is thought to go back\nto the earliest times, and to hint at the smallness of the original\nHawaiians, for one may take with a grain of salt these tales of the\ngiant size of their kings and fighters. The first \"little people\" were\ngrandchildren of Nuu, or Noah, and the big people who came after were\nSamoans. While anybody may hear these fairies running and laughing,\nonly a native can see them. They are usually kind and helpful, and\nit is their law that any work they undertake must be finished before\nsunrise; for they dislike to be watched, and scuttle off to the woods\nat dawn.\n\nPi, a Kauai farmer, wanted a ditch to carry water from the Waimea River\nfor the refreshment of his land near Kikiloa, and, having marked the\nroute, he ordered the menehune, as they call the little people, to do\nthe work. It would have been polite to ask rather than to command;\nstill, they did what was required of them, each oaf lugging a stone\nto the river for the dam, which may be seen to this day. The hum and\nbustle of the work were heard all night, and so pleased was the farmer,\nwhen morning came and the ditch was built, that he set a feast for the\nmenehune on the next night, and it was gone at daybreak. There were\nno tramps in Hawaii, so the menehune must have eaten it. Conceiving\nthat he had acquired what our ward statesmen call a \"pull\" with\nthese helpers, he planned an elaborate fish-pond and put them at\nwork again. He had staked off such an immense area that the little\npeople could not possibly finish it by morning. As light streaked\nthe east and the cocks crew they scampered away to the mountains,\ndripping with sweat and angered at the man who had so abused their\nwillingness. And they could never be induced to work for him again.\n\nAlthough of supernatural power themselves, the little people are\nreligious, and have built several houses to the gods. On the face of\nthe mountain wall, two thousand feet high, back of the leper settlement\nat Molokai, is a ledge that can be reached neither from above nor\nbelow, and on it stands a temple of their construction. In Pepeeko,\nHilo, the natives labored for a month in quarrying and dressing stone,\nbut when it was ready the elves built their temple in a night. So at\nKohala they formed a chain twelve miles long between the quarry and\nthe site, and, passing the blocks from hand to hand, finished the\ngreat enclosure before sunrise.\n\nYet these fairies had a taste for mischief, and could be as active\nin it as so many boys. When a child on Maui, Laka was so loved by\nhis father that he would travel many miles to buy a toy for him, and\nhearing of a strange new plaything in Hawaii, the father sailed to\nthat island to get it. He never returned, for the natives killed him\nand hid his skeleton in a cave. When Laka had come to man's estate he\nbegan preparations for a voyage to that island, that he might either\nfind his father or know his fate, for of his death he did not learn\nuntil long after. In these preparations he was oddly thwarted. Every\ntime he hewed down a tree for a canoe it was gone in the morning. Out\nof patience, he resolved to catch the thieves. In order to make their\ntask especially hard, he dug a hole into which the tree fell, when he\nhad chopped it, so that his enemies would have to lift it out before\nthey could carry it away. Then, in the shadow, he waited. At midnight\na small humming and giggling were heard in the bushes and a company\nof menehune stole out into the shine of the moon. They began to tug\nat the fallen tree. Laka sprang upon them and captured two, the others\nrunning away with shrill screams. Laka threatened to kill his prisoners\nfor the trouble they had made, but he did not really intend to hurt\nthem. Their tears and cries and the rapid beating of their hearts,\nthat he could feel as he held them under his arms, stirred his pity,\nand he agreed to let them go if they would promise to assemble their\ntribe, drag the tree to his canoe shed on the shore and fashion it\ninto a boat. This they promised so eagerly that he put them back on\nthe earth and laughed as they scampered into the thicket. True to\ntheir promise, they dragged the tree to the ocean that very night,\nand carved and hollowed it into the finest vessel to be seen on the\nisland; so, friendly relations being thus established, Laka set a\nfeast for them, which they ate in thankfulness and never troubled\nhim more. Whether he succeeded in the search for the parental bones,\nor left his own to whiten on the same soil, is not recorded, but you\ncan see for yourself the hollow he dug for the tree, and his canoe\nshed was standing after white men reached the group.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Hawaiian Iliad\n\n\nKaupepee, who might have governed Molokai in the twelfth century, had\nhe not chosen war as his vocation, was a believer in home rule. He\ndid not like the immigrants who were swarming northward from Tahiti\nand Samoa. Though they resembled his own race, to be sure, and\nspoke a language he could understand, he regarded them as greedy\nand revolutionary, and they worshipped strange gods and sometimes\nmisused the people among whom they had cast their fortunes. So\nKaupepee resigned his kingship to his brother, and became a fighter,\na devastator. With some hundreds of hardy men at arms and the finest\nships of the time, hewn from Oregon pines and Canada spruces that\nhad drifted to the islands, he bitterly harassed the other kingdoms,\ndashing ashore at the principal towns in buccaneer fashion, laying\nviolent hands on their stores, capturing their handsomest women,\nbreaking the taboo in their temples, killing a dozen of their men,\nthen flying to his canoes again, hoisting his red sails, and putting\noff before the astonished people knew exactly what had happened.\n\nThis prince had fortified himself in quite a modern fashion at Haupu,\nin his native kingdom. From the land side the tract was reached\nonly by a narrow dike which he had walled across with lava blocks,\na tunnel beneath this obstruction affording the only exit toward the\nmountains. On the ocean front he had also built his forts of stone,\nalthough the sea boiled five hundred feet below and the plateau ended\nin an almost sheer precipice. Deep ravines on either side of the\nstronghold bent around it to the rocky neck, thus making the place\nalmost an island. In these ravines were narrow paths by which his\npeople descended to their boats, secreted on the dark and winding\nwaters or hoisted on the rocks. This was the Troy of the Pacific;\nKaupepee was the Paris, and here he brought his Helen, who was Hina,\nthe most beautiful woman of her day, and the wife of a chief in\nHawaii. Kaupepee, encouraged by his oracles, inflamed by reports of\nthe woman's charm, had been lurking along the coast for some time,\nwatching for his opportunity. It came when Hina ventured into the\nsea to bathe on a moonlight evening. Kaupepee, dashing from his\nconcealment, intercepted her escape, shouted to his men who were\nin waiting behind a wooded point, and while the woman's friends and\nattendants fled shrieking to the shore, he lifted her into his canoe,\npaddled away to his double barge a half mile out, placed his lovely\ncaptive in a shelter on board, and began the return voyage. The drum\ncould be heard in the village rousing the people, and lights twinkled\namong the trees, showing that a pursuit was intended. In vain. The\ndusky Menelaus may have put to sea, but he never appeared in view of\nthe flying ships. During the two days occupied in the run to Molokai\nthe prisoner refused food, and begged to be put to death. She was\nassured that no harm was intended to her. On arriving at the fort of\nher captor she was surprised by the appearance of women who had been\nstolen from her villages before, and who were now to be her maids; nor\ncould she restrain an exclamation of pleasure when she was ushered into\nwhat for the next eighteen years was to be her home. It was hung and\ncarpeted with decorated mats; its wooden frame was brightly painted,\nfestooned with flowers, and friezed with shells; couches of sea-grass\nwere overspread with cloth beaten from palm fibre; heavy curtains hung\nat the doors; ranged on shelves were ornaments and carved calabashes,\nwhile there was a profuse array of feathered cloaks and other modish\nmillinery and raiment.\n\nAll, from Kaupepee to the humblest soldier, had paid the respect to\nher that was the due of a queen. She was told that she could enjoy\na certain amount of liberty, and if she suffered from her slight\ncaptivity she was asked what might be thought of her new lord whose\nheart she had absolutely in her keeping, and who was therefore less\nfree than she. This pretty speech and the really kind treatment she\nhad received, together with a hearty and needed meal of fruit, fish,\npotatoes, and poi, caused her to look on her situation with less of\ndespair. She belonged to a simple race, whose moral code was different\nfrom ours; she was more luxuriously surrounded than she had ever been\nbefore; Kaupepee was bold and handsome; he was, moreover, strangely\ngentle in her presence, thoughtful of her comfort, and--well, she\nfell out of love with her old husband and in love with the new.\n\nMatters were not so very dull while the war lord was away on his\nforays. A considerable populace had been drawn to Haupu, and there\nwere dances and feasts, games, excursions, trials at arms, races, and\nswimming matches, in which Hina shared when it pleased her. Reservoirs\nfor water, storehouses for food, and parks of ammunition were also to\nbe established, for none could tell when the fort might be attacked. A\nlong time passed before it was besieged. That time might never have\ncome had not Hina left at home two sons with long memories. For\nyears, as they approached manhood, they devoted themselves to rousing\nthe people of all the islands and preparing a navy that should be\ninvincible. Kaupepee kept himself informed of these measures, and now\nand again discouraged them by swooping on their shipyards, destroying\ntheir craft, and running off with a priest or two for a sacrifice. This\nkind of thing merely hastened his punishment, and in time ten thousand\nsoldiers in two thousand boats were sighted from the battlements\nof Haupu. A land force was sent to attack the stronghold from the\nhills. Kaupepee's brother could not prevent this. He was allowed to\nremain neutral. He foresaw the inevitable. When he implored the chief\nto give up Hina, save himself and his warriors, and agree to a future\npeace, Kaupepee would not listen. He had a thousand men, well armed,\nand his enemies had an almost life-long hate to gratify. \"If my day\nhas come,\" he said, \"let it be as the gods will. When the battle is\nover, look for me on the walls. I shall be there among the dead.\" The\nking went away with bowed head, for he knew he should never see the\ndefender of Molokai again.\n\nEarly in the morning the fleet put out from its harborage, where\nthe gods had been invoked and the priests had declared the omens\nkindly. The mother of Hina stood in the prow of one of the first\ncanoes, her white hair blowing about her head in snaky folds,\nher black eyes glittering. A fire burned before her on an altar of\nstone, and on this she threw oils and gums that yielded a fragrant\nsmoke. As the walls of Haupu came in sight, bristling with spears,\nshe began a battle-song, which her warriors took up, crew by crew,\nuntil the mighty chant echoed from the crags and every heart thrilled\nwith the hope of conflict. As the boats advanced almost within reach\nof the slings from the citadel, the land army was seen advancing\nover the mountains far in the distance. Haupu would be beleaguered\nshortly. Kaupepee gathered his people around him, told of the odds\nagainst them, and confessed that the end might be defeat, adding that\nif there was one whose heart failed him the gates were open and he\ncould leave, freely, with the good-will of all who stayed.\n\nNot a man moved. With one cry of \"Close the gates!\" they declared\nfor death, if so be that the gods were against them. The chief smiled\nand prepared for the defence. Some cried that the shore was crowded\nwith enemies. Kaupepee replied, in Spartan phrase, \"Our spears will\nbe the less likely to miss.\" A messenger arrived offering terms if\nHina were given up. The answer was, \"She is here. Come and take her.\"\n\nThe land force had been making a demonstration against the narrow\nbridge of rock that led to the fortress, and had succeeded so well,\naccording to a prearranged plan, that almost the entire garrison had\ncrossed the plateau to that side, when shouts of triumph arose from\nthe ravines. The enemy had entered them and was smashing the boats\nof Kaupepee to fragments. That cry of defiance was mis-timed. In a\nfew moments a thunderous roar was heard that echoed through the abyss\nand paralyzed the hands of those who were attacking the gates. The men\nwho had run to the walls, on hearing the shouts below, had let loose,\ninto the depths, a deadly avalanche of earth, rocks, and timber. When\nthe dust of it had drifted out, scores, hundreds, of dead and dying\nwere seen half-buried in the fallen mass. Armed with spears, knives,\nand axes, a little company sprang over the parapet, and, running down\nthe narrow trail to the bottom, despatched the survivors,--all save a\nfew who swam to the reserve boats, and six who were carried up to the\nfort for sacrifice. One majestic chief, who had led this attack from\nthe sea, avoided knives and missiles and drew away in safety with the\nother few who escaped. He was one of the sons of Hina. \"He is brave;\nI am glad he remains unharmed,\" said Kaupepee.\n\nFor several days the siege went on, the men within the defences taking\nheart from this first success, that had cost the enemy two thousand\nmen. The sea approach was abandoned, and now that Kaupepee's boats were\ndestroyed or injured, so that he could not get away, the assailants\nconcentrated their efforts on the landward side. They had devised a\nmovable wall of wood, heavily braced, like that used by the Romans and\nAssyrians in their military operations. Foot by foot they gained the\nisthmus and slowly crossed it, those immediately behind this defence\nbeing protected from the slings and javelins of the garrison,--that\nreached those at a greater distance, however. On a rainy night they\npushed this wall against the gates, found the entrance to the tunnel,\nand at dawn were ready for the final assault. It began with a downpour\nof spears and stones, before which it was impossible to stand. Then\nthe heavy slab that masked the inner door to the tunnel was lifted,\nand in another minute five thousand men were pouring over the walls\nand through the passage. Not one man attempted flight. Contesting\nevery inch of ground and fighting hand to hand, the men of Molokai\nretired before the invaders. There was an incessant din of weapons\nand voices. At last, the garrison--the fifty who were left of it--and\ntheir chief were crowded to the temple in the centre of the plain. One\nof the besieging party scrambled to the roof and set it afire with a\ntorch. The fated fifty rushed forth only to hurl themselves against the\nhedge of weapons about them. Kaupepee was transfixed by a spear. With\nhis last strength he aimed his javelin at the breast of a tall young\nchief who suddenly appeared before him,--aimed, but did not throw;\nfor he recognized in the face of the man before him the features\nof the woman he loved,--Hina. The javelin fell at his side and he\ntumbled upon the earth, never to rise again. Every man in Haupu was\nkilled, and its walls were levelled: Hina was found in her cottage,\nand although she bewailed the death of her lover, she rejoiced in\nher restoration to her mother and her sons.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Hawaiian Orpheus and Eurydice\n\n\nUpon the slopes of Hualalai, just under the clouds and among the\nfragrant sandal-woods, lived Hana and her son, Hiku. They made their\nliving by beating bark into cloth, which the woman took to the coast to\nswap for implements, for sea food, for sharp shells for scraping the\nbark, and she always went alone, leaving Hiku on the mountain to talk\nto the animals, to paint pictures on the cloth, and to play on curious\ninstruments he had made from gourds, reeds, and fibre, for he could\nplay music that made the birds stop in their flight to listen. The\nmother loved the son so much that she wished to keep him by her so\nlong as she lived, and that was why she never let him go with her to\nthe shore. She believed that if he visited the towns and tasted the\njoys of surf-riding, shared in the games of the athletes, and drank\nthe beer they brewed down there, and especially if he saw the pretty\ngirls, he would never go back to his mountain home. And though Hiku\nwondered what life was among the people on the shore, he was obedient\nand not ill content until he had passed his eighteenth birthday.\n\nAs he sat one evening with eyes fixed on the far-off sea, sparkling\nunder the moon, the wind brought the hoarse call of the surf and a\nfaint sound of hula drums, and a sudden impulse came upon him to see\nthe world for himself. He called to his mother that he was going down\nthe mountain. She tried with tears and prayers and warnings to stay\nhim, but his resolution was taken, and off he went, saying that he\nwould be back again some day. Though he was as green as grass and\nuntaught in the practices of the settlements, Hiku was a fellow of\nparts. He was not long in making a place for himself in society, and\nhis first proceeding was to tumble head over heels in love. His flame\nwas Kawelu. She received him graciously, flung wreaths of flower petals\nabout his neck in the pretty fashion of her people when he called,\nas he did every day from sunrise until dark; and when he could row a\ncanoe and had learned how to swim and to coast over the breakers in\nher company, he had gained paradise.\n\nThe day came, however, when these pleasures palled upon him, when he\nwondered if his mother had kept on sorrowing, when he had a longing\nto see his old home, to breathe the pure, cool air of the hills. He\nwas an impulsive fellow, so he kissed Kawelu and told her that he\nmust go away for a while; that she could not go with him, because his\nmother would probably dislike her. He had not walked a mile before\nhe discovered that Kawelu was following secretly. He increased his\nspeed, yet still she followed, and presently this persistence on her\npart began to anger him. The one thing he had taken from home was a\nmagic staff that would speak when questions were put to it, and the\nyouth now asked what could be done to turn the girl homeward. It told\nhim to order vines to spring so thickly behind him that she could not\nbreak through, and they so sprang at his command. He could no longer\nsee Kawelu when he looked back, though he heard her voice calling\nsoftly, reproachfully, and when he reached home, to the joy of his\nmother, he knew that the girl must have given up the pursuit, as she\nreally had; for, discouraged by the steepness of the mountain and\nthe ever-increasing tangle of vegetation, she returned to her village.\n\nThis seeming indifference on the part of the young mountaineer was\nmore than she could bear. She lost interest in sports and work, fell\ninto a lovesickness, and though her father, the chief, sacrificed\nmany black pigs on her behalf, it was of no use,--she died of a\nbroken heart. They wrapped her body in the finest cloth, beaten by\nthe widow and her son, and placed it, with many lamentations, in a\nburial cave hard by. Such was the dismal news that Hana took to her\nson after she had been to the settlement to sell a batch of fabric,\nand it filled Hiku with consternation, for he had intended to go back\nfor the girl as soon as he could reconcile his mother to the idea of\na daughter-in-law. He realized what a fool and a brute he had been,\nand it was of little use for him to tear out his hair and roll upon\nthe ground in the way he did. He left his work and wandered among the\nlava fields, muttering to himself, gesturing wildly, and beating his\nbreast. Finally it occurred to him to ask his staff how he could\namend for his wrong-doing, and was told there was but one way:\nto rescue the girl from the place of the dead, in the pit of Milu,\non the other side of the island.\n\nHe lost no time in obeying this oracle, and on arriving at the wild and\nlonely spot he made a swing of morning-glory vine, which here grows\nvery long, and let himself down, having first smeared himself with\nrancid grease to make the shades believe he was dead. Thousands of\nspirits were chasing butterflies and lizards in the twilight gloom of\nthe place or lying under trees. He despaired of being able to discover\nthe spirit of Kawelu. But she had seen him; she hurried to him; she\nclasped him in a fond embrace; for she had forgiven his wrong conduct,\nand now she was asking him, sympathetically, how he had died. He evaded\nan answer, but bestowed on her a thousand endearments, the while he\nwas slowly working his way up the vine, in which he affected to be\nmerely swinging; then, just as she began to show alarm at having been\ntaken so far from her new home, he clapped a cocoanut shell over her\nhead and had her safe, a prisoner.\n\nWith the soul enclosed in the shell, he tramped back to her home,\nliving on wild fruits and yams on the way, and on poi that was offered\nto him by strangers whom he met. The chief received him and his news\njoyfully, but he did not know how to restore a soul to a body until\nhis oldest priest took the case in hand. Kawelu's corpse was taken\nfrom the tomb, its shiny wrappings were removed and incantations were\nperformed about it. Then the priest raised a toe-nail, took the soul\nfrom the shell and pressed it under the nail, working it upward with\nboth hands. It passed the ankle and knee with difficulty, but was\nfinally pushed into place in the heart. Kawelu gasped, opened her\neyes, sat up, embraced Hiku, and the people cried that their princess\nwas alive again. There was a great pounding of drums, much singing,\ndancing, and feasting; every one wore wreaths, and Hiku was praised\nwithout stint for his love and daring. The lovers were married, never\nto part again. Kawelu remembered nothing of what had happened to her\nafter she was turned back by the vines on the mountain, and did not\nknow that her soul had been among the dead. And though he might have\ntaken a dozen wives when he succeeded his father-in-law as chief,\nHiku loved Kawelu so well that he never thought of taking even a\nsecond helpmate. He brought his mother from her solitary hut on the\nmountain, and she and the bride became very fond of one another. So\nall the days of Hiku and Kawelu thereafter were days of happiness.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Rebellion of Kamiole\n\n\nIn the year 1170, or thereabout, Kanipahu was king of Hawaii. He\nwas of Samoan origin, grandson of the builder of that temple whose\nruins are still to be seen at Puepa in walls over eight hundred feet\naround, twenty-six feet high, and eight feet thick at the top. It is\nrecorded that the stone for this construction was passed from hand\nto hand by a line of men reaching all the way to Niuli, a matter of\nnine miles. Despite the improvements in building and other arts that\nhad come in with the Samoans, the Normans of this Pacific Britain;\ndespite the centralizing of power that enabled them to break down the\noppressions of petty lords; despite the satisfaction of the common\npeople, the aristocracy was restive, and sought constantly for excuses\nto rouse their subjects against the new domination. Wikookoo, head\nof King Kanipahu's army, having eloped with the sister of Kamiole,\na disaffected chief, the latter burst in upon the king's privacy soon\nafter with a demand for vengeance. He had met the woman near the king's\nhouse and had struck her dead, as he supposed, that she might not be\n\"degraded\" by bearing children to a plebeian immigrant.\n\nThe king was a just and patient man, and kept his temper, in spite\nof the visitor's harshness, not only to Wikookoo but to all his\npeople. Though he could have ordered him to be slain, he yielded\nto his general's demand for permission to fight a duel. The pair\nfaced each other at fifty feet, hurled two spears without effect,\nthen closed with javelins. Wikookoo was hurt, and deeming that honor\nwas satisfied the king ordered the fight to cease. Kamiole gave no\nheed to his words. He had a tiger's thirst for blood. Like a flash he\nleaped upon the fallen man and pounded the weapon into his heart. This\nrebellion against the king and the savagery of the killing caused an\noutcry of rage and horror. The murderer's chance was desperate. \"Face\ndown!\" commanded the king. This was the command to put the offender\nto death. A dozen sprang to execute the order. Kamiole tugged the\njavelin out of his foeman's body and hurled it at the king. It wounded\na young man, who had flung himself in front of his liege, and in the\nconfusion of the moment Kamiole escaped, running like a deer through\na shower of stones and darts, gaining his boat and sailing away for\nhis native state of Kau.\n\nBlown with pride in his exploit, the rebel set about the raising of an\narmy to drive the new people from the island. It needed only a leader,\nlike him, to urge disaffection into revolt, and not many weeks after\nnearly all Hawaii was on the march against the king. Deserted by\nthousands of his followers, and being a man of peace, albeit having\nno lack of courage, the king withdrew to the island of Molokai and\nbecame a simple farmer among a strange people. He was nearly seven\nfeet in height,--a common stature among men of the first families\nin that day,--and the neighbors marked him; but he stooped his\nshoulders and worked hard; so, ere long, his appearance was not\naccounted strange. Kamiole was now the first man in Hawaii. He was\nnot a reformer. Consumed with pride, arrogant, brutal, brooking no\nopposition, he made enemies day by day. Only because the people had\nhad enough of war did they endure in silence, and hope for an illness\nor an accident to remove the now hateful tyrant.\n\nUnknown to Kamiole, the sister he had struck down survived his\nassault, and bore a daughter to the late Wikookoo, a pretty maid,\nwho, in good time, married the son of the exiled king, a quiet,\ndreamy youth, who lived apart from his fellows in the interior of\nHawaii, finding his company and his employ in the woods and on the\nvast mountain slopes. Eighteen years had passed when this prince was\nrudely waked from his idyllic life. An old priest, who alone knew the\nhiding-places of the king and his son, had tried to rouse the former\nto reassert his rule. The king welcomed him and wished success to\nthe movement for the overthrow of Kamiole, but he refused command\nof his old army,--refused to return to Hawaii. \"I am old,\" said he,\n\"and so bent that I can no longer look over the heads of my people,\nas becomes a king. I am no longer served with dainties; in the noon\nheat no servant fans me or brings water; I live in a hut and fare\non coarse food; but, old friend, I eat with an appetite, I sleep\nlike a tired and honest man; I have forgotten ceremony and care,\nand I am happy. Not to be king of all these islands, and the islands\nof our fathers likewise, would I return. See how blue the sky is,\nhow fresh the trees and grass! What music in the roll of the ocean\nand in the birds' songs! What sweetness in the flowers!\"\n\nWondering at this change in his former master, the priest dropped\nhis hands in a gesture of despair. \"Then our cause is lost,\" said he.\n\n\"Not so,\" answered the king. \"Go to my son. Tell him his father wishes\nhim to reign. Untried as he is, he has my strength; he is resolute,\nhe is wise, he loves justice. He will head your men of war.\"\n\nThe prince was found to be a willing leader. The arrogance of Kamiole,\nthe decreasing liberties of the people, the thought that the dictator\nhad attempted the lives of his father and his wife's parents, stirred\nin him resolves of vengeance. The fickle masses that eighteen years\nbefore had overturned his dynasty now gathered under his standard, and\nbattle was offered at Anehomaloo. Kamiole had the fewer men, but the\nbetter position, being defended in front by a stone wall five feet high\nthat stretched across the plain, and at the back by a gorge too deep\nand steep, as he imagined, for an enemy to cross. The fight was fierce\nand long, and thousands fell on both sides. The prince was cautious,\nhowever, for he was waiting the result of a secret move: an assault on\nthe rear of his foe by a large body of spearmen who were making a long\ndetour to prevent detection of this manoeuvre. Presently he saw the\nstir and shimmer of arms on the hill beyond the chasm, and ordering\na general charge on Kamiole, kept him so occupied for a quarter of\nan hour that the advance from the hill was not observed until the\ndetachment had descended the ravine, clambered up again, and was now\nrushing upon the doomed army. Penned between two forces, Kamiole's\nmen were beaten to the earth, and the battle ended in a massacre.\n\nWhen the successful movement was made across the ravine the prince\nwas astonished to see at the head of his troops in the distance\na stranger,--a tall, weathered, sinewy man with a mass of white\nbeard and hair that flowed over his chest and shoulders,--who hewed\na passage through the battling legion with a club that few men could\nhave lifted. After the fight this stranger stood long before the fallen\nKamiole and looked into his fading eyes. As the prince hastened to\nthe dying tyrant, his princess followed with a calabash of water;\nfor in those times women accompanied their husbands and brothers to\nthe field, waiting at a little distance to dress their wounds and\nsupply food and drink. His stature had enabled her to keep him in\nsight, and she was now about to offer the drink to him, when Kamiole,\nthough he had never before seen his niece, appeared to recognize her\nvoice, and faintly exclaimed, \"Iola!\"\n\n\"My mother's name!\" cried the princess, in surprise. \"Then you must be\nher brother.\" Dropping on her knees at his side, she gave the water\nto Kamiole. The dying man extended his hands toward her and drew a\ndeep breath,--his last.\n\nThe prince, who had been smiling at this unusual mercy to an enemy,\nnow looked up and caught the eye of the stranger fixed intently upon\nhim. \"By whose arm did Kamiole fall?\" he asked.\n\n\"By mine,\" replied the white-haired man.\n\n\"Are you a god?\" asked the prince, a sense of awe creeping over him\nas he noted the strength and dignity of this form.\n\n\"I am Kanipahu,--your father.\"\n\nAnd among the heaped dead the two embraced. Having seen his son\nenthroned and peace restored, the old king refused all offers and\npersuasions, and went back to Molokai to end his days in peace as a\nsimple farmer. The prince, whose name was Kalapana, and who was the\nancestor of the great Kamehameha, reigned tranquilly and died lamented.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Japanese Sword\n\n\nMore than two centuries before Columbus reached America on its Atlantic\nside a Japanese junk visited the western shore. The tradition is too\nvague to specify whether the navigators attempted a landing or not,\nbut as their boat was small and could not have been provisioned for a\nvoyage of thousands of miles, it is probable that they took on fresh\nsupplies of food and water before they put about and started on the\nhomeward journey. They never saw Japan again, for their vessel went\nto wreck on Maui, whose king personally rescued five of them,--three\nmen and two women. This was the second appearance in the Hawaiian\nislands of \"white people with shining eyes.\" When the captain of the\njunk reached the shore he still carried the keen sword of steel he had\ngirded on in the expectation of an attack from savages. There was no\nattack. He and his mates were received with kindness, and provided with\nhouses, although they shocked the multitude by their ignorance of the\ntaboo, the men and women eating from the same dishes. It was explained\nthat their gods were poor, half-enlightened creatures, and that it was\nas well to let them alone until they should learn truth and manners.\n\nIn time these castaways took Mauians to husband and wife, the\ncaptain's sister marrying the king himself, but the captain was held in\nsuperstitious reverence because of his sword. The natives had daggers,\nknives, axes, adzes, hammers, and spears of stone, bone, shark teeth,\nand fire-hardened wood, but metals were unknown to them, and this long,\nglittering blade, that cut a javelin stem as the javelin would crack\na rib, was a daily wonder. It was the common belief on that island\nthat whoever wielded the weapon would win a victory, though his\nenemies should be thousands in number. This belief was comforting,\nbut it did not last, for Kalaunui, king of Hawaii, undertook in the\nyear 1260 the subjugation of the whole group, and although his force\nwas defeated with great slaughter on Kauai, he had subdued Maui,\nOahu, and Molokai, for the time being, with his fleet of two thousand\nwell-manned, well-armed canoes.\n\nIn the great fight on Maui the Japanese warrior fought to the last,\nbut was struck down by a Hawaiian captain, one Kaulu, who buried the\nprecious sword on the spot where he had taken it, and recovered it\nby starlight. Knowing that the king would demand it if it were seen,\nhe gave it in charge of his mother Waahia, a seer of such renown and\nverity that she accompanied the army at the request of its leaders. The\nold woman concealed the blade in the hollow of a rock. Unhappily for\nher cause, she had not foreseen the result of this campaign, for the\nexpedition met its Waterloo on the shores of Kauai, hundreds of the\nmen being drowned or slain by slings and javelins before a landing\ncould be made. King Kalaunui was made prisoner, the kings of Maui,\nOahu, and Molokai, whom he had taken with him as hostages for the\nsurrender of their islands when he should return, were released, and\na remnant of the invading force, under lead of Kaulu, returned. The\nqueen was filled with wrath at the failure of this expedition, and\nrebuked Kaulu for treachery and cowardice,--Kaulu, who had stood by\nhis lord to the moment of his capture, and who had wrested the magic\nsword from its owner.\n\nBurning under this charge, he sought his mother and asked what\nhe should do to disprove it. She replied that he should not only\nbe cleared by the king himself, but he should marry the king's\ndaughter. The queen began at once to negotiate for the release of her\nhusband. That monarch was confined in a hut, surrounded by a stone\nwall and strongly guarded, but was, nevertheless, treated with the\nrespect and distinction worthy of the Napoleon that he was. A fleet\nof canoes with many spears was offered in exchange; but, with the\nspoils of battle still in their possession, the victors only smiled\nat this. Next came an offer of twenty feather cloaks, with stone axes,\nivory, and whalebone; but this, too, was rejected. A third proposition\nby the queen was that the ruler of Kauai should wed her daughter and\nagree to a perpetual peace. This came to nothing. Several attempts\nwere made to renew the war, but they fell flat, for the experience had\nbeen too bitter and the people refused. Three years thus passed,--a\ntime sufficient to convince the queen of her political weakness. She\nhad almost resigned hope when old Waahia sought an audience at court,\nand said, when she had received permission to break the taboo and speak\nbefore the councillors, that she, and she alone, could rescue the king,\nbut she would not undertake this unless the chiefs would promise to\ngrant her request, whatever it might be, on their lord's return.\n\nThis pledge they gave with the understanding that it was not to affect\nlife or sovereignty or possessions, and the seer left for Kauai, with\nbut a single oarsman, in the morning. She arrived while the new-year\nfestivities were in progress, and everybody was in good-humor. There\nwere music, dancing, chanting of poems and traditions, feasting, and\nmuch swigging of spirits, not to speak of indulgences that would have\nshocked civilization. Unannounced, a weird-like, commanding figure,\nWaahia sought the presence of the court. She had come, she said, to\nmake a final offer for the release of the royal prisoner: the offer\nof a sword that flashed like fire, that was harder than stone, that\nbroke spears like reeds, that gave to its owner supreme fortune and\nsupreme command. The fame of the bright knife had gone abroad ere this,\nand an offer had at last been made that carried persuasion with it. The\nliberty of the king was promised when it should be brought. But first\nshe wished the prisoner's assurance that on his return he would give\nhis daughter in marriage to her son, since the young people loved\neach other, and the marriage would also remove the disgrace that the\nqueen had angrily tried to fix upon Kaulu.\n\nThis was agreed to, and a few days later the old woman reappeared at\nthe palace with the splendid weapon,--one that would still be splendid,\nfor such blades are not made nowadays,--and with general rejoicing\nat the possession of this wonder, the chiefs liberated Kalaunui, and\nhe returned to Hawaii, cured of ambition for leadership and military\nglory. His daughter was married to Kaulu, captain of the royal guard,\nand kings were their descendants. For many years the glittering prize\nremained with the ruling house of Kauai, but its virtue had fled when\nthe invincible Kamehameha undertook the conquest of the islands and\ntheir union under a single king, for he succeeded in that enterprise,\nas Kalaunui had not.\n\n\n\n\n\nLo-Lale's Lament\n\n\nLo-Lale, a prince of Oahu in the fifteenth century, took no joy in\nthe sea after the girl had been drowned in it who was betrothed to\nhim. Retiring inland, he led a quiet, thoughtful life, to the regret\nof those who had looked to see him show some fitness in leadership,\nfor as youth verged toward middle age he was repeatedly besought\nto marry, that his princely line might be continued. Tired of these\nimportunities, and possibly not averse to the lightening of his spirit,\nhe consented that a wife should be sought for him, and appointed his\nhandsome, dashing cousin, Kalamakua, as his agent in the choice. The\ncousin sailed at once for Maui, where rumor said a young woman of\nrare beauty was living at the court, whose hand had been sought by\na dozen chiefs. On arriving near the shore of the king's domain\nthe messenger and his rowers were startled by the uprising from\nthe waves of a laughing, handsome face, and behold! the woman who\nintroduced herself in this unusual fashion was the one they sought:\nKelea, the king's sister. She had been surf-riding on her board, and\nin the delight of swimming had ventured farther from shore than usual.\n\nThe captain of the canoe helped this dusky Venus to rise completely\nfrom the sea, and as she did not wish to return at once, he put his\nboat at her service for the exhilarating and risky sport of coasting\nthe breakers; but putting far out to meet a wave of uncommon size,\nthey were struck by a squall and blown so far that they found it\neasier to put in for shelter near the home of Lo-Lale than to return\nto Maui. The storm, the spray, the chilling gusts, compelled Kelea\nto sit close in the shelter of Kalamakua's sturdy form. He levied on\nthe scant draperies of his crew for cloth to keep her warm, and all\nthe men dined scantily that she might be fed. It is not strange that\na friendship was born on that voyage between the two people who had\nbeen so oddly introduced. Lo-Lale had never heard of John Alden and\nMyles Standish, principally, no doubt, because they had not been\nborn, but it must be allowed in his behalf, or in hers, that he\nhad never seen the damsel whom he was courting thus by proxy. When\nhe did behold her he was vastly pleased, and as he appeared in all\nthe paraphernalia of his rank and instituted in her honor a series\nof feasts and entertainments unparalleled in Oahu, the consent of\nKelea to a speedy marriage was obtained, a courteous notice to that\neffect being sent to her relatives, who had mourned for her as lost\nin the storm. He built a temple and adorned it with a statue as a\nthank-offering for having blown so fair a bride to his domain. No\nprettier compliment could be paid to a wife, even by a white man.\n\nFor a time Kelea was content. Lo-Lale was a kind husband, and he was\nconstantly studying to advance her happiness, but he was meditative and\nsilent; he loved the woody solitudes, while she was fond of company,\nbabble, sport, and especially of swimming and surf-riding. Presently\nit was noticed that she laughed less. She did not welcome Lo-Lale\nwhen he returned from his walks or his communings with Nature on\nthe hills. The voice of the sea was calling her,--and the voice\nof Kalamakua. A separation had to come. It was without any spoken\nbitterness. The husband wished her well, bestowed on her some parting\ngifts, and sent her to the shore in a palanquin borne by four men and\nattended by a guard of three hundred, as became her station. Kalamakua\nwas waiting on the beach,--Kalamakua, handsome, reckless, ardent. She\nnever returned to Maui. Though Lo-Lale resumed his old, still way\nand kept his dignity and countenance before his people, his lament,\nthat has been preserved by the treasurers of island traditions for\nmore than four centuries, discovers a pang in his heart deeper than he\ncould or would have voiced when he parted from his wife. The English\nversion is by King Kalakaua:\n\n\n    \"Farewell, my partner on the lowland plains,\n    On the waters of Pohakeo, above Kanehoa,\n    On the dark mountain spur of Mauna-una!\n    O, Lihue, she is gone!\n    Sniff the sweet scent of the grass,\n    The sweet scent of the wild vines\n    That are twisted by Waikoloa,\n    By the winds of Waiopua,\n    My flower!\n    As if a mote were in my eye.\n    The pupil of my eye is troubled.\n    Dimness covers my eyes. Woe is me!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Resurrections of Kaha\n\n\nKaha was granddaughter of the Wind and the Rain, whose home is still\namong the vapory darks that settle in the valley of Manoa, back of\nHonolulu, her remote ancestors being the mountain Akaaka and the\nCape Nalehuaakaaka. She was of such beauty that light played about\nher when she bathed, a rosy light such as the setting sun paints on\neastern clouds, and an amber glow hovered above the roof that sheltered\nher. From infancy she had been betrothed to Kauhi, a young chief whom\nevery one supposed to be worthy of her, because his parentage was high,\nand he could name more grandfathers than he had toes and fingers. He\ndid not deserve this esteem, for he was not only cruel and jealous,\nbut spoiled, petulant, and thick-headed. His qualities were exhibited\non his very first meeting with his promised bride, for neither had\nseen the other until reaching marriageable age. Two braggarts, who\nwere so ill formed and ugly that their boasts of winning ladies'\nfavor would have been taken by any one else for lies, declared,\nin Kauhi's hearing, that they were lovers of Kaha, and they wore\nwreaths of flowers which they said she had hung over their shoulders.\n\nSetting his teeth with a vengeful scowl and wrenching a stout\nbranch from a tree, the prince strode over to the house of his\nbride-to-be. She received him modestly and pleasantly, and her beauty\nstruck him into such an amazement that he could not at first find words\nto express the charge he wished to make. At last, by turning his back,\nhe managed to speak his base and foolish thought. She, thinking this\na jest, at first made light of it, but when he faced her once more,\nfrowning this time, like a thunder-cloud, and brandishing the cudgel\nabove his head, she was filled with fear and could hardly keep her\nfeet. She denied the charge. She begged that he would tell the names\nof her accusers that she might prove her innocence.\n\n\"You are fair to see and to hear, but you are as fickle as your\nparents. I will have no such woman for a wife,\" shouted the chief,\nlashing himself into a rage. She extended her arms appealingly. He\nstruck her on the temple, and she fell dead. He had gone but a mile or\nso when her voice was heard in song behind him, and the fall of her\nsteps on the path. To his astonishment, she now appeared bearing no\nmark of injury, save that the rough way had cut her feet, and again\nshe besought him to say on whose charge he had so foully wronged\nher in his thought, and why he wished to kill her. His answer was\nanother blow, more savage than the first, and this time there was no\ndoubt that he left her dead. Yet, before he had gone another mile,\nher lamenting song was heard; she came to him, and he struck her down\nagain. Five times this monster laid the defenceless girl a corpse,\nand the last time he scraped a hole under the tough roots of a tree,\ncrowded her body into it, covered it with earth, and went on to\nWaikiki without further interruption.\n\nThe owl-god had been Kaha's friend. After each stroke he had flown\nto her, rubbed his head against the bruised and broken temple, and\nrestored her to life. To drag her from under the tangled roots was\nbeyond his strength, and he flapped away into the depths of the wood,\nfilled with sadness that such beauty had been lost to the world. But\nit was not lost. The girl's spirit could not rest under the false\naccusal that had caused her death. All bloody and disfigured, her\nghost presented itself before Mahana, a young warrior of the nearest\ntown, with whom she had in life exchanged a kind though casual word\nor two, and understanding, through his own deep but unspoken love,\nthe reason for this visitation, he hurried after the phantom as it\ndrifted back to the tree. The disturbed earth and the splashes of\nblood explained enough. He set to work vigorously, exhumed the body\nwhile it was still warm, and holding it close to his breast, with\neyes fixed on the hurt but lovely face, he carried it to his home.\n\nOnce more the gods befriended her and restored Kaha to life. For many\ndays she was ill and weak, and throughout those days it was Mahana's\ndelight to serve her, to talk with her, to sit at her side, and hold\nher hand. This life of love and tenderness was a new and delightful\none; yet she sorrowfully declared that she must become the wife of\nKauhi, because her parents had so intended. The lover was not content\nwith this. He made a visit to Kauhi, and in the course of their talk\nhe mentioned, as the merest matter of fact, the visit of the famous\nbeauty to his home. Kauhi pooh-poohed this. He was sure of the girl's\ndeath. Mahana adroitly kept the conversation on this theme until Kauhi\nlost his temper, confessed that he had killed Kaha for faithlessness,\nand swore that the woman whom Mahana sheltered was a spirit or an\nimpostor. He would wager his life that it was so. The lover took the\nwager. It was agreed that the loser should be roasted alive. A number\nof chiefs, priests, and elderly men were assembled, and the girl was\nbrought into their presence. It was no spirit that bent the grass and\nfixed on the quailing ruffian that look of soft reproach. No impostor\ncould boast such beauty. Kauhi tried to exonerate his conduct by\nrepeating the falsehoods of the two men who claimed to have received\nher favors. They were dragged before the assembly, confronted by the\ninnocent Kaha, made confession, and were ordered to the ovens, where\nKauhi also went to his death, vaunting to the last. The lands and\nfish-ponds of this chief, who had no owl-god to resurrect his ashes,\nwere, with general acclaim, awarded to Mahana, and as chief he ruled\nhappily for many years with the fair Kaha for his wife.\n\n\n\n\n\nHawaiian Ghosts\n\n\nHawaii has its \"haunts\" and \"spooks,\" just as do some countries that\ndo not believe in such things. One of the spectres troubles a steep\nslope near Lihue, Kauai. An obese and lazy chief ordered one of his\nretainers to carry him to the top of the slope on his shoulders. It\nwas a toilsome climb, the day was hot, hence it is no wonder that\njust before he gained the summit the man staggered, fell, and sent\nhis dignified and indignant lord sprawling on the rocks. This was a\nfatal misstep, for the chief ran the poor fellow through with his\nspear. And the ghost possibly laments because it did not drop its\nburden sooner and with more emphasis.\n\nAnother place that the natives avoid is the Sugar Loaf on Wailua\nRiver, Kauai. Hungry robbers broke a taboo and ate some bananas that\nhad been consecrated to a local god, Kamalau. Missing the fruit,\nthe deity turned himself into the rock known as the Sugar Loaf, which\nis sixty feet high, that he might watch his plantation without being\nidentified. The thieves noticed the rock, however, could not recall\nthat it had been there on the day before, and suspecting something kept\naway. The sister of the god, believing him to be lost, leaped into\nthe river and became a stone herself. And so, having rid themselves\nof the flesh, these two are free to wander in the spirit.\n\nAnother deity that is occasionally seen is Kamehameha's large war god,\nfrom his temple in Hawaii, that even in his lifetime would leave its\npedestal and thrash among the trees like a lost comet.\n\nAt Honuapo, Hawaii, is the rock Kaverohea, jutting into the sea, where\nat night a murdered wife calls to her jealous husband, assuring him\nof her love and innocence. The voice is oftenest heard when a great\ndisaster is at hand: war, storm, earthquake, the death of a chief,\nor a season of famine.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Three Wives of Laa\n\n\nLaa, a young man of distinguished family, who had gone to Raiatea\nin his boyhood, returned a number of years after to visit his\nfoster-father, Moikeha, then chief of Kauai. The boats that were sent\nfor him were painted yellow, the royal color, and Laa was invested in a\nfeather robe that had cost a hundred people a year of labor, and caused\nthe killing of at least ten thousand birds, since the mamo had but one\nyellow feather under each wing. Hawaiian millinery was, therefore, as\ncruel a business as it became in America several centuries later. When\nthis favorite scion landed his path was strewn with flowers, and the\nfeasts in his honor lasted for a month. He had agreed to go back to\nRaiatea, for he had been accepted there as heir-apparent, yet it\nwas thought a pity that his line should cease in his native land;\nand while he felt that for state reasons he must take a Raiatea\nwoman for his queen,--for the people there would never consent to\nhis carrying home a Hawaiian to help rule over them,--he cheerfully\nconsented to take a temporary wife during his stay in Kauai. His house\nand grounds were, therefore, decorated, the nobility was assembled,\nmusicians and poets and dancers were engaged, and a great feast was\nordered, when a hitch arose over the choice of a bride. Each of the\nthree leading priests had a marriageable daughter of beauty and proud\ndescent. How were their claims to be settled? Easily enough, as it fell\nout. Laa married all three on the same day, and before his departure\nfor Raiatea each wife on the same day presented a son to him. From\nthese three sons sprang the governing families of Oahu and Kauai.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Misdoing of Kamapua\n\n\nWhen a child was born to Olopana, a lord of Oahu, in the twelfth\ncentury, he conceived a dislike to it, and freely alleged that his\nbrother was its father. Such as dared to speak ill of dignitaries, and\nthere were gossips in those days, as in all other, chuckled, at safe\ndistance, that if Olopana's suspicions were correct, the boy should\nhave somewhat of his--er--uncle's good looks and pleasant manner,\nwhereas he was hairy, ill-favored, and, as his nature disclosed itself\nwith increasing years, violent, thievish, treacherous; in short, he was\nOlopana at his worst. Every day added to the bad feeling between the\nboy and his father, for when he had grown old enough to appreciate\nthe position to which he had been born, the youngster repaid the\nhate of his parent, and strove to deserve it. Vain the attempt of\nthe mother to make peace between them and direct her offspring into\npaths of rectitude. In contempt, the chief put the name of Kamapua,\nor hog-child, on the boy, and in some of the older myths he actually\nfigures as a half-monster with a body like that of a man, but with\nthe head of a boar.\n\nKamapua gathered the reckless and incorrigible boys of the neighborhood\nabout him, and the band became a terror by night, for in the dark they\nbroke the taboo and heads as well, stripped trees of their fruit,\nstole swine and fowls, staved in the bottoms of canoes, cut trees,\nand in order to look as bad as he felt, the leader cropped his hair\nand his beard (when one came to him) to the shortness of an inch,\ntattooed the upper half of his body in black, and wore a hog-skin\nover his shoulders with bristles outward. On attaining his majority he\nleft his parents, taking with him some of his reprobates, and set up\nin life as a brigand, making his home in lonely defiles of the hills,\nand subsisting almost entirely by pillage. Several attempts were made\nto catch him, and a local legend at Hauula has it that when close\npressed by an angry crowd he turned himself into a monstrous hog,\nmade a bridge of himself across a narrow chasm, so that his companions\ncould run over on his back, scrambled on after them, and so escaped.\n\nThe neighbors endured these goings-on until Kamapua had added murder\nto his other crimes, when they resolved that he was no longer a\nsubject for public patience. An army was sent against him, most of his\nassociates were killed, he was caught, and was taken before his father\nfor judgment. Olopana sternly ordered that he be given as a sacrifice\nto the gods. His mother was in despair at this, for though he was a\nmost unworthy fellow, a nuisance, a danger, still, he was her son, and\nshe loved him better than her life. She bribed the priests, whose duty\nit was to slay him, and they, having smeared him with chicken-blood,\nlaid him on the altar. The eye that was gouged from the body of\na victim, and offered to the chief who made the sacrifice, was in\nthis case the eye of a pig. Olopana did not even pretend to eat this\nrelic, as he should have done, to follow custom, but flung it aside\nand gazed with satisfaction at the gory features of the man who was\nshamming death. He had turned to leave the temple when Kamapua leaped\nfrom the altar, picked up the bone dagger with which a feint had been\nmade of cutting out his eye and stabbed his father repeatedly in the\nback. At the sight of a corpse butchering their chief the people fled\nin panic, the priests, awe-struck at the result of their corruption,\nhid themselves, and the murderer, so soon as he was sure that Olopana\nwas dead, hurried away, assembled the forty surviving members of his\nband, leaped into his canoe, and left Oahu forever.\n\nHe landed at Kauai, on the cliff of Kipukai, and remembering a well\nof sweet water on its side, he sought for it, up and down, and back\nand forth, for he had a raging thirst. Two spirits of the place,\nknowing him to be evil, had concealed the spring under a mass of\nshrubbery that he might not pollute it; but he found it, and as he\ndrank he saw their figures reflected in the surface, despite their\nconcealment in the shadow, and heard their laughter at his greed and\nhis uncouthness. That angered him. He sprang up, chased them through\nthe wood, caught them, and with a swing of his great arms hurled them\nto the hill across the valley, where they became stone and art seen\nto this day. So ill did he behave in Kauai, assailing innocent people\nand destroying their taro patches, that they determined to despatch\nhim, and in order to have him under their advantage it was resolved\nto fence him in near Hanalei. The wall of mountain now existing there\nis the fence. Just before it was finished the prince in charge of the\nwork sat to rest in a gap which admits the present road. He heard a\nharsh laugh, and looking up saw Kamapua sitting on the top of Hoary\nHead. A running fight ensued, in which the outlaw escaped across the\nmountain, and the prince, hurling his spear, but missing his mark,\nsent the weapon through the crest of the peak, making the remarkable\nwindow that is one of the sights of the island. And now, when a cloud\nrests on this mountain, the people say that Kamapua is sitting there.\n\nSome years before this Pele and her brothers had migrated from the\nfar southern islands and had made their home in Hawaii, close to the\ncrater of Kilauea,--so close that they were believed to be under\nthe special protection of the gods; and from that belief no doubt\ngrew the later faith that Pele and her family were gods themselves;\nthat they lived in the cones thrust up from the floor of Kilauea by\ngas and steam while it was in a viscid state; that the music of their\ndances came up in thunder gusts, and that they swam the white surges\nof lava in the hell-pit.\n\nHaving heard of the beauty of this woman, Kamapua resolved to abduct\nher, and after a visit, in which the usual courtesies and hospitalities\nwere observed, but which he paid in order to estimate the strength of\nher following, he attacked the outlying huts of the village in the\nnight and killed their occupants, intending to follow this assault\nby surrounding Pele's house and forcing the surrender of all within:\nbut hearing the outcry in the distance and divining its meaning, she\nand her brothers hastily gathered weapons and provisions and fled to\na cave in the hills three miles away. There was a sufficient spring\nin this place, and the entrance was defended by heavy blocks. The\nfugitives could have endured a siege of a week with little likelihood\nof loss. In the morning a dog, following their scent, led Kamapua\nto this stronghold. An attack costing several lives on his side, and\nmaking no effect on those entrenched within, convinced him that it was\nuseless to expect success from this method, so he piled fuel against\nthe entrance and set it afire, hoping to suffocate the defenders\nto unconsciousness, when he would force his way to the interior and\nrescue Pele. Here again he failed, for a strong draft blowing from\nthe cave carried the smoke into his own face. Then he ordered a hole\nto be cut in the cavern roof, for this appeared to be not more than\nfifteen or twenty feet thick, and being friable was easily worked by\nthe stone drills and axes of his men. The workers plied their tools\nindustriously, while Kamapua shouted threats and defiance through\nthe chinks in the wall before the cavern door.\n\nHis taunts were vain. While the sinking of the shaft was in progress,\na strange new power was coming upon Pele. The gods of the earth and\nair had seen this assault and had resolved to take her part. The sky\nbecame overcast with brown, unwholesome-looking clouds, the ground\ngrew hot and parched, vegetation drooped and withered, birds flew\nseaward with cries of distress, and a waiting stillness fell upon\nthe world. Kamapua had cut away ten feet of rock, when the voice of\nPele was heard in long, shrill laughter, dying in far recesses of the\nmountain, as if she were flying through passages of immense length. The\nhills began to shake; vast roarings were beard; a choking fume of\nsulphur filled the air, dust rolled upward, making a darkness like\nthe night; then, with a crash like the bursting of a world, the top\nof Kilauea was blown toward the heavens in an upward shower of rock;\na fierce glow colored the ash-clouds that volleyed from the crater,\nand down the valley came pouring a flood of lava, a river of white\nfire, crested with the flame of burning forests, as with foam.\n\nKamapua and his bandits fled, but again he heard the laughter, this\ntime from the crater, which Pele had reached from within, and was now\nmounting, free, vaulting through the clouds, revelling in the heat and\nblaze and din, and hurling rocks and thunderbolts at the intruder. At\nthe ocean's edge the lava was still close at his heels. Its heat\nblistered his skin. He had no time to reach his boats. With his spear\nhe struck a mighty blow on the ground and cracked the mountain to its\nbase, so that the ocean flowed in, and a fearful fight of fire and sea\nbegan. Steam shot for miles into the air, with vast geysers leaping\nthrough it, and the hiss and screech and bellow were appalling. The\ncrater filled with water, so that Pele and her brothers had to drink\nit dry, lest the fires should be quenched. When they had done this\nthey resumed the attack on Kamapua, emptying the mountain of its\nash and molten rock, and hurling tons of stone after the wretch,\nwho was now straining every muscle to force his boat far enough to\nsea to insure his safety. He did not retaliate this time, but was\nglad to make his escape; for Pele had come to her godhood at last.\n\n\n\n\n\nPele's Hair\n\n\nFiercest, though loveliest, of all the gods is Pele, she whose home\nis in Kilauea, greatest of the world's volcanoes. When this mountain\nlights the heavens, when lava pours from its miles of throat, when\nstone bombs are hurled at the stars, when its ash-clouds darken the sun\nand moon, when there are thunders beneath the earth, and the houses\nshake, then does this spirit of the peak, in robes of fire, ride the\nhot blast and shriek in the joy of destruction,--a valkyrie of the\nwar of nature. Kanakas try to keep on the good side of this torrid\ndivinity by secret gifts, either of white chickens or of red ohelo\nberries, and an old man once put into a guide's hand the bones of a\nchild that he might throw them down the inner crater,--Halemaumau,\nthe House of Eternal Burning, whose ruddy lava cones are homes of\nthe goddess and her family. The dogs sacrificed to Pele, when human\nvictims were scant, were nursed at the breasts of slaves, and the\npriests and virgins received as their portion, after the killing,\nthe heart and liver. Next to her eyes, of piercing brightness,\nthe most striking thing in the aspect of this deity is her wealth\nof hair, silky, shining red in the glow, and shaken from her head\nin a cloud-like spread as of flame. When the eruption is at an end\nand a sullen peace follows the outbreak, tufts _of_ this hair are\nfound in hollows for miles around. Birds gather it for their nests,\nand unfearing visitors collect it for cabinets and museums.\n\nScience tells us that Pele's hair is a molten glass; threads of\npumice: a stony froth. When a mighty blast occurs, or when steam\nescapes through the boiling mass, particles of pumice shred off in\nthe upward flight, or are wire-drawn by winds that rage over the\nearth. These viscid threads cool quickly in that chill altitude,\nand float down again. They can be artificially made by passing\njets of steam through the slag of iron furnaces while it is in a\nmelted state, the product, which resembles raw cotton, being used,\nin place of asbestos, for the packing of boilers, steam-pipes, and\nthe like. To such base uses might the goddess' shining locks be put,\nif she tore them out in large enough handfuls during the carnival of\nfire and earthquake; but they are not found in quantities to justify\nthis search by commercial-minded persons, and conservative Kanakas\nmight be alarmed by thought of revenges which Pele would visit on\nthem should they misuse her hair as the foreign heathen do.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Prayer to Pele\n\n\nAlthough Pele is the most terrible of deities, she can be kind. If a\nvillage makes sacrifices to her she is liable at any hour to continue\nto keep the peace. Otherwise, she loses her temper and pours out floods\nof lava or showers of ashes on the neglectful people, or dries their\nsprings and wastes their farms. Sacrifices of unhappy beings were made\nto her whenever the volcano spirits began to growl, the victims being\nbound and thrown into the crater of the threatening mountain. Princess\nKapiolani was probably the first native to protest against these\nsacrifices, and in 1824, after her conversion to Christianity,\nshe gave an instructive exhibition by defying the taboo of Kilauea,\neating the berries growing on the sides of the peak, in defiance of\nthe priestly order, and throwing rocks contemptuously into the pit.\n\nPele is the Venus of the islands, and is of wondrous beauty when she\ntakes a human form, as she does, now and again, when she falls in\nlove with some Mars or Adonis of the native race, or when she intends\nto engage in coasting down the slippery mountain sides,--a sport of\nwhich she is fond. As always with distinguished company, you must\nlet your competitor win, if you fancy that it is Pele in disguise who\nis your rival in a toboggan contest; for a chief of Puna having once\nsuffered himself to distance her, she revengefully emptied a sea of\nlava from the nearest crater and forced him to fly the region. Many\ntales of her amours survive. Kamehameha the Great was among her most\nfavored lovers. It was to help him to a victory that she suffocated\na part of the army of his enemy with steam and sulphur fumes.\n\nIt fared less happily with the debonnair Prince Kaululaau when he\nattempted force in his wooing. He found Pele watching the surf-riders\nat Keauhou, and was ravished by her loveliness. Her skirt glittered\nwith crystal, her mantle was colored like a rainbow, bracelets of\nshell circled her wrists and ankles, her hair was held in a wreath of\nflowers. His admiration was not returned. She was contemptuous toward\nhim,--one could almost say cold, but Pele was seldom that, for when\nthe young chief approached, the earth about her was blistering hot\nand he was compelled to dance. With his magic spear he dissipated her\npower for a little and lowered the temperature she had inflamed the\nvery earth withal. So soon, however, as she had regained her freedom,\nand had passed beyond the influence of this spear, she undertook\nto avenge herself by opening the gates of the mountain and letting\nloose a deluge of lava. Again with his spear-point Kaululaau drew\nlines on the ground, beyond which the deadly torrent could not pass,\nand through the hot air, amid the rain of ashes and the belching of\nsulphurous steam, he regained his canoe and escaped.\n\nOnly so far back as 1882 this goddess was petitioned by one of the\nfaithful, and with effect. Mauna Loa was in eruption. A river of lava\ntwenty-five miles long was creeping down the slope and was threatening\nthe town of Hilo. The people raised walls and breaks of stone to\ndeflect this stream; they dug pits across its course to check it,\nbut without avail. The vast flow of melted rock kept on, lighting\nthe skies, charring vegetation at a distance, and filling the air\nwith an intolerable heat. Princess Ruth, a descendant of Kamehameha,\nwas appealed to. She hated the white race, and would have seen with\nlittle emotion the destruction of all the European and American\nintruders in Hilo; but it was her own people who were most in danger,\nso she answered, \"I will save the Hilo fish-ponds. Pele will hear a\nKamehameha.\" A steamer was obtained for her, and with many attendants\nshe sailed from Honolulu to the threatened point. Climbing the slope\nbehind the village, she built an altar close to the advancing lava,\ncast offerings upon the glowing mass, and solemnly prayed for the\nsalvation of Hilo. That night the lava ceased to flow. It still forms\na shining bulwark about the menaced town. The princess sailed back\nto Honolulu, and the faithful asked the Christians why the pagan\ndivinity alone had answered the many prayers.\n\n\n\n\n\nLohiau and the Volcano Princess\n\n\nWith gods, as with men, who would speed his affairs must keep them in\nhis own hands. Pele, the volcano goddess, fell in love with Lohiau,\na Kauaian prince, and in human guise remained with him so long that\nher sisters were afraid the Kilauea fires would go out. The prince\ntook an illness, and appeared to die, ere the honeymoon was over,\nso, wrapped in cloth of bark, he was put under guard to lie in\nstate. When Pele had gone back alone to her mountain home a longing\ncame upon her to feel the young man's arms about her once more and\nhear the words of love he had such a pretty talent for telling. But,\ninstead of going herself, she sent her sister Hiika to rescue his\nsoul and bring it to her. This was a mistake, for the sister was not\na serious creature. Stopping to brave the devils and giant lizards of\nthe woods, turning the boards of surf-riders to stone for a prank,\nand scaring a fisherman by causing him to pull a human head out of\nthe sea, the sister next found a half-released spirit hovering near\na dying chief. She tied it in a corner of her skirt and slapped the\nskirt against a rock, so the chief finished his dying promptly. In\nKauai, at last, her search was rewarded. She saw the ghost of Lohiau\nbeckoning from a cave, in which it had been imprisoned by demons, who\nfled, hissing, on her approach. She broke the bars of moonbeam that\nconfined it, tied it in her skirt, carried it to its body, restored\nthe prince to life, then led him to Hawaii and with him scaled the\nmountain where Pele was waiting in great dudgeon. For Hiika had been\ngone so long on this journey that a wrong construction had been put on\nher delay. Lohiau and Hiika had, indeed, learned to esteem each other,\nbut they had not violated the trust imposed in them by the goddess.\n\nPele was madly jealous, however. She turned the prince to stone\non the crater brink,--the poor fellow was growing used to dying\nnow,--and, dismayed by this act of cruelty, Hiika descended through\nthe five spheres to the dark underworld where the spirits lived. She\nhoped that the young man's ghost would follow her, for pity in his\nsufferings had fast increased to love. As the spirit did not come,\nshe returned to the surface of the earth and went on a voyage of\nsearch in a boat that a god had lent to her,--a boat of cowrie shell,\nwhich in overland travel would shrink so that it could be carried in\nthe hand; then, at the word, would swell to a stately barge of pearl\nwith ivory masts and sails as white as the snow on the mountain. This\nvessel moved with the speed of the wind in any direction the occupant\nindicated by pointing the finger. The prince's wandering spirit was\nfound in Kauai, its old home; was taken by a messenger to the stone\nimage on the crater, and put back into the body, and the prince lived\nagain. Pele was by this time in a soft and repentant humor. She\nasked forgiveness of Lohiau and bade him love and wed her sister,\nwho was good, and had earned his love. This Lohiau did, whereupon\nPele restored to life several of Hiika's friends whom, also, in her\nfirst anger, she had turned to statues of lava.\n\n\n\n\n\nA Visit of Pele\n\n\nWhile a great storm was raging over Hawaii a boy was born to a woman\nchief in the camp of King Alapai. At once the soothsayers proclaimed\nhim as the man of prophecy who should conquer the eight islands and end\ntheir strifes. It seemed as if for once--or oftener--the kahunas were\nwrong, for the babe disappeared that very night. There were rumors of\nfoul play; rumors that Alapai had killed him, that he might not stand\nin the way of his own progeny, for this barbarian Macbeth would have no\nBanquo to intercept his line or wrest the crown from him. It was five\nyears before the fate of the child was known. He was not dead: Naole,\na chief, had kidnapped him that the prophecy might come to pass. When\nthe king heard of this he commanded that the boy be placed at court,\nwhere he might learn manners and the laws, and be kept under the eyes\nof the great; but, doubting his master's motive, Naole did not send\nthe child; he sent another of the same age, who was to cut no figure\nin the history of the islands, not being the favored of the gods.\n\nThe real prince was kept in so secluded a place and the secret of\nhis parentage so well preserved--it was prophecy that he should be\nfathered of three kings--that he had reached the age of twenty before\nNaole deemed it safe to let him mingle with the multitude. He then\nmade it known that the young man was Kamehameha. By this time King\nAlapai was dead, or helpless with age; but the prince, albeit liberal\nand just, was rough, strong, dictatorial, a natural military leader,\nand he did not lack enemies. Worst among these was his uncle, Pepehi,\nan elderly chief, who had read omens in the entrails of sacrifice\nwarning him to be discreet and guarded in his life or it would be\ntaken from him by one related to him, and of greater power. He could\nnot brook the thought of Kamehameha's ascendency, for he was a man\nused to deference, a man of weight and dignity, while this new-found\nprince was a boor. He therefore made himself unpleasant by criticisms\nand carpings, by false interpretations of signs, by implications\nagainst his nephew, and finding that the young man did not retaliate,\nhe resolved to have his life.\n\nPretending anger with Kamehameha because he would not study for the\npriesthood and succeed to his honors, the soothsayer dinned a tirade\ninto his ears in the temple ground, hoping to receive a blow, that\nhe might stab, in return, for he wished the killing to appear as if\ndone in self-defence. Stung by his insolence, Kamehameha did knock\nhim down: a good, stout blow, well won. So soon as he had recovered\nhis wits and got upon his feet the priest plucked out his long bone\nknife and made a stroke, but the priestess of the temple, her eyes\nblazing with anger at this trespass, caught his wrist and cried, \"Down\nto your knees! Ask pardon of your future king and mercy of the gods.\"\n\nAt that instant came a rush of wings and a blaze of light filling\nthe temple space. All fell to the earth, for they had recognized the\ntall form before them with the coronet of vari-colored sparks bound\non the golden hair that swept around it like a cloud of glory, and\nthe robe of tissue that was like flame of silver whiteness. It was\nthe volcano goddess.\n\n\"Peace!\" she commanded. \"This boy is in the charge of Pele. Let\nno hand be lifted against him. No knife, no art, no poison, and no\nspell shall shorten his life. He will be your greatest king: your\nbest. He will put an end to these wretched wars between your families,\nand prepare for the day when a pale race will come to these lands,\nmaking them a step in their conquering march around the world. As for\nyou, Pepehi, speak another word against those I love, lift a hand\nagainst them, and I turn you to a cinder. Aloha!\" She had vanished\nlike flame. Kamehameha, on this revelation of his destiny, sprang to\nhis feet. His breath was quick and strong, a smile was on his lips,\nand he looked into the distance with lifted face and flashing eye, as\nif a glorious vision had arisen there. A touch on his foot brought him\nto himself. Pepehi was grovelling before him, baring his breast and\noffering to Kamehameha the poisoned dagger he had but a few moments\nbefore aimed at the young king's heart. Lifting him from the ground,\nKamehameha comforted the priest with a few words and sent him homeward\nwith bowed head and dragging step.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Great Famine\n\n\nHua, the licentious king of Maui,--who kept a hundred hula dancers,\nwas drunk for days together on awa, and spared no wife or daughter\nof a friend or subject if she took his fancy,--had been chafing\nunder the restraints imposed or attempted by his high priest, a\nblameless man whose age and long service should have gained even a\nking's consideration. It was approaching a new-year feast (the end\nof December), toward the close of the twelfth century, and Hua had\nmade such levies on his people for useless wars and wasteful orgies\nthat the old man was moved to protest. Hua paid no attention to him,\nbut loudly ordered his hunters to go to the mountains and bring him\nsome water-birds for his table.\n\n\"Those birds can be found only by the sea,\" ventured the priest.\n\n\"You countermand my orders, do you?\" roared the monarch.\n\n\"I gave no order,\" protested the venerable man.\n\n\"Hark you,\" insisted the king. \"My men are going to the mountain. If\nthey find the birds there--and they will--you shall be slain as a\nrebel and a false prophet.\"\n\nSeeing that his master desired his death, the priest bowed and made no\nanswer. He went to his sons, who were studying for the priesthood,\nprevailed on them to fly to Mount Haleakala, and probably hoped\nto follow them, but being slow and lame with years, the hunters had\nreturned before he could escape. They bore their prey, the water-birds,\nand said they had found them inland. Knowing this to be a lie, told\nby the king's command, the priest said, \"These birds came from the\nsea. You can smell it upon them. Look.\" And he cut open two or three\nof their bodies. \"Here are little fish and bits of seaweed they have\neaten within the hour.\"\n\nEnraged at the discovery of his paltry subterfuge, the king caught up\na spear and thrust it into the old man's heart. Though everything is\npermitted to a king, the people could not repress a groan of horror,\nand one by one they stole away from the spot, fearful of what might\nfollow this sacrilege. Well might they fear. The body of the priest\nhad barely reached the wooden cross that marked the temple-ground\nas sacred when its bearers dropped it upon the earth and fled, for\na sudden fever smote the ground; hot, stifling winds began to blow;\nthe images of the gods wailed and moaned; the sky was red and dripped\nblood, and the altar that was to have received the body sank through\nthe rock, leaving a hole from which gushed steam and dust. At that hour\nevery well, brook, and spring in the island went dry, save a rill in\na cave back of Hana that the gods devoted to the daughter-in-law of\nthe murdered priest and to the old woman who attended her, while a\nnightly dew fell thereafter about the sons of the dead man, providing\ndrink to them and encouraging a growth of fruit and taro sufficient\nfor their needs.\n\nIn a day or two the people were desperate. Their crops were withering,\nthe forests shedding their leaves. Some men killed their neighbors\nand drank their blood; others drank from the ocean and their increased\nthirst drove them mad; a few took poison; several offered themselves as\nsacrifices and were forthwith killed on the altars; but in vain. Prayer\nand offering were unheeded. The wickedness of the people in submitting\nto a king like Hua had brought its punishment. Frightened, repentant,\nmaybe, Hua himself fled to Hawaii, and his retainers scattered\nthemselves in Molokai, Oahu, and Kauai. They could not escape the\ncurse. Like the Wandering Jew, they carried disaster with them. Blight,\ndrouth, thirst, and famine appeared wherever they set foot, and though\nthe wicked king kept himself alive for three and a half years, he\nsuccumbed to hunger and thirst at last, and in Kohala his withered\nframe ceased to be animate. To this day \"the rattle of Hua's bones\nin the sun\" afford a simile in common speech. And the wrath of the\ngods was heavy, so that the people died by thousands.\n\nHua being dead, the survivors looked anxiously for a return of rain and\nof life to the islands, and many turned to Naula, of Oahu, imploring\nhim to intercede with the gods in their behalf. This priest was of\ngreat age, and was reverenced and feared. He could command the spirits\nof the living, as well as the spirits of the dead, and talk with them,\nfar from the place where their bodies lay in trance. He had descended\ninto hell, had risen to paradise, and had brought back from the region\nof the blessed a calabash of the water of life. The animals knew\nand obeyed him so well that when he journeyed to Kauai and his canoe\ncapsized, a whale swallowed him and vomited him forth on the beach at\nthe very spot where he had intended to land, while at another time two\nsharks towed his vessel against a head wind with such speed that the\nsea fowl could hardly keep him in sight. Clearing his eye by a fast\nand prayer, he climbed to the topmost height of the Waianae Mountains\nand closely scanned the horizon. The earth was as brick, and the sky as\nbrass, and the sea as silver, save in one quarter: a tiny blur on the\nuniversal glare could be seen, he fancied, over Maui. He would wait,\nin order to be sure. Yes, in the morning the vapor was still there.\n\n\"The sons of the murdered priest are in Maui. I will go to them,\"\nhe said, and descending to the shore he entered his canoe alone, with\nneither oar nor sail, yet in the dawn he was at Maui, and the cloud\nwas now plainly seen waving about the great peak of Hanaula. From their\neyrie on the mountain the two young men had seen the approach of Naula,\nfor his boat shone in the dark with a moon-like radiance. They knew\nthat it bore some message for them, and when the old man arrived at\nMakena landing they were there to meet him. His white beard swept\nthe earth as he bowed, and they bent low while waiting for him to\nspeak. \"You are the sons of the most worthy priest who was slain by\nHua,\" he said. \"That evil man has expiated his crime, and his bones\nlie unburied in the light. The people suffer and die. The punishment\nfor Hua's crime has been severe and long. Let us join our prayers to\nthe gods that they may turn to mercy. I am Naula.\"\n\nThe elder of the sons replied, \"Great priest, we will gladly pray\nwith you for our people, but first tell me of my wife. Is she alive?\"\n\nThe old man wrapped his head in his cloak and put against his forehead\nan amulet of stone. After some moments of silence he flung off the\ncovering and spoke, \"She lives, and is well. The gods have cared for\nher in the valley back of Hana.\"\n\nThis announcement carried joy to the heart of the questioner, and he\nbegan at once the erection of an altar, the aged priest sprinkling\nit with blessed water and placing beside it the phallic symbol of the\ntrinity. The invocation was over, but no living creature appeared in\nthe desert to serve as a sacrifice. A rustling was heard among the\ndead bushes and the snout of a black hog was thrust out. Before it\ncould escape they had seized the creature, with a cry of joy, lifted\nit to the altar, stabbed it again and again, and its blood flowed\nover the stones. Then all bent about it and prayed with fervor. As\nthey prayed their shadows grew fainter, and the hot wind lulled. A\nlow rumble was heard in the south. They looked up. The heavens were\ndarkening. The rain was coming. \"Praise the gods, who are merciful\nand who receive our sacrifice!\" the priests cried. And with that\nimmolation the days of suffering were over.\n\n\n\n\n\nKiha's Trumpet\n\n\nWaipio, in Hawaii, is claimed by people who live thereabout to be\nthe loveliest valley on the island. It was a low and marshy stretch\nuntil a great fish that lived there begged the god Kane to give him\nsweeter water and more of it. Kane therefore tumbled rocks across the\nstream, so as to dam it into wide pools, and also opened new springs\nat the source. The marks of his great hands are still seen on the\nstone. In this valley, now so peaceful and so rich in charm, lived\nKiha, king of Hawaii, in the earlier years of the fifteenth century,\na great and dreaded monarch. Of all his possessions he valued none more\nhighly than his war-trumpet, a large shell adorned with the teeth of\nchiefs who had been killed in war. The roar of this instrument could\nbe heard for ten miles, for it was a magic shell, and when blown in\nbattle it reproduced the cries of victory and shrieks of the dying;\nwhen blown to summon the people it was like the gale in the forest,\nand when it called a sea-god to listen to a prayer it was like surges\nthundering against the cliffs.\n\nThat day was long remembered when the horn was stolen. It had been\ntaken from its wrapping and its box, and a hideous mask of stone had\nbeen found in its place. Search availed nothing, and the only comfort\nthat the priests could offer was a promise of restoration by a being\nwithout cloak or hands, when a cocoa palm, to be planted by the king\nat the next full moon, should bear fruit. The tree was planted, but\nseven years passed before the nuts appeared. These were eaten by the\nking, and on that very night a strange man was arrested on a charge\nof thieving and taken before the king for sentence. All through the\nquestioning a dog with one white eye and a green one kept close beside\nthe prisoner, appearing to understand every word that was spoken. The\nintelligence of this animal was so remarkable as to divert all thought\nof punishment for the time, and when the robber had given instances of\nthe creature's more than human cleverness, Kiha realized suddenly that\nthis was the agency whereby the magic horn was to be restored to him.\n\nIf the dog could find and restore that shell the captive should not\nmerely be set free, but should be fed at the royal table for the rest\nof his life. On hearing this promise, the dog, who had been watching\nthe king so fixedly out of his green eye as to make his Majesty\nuncomfortable, sprang up with a joyous bark, and capered about with\nevery token of enthusiasm for the task that was to be put upon him.\n\nAt the time when the trumpet disappeared from Kiha's house a band of\nmountebanks and thieves disappeared from Hawaii. They had camped in\nthe woods above Waipio, and had been stealing pigs, fowls, fruit, and\ntaro from the farmers, and had occasionally visited the settlements\nto show their skill in juggling and hanky-panky, hoping to earn as a\nreward some drinks of the native beer, and perhaps a weapon or a strip\nof cloth. It was the chief of this band who had stolen the trumpet. He\nhad learned its history,--how the god Lono had blown it on the top of\nMauna Kea until trees were uprooted in the blast that came from it,\nuntil the fires kindled in the crater below and threw a red light\nagainst the stars, until the earth shook and the sea heaved like a\nmonster sighing. It had the voice of a god from that hour, and other\ngods obeyed it. The band fled to Oahu with the prize and there led a\ngraceless life until the populace drove them out, and they returned\nto Hawaii.\n\nThe arrival of these suspicious characters had been reported to\nthe king, and he suggested that the dog seek the shell in their\ncamp at the head of the valley. No sooner was the suggestion made\nthan the animal rushed away in that direction with the speed of the\nwind. Some hours passed, and the night was wearing on wearily, when\na tremendous burst of sound issued from the hills, echoing far and\nwide. The king leaped to his feet, the men of his village roused and\ngrasped their spears, for this was the call to arms,--the first time\nthey had heard it in seven years. But who was blowing it? Nearer and\nnearer came the sky-shaking peal, and presently the dog, bearing the\nmagic shell in his mouth, ran in, sank at his master's feet, gasped,\nshook, stiffened. He was dead from exhaustion.\n\nHis master, overcome with grief for the loss of his little friend,\nwas liberated at once; then, confident that the returned thieves had\nhad the trumpet in their possession, the king led his forces against\nthem without waiting for the sun to rise, and slew nearly all. From\none or two survivors of the band he learned that their captain had\noffended them by his arrogance and selfishness until they were forced\nto reduce him to their own state by silencing the instrument whereby\nhe called to the gods and gained their help. During one of his drunken\nsprees they carried the shell to a wizard, who put a secret taboo\nmark on its lip, and when the pirate blew it, on regaining his wits,\nit made only a low, dull moaning. Try as he would, he could never\nrestore it. It was chiefly to propitiate the gods and give its notes\nback to the trumpet that he had returned to Hawaii.\n\nWhen the dog seized the shell, as it lay on the earth near the\nsleeping chief, he bit off the edge that had been marked by the\nwizard and instantly its voice came back. The wind blown into it\nlong before by the robber chief was now liberated in quantities in\nthose tremendous blasts that had roused the king and his people and\nappalled the robbers. In this respect it resembled the post-horn of\nBaron Munchausen's story, which, on being hung before a fire, allowed\nthe notes that had been played into it (but not heard) to thaw out\nand entertain the company. And if the story of the shell is doubted,\none has only to look at it in the Honolulu Museum to be convinced.\n\n\n\n\n\nHow Moikeha Gained a Wife\n\n\nPuna, lord of Kauai, was a well-beloved and merciful man. Though he\nwould not brook insolence, he was always ready to pardon a fisherman\nor servant who, in ignorance of his personality, broke the taboo\nby stepping on his shadow. His love for Hooipo, his daughter, was\nso strong that he delayed her marriage until the gallants began to\ncomplain, and the girl herself became uneasy, lest her charms should\nexpand to a maturity that might hurt her matrimonial chances. As she\nhad no preference, however, she agreed that her father might name the\nhappy man. He, loth to incur the enmity of any at his court, resolved\nto offer her as a prize, and the fairest contest seemed in his mind to\nbe a run to Kaula and back, each contestant to be allowed to use sail\nand carry four oarsmen, and the winner of the race to marry Hooipo.\n\nA couple of days before the race was undertaken there arrived at Kauai\na sturdy mariner, one Moikeha, who had just returned from a voyage\nto Raiatea, two thousand five hundred miles to the southward. Long\ntrips of this sort were not unusual among the adventurous islanders,\nand there is a tradition that one of them brought to Hawaii two\nwhite men who became priests, and on a later exploration secured\nfour \"foreigners of large stature, bright, staring, roguish eyes, and\nreddish faces,\" who may have been American Indians. Moikeha became the\nguest of Puna. He had not been long in the daughter's company before\nHooipo regretted the arrangement for a race, for she had found a man\nwhom she could love. It was too late to argue with the candidates;\nthere could be no hope of peace if the princess were withdrawn as\nan object of competition and thrown at the head of this stranger. By\ngeneral consent he was allowed to take part in the race, provided he\ncould cite an honorable parentage. This he did, for he was the son of\na former chief in Oahu, and he rattled off the names of his ancestors\nfor sixteen generations, ending the catalogue in this fashion,\n\"Maweke and Niolaukea, husband and wife; Mulilealii and Wehelani,\nhusband and wife; Moikeha and Hooipo, husband and wife.\" This little\njoke, his assumption that the girl was already his, made everybody\nlaugh and put the company in good humor.\n\nAt the word of command a score or more of lusty fellows pushed their\nboats through the surf, hoisted sail, and pointed their prows for\nKaula, fifty miles away. Moikeha alone showed no haste. He bade a\ncheerful farewell to his host and the pretty daughter, marked with\ndelight her serious look as he took his leave, then, with a single\nattendant and the smallest boat in the fleet, he set off across the\nblue water. Directly that her sail was up the little craft sprang\nthrough the sea as if blown by a hurricane, while the other boats slid\nover the glassy waves under the push of oars. \"It is the fish-god,\nApukohai, who drags his canoe,\" declared the rowers, as he passed. In\ntwenty-four hours he was at the side of Kooipo with the whale-tooth,\nproof of his voyage, that was delivered to him at Kaula by a servant\nwho had been sent there with it in advance. He was easily the victor,\nthe other contestants arriving from one to three days later. No\nobjection being offered, the couple were married with rejoicings, and\non the death of Puna the husband became chief, and married off eight\nor ten youngsters of his own. Not for a long time was it known that in\nthe race for a wife his lone but potent companion was Laamaomao, the\nwind-god, who, loosing favorable breezes from his magic calabash, that\nblew whither he listed, carried him swiftly past all other competitors.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Sailing of Paao\n\n\nPaao, who afterward became a high priest in Hawaii, migrated thither\nin the eleventh century from Samoa, after a quarrel with his brother,\nLonopele. Both of these men were wizards, and were persons of riches\nand influence. It came about that Lonopele had missed a quantity of\nhis choicest fruit, which was conveyed away at night, and although\nhe could see visions and tell fortunes for others, he could not\nreveal for his own satisfaction so simple a matter as the source of\nthese disappearances. In a foolish rage he accused his nephew, the\nson of Paao. Paao was indignant, but, with even greater foolishness,\nhe killed his son, in order to open the boy's stomach and prove that\nthere was no fruit in it. This act so rankled in his mind that he\ndecided to leave the country and forget it, and to that end he built\nseveral strong canoes and stored them well with food and water.\n\nBefore sailing, Paao revenged himself for his own folly by killing\na son of Lonopele. The latter discovered the murder too late to\nretaliate with weapons, so he summoned the powers of magic to his\naid. He sent a hurricane in chase of the receding boats, but a great\nfish pushed them on, despite the wind, which was against them, while\nanother friendly monster of the sea swam around and around the little\nfleet, breaking the force of the waves. Lonopele then sent a colossal\nbird to vomit over the canoes and sink them, but mats were put up in\ntent-form as protections, and this project also failed.\n\nPaao landed in Hawaii with about forty followers, one of whom was a\npowerful prophet. As the canoes were setting off, several would-be\nwizards begged to be taken to the new land. Paao called to them to\nleap into the sea, if they trusted their own powers, and he would take\nthem on board. All who jumped were killed by striking on rocks or\nby drowning,--all but the real prophet, who did not leave the shore\ntill the boats were a mile or so away from land. Paao answered his\nthunderous hail by an equally thunderous refusal to return, as to go\nback after starting was bad luck, but added, \"There is room for you, if\nyou will fly to us.\" Putting all his strength into his arms and legs,\nthe prophet swam through the air and reached the boats without injury.\n\nThe real Paao is said to have been a Spanish priest who was cast away\non the islands by the wreck of the galleon Santo Iago in 1527. The\nship was bound from Acapulco to Manila with shrines and images. The\npriest grafted Christian practices on the native religion, abolished\nsacrifice, and begat a line of chiefs.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Wronged Wife\n\n\nIn 1530, or thereabout, a Spanish ship from Molucca was driven\nacross the Pacific and flung, in a dismantled condition, on the Keei\nReefs, Hawaii. Only the captain and his sister were rescued. Until\nit was discovered that these strangers required food and sleep, like\nthemselves, the natives worshipped them as gods. They were hardly less\nwelcome when it was found that they were human, and they married among\nthe islanders. The woman's grandchild, Kaikilani, was reputed to be the\nmost beautiful woman ever born in Hawaii. Kaikilani became the wife\nof the heir-apparent, who cared so little for government, however,\nthat the young woman was made chief. Her marriage to this easy-going,\nambitionless, though generous prince had been a failure. As it was a\nstate marriage, she cared little for him. His stalwart brother, Lono,\nwas the object of her love and admiration. When the people resolved\nthat Lono should be king, Kaikilani was divorced and given to him as\nqueen, for her first husband prized her happiness above his own. Lono\nbuilt a yacht worthy of this Cleopatra, a double canoe eighty feet\nlong and seven wide, floored and enclosed for twenty feet amidships,\nso that the queen had an apartment which was luxuriously furnished\nwith couches, cloths, festoons of flowers, shells, and feathers,\nand containing a sacred image and many charms against evil. The twin\nvessels were striped with black and yellow, figures of big birds with\nmen's heads were at the prow, and on calm days, when the sails hung\nidly, forty oarsmen pulled the royal barge at a gallant rate.\n\nDuring a long honeymoon tour the bridal party landed on Molokai, to\nawait the passing of heavy weather, and the young couple were playing\ndraughts to beguile the time, when a dark and sudden cloud fell upon\ntheir happiness. One of the servants of the queen was a girl named\nKaikinani, who had a lover, and while the king was studying his next\nmove he heard a man's voice call, as he thought, \"Come, Kaikilani,\nyour lover is waiting.\" The man was calling Kaikinani. He abruptly\nasked his wife who had dared to address the queen in that easy fashion,\nand taking her own surprise and confusion for a token of guilt, he\nstruck her with the checker-board, rushed away to the beach, ordered\nhis private canoe to be launched, and seizing one of the paddles,\nhe rowed with his twenty attendants until he was exhausted. That\nnight he gained the shores of Oahu.\n\nWhen Kaikilani had come out of a delirium of nine days, and understood\nthe nature of the mistake that had separated her from her husband, she\nhastily equipped her barge and began a search for him,--a search that\nlasted for months. Lono, ensconced at the court of Oahu, was trying\nto stifle his regrets; he would not reveal his name; he refused all\ncompanionship with women; he worked at play most earnestly, hunting,\nrowing, swimming, surf-riding, racing, leaping, casting the spear,\nhalting at nothing that involved peril or that would tire him at\nnight to a forgetful sleep. His stay was drawing to an end. He was\nto sail for Hawaii in a day or two, for rebellions were threatening\nin his absence, and his departure was none too early, for certain\nof the gallants were jealous of his success in sports and of the\nunrewarded admiration that the fair sex gave to him. One of these men\ntaunted him with being a nameless chief. Lono, scowling down on him,\nanswered that he would tear the skin from his living body if he ever\ncaught him beyond his king's protection, and producing a big calabash\nfilled with rebels' bones, he chanted the names of those he had slain.\n\nHe was interrupted by a soft voice, outside of the enclosure,\nchanting his name-song. Who could have learned his name? The court\nhad risen. \"Yes,\" he said, \"the singer is true. I am Lono, and she\nwhom I hear is my wife. The gods be praised.\"\n\nLeaping the wall, he found, as he had hoped, Kaikilani, smiling through\nher tears. He held her in a long embrace. Next day they returned to\ntheir native island, where they reigned to an old and happy age.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Magic Spear\n\n\nKaululaau, prince of Maui, had misbehaved so grossly, painting the\nsacred pigs, imitating the death-bird's call before the doors of\nnervous people, opening the gates of fish-ponds, tippling awa, and\nconsorting with hula dancers, that his father, believing him to be\nincorrigible, shipped him off to Lanai in disgust. Knowing that island\nto be infested with gnomes, dragons, and monsters, the lad would fain\nhave turned the usual new leaf, but he had promised reform so many\ntimes and failed that his father was deaf to his pleadings. Just\nbefore he embarked the old high priest called him aside--he always\nhad a soft spot in his heart for this scape-grace--and entrusted to\nhim an ivory spear which had been dipped in the river of the dead and\nleft on an altar by Lono, the third person of the trinity. With that,\nwhich was both weapon and talisman, the possessor need fear nothing.\n\nKaululaau had been but a little while in his new home when he was\ncompelled to put his gift to use. There were malignant beings on\nLanai who hurt people, hogs, fowls; blighted cocoanuts, bananas,\nand taro patches, and were a common sorrow to the inhabitants. Worst\namong these tormentors was the gnome Mooaleo, who, in the guise of\na big mole, burrowed under houses and caused them to settle, with a\nthump. The prince caught this fellow within a circle he had drawn on\nthe earth, for the witchery of the spear was so strong that the effect\nof drawing that line was felt to the centre of the globe. Burrow as\nhe would,--and he did burrow until he reached fire,--Mooaleo could\nnot escape from it. The magic barrier confined him like iron. He\ncame to the air at last and begged to be released, promising to\nleave the island forever, if he might gain his liberty. Kaululaau\nrubbed out twenty or thirty yards of the enchanted line, whereupon\nthe creature rushed madly through the gap and dived into the sea,\nnever again emerging in the sight of men.\n\nFor a year the prince kept up his war against the demons and slew\nor banished every one of them. For this the men rewarded him with\npraise and gifts and service, the women with love, the children with\ntrust. He was glad he had been exiled. Of course, so soon as his\nfather heard of his changed life and his courage in knight-errantry he\nrepented his hardness of spirit and sent messengers to bid Kaululaau\nreturn. This was an unwelcome summons, and while he dared not refuse,\nhe took his own time in getting home again, his alleged reason for\ndelay being that he wished to see the world and further instruct\nhimself; his real reason being a love of praise and adventure. He\nstirred up strife in Hawaii; visited, without harm, the wind-god's\nhome on Molokai and Kalipahoa's poison grove, and on Oahu found\nanother chance to win the people's favor. A bird so huge that its\nhead weighed near two hundred pounds had been depredating among the\nvillages, tearing children from their mothers and killing domestic\nanimals, yet always defended by the priests, who, having confused it\nwith a strange species of owl, considered it as sacred. The rover did\nnot ask permission to slay it. Nobody knew him, or guessed why he\nwas going among the hills. He came upon the bird in the mountains,\nwhen its beak was dripping with human blood, and at a mile distance\nhurled the spear, which flew through the air, as if self-directed, and\npierced the creature through and through. For this he was arrested and\nconsigned to the sacrificial altar; but when he abandoned his disguise,\nappeared in the feather cloak and helmet of a chief, and made known\nthat he was Kaululaau, the trembling, stammering priest owned that\nhe was mistaken in supposing the bird to be taboo. Its huge head was\nproduced; its eyes rolled, its jaws clashed, and with a scream an\nevil human spirit that had lived in its body flew into the air. The\nne'er-do-weel had a royal reception when he returned. Finding that\nhis old friend, the high priest, was dead, he fulfilled a promise by\nsecretly burying the magic spear-point in his grave.\n\n\n\n\n\nHawaiian Witches\n\n\nTo the native Hawaiian, who shuns work, dresses only for decorative\npurposes, and is willing to subsist on fruits that grow without\nteasing, life is not so simple as we should suppose, to look at\nhim. Nature abhors a vacuum, even in a man's head, and when the man\ncares to put nothing in his noddle that will increase his understanding\nand resource, his ancestry will have planted something there which\nis sure to swell and grow until it may dominate his conduct and his\nfate. And if you open the head of an average barbarian you will find\na flourishing crop of superstition fungi inside. So surely as he is\na barbarian he will believe in witches. If he contents himself with\nimagining wizards and spooks, he may find recreation enough in the\ndark, but when he accuses other people of practising against him,\nand gets them hanged or roasted, his imagination has become too\nfrisky to be at large. Death for the practice of witchcraft is no\nlonger possible, however, unless it results from private revenge.\n\nTo this day fear and ignorance paint gnomes and elves in the palm\ngroves and among the wild Java uplands of the mid-Pacific, and Honolulu\nitself is not free from the lingering and traditionary kahuna. This is\nthe wizard, or medicine man, or voodoo worker, who does by prayer and\nspell what his employers would do with a club if it were not for the\nawkward institution of the law. When a Kanaka has endured an injury\nhe hires a kahuna to pray his enemy to death. This imposes on the\nvictim the necessity of hiring a kahuna to pray down the other one,\nor of running away, if he cannot afford the expense. The wizard calls\non his intended victim and tells him what is about to happen, and\nyou would naturally suppose that the visitee would take the visitor\nby the collar and the \"bosom of his pants\" and persuade him away from\nthe premises, even if he did not go out and exercise upon him in the\nyard. In fact, record has been made of explosive exits of these wizards\nfrom Americans' houses when they made their usual courtesy call before\npraying the resident out of existence, and 'tis said that they bore\nmarks of Lynn-made shoe-soles on their seats of honor for a week after.\n\nBut your Kanaka fears his medicine man and receives the news of doom\npolitely. The kahuna tells him that his conduct has displeased some god\nor goddess and that he must die. Every kahuna claims what statesmen\ncall a \"pull\" with his deities that enables him to have his prayers\nanswered, while opposition kahunas are snubbed. After a couple of\ndays the kahuna drops around to see how his victim is getting on,\nand generally he finds him in low spirits, with a meagre appetite,\nbecause this process is as reliable as its opposite, which is called\nfaith-cure. If a man can sufficiently persuade himself that nothing\nails him, he is almost sure to recover from an illness that he hasn't\ngot; and, by the same token, if he makes himself believe that he is\ngoing to have indigestion, or a fall on the ice, or must die, he\nunnerves himself and makes it easy for the expected to happen. If\nhe runs away and hides, the kahuna's prayers do not work as well,\nand if he has been to school and reads the papers, they do not work\nat all. Indeed, the islanders have given up white people as tough\nsubjects, so seasoned in whisky and a wrong religion that curses are\nwasted on them as water is wasted on ducks and Kentucky colonels. The\ngoddess Pele has resigned the foreigner in discouragement.\n\nWell, on this second visit the victim remembers all his misfortunes of\nthe past two days, his stomach ache, his thirst, his stubbed toe, his\nfailure to collect eight cents that a neighbor owes him, his nightmare\nafter a supper of poi,--not mince-pie: just poi,--his discovery of a\nbottle too late to know what was in it, and his wife's demand for a\nnew dress. All these miseries he ascribes to the left-handed prayers\nof which he is the subject, and he offers to temporize. As in other\nparts of the world, silver is a strong dissuader. If he has hired a\nkahuna himself to neutralize his enemy's bad prayers with good ones,\nthe two voodoo workers will retire and consult as to a settlement,\neach preserving a dignity and courtesy worthy of his high profession,\nfor, although the Roman soothsayers could not keep from snickering\nwhen they met one another in the street, these kahunas really believe\nin themselves, for they have prayed too many people out of the world\nnot to do so.\n\nIf an apology and a couple of dollars fail to soften the enemy,\nor if the kahunas believe they can raise the stake to three dollars\nby toiling a while longer, a prayer duel follows and the best man\nwins. Kahuna number one delivers a veritable anathema, bestowing on\nhis subject more aches and illnesses and deformities and difficulties\nthan Pius IX. conferred on Victor Emmanuel, while number two sweats\nwith the haste and force of his invocations for the continued or\nincreased health and fortune of his client. If he can afford them,\nthe victim may hire two kahunas and have them pray around the house\nuntil the opposition is silenced or the malevolent employer's money\ngives out. When one of the two prays for his patron, in such a case\nthe other may pray against the enemy who began the trouble, so that,\ninstead of doing a deadly injury, the instigator of the disturbance\nmay discover, to his alarm, that he is in more danger than his foe,\nand some morning he may find himself dead.\n\nKing David Kalakaua made a law against praying folks into their graves,\nbut the kahunas, to a man, cried, \"Why, this will kill business! If\nyou don't abolish that law we will pray you to death in two days.\" And\nKing David took the law away, quick. In order to make a prayer for\ndeath effectual the kahuna must possess himself of some object closely\nassociated with the person he intends to kill. Finger-nails, hair,\nand teeth are especially desired, but if they cannot be had, a few\ndrops of saliva will do. The kings were always so careful of their\nprecious selves that nail-parings and hair-croppings were burned to\nkeep them from falling into the hands of ghoulish kahunas, and they\nwere always attended by a spittoon-bearer, who was a chief of high\nrank, and whose duty it was to see that none of the royal spittle\nwas accessible to wizards or suspicious strangers. The spittoon was\nemptied into the sea at a distance from land secretly and in the\nmiddle of the night. What a lecture Charles Dickens would have read\nto the Americans out of this circumstance!\n\nThe last death attributed to the kahunas was that of Princess Kaiulani\nin the spring of 1899. Though this young woman was enlightened, had\ntravelled and studied in Europe and America, and presumably disbelieved\nin the superstitions of her ancestors, it is whispered that the rumor\nof kahuna influence against her shortened her days by many. The people\nbelieved so, at any rate, though they were perplexed by the failure of\nthe little red fish to run into the harbor just before she breathed\nher last, as it was believed that they always made their appearance\nprior to a death in the royal family. The rumbling and hissing and\nthe sounding of a heavy major chord in the depths of Kilauea that\nfollowed the funeral of Kaiulani were directly attributed to her death.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Cannibals\n\n\nDespite the denials of Hawaiians that their ancestors ever ate the\nflesh of men, it is admitted that a large company of cannibals, strong,\ndark, tattooed, and speaking a strange language, were storm-blown\nto Kauai in the seventeenth century. It is guessed that they were\nPapuans. The daughter of Kokoa, their chief, a beautiful girl of\neighteen or so, with braided hair that almost touched the ground,\nand strings of pearls at her neck and ankles, found an admirer and a\nhusband in an island chief who tried to instruct her in the taboo,\nfor he had seen with horror and apprehension that the new-comers\nallowed their women to eat bananas, cocoanuts, and certain fish, and\neven to take them from the dishes used by the men. The bride promised\nto reform and live on poi, but she had not been bred to this sort of\nvictual, and had never been reproved by the gods for eating other,\nso it was almost inevitable that she should backslide in her virtuous\nintention, and when she so far defied public opinion, and thunders,\nand earthquakes as to eat a banana in view of the priests, the public\narose as one man and demanded punishment. The chief begged that he\nmight be allowed to send her back to her father, but the high priest\ntold him that the gods had been flouted beyond endurance, and would\nbe satisfied only with her death. The beautiful and hapless woman was\ntherefore torn from the arms of her afflicted husband, strangled, and\nthrown into the sea,--a warning to all the sex against forbidden fruit.\n\nThen trouble began. Women's appetites might be restrained, but not\nthose of men,--especially the appetite for blood. Kokoa revenged\nhimself for his daughter's murder by killing a relative of her\nhusband and serving him hot to an eager, because long abstemious,\ncongregation. The taste of Hawaiian chops and shoulders revived a greed\nfor this sort of meat, and they preyed openly on the populace of Kauai\nuntil those who remained arose as several men and drove them out of\nthe island. The cannibals fled in haste to Oahu, taking possession\nof the plateau of Halemanu, which was high, reachable by only one\nor two paths, and those of steepness, difficulty, and under constant\nguard, and here they established themselves as a sort of Doone band,\nliterally living upon the people in the country below. They had their\ntemple,--oh, yes, indeed, they could pray as long and as loud as any\none,--and a creditable piece of masonry it was, with its walls two\nhundred feet by sixty, and seven yards high. Near it was an oven\nwhere five human bodies could be roasted at a time, and a carving\nstone six feet long, lightly hollowed, where the hungry were served,\nKokoa claiming the hearts and livers as a chief's right.\n\nIt did not take long for the Oahuans to become bashful about visiting\nthe neighborhood of Halemanu, and the man-eaters then took to eating\none another. One big, savage fellow, named Lotu, began to kill off\nhis wife's relatives. This roused one of her brothers to revenge. He\nstrengthened himself in exercises of all kinds until his muscles were\nlike steel, and encountered with Lotu on the edge of the precipice\nnear the principal path. They fought hand-to-hand until both were\ncovered with blood, then, finding that he was about to be forced\nover the brink, Lotu clasped his brother-in-law and enemy about the\nneck and both went to their death together. The wife and sister of\nthe two combatants either fainted at the verge and fell or wilfully\ncast herself from the same cliff. It is not recorded whether these\nvictims of an unruly passion were interred in earth or conveniently\ndisposed of otherwise, but the affair created such a gloom in the\nneighborhood that the cannibal colony moved away to parts unknown,\nto the vast relief of the community in the more peaceful districts.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Various Graves of Kaulii\n\n\nWhen the Hawaiians were discovered by Captain Cook, in 1779, they had\nnot been visited by white men, so far as any native then living could\nremember. At all events, they had acquired only a fair assortment\nof vices and not many diseases. Human sacrifice and the worship\nof phallic emblems and effigies of their gods and dead kings were\ncommon. The king expected everybody to fall prostrate before him\nwhen he appeared and pretend to go to sleep,--to be of as little\naccount as possible. And the people were pliant and willing under\ntheir restraints. They allowed that the king was absolute master. Yet\nthey were contented usually and not ill looking; lithe and graceful,\ntoo, and gay, fond of sports and swimming, lovers of music, dancing,\nflowers, and color, friendly in disposition, and good-natured. Except\nin shedding a few of their beliefs with the taking on of more clothes,\nthey have not changed greatly. As to cannibalism, white men have\nbecome too numerous and too tough for eating, anyway, and they feel\nsafe in any native company of Pacific Islanders in these times.\n\nHawaiians claim that they never were cannibals, and that if they ate\nsuch of Captain Cook as they did not return to his second in command it\nwas because they were absent-minded or mistook him for pork. They had\nceased to believe him a god, for he had displayed infirmities of temper\nand consideration that led to his death. A tradition of theirs may\naccount for a once general belief in their man-eating propensities. It\ndates back to the chieftaincy of Kaulii, in Oahu. The people were\ncareful in the sepulture of their chiefs, fearing that enemies might\nfind the remains and commit indignities on the senseless relics,\nor that the bones might be used for spear-points and fish-hooks,\nsuch implements having magic power when they were whittled from the\nshins of kings. To prevent such a possibility, so soon as the spirit\ntenant had gone the wise men took charge of the body and prepared it\nfor the grave. This they did by first cutting off the flesh, which,\nbeing transitory and corruptible, they said was not worthy to be kept,\nso was therefore burned; then cleaning the skeleton, soaking it in\noil, and painting it red with turmeric. This melancholy, if gaudy,\nobject was tied in a parcel and buried in some cave or cranny where\nno foeman would be likely to find it. Sometimes the bodies were sunk\nat sea, with rocks tied at the feet, and the hearts of Hawaiian kings\nwere often flung into the molten lava of Kilauea.\n\nKaulii was chief in Oahu in the seventeenth century. Most of his\nninety years he had faithfully devoted to killing other chiefs and\nthe people of other islands, wherefore he knew that many would try to\nfind his bones and break them. Just before his death he enjoined his\ncouncillors to place his skeleton in some receptacle whence it could\nnot easily be taken. After his death his head councillor took it into\nthe mountains and was gone for several days. When he returned he sent\nan invitation to every one whom his messengers could reach to share\nin a feast in memory of the dead chief. Free lunch was just as great\nan incentive in that century as it will be in the next. They came,\nthose faithful people, afoot and in boats, and camped in thousands\nnear the kitchen. After the games had been dutifully performed--for\nfunerals were seasons of cheer in those times--the dinner was served\nto the assembly. There were boiled dogs, roots, fruits, fish, sour\nbeer, and poi.\n\nWhen the last calabash had been emptied and the company had taken\na long breath, an elder in the party asked the councillor if he had\nobeyed his master's command and buried the skeleton where it would\nbe safe from the vendetta that pursues an enemy to the grave. The\ncouncillor made an embracing gesture above the multitude. \"Here,\"\nhe cried, \"are the graves of Kaulii. His bones can never be disturbed\nagain.\"\n\nThe people looked about the grass and under their dishes, and, seeing\nnothing, asked to be enlightened. Then the councillor explained that\nhe had not only cleaned the bones of his dead lord, but had dried and\npounded them to a fine meal, had stirred them into the mass of poi\nwhich these warriors and statesmen had enveloped, so that every man\nwho had shared in that feast was a grave. And they agreed that he was\na faithful and sagacious servant, and passed a resolution to keep his\nmemory a bright green for several years after he was dead. They say\nthat was the only time they ate a man, and they did not know it then.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Kingship of Umi\n\n\nWhen King Liloa died he left his younger son, Hakau, to rule Hawaii\nin his place, but an older and natural son, Umi, whose mother had\nbeen a farm-worker among the hills, he appointed as guardian of the\ntemples and their sacred statues. Umi had not learned of his royal\nparentage until he had grown to be a fine stout fellow. He had lived\na lonely though adventurous life, and his kingly origin was shown in\nthe fact that he could never be induced to work or do anything useful,\nunless it might be hunting and fishing. Impulses were his guides. He\nwas in nowise disturbed when he learned that Liloa was his father. On\nthe contrary, he took on a new dignity, donned the feather cloak and\nhelmet of a prince, walked, in a couple of days, to the king's house,\npassed the guards without a word, carelessly striking down their\nthreatening spears with his own; then, gaining the king's presence\nunannounced, he plumped himself into the old gentleman's lap. For\none of low descent to venture on a liberty like this was death, and\nfor a moment Liloa was mightily offended. He sprang up, spilling the\nprince upon the earth; then, recognizing on the young man's breast an\nivory necklace clasp that had been his love-token to the girl on the\nmountain farm years before, and admiring the courage of the youngster,\nhe kissed him and welcomed him to his family.\n\nThe old king died soon after, his skeleton being duly hidden in\nthe sea, and Hakau, who from the first had been jealous of his\nhalf-brother, now began a series of slights and rebukes which hardly\njustified rebellion, yet were so irritating that after enduring them\nfor a little, Umi retired to the hills and resumed his old, lonely,\nwandering life. Not for long, however. Hakau developed into a tyrant,\nnarrow-minded, selfish, suspicious, cruel. One by one his followers\nleft him; treasons were rumored in his own household; his very priests\nconnived against him. At last, reports came to him of a resort to\narms,--of a company advancing from the other side of Hawaii, led by\nUmi and Maukaleoleo, the latter a giant eleven feet high, who wore\na thicket of hair that fell to his shoulders, bore a spear thirty\nfeet long, and inspired terror by his very aspect, albeit in times\nof peace he was one of the gentlest of men. When this giant was a\nchild the god Kanaloa had given him a golden fish, bidding him eat\nit and be strong. He had done so, and on that very night began his\nwonderful growth, his strength so increasing that presently he could\nhurl rocks no two other men could lift.\n\nTroubled by reports of the uprising, the king consulted the oracles in\na temple he had promised to endow, but never had,--his principal gift\n(to be)--consisting of a figure of the war god Akuapaao. This had long\nbefore been taken to Hawaii by a prophet whose canoe had been drawn\nto its landing-place by the shark god and the god of the winds. In\ndarkness he entered the inner chamber of the temple. An unknown voice,\nspeaking from the holy of holies, bade him send his people to the woods\nnext day for plumage of birds, with which to decorate the statue, when\nhe should get it, and thereby atone for the neglect and contempt of the\ngods that had done so much to bring him into disfavor with the people.\n\nClever priests! They were already in league with Umi, and this was\nbut a ruse to dissipate the king's forces. The oracle was obeyed;\nthe people were sent out to collect the feathers of bright-hued\nbirds, grumbling that they should be made to labor because of the\nlaxity and impiety of their ruler; and while they hunted, Umi, almost\nwithin hearing, was praying before the very statue Hakau had sent\nhis messengers to fetch. He had imposed a strict taboo on his two\nthousand warriors for half a day, the taboo in this instance imposing\nsilence, fasting, and retirement, the forsaking of all industries,\nthe extinction of all fires and lights, the muzzling of pigs and\ndogs, and quieting of fowls by putting them under calabashes. As\nUmi advanced toward the statue to decorate it with wreaths a beam\nof light fell through a rent in the temple roof and crowned him and\nthe god. It was a promise. Fires on the mountain tops that night\nassembled all the insurgent forces, who were awaiting these signals,\nand a few hours later Umi sat on the throne of his father, and the\nhated tyrant Hakau was offered to his neglected gods: a sacrifice.\n\n\n\n\n\nKeaulumoku's Prophecy\n\n\nKeaulumoku died in 1784. He was a poet, dreamer, prophet, and preserver\nof the legends of his people. For more than three-score years he had\nroamed about Hawaii, esteemed for his virtues and his wisdom by those\nwho knew him, tolerated as harmless by those who did not. He wandered\nabout the vast and desolate lava fields and talked with spirits\nthere. He learned rhythm and music from the swing of the waves. The\n\"little people\" in the wood were his servants when he needed help. In\nhis closing years he occupied a cabin alone near Kauhola. Though not\nchurlish, he cared little for human society,--it seemed so small to\nhim after daily contemplation of the ocean and mountain majesties and\nthe nightly vision of the stars; but he was alive to its interests,\nand when the future opened to him he was always willing to read it\nfor comfort or warning.\n\nIt was reported in the villages at last that he would look on the faces\nof his people but once more, and they were asked to assemble at his\nhut on the next evening, when he would chant his last prophecy. Before\nsunset they gathered about his cabin a thousand or more, waiting\nquietly or talking in whispers, and presently the mat which hung\nin the entrance was drawn aside, disclosing the shrunken form and\nfrosted hair of the venerable prophet. He began his chant in the\nquavering voice of age, but as he sang he gained strength, and his\ntones were plainly heard by all in the assemblage. He foretold the\nunion of the islands under Kamehameha, the death of monarchy, the ruin\nof the temples, the oncoming of the white race, the disappearance of\nthe Hawaiian people from the earth. Then blessing the company with\nuplifted hands, Keaulumoku sank back lifeless. He was buried with\nsolemn rites in a temple, and, under the inspiration of his prophecy,\nKamehameha began his work of conquest. In eleven years the islands\nwere one nation. The rest of the prophecy is coming true.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Tragedy of Spouting Cave\n\n\nMany caves pierce the igneous rock of the Hawaiian group, some\nwith entrances below the ocean level, and discovered only by\naccident. Famous among them is the spouting cave of Lanai. Old\nmyths make this a haunt of the lizard god, but the shark god,\nthinking this venture below the water an intrusion on his territory,\nthreatened to block the entrance with rocks, so the lizard god swam\nover to Molokai and made his home in the cave near Kaulapana, where\nthe people built temples to him. An attempt of a daring explorer to\nlight the cave of Lanai with fire hid in a closed calabash was also\nresented, the vessel being dashed out of the hand of the adventurer\nby some formless creature of the dark, who also plucked stones from\nthe cave roof and hurled at him until he retreated.\n\nTo this island, at the end of the eighteenth century, came King\nKamehameha to rest after his war and enjoy the fish dinners for which\nthe island was famous. One of his captains was Kaili, a courageous\nand susceptible Hawaiian, who celebrated the outing by falling\nhead-over-heels in love. Kaala, \"the perfumed flower of Lanai,\"\nreturned his vows, and would have taken him for a husband, without\nceremony or delay, save for the stern parent, who is a frequent figure\nin such romances. This parent, Oponui, had a reason for his hate of\nKaili, the two having encountered in the last great battle. Kaili\nhad probably forgotten his opponent, but Oponui bitterly remembered\nhim, for his best friend had been struck down by the spear of the\nyoung captain. Another cause for opposing this marriage was that\nKaala had been bespoken by a great, hairy, tattooed savage known as\n\"the bone-breaker.\" It occurred to Oponui that a good way to be\nrid of the cavalier would be to let him settle his claim with the\nfamous wrestler. He chuckled as he thought of the outcome, for the\nbone-breaker had never been beaten. The challenge having been made\nand accepted, the king and his staff agreed to watch the contest. It\nwas brief, brutal, and decisive. Though the big wrestler had the more\nstrength, Kaili had the more skill and quickness. He dodged every rush\nof his burly opponent, tripped him, broke both his arms by jumping on\nthem when he was down, and when the disabled but vengeful fighter,\nwith dangling hands, made a bull-like charge with lowered head, the\ncaptain sprang aside, caught him by the hair, strained him suddenly\nbackward across his knee, and flung him to the earth, dying with a\nbroken spine. Kaili had won his bride.\n\nThe girl's father was not at the end of his resources, however. He\nappeared in a day or two panting, as with a long run, and begged Kaala\nto fly at once to her mother in the valley, as she was mortally ill\nand wished to see her daughter before she died. The girl kissed her\nlover, promising to return soon, and was hurried away by Oponui toward\nthe Spouting Cave. Arrived there, she looked up and down the shore,\nbut saw none other than her father, who was smiling into her face\nwith a look of craft and cruelty that turned her sick at heart. In a\nbroken voice she asked his purpose. Was her mother dead? Had he killed\nher? Oponui seized her arms with the gripe of a giant. \"The man you\nlove is my foe,\" he shouted. \"I shall kill him, if I can. If not, he\nshall never see you again. When he has left Lanai, either for Hawaii\nor for the land of souls, I will bring you back to the sun. Come!\"\n\nNow, the water pushing through the entrance to this cavern becomes\na whirlpool; then, as it belches forth in a refluent wave, it is\nhurled into a white column. Watching until the water began to whirl\nand suck, Oponui sprang from the rocks, dragging his daughter with\nhim. She struggled for a moment, believing that his intention was to\ndrown her. There was a rush and a roar; then, buffeted, breathless,\nshe arose on the tide, and in a few seconds felt a beach beneath\nher feet. Oponui dragged her out of reach of the wave, and as soon\nas her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness she found herself to be\nin a large, chill cavern. Crabs were clattering over the stones, and\nrays and eels could be seen writhing shadowy, in pools. The brawling\nof the ocean came smothered, faint, but portentous, and in the green\nlight that mounted through the submerged door the grotto seemed a\nplace of dreams,--a dank nightmare.\n\n\"Here you stay until I come,\" commanded Oponui. \"Make no attempt to\nescape, for so surely as you do, you will be cut to pieces on the\nrocks, and the sharks await outside.\" Then, diving into the receding\nwater, he disappeared, and she was left alone.\n\nKaili awaited with impatience the return of his betrothed. He chided\nhimself that he had allowed her father to persuade him against\nfollowing her to the cabin of her mother. Then doubt began to perplex\nhim; then suspicion. A bird croaked significantly as it flew above\nhis head. He could not longer endure inaction. Kaala's footprints were\nstill traceable in the sand. He would go as far as they might lead. He\nset off at a round pace, stopping now and then to assure himself,\nand presently stood perplexed near the Spouting Cave, for there they\nceased. As he was looking about for some clew that might set him right\nonce more, a faint movement behind him caused him to turn, and he saw\na figure slinking along from rock to rock, bending low, as if seeking\nto be concealed: Oponui! Why should he be alone? Why should he hide\nlike that? Why was he trying to escape? The truth flashed upon him. He\nremembered the man's face in battle, remembered their vain though\nsavage interchange of spears. Oponui had taken Kaala from him. Had\nhe killed her? He sprang toward the creeping figure with a shout,\n\"Where is my wife?\"\n\nThere was a short struggle; then Oponui, wriggling from his grasp,\nset off at a surprising pace toward a temple of refuge, with Kaili\nclose at his heels. The chase was vain. Oponui reached the gate,\nrushed through, and fell on the earth exhausted. Two priests ran\nforward and offered their taboo staffs against the entrance of his\npursuer. The gods could not be braved by breaking the taboo. With\na taunt and a curse at his enemy, the captain returned to the shore\nwhere the footprints had disappeared. His heart-beats stifled him. His\nhead was whirling. As he stood looking down into the boiling waters it\nseemed to his wandering fancy as if the girl had risen toward him in\nthe spout from the cave. Hardly knowing what he did, he spoke her name\nand leaped from the rock to clasp her pale form. He was drawn under,\nand in a few seconds was flung violently upon the beach in the cave.\n\nKaili's leap had been seen by his king, who, with a guide, had gone\nto seek him, and on learning of this grotto the king and the guide\nplunged after. They found the lover seated on the pebbles in the green\ntwilight, with Kaala's head upon his lap, his arms about her. She was\ndying, but a smile of content was on her face. He tried to restore\nher, to rouse her to an effort to live. It was of no avail. With a\nwhispered word of love she closed her eyes and ceased to breathe.\n\nKing Kamehameha advanced, his rude face softened with pity. \"Come,\nKaili,\" he said. \"The poor child was happy in her last hour. This\ncave is her proper burial-place.\"\n\n\"I cannot leave her, O king, for without her I cannot live.\" Before his\npurpose could be divined, Kaili had seized a rock and brought it down\non his own head with crushing force. He swayed for a moment and fell\ndead beside the body of his bride. The king had the corpses wrapped\nin cloth, but left them there, and the few who have ventured through\nthe whirlpool have seen in the cave the skeletons of the lovers.\n\nThe lament of Ua has been preserved. She was a girl whose secret love\nfor the captain had impelled her to follow him, and who had seen his\nplunge into the leaping water. It runs in this fashion:\n\n\n    \"Dead is Kaili, the young chief of Hawaii,\n    The chief of few years and many battles.\n    His limbs were strong and his heart was gentle.\n    His face was like the sun. He was without fear.\n    Dead is the slayer of the Bone-Breaker;\n    Dead the chief who crushed the bones of Mailou;\n    Dead the lover of Kaala and the loved of Ua.\n    For his love he plunged into the deep water.\n    For his love he gave his life. Who is like Kaili?\n    Kaala is hid and I am lonely.\n    Kaili is dead, and the black cloth is over my heart.\n    Now let the gods take the life of Ua!\"\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Grave of Pupehe\n\n\nJust off the southwest shore of Lanai is a block of lava eighty or\nninety feet high, vertical or overhanging on every side, absolutely\nwithout foothold. Yet at its top one may see from the neighboring\nshore a grave with a low wall built about it. This is the resting-place\nof Pupehe, the wife of one to whom was given the name of Misty Eyes,\nbecause the woman's eyes so dazzled his own. These two loved so well\nthat they were all in all to one another. They chose to live apart\nfrom their people, roaming the woods, climbing the hills, surf-riding,\nfishing, berrying as the whim took them.\n\nLest some chief should look on her face and envy him, Misty Eyes hid\nhis companion in a little hut among the trees, as secret and secure as\na bird's nest, and sometimes they would go together to a cave, opening\nfrom the sea, opposite Pupehe's Rock, to catch and cook a sea-turtle.\n\nThe season of storms was at hand, but as the day had broken fair,\nPupehe went to the cave to prepare a meal, while her husband took\nthe calabashes to fill at a spring up the valley. A mist had come\nup from nowhere when he turned to go back; the wind was rising to\na gale, the sea was whitening. His heart went into his throat, for\nhe recalled how the breakers thundered in at the cave and swept the\nstrip of beach inside. Flinging down the calabashes, he ran with\nall his speed. Immense waves were sweeping the cavern from end to\nend. Their thunder deafened him. Out of an acre of seething white\na brown arm lifted. He leaped in, seized Pupehe, and succeeded in\ngaining the shore, but to no avail. She was dead. After the storm had\npassed he paddled to the lonely rock; was raised, with his burden,\nby a pitying god, and on the summit, where none might stand even\nbeside the grave of her whom in life he had guarded so jealously,\nhe buried the cold form. When the last stone had been placed on the\nwall, Misty Eyes sang a dirge for his wife and leaped into the sea.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Lady of the Twilight\n\n\nIn Koolauloa, Oahu, is a natural well, of unknown depth and thirty\nyards in diameter, that is believed to be connected with the\nocean. Bodies drowned in this crater are said to have been found\nafterward floating in the sea. This pond, known as Waiapuka, hides\nthe entrance to a cave that can be reached only by diving, and in\nthat cave was concealed during her infancy Laieikawai, Lady of the\nTwilight. Her father, enraged that his wife always presented female\nchildren to him, swore he would kill all such offspring until a male\nissue should appear, and Laieikawai was therefore kept out of his\nsight and in retirement until she had grown to womanhood. Her beauty\nattracted even the gods, and chiefs from many islands travelled far to\nsee her face when she had been taken from the cavern by her grandmother\nand bestowed more fittingly in a house thatched with parrot feathers\nand guarded by the lizard god. Her bed was bird-wings, the birds were\nher companions, she wore a robe tinted like a rainbow, and wherever\nshe went a fragment of rainbow hung over her and might be seen afar.\n\nLaieikawai married a sun prince, and the same rainbow served as a\nladder to take her to his new home in the moon, his place in the sun\nbeing too hot and glaring for endurance. This was a fickle prince, for\nhaving seen another pretty face on earth, he descended, and it was a\nyear ere he appeared in the moon again. The young wife meanwhile had\ngone to the bowl of knowledge, a wooden vessel enclosed in wicker,\ndecorated with feathers and with birds carved in wood along the\nrim. Looking in and uttering the command, \"Laukapalili!\" a vision of\nher recreant husband appeared. The father and mother of the prince were\njoint witnesses with the wife of his faithlessness. As the picture\nvanished the air grew dark; faint, grisly shapes arose, and wailing\nvoices sounded, \"Heaven has fallen!\" Standing on the rainbow bridge,\nthe father, mother, and wife cast off their love for the prince, and\ncondemned him to be a wandering ghost, living on butterflies. Then,\nhaving tired of heaven, the Lady of the Twilight returned to earth.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Ladrones\n\n\nThe taking of Guam during the war with Spain was one of the comedies\nof that disagreement. When its rickety fort was fired upon by one of\nour ships, the Spanish governor hastened down to the shore to greet\nthe American officers, and apologized because he was out of powder\nand could not reply to what he supposed was a salute. Off in that\ncorner of the world he had not heard of any war.\n\nWith the cession of this largest of the Ladrone islands we fall heir to\nsome race problems as baffling as those presented by our Indians. The\nnatives of this group belong to the Tarapons, and the traditions\nof these people say that they came in part from the east and partly\nfrom the west. It has been thought that they have a slight mixture of\nMongolian blood, and this is not unlikely, for Chinese and Japanese\njunks have at various times been blown over sea to farther shores than\nthese. History for this group begins with Magellan, who named it for\nthe ladrones or thieves, who annexed his belongings when he arrived\non the first voyage that had ever been made around the world. That\nthey had crafts and arts is proved by their weapons, canoes, cloth,\nand armor, and they have left here some remarkable stone columns,\nmore than twice the height of a man, with hemispheres of rock on their\ntops, flat sides uppermost, and six feet wide. In Tinian, Kusaie,\nand also in Ponape, in the Carolines, there are ruins, including,\nin the latter island, a court three hundred feet long with walls ten\nyards high, some of the monoliths being twenty-five feet long and\neight feet thick. On Tongataboo are larger rocks, forty feet high,\nwhich were quarried elsewhere and shipped to that coral island. On\nEaster Island are platforms a hundred yards long, ten wide and ten\nhigh, with great statues all cut from stone. None of these remains,\nnor the picture-writing found near the statues, throw light on the\nhistory, purpose, or personality of their builders. Every family has\nits little circle of shells and stones which is a shrine where the\ngods are worshipped, and most of the gods are spirits of the great\nand wise who died long ago. Offerings to these took the form of food\nand of anointing for their altars, but human sacrifices were no doubt\ndemanded at times, when the priests had been specially venturesome\nin asking favors. When a man died his soul sprang out, went below\nthe earth, and found felicity in the west. This belief resembles\nthe Indian faith in the happy hunting-ground, and incidentally it\npoints the course of empire. The spirit could return once in a while,\nand ghostly visitations were sorely dreaded. The institution of the\ntaboo was and is connected with the native religions of the Pacific\nislands. We have adopted the word and use it in its true meaning\nof forbidden. If an article were dedicated to a god, or used in his\nworship, or had been touched by him, or claimed by a chief or a priest,\nno commoner dared lay finger on it, for it was as sacred as the ark of\nthe covenant. Some canny planters kept boys out of their orchards and\npalm groves by offering the fruit to certain gods until it was ripe,\nfor a sign of taboo kept out all marauders till the crop was ready for\ngathering, when the owner changed his mind and claimed it himself. To\nbreak a taboo was not only to incur the wrath of the priests, but of\nthe gods to whom the gift was offered, and who would surely reward\nthe blasphemer for his sin by illness, accident, loss, or death.\n\nAs soon as the Spaniards had occupied the Ladrones--afterward named the\nMarianas, in honor of Maria Anna, queen of Philip IV. of Spain--they\nproceeded to slaughter the natives. In seventy years they had slain\nwith sword, rack, toil, grief, and new diseases about fifty thousand\npeople, reducing the populace to eighteen hundred. Of this aboriginal\nrace, the Chamorros, nearly all have perished. In their original\nestate these were the most advanced of the Pacific islanders; they\nhad more arts, more refinement, more kindliness, and more morality\nthan the others. Under an age of oppression and abuse they naturally\ndeteriorated, and have cared little to advantage themselves by the\nfew schools and chapels that the Spaniards established in Guam and\nthereabout. It may be that the Chamorros shared with the people\nof the Carolines in the suffering caused by the great irruption of\nsavages from the south under Icho-Kalakal. These warriors, in their\nwooden navies, destroyed the great tombs and temples because they\nhad been raised to other gods than their own, slew the defenders of\nthe temples, and broke up the old civilization, passing from island\nto island, and continuing their waste and murder. It was a raid of\nGoths and Vandals, and the effect of it was lasting. In Ponape it is\nsaid that the great structures they overthrew are haunted, and people\nthereabout will not eat a certain fresh-water fish of a blue color,\nbecause the king, Chauteleur, flying before Icho-Kalakal, fell into\nChapalap River and was changed by the gods into one of these fish.\n\n\n\n\n\nOld Beliefs of the Filipinos\n\n\nRespecting their myths the Filipinos differ in little from other human\nfamilies whose civilization is incomplete. They had in former times\nthe same tendency to create gods and spirits for particular hills,\nwoods, seas, and lakes, to endow the brutes with human qualities,\nto symbolize in the deeds of men and animals the phenomena of the\nheavens. Even now the Monteses tell of a tree that folds its limbs\naround the trunk of another and hugs it to death, the tree thus\nkilled rotting and leaving a tube of tightly laced branches in which\nare creatures that bleed through the bark at a sword-thrust or an\nax-cut. These creatures are mischievously alleged to be Spaniards. The\nTagalogs believe in Tic-Balan, an evil spirit who inhabits fig-trees,\nbut is kept off by wearing a certain herb, and in a female spirit\nof the woods, Azuan, who is kept away from the house in times of\ndomestic anxiety by the husband, who mounts to the roof and keeps up\na disturbance for some hours.\n\nIn their feasts and ceremonies the natives have hymns and prayers\nto the rain-spirit, the sea, the star-god, the good birds, and the\nwinds. Little has been done toward the preservation of their myths,\nfor the Spaniards, during their centuries of control, suppressed\nlearning, except as it pertained to religious studies, and tolerated\nbut scant liberty of opinion. The friars, against whom the people\nnursed so strong a hate, stood for all that was harsh, narrow,\ntyrannical, and unprogressive. In order to gain money and maintain\ntheir political ascendency they engaged in commerce, became owners\nof real estate and buildings, including saloons and dance-houses,\ndebased their churchly functions, discouraged attempts at progress,\npractically forbade the printing of secular books and papers, making\nilliteracy, with its attendant vice, poverty, and superstition,\nuniversal; and when Dr. Jose Rizal urged his reforms in the church and\ncivil service, he was shot, though not as a blasphemer, but because\nhis secret order, the Katipunan, with its Masonic ritual and blood\ninitiation, was thought to be dangerous to the public peace.\n\nThe change from this mediaeval condition to that of the nineteenth\ncentury, with its impatience of title, caste, form, and ceremony,\nits trust in equal right, its insistence on freedom of belief,\ncame suddenly. In shaking off their ancient political and religious\nbonds the Filipinos may lose some of the quaint and poetic records of\ntheir ancient faiths; for the first progress of a nation after a long\nsleep is a material one, and art, literature, all the more delicate\nexpressions of national taste, history, and tendency, have to bide\ntheir day until the fortunes of the nation are assured. In this period\nof reconstruction let us hope that those fables and dreams will not\nbe forgotten which tell, more truly than dates and names and records,\nthe ancient state of the people, and afford us a means of estimating\nthe impetus and direction of their advance.\n\nThe influence of Christian teaching is plain in some of the songs,\nplays, and stories of the natives, especially in the plays, for in them\nthe hero is often a Christian prince who defeats a strong and wicked\nMohammedan ruler, and releases an injured maiden. Change the names and\nthe play becomes a modern English melodrama. In several of the islands,\nhowever, the impress of Spanish occupancy is slight, and customs are\nstill in force that have existed for hundreds of years. On Mindanao\nare still to be found the politic devil-worshippers, who, instead of\nseeking to ingratiate themselves with benevolent deities, whose favor\nis already assured, try to gain the goodwill of the fiends. Their\nrites are practised in caves in which will be found ugly figures of\nwood and an altar on which animals are sacrificed. The flesh of these\nanimals is eaten by the devils, according to the priests, and by the\npriests, according to the white men. The evil spirits who appear in\nthe half-darkness of these caves, leaping and screaming, goading the\ncompany to frenzy, are priests in disguise and in demoniac possession.\n\nTagbanuas tear a house down when a death occurs in it, bury the\ncorpse in the woods, and mark the grave by dishes and pots used by\nthe deceased in life. These implements are broken. Among our American\nIndians the outfits supplied to a dead man are in sound condition,\nas it is supposed he will need them on his journey to the happy\nhunting-grounds, while the Chinese put rice and chicken in sound\nvessels on the graves of their brethren, believing they will need\nrefreshment when they start on the long journey to the land of the\nshades. Tramps know where the Chinese are accustomed to bury their\ndead in American cities. When food is placed before an Otaheite corpse\nit is not for the dead, but for the gods, and is intended to secure\ntheir good offices for the departed. While a Tagbanua corpse is above\nground it is liable to be eaten by a vampire called the balbal that\nlives on Mindanao, has the form of a man with wings and great claws,\ntears open the thatch of houses and consumes bodies by means of a\nlong tongue, which it thrusts through the opening in the roof. These\nTagbanuas do not believe in a heaven in the skies, because, they say,\nyou could not get up there. When a man dies he enters a cave that\nleads into the depths of the earth, and after travelling for a long\ntime he arrives in the chamber where Taliakood sits,--a giant who\nemploys his leisure in stirring a fire that licks two tree trunks\nwithout destroying them. The giant asks the new-comer if he has been\ngood or bad in the world overhead, but the dead man makes no reply. He\nhas a witness who has lived with him and knows his actions, and it is\nthe function and duty of this witness to state the case. This little\ncreature is a louse. On being asked what would happen if a native\nwere to die without one of these attendants, the people protest that\nno such thing ever happens. So the louse, having neither to gain nor\nlose, reports the conduct of his commissary and associate, and if\nthe man has been bad, Taliakood throws him into the fire, where he\nis burned to ashes, and so an end of him. If he has been good, the\ngiant speeds him on his way to a happy hunting-ground, where he can\nkill animals by thousands, and where the earth also yields fruits and\nvegetables in plenty. Here he finds a house, without having the trouble\nto build one, and a wife is also provided for him,--the deceased wife\nof some neighbor usually, although he can have his own wife if she is\nconsiderate enough to die when he does. Down here everybody is well\noff, though the rich, having had much pleasure in the world, have\nless of it than the poor. After a term of years the Tagbanua dies\nagain and goes at once to a heaven in a deeper cave without danger\nfrom fire. Seven times he dies, each time going deeper and becoming\nhappier, and probably gains Nirvana in the end. Occasionally a good\nspirit returns as a dove, and a bad one comes as a goat; indeed,\na few of the bad ones are doomed to wander over the earth forever.\n\nA common belief is that the soul is absent from the body in sleep,\nand if death occurs then the soul is lost. \"May you die sleeping\"\nis one of the most dreadful of curses.\n\nAmong the Mangyan mountaineers it is customary to desert a person\nwho is about to die. They return after his death, carry the corpse to\nthe forest, build a fence about it, and roof it with a thatch. These\npeople seem to have no word for god, spirit, or future life; they do\nnot worship either visible or unseen things, and are the most moral\nof the Filipinos. The lowlanders also desert their dying, and after\ndeath close all paths to the house, leave the skeleton of the defunct\nto be picked clean by ants, and change their names for luck.\n\nWhen an islander in the Calamianes province dies his friends ask\nthe corpse where it would like to be buried, naming several places,\nand lifting the body after each question. When the body seems to\nrise lightly the dead man has said, \"Yes.\" It may then be buried, or\nplaced in a tree in the desired locality, with such of its belongings\nas the family can spare, and the mourners watch around a fire that\nnight until all the logs are consumed. The dead man walks about in\nthe ashes, leaving his footprints, and sometimes shows himself to\nhis relatives. Singing and feasting follow for several nights, and\nthe house of the dead is then abandoned.\n\nThe holes in the marble cliffs of San Francisco Strait formerly\ncontained the coffined dead of the tattooed Pintados, who sacrificed\nslaves at the funeral that they might attend their relatives in the\nnext world. Fear of the spirits of these rocks was but partially\novercome when a Spanish priest smashed the coffins and tumbled the\nbodies into the sea, for the strait is still haunted and the burial\nrocks are good places to keep away from after dark.\n\nAmong the Moslem Moros it is a sure passport to heaven to kill a\nChristian, and when one remembers how the people have been robbed,\ntortured, and oppressed by nominal Christians, this item of faith\nis not surprising. The more Christians he kills the greater will\nbe his reward. He bathes in a sacred spring, shaves his eye-brows,\ndresses in white, takes an oath before a pandita or native priest to\ndie killing infidels; then, with the ugly creese, or wave-edged knife,\nhe runs madly through the street, killing, right and left, until some\nconsiderate person shoots him. In the rage for blood he has been known\nto push himself farther against a sword or bayonet that had already\nentered his vitals in order to stab the man who had stopped him. When\nthey hear of his death the relatives of the fanatic have a celebration,\nand declare that in the fall of the night they see him ride by on\na white horse, bound for the home of the good, where no Christians\never go to vex the angels. These people are often fatalists. They\nwill drink water known to be poisoned with typhoid germs, and when\nepidemics come they declare them to be the will of God, and refuse\nto take the slightest measure against infection. They believe that\nwhen a strange black dog runs by cholera follows on his heels.\n\nYet, like our Indians, the better Tagbanuas and Calamianes try to\nheal the sick through the aid of drugs and charms and incantations,\nand they have their medicine man or papalyan. There is in the forest a\nstrange little fellow, known as the man of the wood, who has the power\nof giving to these doctors the art of healing. He rushes out upon one\nwho walks alone, seeking power, and brandishes a spear, finally aiming\nit at the breast of the candidate, and advancing his foot as if to\nthrow it. If the candidate runs he is unworthy, but if he stands his\nground the little man of the wood drops his spear and gives a pearl to\nhim. This pearl is never shown to anybody. It is looked at secretly at\na patient's bedside, and if clear the physician will prescribe, but if\nit is dark, or has taken on a stony aspect, he resigns the case. The\n\"drugs\" are similar to those used by the Chinese, consisting in part\nof powdered teeth and bones and other animal preparations. Charms are\nin common use as a protection not only from disease but from murder\nand misfortune, and in the fighting between the Americans and the\nnatives about Manila many poor, half-naked creatures, armed with bows\nand arrows, had ventured fearlessly into the zone of fire, believing\nthemselves to be safe because they wore an anting-anting at the\nneck. This object, like an Indian's \"good medicine,\" is anything,--a\nlittle book, a bright pebble, a church relic, a medal, an old bullet,\na coin, a piece of cloth, a pack of cards. It is the faith that goes\nwith it, not the object itself, that counts. Even Aguinaldo has\nbeen invested by his followers with superhuman power. Just before\nhe resorted to arms against the Americans the natives knew that the\ntime for rebellion had come, for a woman in Biacnabato gave birth\nto a child dressed in a general's uniform, and above Tondo a woman's\nfigure crowned with snakes was painted in fire upon the night-sky.\n\nIn details of their faiths the tribes differ, but there is a prevalent\nbelief in a principle of good that the Moros call Tuhan. The sun,\nmoon, and stars are the light that shines from him,--he is everywhere,\nall-seeing, all-powerful; he has given fleeting souls to brutes\nand eternal souls to men. The soul enters a child's body at birth,\nthrough the soft space in the top of the head, and leaves through the\nskull at death. Their first men were giants, and Eve was fifty feet\nhigh, but as men's minds grew their bodies became of less account,\nand they will shrink and shrink until, at the world's end, they will\nbe only three feet high, but will consist mostly of brains. Comparing\na brawny savage with an anaemic scholar, one fancies there is reason\nin this forecast. The Tagbanuas have no Adam and Eve. Those of them\nwho live beside the ocean say they are the children of Bulalacao,\na falling star that descended to the shore and became a beautiful\nwoman. The gods of these people are like men, but are stronger,\nliving in caves, eating an ambrosia-like boiled rice that has the\npower of moving. Their gods sometimes steal their children.\n\nOld Testament traditions are commonly accepted by the Moros, who\nbelieve in No (Noah), Adam, Mosa (Moses), Ibrahim (Abraham), Sulaiman\n(Solomon), Daud (David), and Yakub (Jacob); but creation myths are\nlocally modified, and some tales of recent emergence of islands out\nof the sea are probably true. In all volcanic districts mountains may\nbe shaken down and hills cast up in a day. Siquijor formerly bore the\nname of the Isle of Fire, for the natives say that in the days of their\ngrandfathers a cloud brooded on the sea for a week, uttering thunders\nand hisses and flashing forth bolts of fire. When the cloud lifted,\nSiquijor stood there. The geology of the island supports the tradition.\n\nThe future is differently conceived by different sects and families,\nsome panditas teaching that the soul, having come from God, will\nreturn to him at death; others that it will sleep in the earth or\nthe air until the world has ended, when all will be swept on a wind\nto a mount of judgment, where saints and angels will weigh them,\nand souls heavy with sin will fall into hell; others that there is\nno hell of fire, because there is not coal enough to keep it going,\nbut that every man is punished until his soul is purified, when it\nrises to heaven, glowing with light and color; others that men are\npunished according to their sins; liars and gossips with sore mouths\nand tired jaws; gluttons with lame stomachs; jealous, cruel, tricky\npeople with aching hearts; abusive and thievish ones with pains in\ntheir hands; others that one finds hell enough on earth in fear,\nillness, disappointment, misunderstanding and Spaniards, to atone\nfor all the mischief he is liable to make.\n\n\n\n\n\nAnimal Myths\n\n\nIn the fables of the Filipinos the animals often speak together\nin a common language. The dove, however, is the only one that\ncomprehends human speech, and it is a creature of uncommon shrewdness\nand intelligence, like the hare in the Indian myths and Br'er Rabbit\nin the stories of our Southern negroes. Once the dove was a child. In\nshame and anger that its mother should refuse to give it some rice she\nwas pounding for panapig (a sort of cake), it ran out of the cabin,\ntook two leaves of a nipa, shaped wings from them, which it fastened to\nits shoulders, and fluttered into the boughs of a neighboring tree,\nchanging, in its flight, from a child to a dove. It still calls\nfor panapig.\n\nDarwin is read backward by the natives, for they say that the monkey\nwas a man, long, long ago, and might have been one still but for his\nmanana habit, so general in the Spanish colonies. He had a partner\nwhom he greatly vexed by his idleness, and once, when this partner\nwas planting rice, he glanced up and saw the monkey squatted on the\nearth, with his face between his hands, watching the labors of the\nindustrious member of the firm,--for nothing makes loafing sweeter\nthan to see somebody else work. Enraged, the busy one caught up a\ncudgel and flung it at the monkey, who was thereupon seized with a\nsudden but futile activity, and started to run away. The club struck\nhim in the rear so mightily that it entered his spinal column and\nstayed there, becoming his tail.\n\nIn the Moro tradition of the flood--a tradition almost world-wide--Noah\nand his family got into a box when the forty days of rain began,\nand one pair of each kind of bird and beast followed them. All of the\nhuman race except Noah, his wife and children, were either drowned or\nchanged. Those men who ran to the mountains when they saw the flood\nrising became monkeys; those who flung themselves into the sea became\nfish; the Chinese turned into hornbills; a woman who was eating seaweed\nand kept on eating after the waves broke over her became a dugong.\n\nIn Mindanao, Basilan, and Sulu the pig is held in suspicion and its\nflesh is not eaten. The reason for this aversion is that the first\npigs were grandchildren of the great Mahomet himself, and their\nconversion to these lowly quadrupeds fell out in this way: When Jesus\n(Isa) called on Mahomet, the latter, jealous of his reputed power,\nbade him guess what was in the next room. Christ said that he did\nnot wish to do so. Mahomet then commanded him to prove his ability\nto see through walls, and added that if he made a mistake he would\nkill him. Thereupon Christ answered, \"There are two animals in that\nchamber that are like no other in the world.\"\n\n\"Wrong!\" cried the Prophet, plucking out his sword. \"They are my\ngrandchildren. You have spoken false, and you must lose your head.\"\n\n\"Look and see,\" insisted Christ, and Mahomet flung open the chamber\ndoor, whereupon two hogs rushed out. It should be added that while\nthe divinity of Christ is denied in some of the Oriental religions,\nhe figures in many of them as a great and good man, gifted with\nsupernatural power. Moros charge as one reason for killing Christians\nthat followers of Christ disgrace and belie mankind in teaching that\nmen could kill their own god.\n\nOn Mindoro the timarau, a small buffalo that lives in the jungle,\nhas given rise to rumors of a fierce and destructive creature that\ncarries a single horn on his head. It is a wild and hard fighter, but\nit has two horns, and is not likely to injure any save those who are\nseeking to injure it. A creature with an armed head has lingered down\nfrom the day of Marco Polo, because in the stock of yarns assembled by\nthat redoubtable tourist the unicorn figured. This was the rhinoceros,\nwhich is found so near the Philippines as Sumatra. The gnu of Africa\nis another possible ancestor of this creature, a belief in which\ngoes back to the time of Aristotle; but the horse-like animal with\na narwhal's horn that frisks on the British arms never existed.\n\nAnd, speaking of horses, it is strange that centaurs should figure\nin the mythology of a country like Luzon; but a mile from the church\nat Mariveles is a hot spring beside which lived a creature that\nwas half-horse and half-man. As in ancient Greece, there is little\ndoubt that a belief in this being came from the wonder excited by\nthe first horsemen.\n\nSea-eagles in the East are large and powerful, and are believed to\nhave long memories. According to report, a man living near Jala Jala\nonce stole a nest of their young and carried it to his house. It was\na year from that time before any retaliation was attempted. The birds\nthen appeared above his premises, swooped down on his wife, clawed\nher face and beat her with their wings until she was half-dead; then\npicked up her babe and carried it away before the eyes of the helpless\nparents. Next year they came again, and another infant, a few months\nold, was stolen. The man tracked them to their nest, which had been\nbuilt high on a cliff that no one had ever scaled before. Nerved by\ngrief and anger, he climbed it. In the nest were the skeletons of\nhis children. As he clung to the rock, hanging over a dizzy space\nand looking on these sad relics, the father bird came swooping from\nthe sky and began to strike at him with claws and wings. In the face\nof such an assault the man could not descend in safety. Death was\nsure. He could only hope to kill his enemy, too. As the bird drew\nnear he leaped from the rock, caught the eagle about the neck, and\nthe two plunged down to death together.\n\nAn animal god especially to be feared is Calapnitan, king of the\nbats. He is so powerful and capable of mischief that in exploring a\ncave where bats are likely to have congregated the natives will speak\nin the most respectful terms of this deity, for he would be sure to\nhear them if they spoke flippantly of him, and might swoop from the\ncave roof and whip their eyes out with his leathern wings or tear them\nwith his claws. Hence they bow their heads and speak with reverence\nof the Lord Calapnitan's cave, the Lord Calapnitan's stalactite,\neven recognizing his temporary ownership of their clothing, arms,\nlights, and so on, and alluding to their own jackets as the Lord\nCalapnitan's. By carefully refraining in this manner from giving\noffence the Filipinos have succeeded in keeping their skins entire\nwhile guiding white travellers through the caverns in their islands.\n\n\n\n\n\nLater Religious Myths and Miracles\n\n\nAmong stories that date no farther back than the Spanish conquest we\nfind the usual tales of sacred springs, of visions, and of blessed\nobjects. The Church of the Holy Infant, in the city of Cebu, contains\nan image of the Christ child, about fifteen inches in height, carved\nin ebony, preserved in much state and loaded with a profusion of\nornament. The priests tell you that it was made in heaven, thrown\nto the earth, and found in 1565 by a soldier who recovered from\nan illness when he touched it. It was taken to the convent in Cebu,\nwhere the clergy emplaced it with great ceremony, and where on the 20th\nof January in every year it is dressed in a field marshal's regalia,\nreceives a field marshal's salute, and is worshipped by thousands of\npilgrims from all parts of the archipelago. So many women wrought\nthemselves into an insane frenzy during these January feasts that\ntheir sacred dances, which were once a part of the ceremonies, had\nto be stopped. When the town was burned this statue saved itself from\nthe flames, as did the bamboo cross near the church, which is said to\nbe the same that was erected by the monk, Martin de Rada, on the day\nwhen the Spanish landed, more than three centuries ago. Matter-of-fact\nhistorians allow that the figure of the child may have been left\nthere by Magellan. It worked miracles of a surprising character for\nyears after his death, and the first settlement in Cebu was called\nThe City of the Most Holy Name of Jesus in its honor. The customary\ndiscrepancies between the piety and the practice of the conquerors\nexisted in the Philippines, as in the Antilles. They slew the natives\nuntil the survivors threw up their hands and professed the right\nreligion; then they shot twenty-four thousand Chinese who had settled\nin and about Cebu, thus reducing themselves to a wretched state, for\nthese Spaniards had depended on the Chinese as their servants, cooks,\nfarmers, laborers, shoemakers, and tailors. It is worthy of note that\nother missionaries had shown activity, but with less result, for their\nmethods had been more conciliatory. The Mahometanism that had been\nintroduced by Moslem preachers from Arabia got no farther than Sulu,\nand the Confucianism imported by Chinamen seems to have obtained no\npermanent hold. Through all changes the Holy Child remained uninjured,\nand he continues his good work to this day.\n\nWhen the Sulu pirates had fallen upon a year of such bad business that\nthey reaped a profit of barely fifty per cent, on their investment\nin ships and weapons, there was great discontent among them. Prizes\nwere few and defeats occasional. Looking back on their highest hill,\nas they sailed away, and fearing that when they returned it might be\nwith but half a cargo of gold and rum and Christians, so many of them\nwept for the misery of this thought that to this day the height is\nknown as Buat Timantangis, or Mount of Tears. In one dull season,\nwhen the pirates were almost mutinous because of their continued\nill-fortune, it occurred to one of the captains that an image to\nwhich the Christians prayed so earnestly and with such good effect\nmight do as much for him as for some other natives. In his barbarian\nmind there was no absurdity in trying to persuade a gentle Virgin or\na pure-minded Saint to deliver into his hands the goods and persons\nof those who knelt before their effigies. A sacred image was \"good\nmedicine\" for Spaniards and Tagalogs, and should, therefore, be\ngood medicine for Mahometans. Thus, he bethought him of the statue\nnow known as the Virgin of Antipolo, that came from Spain by way\nof Mexico in charge of early missionaries. To think was to act. He\nraided the village where it had been enshrined and attempted to carry\nit off; but the statue had warned the faithful of its peril, and the\nmarauders were met and driven off by a powerful force. The Virgin of\nAntipolo became one of the most influential of all the guardians of\nthe islands, and to this day is especially besought by mothers who\nask for her intercession on behalf of their sickly children. Holy\nwater taken from her shrine will cure the sufferer, and the mother\nthen performs a public penance in thankfulness. Before the American\narrival, with its sudden imposition of new ideas on an old society,\nit was no uncommon thing to see on Good Friday a company of the\nrichest women in Manila, poorly attired and with bare feet, dragging\nthrough the streets a heavy cross thirty feet in length. This was in\nfulfilment of vows they had made at the shrine of Antipolo.\n\nThis Virgin of Antipolo is likewise known as Our Lady of Good Voyage\nand Peace. She arrived from Mexico in a state galleon in 1626. On\nthe voyage she calmed a storm so quickly that the priests proclaimed\nher special sanctity, and ordered her to be received in Manila with\nsalutes of bells and guns. While the Jesuits were building a church\nfor her she would often descend from her temporary altar and stand\nin an antipolo tree (Astocarpus incisa). People cut pieces from this\ntree for charms against disease and misfortune, until Father Salazar\nordered that the trunk should be its pedestal. In an early rebellion\nthe Chinese insurgents threw the statue into the fire. Flames were\nall about it, yet not a hair, not a thread of lace was singed, and\nthe body of brass was unmarked by smoke. Angered at this defiance\nof their power, a Chinaman stabbed it in the face, and, curiously,\nthe wound remains to this day in protest against the savagery that\nincited it. When for a second time the Virgin passed unscathed through\na conflagration the Spanish infantry bore her on their shoulders about\nthe streets, shouting in the joy of her protection. A galleon having\nbeen endangered by rocks and bars in Manila Bay, the captain borrowed\nthis statue, prayed that it would secure the safety of his ship, and,\nto the wonder of all, his vessel rode proudly up to the city gates, for\nthe Virgin had ordered that the rocks should sink deeper beneath the\nsea. Twice afterward she did a like service to captains who borrowed\nthe figure as a safeguard on the long voyage to Mexico and back,\nfor each time she suppressed great storms. At the time of the assault\non Manila by the Dutch she assisted in the defeat of the strangers,\nthough St. Mark was associated with her in the victory. He had told\nthe governor in a dream that success should attend the Spanish arms\nif his people would carry the Virgin into the fight. This was done,\nand the Dutch lost three ships with their cargoes. She was finally\ndomiciled in the town of Antipolo, which, beside being famous as a\nshrine, has been one of the most noted resorts for brigands in the\nPhilippines. The village of four thousand people subsists largely on\nthe money spent by pilgrims to her church.\n\nEvery family in the Christian communities has a little statue\nof the Virgin or of a patron saint, to which prayers are\naddressed. Occasionally as much as a thousand dollars will be paid\nfor one of these images, for some have more power than others. When\nTondo caught fire and was reduced to ashes, the houses of mat and\nbamboo burning like paper, one thing alone survived the flames:\na wooden statue of Mary. This token of a special watch upon the\nfigure immediately raised its importance, and it was attired in the\ndress and ornaments of gold in which it may now be seen. Not all the\ndomestic saints are brilliantly dressed or originally expensive. One\nFilipino family worshipped a portrait of Garibaldi that adorned the\ncover of a raisin box, while a native elsewhere was found on his\nknees before a picture from an American comic paper that represented\nPresident Cleveland attired as a monk and wearing a tin halo. Both\nof these pictures had been placed on altars, and candles were burned\nbefore them.\n\nAnother statue of great power is in the church at Majajay. It was sent\nthere from Spain in charge of the friars, and is especially besought\nby invalids, for it is a general belief that whosoever will reach the\nchurch with breath enough remaining in him to recite certain prayers\nbefore this image shall have fresh lease of life; yea, though he were\nat his last gasp.\n\nSome of the attacks made on the friars in the Philippines have been\nconstrued into attacks on the Church, but this is wrong. For the good\nof the Church, no less than of the people, it is desired to purge the\nislands of these ancient offenders. They have used religion as a cloak\nfor evil, have encouraged, in private, vices they preached against\nin public, have availed themselves of famines and other distresses\nto force money from the poor, and have fathered as many half-castes\nas the Spanish soldiers have. As to their offspring, Filipino wives\nhave quieted jealous husbands by assuring them that the appearance of a\nEuropean complexion in a hitherto brown family was a special favor from\nSt. Peter,--a miracle ordered by the keeper of heaven as a reward for\npiety and good works. Hence, one hears much of St. Peter's children\nin the Philippines. Some of the white inhabitants have nevertheless\nbeen conspicuous for virtue. Miguel Lopez de Legaspi, for example,\nthe first ruler of the islands, was so good that for years after his\ndeath his body, now in the St. Augustine Monastery, Manila, underwent\nno decay or change, but was like that of a man in sleep.\n\nAlitagtag, north of Bauan, became in 1595 a resort of ghosts and\ndevils that congregated about a spring near the village, so that\nthe people were afraid to go there for water. A native headman took\nwood from a deserted house, made a cross of it, and set it up near\nthe spring to spell away the fiends. As the people still feared,\na woman of courage ventured near the place to find that a stream of\ncold, pure water was flowing from one of the arms of the cross. To\nfurther assure the people that the evil spirits had been mastered the\ncross arose from the earth and stalked about the fields, surrounded by\nbright lights. Thereupon the clergy ordered that it should be adored,\nand from that time it became an object of worship, healing diseases,\ndispelling plagues, and killing locusts. When the priests at Bauan\nannounced that they intended to move the cross to Lake Bombon, the\npriest of Taal, being jealous of his brothers in the other town,\nhired some natives to steal it and take it to his house. No sooner\nhad the men assembled for this purpose than sheets of green fire fell\nabout the cross, defending it from their approach, and in a frenzy of\ncontrition they ran back, solemnly vowing that they would never make\na similar attempt again. The cross was, therefore, taken to Bauan,\nwhere it did service for the people by terrorizing a band of pirates\nand by stopping an eruption of the Taal volcano in 1611. This peak\nof Taal had been a resort of devils from time immemorial, and it had\nbeen a frequent duty of the Church to pray them into silence. In the\nyear just named Father Albuquerque headed a procession that ascended\nthe mountain for this purpose. Near the summit he paused and lifted\nthe cup containing the blood of Christ. Dreadful noises were heard,\nlike the laughter of ten thousand fiends, in vaults below. Then,\nwith a groan and crash, the earth split and two craters appeared,\none filled with boiling sulphur, the other with green water. The\ncross was sent for. It was brought by four hundred natives. When it\nwas put into the priest's hands he lifted it toward the sky and all\nunited in prayer. During this petition, while every head was bent and\nall eyes were shut, the craters softly closed and Taal was as it had\nbeen before. Yet the demons still linger about the mountain. Not many\nyears ago an Englishman tunnelled the peak for sulphur. The fiends\nof the volcano shook the roof down on his head and he perished. In\nMay it has been a custom to hold a feast in honor of this cross,\nif the natives furnish the necessary candles and raise ten dollars\nfor the officiating priest.\n\nBangi, in Ilocos Norte, had a shrine in which was the image of a child\nwith a lamb. Herbs pressed against it would cure all diseases. For\nyears a dispute was carried on between clerical factions as to whether\nit represented St. John the Baptist or Christ. Bishop Miguel Garcia,\nhaving undressed it and examined it thoroughly, decided it to be a\nChinese idol. Thereupon it was broken and burned as a thing unholy.\n\nOur Lady of Casaysay, in Batangas, is so esteemed that ships salute her\nin passing. She was found by a fisherman in his net. He took her to\na cave, not knowing what to make of his strange find, and intending\nto keep her there probably as a treasure not to be shared by his\nneighbors. She astonished and disappointed him by proclaiming herself\nwith flashing lights of beautiful color and with loud music. As these\ndemonstrations frightened the peaceable rustics, the Virgin left her\ncave, visited a native woman, spoke kindly to her, and was thereupon\nprovided with a shrine, where she might be adored with proper ceremony.\n\nThe statue of St. Joaquin at Gusi is remarkable because every year\nit runs away and spends two weeks with its wooden wife, the figure\nof St. Ann, at Molo.\n\nManila once had a saint that wagged its head approvingly at certain\npoints in the sermon. This conduct drove so many women into hysterics,\nand crowded the church so dangerously with people who went to see\nthe miracle, that the archbishop discountenanced its action, and\nordered that it should be quiet thereafter. Quiet was easily secured\nby cutting the string attached to the saint's neck. The padre was\naccustomed to pull this during his discourse whenever he wished his\ncongregation to believe that the saints approved his eloquence or\nendorsed his doctrine.\n\nHoly water from the Conception district of Panay saves life, and San\nPascual Bailon cures barrenness. A Manila milkman who was punished\nfor selling watered milk expressed surprise at the complaints of his\ncustomers, because no wrong had been committed, inasmuch as he had\nused nothing but holy water, which was far superior to milk. Water\nfrom the prison well at Iloilo was held at so high a value that the\nprison-keeper made a fortune from it, as it was given out that Christ\nand the Virgin had been seen bathing in the well. Our Lady of the Holy\nWaters presides over the hot springs below Maquiling Mountain, an old\ncrater. Another popular place of pilgrimage is the shrine at Tagbauang,\nnear Iloilo, where illnesses are cured at a high mass in January.\n\nOne of the last recorded appearances of the Virgin was in 1884, when\na band of robbers in Tayabas killed a plantation manager, wounded\nseveral laborers, and ransacked the house of the owner. While in one\nof the bedrooms tying clothes, jewelry, and other loot into parcels\nfor removal, the Virgin appeared, and standing in the door looked\nwith severity and distress on the bandits. They immediately left\ntheir plunder and ran pell-mell from the building. Some of these\nrobbers were arrested, but the Virgin had compassion on them for\nleaving the proceeds of their raid, so none was garroted or even\nsentenced. Some go so far as to say that the Virgin had nothing to do\nwith their escape from punishment, alleging that the officers of the\nlaw had conspired with them, and that the Spanish courts were even\nworse than those of a land that shall be nameless in respect of their\nslowness and the facilities they offered for adjournments, retrials,\nand appeals on grounds that if presented in any other cause than that\nof a breaker of the law would be laughed to scorn. Filipino bandits\noften wear medals of the Virgin and saints to protect them from harm,\nand some are made bold by confidence in their protection. It is a\nbelief of theirs that they will never be punished for any crime they\nmay commit in Easter week, for the rather obscure reason that Christ\npardoned the thief on the cross on Good Friday.\n\nA curious chapel on a bluff near Pasig, overlooking the river of that\nname, has the form of a pagoda. It was built as a thank-offering by\na Chinaman who, having been endangered by a crocodile, and having\ncalled on men and joss without receiving an answer, prayed volubly\nto the Christians' God as he swam toward the shore, and promised to\nerect a chapel in return for his life. His prayer was answered, for\nthe crocodile was turned to stone, and may now be seen in the bed of\nthe stream, while the grateful Mongol kept his word, and also joined\nthe church.\n\n\n\n\n\nBankiva, the Philippine Pied Piper\n\n\nOf nearly six hundred species of birds in the Philippines the\njungle fowl, or bankiva, is best known, and is both killed and\ndomesticated. Unlike the dove, it does not understand human speech,\nbut it has a power over our kind that is exercised by no other\nanimal. Once a year the spirits grant to it this power of charming,\nin order that both spirits and birds may be revenged on men, their\nconstant enemies. When that day comes the Luzon mother tremblingly\ngathers her little ones about her and warns them not to leave their\ndoor, for young ears heed the strange, sweet music of the fowl's voice,\nwhich grown people cannot hear. On that day the bird sings with a\nnew note, and the flock of bankivas choose the largest, handsomest\nof their number to lead the march of children. On the edge of the\nvillage he gives his song, and every toddler runs delightedly to see\nwhat causes the music. Babes respond with soft, cooing notes, and will\ngo on hands and knees if they can. They find the bankivas gathered in\na little ring, spreading their tails and wings, dancing and singing\nin harmony, the head bird setting the air. When the children have\ngathered, they, too, begin to dance and sing, following the birds\nas they go deeper and deeper into the wood. Night falls, and with a\nharsh cry the bankivas fly away in all directions. The children are\nas if awakened from a sleep. They do not know where they are, and\ncannot tell which way to turn. Jungles and swamps are about them,\nman-eating crocodiles are watching from the water, poisonous and\nstrangling snakes are gliding about the brush, the pythons that loop\nthemselves from overhanging limbs are sometimes thrice the length of\na man. Dread and danger are on every hand. And at home the mothers\nsit crying. Sometimes, though rarely, a man or woman totters back\nto a village bearing marks of great age, and is sure that he or she\nleft there only the night before. These wanderers do not know where\nthey have been. They remember only that the bankiva sang sweetly, and\nthey followed it, as the children of Hamelin followed the pied piper.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Crab Tried to Eat the Moon\n\n\nAmong the fantastic stories told of snakes, water-buffalo, birds,\nand sharks are several that have obvious meaning. The crab figures in\ncertain of these tales as the cause of the tides. He was an enormous\ncreature and lived in a great hole in the bottom of a distant sea,\nwhence he crawled twice a day, the water pouring into the hollow then,\nand leaving low water on the coast. When he settled back again the\nwater was forced out and the tide was high. The relation of tides to\nthe moon may have introduced this creature in another aspect as the\nmoon's enemy and cause of her eclipse, for it is related that one\nevening a Filipino princess walking on a beach saw with astonishment\nan island that had never been visible on the sea before. Her emotion\nwas that of alarm when she saw the island approach the shore, and\nshe hid in the shrubbery to watch. Presently she could make out,\ndespite the failing light, that it was no island, but a crab larger\nthan a hundred buffalo. Its goggling eyes were dreadful to see, its\nmouth was opening fiercely, its claws working as if eager to clutch\nits prey. The moon arose at the full, making a track of light across\nthe heaving waters, and the crab, facing east, prepared to spring and\ndrag it to its den beneath the ocean. Half a mile away the people\nof the princess were holding a feast with songs and dances. Would\nthey hear a signal? She placed her conch-shell horn at her lips and\nblew with all her strength. The monster still gnashed and grasped\nin expectancy at the sea's edge, and a breeze brought through the\nwood a faint sound of drums. Her people had not heard. Again she\nblew. This time the woods were still. Her people were listening. A\nthird blast followed, and in a few minutes the warriors swarmed upon\nthe beach with knives, swords, and lances. While the princess was\nexplaining to them the moon's peril the crab made a leap into the air\nand darkened its face, causing an eclipse, but failing to get a hold\nit dropped back to the beach again, where the people fell upon it,\nthe princess leading the attack with the war-call of her tribe. As\nthe crab turned to see what had befallen, the princess slashed off\nhis great left claw. With the other it crushed a soldier, but again\nher cresse fell and the right claw fell likewise. Then a hundred men\nrushed upon the creature, prodding their spears into joints of his\nlegs and the dividing line between his back plate and belly. Others\nfell under his great bulk or were gnashed by his iron teeth, but in\nthe end his shell was broken and the moon was safe. And often when\nthe gentle pirate of the Sulus scoured the sea he uttered a prayer\nbefore an image of the princess for a bright night and an easy victim,\nfor had it not been for her the crab would have swallowed the moon,\nand the sea would have been as dark as some kinds of a conscience.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Conversion of Amambar\n\n\nWhile roving over the waters that covered the earth the sun god\nsaw the nymph Ursula sporting in the waves, and was smitten with a\nquick and mighty fondness. He nearly consumed himself in the ardor\nof his affection. She, however, was as cold and pure as the sea. As\nshe swung drowsily on the billows she was like a picture painted in\nfoam on their blue-green depth, and in breathing her bosom rose and\nfell like the waves themselves. As she saw the god descending she\nwas filled with alarm, but as he took her into his strong embrace\nand placed his cheek to hers a new life and warmth came to her, and\nin their marriage the spirits of the air and water rejoiced. A son\nwas born to them,--so beautiful a boy that the sun god made a land\nfor him, stocked it with living creatures, adorned it with greenery\nand flowers, and gave it to the human race as an inheritance of joy\nforever. This land he called Cebu, and no land was more lovely. Lupa\nwas the child, and from him came all the kings of Cebu, among them\nAmambar, the first chief of the island of whom we have definite\nrecord. In the day of his rule the group had long been peopled,\nand the use of tools and weapons had become known. One occasionally\nfinds to-day the stone arrows and axes they called \"lightning teeth,\"\nand with which they worked such harm to one another in their many wars.\n\nIt was an evening of March, 1521, a calm and pleasant evening,\nwith the perfume of flowers mixed with the tonic tang of the ocean,\nbirds flying and monkeys chattering in the wood, and a gentle surf\nwhispering upon the beach. Amambar was walking on the shore alone. He\nhad gone there to watch the gambols of the mermaids, when a great\nlight whitened against the sunset. It came from a cross that had\nbeen planted just out of reach of the sea. He put his hands before\nhis eyes that it might not dazzle him. Then, as the moon arose, he\npeered beneath his hands, out over the restless water, and there,\nagainst the golden globe that was lifting over the edge of the world,\ncould be seen a flock of monster birds with gray wings, and dark\nmen walking on their backs as they lightly rode the billows, the men\nsparkling and glinting as they moved, for they were arrayed in metal\nand bore long knives and lances that flashed like stars. Other of\nthe company wore black robes and sang in unknown words, their voices\nmixing in a music never heard by Amambar before. A sparkling white\ncloud drooped slowly from the sky. A diamond vapor played about the\ncross. Out of the cloud came a melodious voice saying, \"Look up,\nO chief!\" And looking at the cross again, he saw, extended there,\na bleeding figure with a compassionate face that gazed down upon him\nand declared, \"I am Jesus Christ, son of the only God. Those whom you\nsee in the ships are my people, who have come to these islands to rule\nyou for your good.\" Amambar fell prone on the sand and prayed for a\nlong time, not daring to open his eyes. When he regained courage and\narose the cloud was gone; the ships had sailed away. He was alone.\n\nThe commander of the ships was Magellan. It was one of his monks who\nhad placed the cross on shore. Landing in Cebu later, he converted two\nthousand of the natives in a day by destroying the statue of Vishnu and\nputting that of the child Jesus in its place, though he still yielded\nto savage opinion in so far as he consented to confirm his friendship\nwith the king by a heathen ceremony, each opening a vein in his arm\nand drinking the blood of the other. As usual, the appearance and ways\nof the Europeans smote the natives with wonder. They described the\nstrangers as enormous men with long noses, who dressed in fine robes,\nate stones (ship-bread), drank fire from sticks (pipes), and breathed\nout the smoke, commanded thunder and lightning from metal tubes,\nand were gods. Engaging in a wrangle between two tribes, Magellan was\nlured into a marsh at Mactan, and there, while watching a battle to\nsee how great the Filipinos could be in war, he was slain with bamboo\nlances sharpened and hardened in fire. Amambar's Christianity did\nnot endure, for he so wearied of the oppression and rapacity of the\nstrangers that when a successor to Magellan appeared he invited him\nto a banquet and slew him at his meat. But the cross and the statue\nof Christ worked miracles among the faithful for many generations.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Bedevilled Galleon\n\n\n    \"Sing hey, sing ho! The wind doth blow,\n    And I'll meet my love in the morning,\"\n\nSang the lookout, as he paced the forecastle of the galleon Rose of\nMay, and peered about for signs of land against the dawn. Not that\nhe expected to meet his love in the morning, nor for many mornings,\nbut he had been up in his off-watch and was getting drowsy, so that he\nsang to keep himself awake. His was one of the first among the English\nships to follow in Magellan's track. The Philippines, or the Manillas,\nas they were called, had been almost reached, and it was expected\nthat Mindanao would be sighted at break of day off the starboard bow.\n\n\"Hello, forward!\" bawled the man at the helm.\n\n\"Ay, ay!\" sang the lookout.\n\n\"What d'ye make o' yonder light?\"\n\n\"Light? What d'ye mean, man?\" And the lookout rubbed his eyes, scanned\nthe water close and far, and wondered if his sight was going out.\n\n\"In the sky, o' course, ye bumble-brain.\"\n\n\"Now, by the mass, you costard, you gave me a twist of the inwards\nwith your lame joke.\"\n\n\"'Tis no joke. Will you answer?\"\n\n\"Why, then, 'tis the daylight, in course, and you aiming for it that\nsteady as to drive the nose of us straight agin the sun, give he\ncomes up where he threats to. And he'll be here straightway, for in\nthese waters he comes up as he were popped outen a cohorn.\"\n\n\"The day! Heaven forefend! I'm holding her to the north.\"\n\n\"You're holding due east. Aha! Look yonder, where the cloud is\nlifting. Land ho!\"\n\n\"Where away?\" cried a mate, roused out of a forbidden doze by this\ntalk, and blundering up to the roof of the after-castle.\n\n\"Port bow, sir.\"\n\n\"Port bow! The fiend take us! You block! You jolterhead! Where are\nyou fetching us?\"\n\n\"I'm holding her due to the north, sir, as you bade me,\" faltered\nthe steersman. \"Look for yourself, if it please you, for 'tis light\nenough to read the card without the binnacle lamp. We're sailing east\nby the sky and north by the needle. The ship's bedevilled!\"\n\n\"Hold your peace, or you'll have the crew in a fright. Head her around\neight points to port, and keep her west by the card.\"\n\n\"Lights in, sir? The sun is up,\" called the lookout.\n\n\"Yes.\" And the mate added in a lower tone, \"'Tis the first time ever\nthe sun came up in the north.\"\n\n\"What's all this gabble?\" grumbled the captain, thrusting his red and\nwhiskered face out of the cabin. \"Can't a man have his rest when you\nkeep the watch, Master Roaker?\"\n\n\"Pray, captain, come and look at the compass. Do you see the lay o'\nthe needle? We're sailing west to hold north, or else the sun has\nmissed stays over night and come up in the north himself.\"\n\n\"Hi, hi! That's parlous odd. Keep her as you have her, and have out\nBill, the carpenter, to see if there's any iron overside. Nay, let\nher off a little more, for that's a hard-looking piece of shore out\nyonder, for all of the palms and green stuff.\"\n\nThe watch was changed presently, the captain preferring to take the\nbiscuit and spirits that were his breakfast on the deck. He went to\nthe compass every minute or so, looked curiously at the draw of the\nsails and studied the water alongside. The carpenter had reported\nall sound, with no iron out of place to deflect the needle. There\nwas a grave look on the faces of the officers, and the men talked\nlow together as they watched them.\n\n\"Strange-looking hill out yonder,\" remarked a mate. \"Not a tree on it,\nnor any green thing. 'Tis black and shining enough for the devil's\ngrave-stone.\"\n\n\"Have done with your gossip of devils,\" snorted the other mate. \"You're\nas evil a man for a ship's company as a whistler. You'll be calling\nill luck on us to name the fiend so often.\"\n\n\"Looks like shoal water forward, sir,\" called the new lookout.\n\n\"Right! Head her away to port yet farther. Look you, fellow, have\nyou no inkling of your business? You'll have us all ashore. Mary,\nmother! Give me the helm!\" With sweat bursting from his brow the\ncaptain caught the tiller and put it hard over. The ship shook a bit,\nswerved, yet made side-wise toward the green patch on the sea. The\nland was looming large now.\n\n\"'Tis not in the rudder to keep her off, sir,\" called a mate who had\ngone forward. \"'Tis the leeway she is making.\"\n\n\"There's a scant breeze.\"\n\n\"Ay, but there must be a fearsome current.\"\n\n\"I see no sign of it. This water is smooth as any pond.\"\n\n\"But you see for yourself, she's gaining on the shore. Look, now,\nhow we're passing that patch o' water-weed.\"\n\n\"I think hell is under us. Have up the clerk and put him at prayers,\nand you fellows take in sail--each rag of it--that if we strike we\nmay go easy. Call all hands. See that the boats are clear. She minds\nher helm no more than a straw. God help us!\"\n\nThe galleon was at the edge of the shoal spot now, and all held their\nbreath, expecting to hear the grinding of the keel on a bank; but,\nno, she floated in safety.\n\n\"Sound!\" commanded the captain. \"There may be anchorage.\"\n\n\"Four fathom,\" called the sailor at the lead after he had made\nhis cast.\n\n\"Stand by to let go. We'll tie up here till the tide turns or the\nspell's worked out. Alive--alive, there! Get that anchor overboard.\"\n\n\"It be wedged agin the bulwark, captain, and needs another pair o'\nhands.\"\n\n\"Forward all! Why, you lump, the flukes are clear. What ails you? Lift\nall. There!\"\n\nWith an united heave the sailors raised the barbed iron and cast it\nover the side. The faces of all dripped and went white, and their\nknees bent then, for the anchor flew from their hands and struck\nthe sea quite twenty feet away,--in deep water, for the shoal was\npassed,--and the chain paid out like rope as the iron sank, yet not\nstraight down. It rattled off toward the shore.\n\n\"We've had krakens and mermaids and all variety of horrid beasts,\"\nsaid one old tar, with his jaw a-shaking, \"and now the foul fiend\nhas that anchor, and is pulling us ashore with it.\"\n\nThe chain had run out to its length, but the anchor had found no\nbottom. A cracking and grinding of the links could be heard, as if a\ntug of war were going on between two giants that had this chain between\nthem. Bits of rust powdered off, and the strain was tearing splinters\nfrom the timbers. A loud snap,--the chain had parted. Down went the\nanchor, but again not straight,--off toward the land, and one free\nlink of the chain shot as if from a gun straight toward the shore,\nwhizzing with ever-increasing speed until it was out of sight. The\nmen looked at one another in amaze.\n\n\"Get up the stores,\" shouted the captain, \"and be ready all to quit\nthe ship.\" He added to his mates, \"A half hour's the longest we can\nhope for. The Rose of May will be on the black cliff by that. Is the\nclerk praying? Good! We may get away in the boats, but we'll end our\ndays here in the Manillas. Alack, my Betsy! I'll never look into her\neyes again.\"\n\n\"She's down a little by the head, an't please you,\" cried a sailor,\nrunning aft.\n\n\"Ease her a little, then. Toss over some of the dunnage.\"\n\n\"Lor'! Lor'! Spare us all this day!\" yelled a sailor a minute later.\n\n\"What is it?\"\n\n\"I tried to put my knife on the rail here, while I gripped the line I\nwas to cut, when it tugged at my hand like a live thing. In a fright\nI let go, and away it flew toward the shore. Oh, we've reached the\nDevil's country. Why ever did I leave England?\"\n\n\"How of the compass?\"\n\n\"It points steady to that rock.\"\n\n\"Master captain! Master captain!\" shouted the steward, running upon\ndeck. \"The fiend is in the after-castle, for the pans and the knives\nand a blunderbuss and two cutlasses that were loose have leaped\nagainst the forward panelling and stick there as if rivets were\nthrough them. 'Tis wizard's work. Let us pray, all.\"\n\nA sudden commotion was seen among the sailors at that moment. The\ncannon balls had rolled forward to the break of the forecastle, and\nthe two guns themselves--the ship's armament against the pirates of\nChina and Sulu--were straining at their stays.\n\n\"Heave over the shot. It'll lighten her,\" ordered the captain.\n\nThe crew obeyed, but after the first of the balls had been lifted\nover the bulwarks, they had scarce the strength to cast out the rest,\nfor amazement overcame them on seeing the shot plucked from the man's\nhands and blown through the air as if sent from its gun toward the\nrock. The ship was leaping through the water, though the breeze\nwas from the land. One after another the men fell on their knees\nand prayed loudly, the captain last of all. Suddenly he looked up,\nwith a wondering flash in his eyes. He sprang to his feet, plucked\nan iron belaying-pin from its ledge, held it up, felt it pull, let\ngo, and saw it whirl away like a leaf in a cyclone. He looked at the\ncompass; the needle pointed straight toward the black and glistening\ncliff now lowering not more than half a mile ahead.\n\n\"It's the guns,\" he shrieked. \"Up with you. Cut away the\nlashings. Stave down the bulwarks. Let them go.\"\n\nIn the panic there was no stopping to argue or to question. The guns\nwere freed, and they, too, went hurtling through the air, striking\nthe rock with a clang. The captain leaped to the helm and put it hard\na-starboard. The ship's pace slackened, she curved gracefully around,\nand headed from the threatening coast. \"Shake out all sail, lads,\nfor we're free at last, by God's good grace.\"\n\nThough trembling and confused, the sailors managed to hoist sail,\nand on a gentle wind from the east they left that coast never more to\nventure near it. The captain's face lost its knots and seams, by slow\ndegrees the color of it returned,--a color painted upon it, especially\nabout the nose, by many winds, much sunshine, and uncounted bottles\nof strong waters. He wiped his brow and drew a big breath. \"It comes\nto me, now,\" he said. \"We've not been bewitched. That hill beyond,\nthat's robbed us of our guns and anchor, is a magnet,--the biggest\nin the world.\"\n\nIn an earthquake, several years later, the magnet-mountain disappeared.\n\n\n\n\n\nTwo Runaways from Manila\n\n\nThe name Corregidor, which stands for mayor, albeit the translation\nis corrector, is applied to the gateway to Manila. Thus named it was\na place to inspire a wholesome fear in the breasts of dignitaries,\nfor on at least two occasions proud and refractory bishops were sent\nthere in exile to endure a season of correction and repentance. It\nwas thought to be a desert. In the seventeenth century the treasure\ngalleon arriving at Manila, after a voyage of months from Mexico,\nbrought a family from that country. One of the daughters of this house\nof Velez was a girl with a bit of human nature in her composition,\nfor Maria was prone to flirting, and had no affection for sermons. In\norder to repress her high spirits and love of mischief, she was sent\nby her father to the convent of Santa Clara, which had been founded\nin 1621 (a few years before this incident). The parent even hoped\nthat she might qualify as a nun.\n\nIt was not the right convent, for Fray Sanchez, one of the fathers,\nwho said the offices in the chapel, was a Franciscan friar, young,\nhandsome, and not an ascetic. The novice was always prompt when he\nsaid mass, and often when her pretty head should have been bowed in\nprayer she was peeping over the edge of her breviary, following the\ngraceful motions of the brother as he shone in full canonicals in the\ncandle-light, and thrilling at the sound of his rich, low voice. The\npriest several times caught the glance of those eyes, so black,\nso liquid, saw the long fringe of lashes fall across them, saw the\nface bend behind the prayer-book in a vain endeavor to hide a flush,\nrealized what a pretty face it was, and went to his cell with a vague\naching at his heart. He sought Maria among the pupils to give spiritual\nadvice, or she sought him to ask it,--it little matters,--and so the\nfirst full moon looked into a corner of the convent garden and saw,\ndespite the swaying shadow of vines and palms, that the friar was\nmaking confession to the nun,--a confession of love. The face that\nhad peered above the prayer-book was lifted to his, a white arm stole\nabout his neck: it was the answering confession. The priest strained\nher to his breast and half stifled her with kisses.\n\nThese raptures were interrupted by the retiring bell, and they hastily\nreturned to the convent by separate ways. It was the last night they\nexpected to spend beneath that roof, for a galleon was to sail for\nMexico in a day or two, and they had agreed to elope. Dressed in\nworldly garb, which she concealed under the robe and cowl of a monk,\nMaria slipped through the garden gate next day, met her lover, ran to\nthe shore, where a boat had been tied, crossed with him to Camaya,\nthe ship being promised there for a fag end of cargo, and prayed\nfor a quick departure from the Philippines. In vain. They fell into\nthe hands of unfriendly natives, who, having learned to distrust the\nSpanish, were always ready to wreak small injuries on them when the\nchance afforded. These natives attempted to separate the pair and\ndrag the girl to their huts. The friar attacked them with spirit,\nbut the brown men were too many for him, and in the melee both he\nand Maria were wounded.\n\nA boat was seen approaching. The assailants fled, leaving the friar,\nbleeding and weak, but kneeling beside his mistress, whose white\nskin was splashed and striped with red, and whose liquid eyes stared\nvacantly at the sky. As the boat touched the shore the corregidor\nleaped from it, and the friar now confronted a new peril. His flight\nhad been discovered, the town-crier had bawled it through the streets,\ncommanding the people to refuse shelter to the guilty pair under\nheavy penalty, and, to enforce their return, the mayor had brought\nwith him twelve soldiers of the garrison. The loaded arquebuses of\nthe men were not needed. Feeble, sore in body and spirit, repentant,\nthe monk surrendered, Maria was lifted into the boat, and the company\nreturned to Manila.\n\nThere it was decided that the monk should be sent to an inland mission,\nthat in the lifting of souls to a finer faith the stain of human\nlove that had fallen upon his own soul might be wiped away. As to\nthe girl, her good looks and gay disposition had proved the undoing\nof one devotee. She was to have no chance to enslave another; so she\nwas sent back to Mexico, forced to enter a cloistered nunnery, and\nso ended her life in loneliness and sanctity. The incident has left\nits impress on the names about the harbor, Corregidor being so called\nfor the officer who pursued and arrested the runaways, Camaya being\nrechristened Mariveles,--which, you see, is Maria Velez,--while two\nrocks beyond the Boca Grande are named for the friar and his would-be\nbride,--Fraile and Monja: monk and nun.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Christianizing of Wong\n\n\nIn the city of Cebu the Chinese, who made an early settlement,\naccepted the prevalent religion in order to keep peace with the\nauthorities. In fact, it was a choice between going to church and\ngoing back to China. Incidentally to their evangelization a number\nof them were cast into prison, their shops and houses were rifled,\nand laws were enacted denying rights and privileges to all Mongols\nwho refused Christian baptism. Among the refractory citizens was a\nChinese trader named Wong. So far as anybody could see, he led as\nmoral a life as a Chinaman can endure comfortably; he was good to his\nfamily, good to himself, he was sober, he would overreach a Spaniard\nwhen he could, but when he had given his word he kept it; he burned\nincense before joss, he read the analects of Kung Foo Too and Mang\nTse, and worshipped his ancestors; he never stole or used any kind of\nprofanity that moral Spaniards could understand. For all this he was\nnagged and worried constantly, and could hardly take a walk without\nbeing pursued by friars who requested alms for their charities in so\npointed a manner that he contributed with celerity, if with an inward\nlack of willingness. If he had been an every-day Chinaman he would\nhave been killed, or prisoned, or exiled, or deported, but he had an\nexcellent trade, and, in spite of his enforced outlays for masses and\nmissionaries, was growing richer all the time. The customs officers\nthrived on the duties that he paid, and waxed exceeding fat.\n\nOne elderly priest in Cebu had a genuine concern for the welfare\nof this prosperous but benighted soul. He called at his shop, he\nbarred his way in the street, he argued, he cited, he appealed,\nbut to no effect. Wong answered that, although a heathen, he was\ndoing a better business than any one else; so what was the use of\nchanging gods? And with a heart-deep sigh he requested the clergyman\nto change the subject. Seeing, at last, that all customary methods\nof conversion were doomed to failure, the friar betook himself\nto the shrine of St. Nicholas, and asked him to do something that\nshould turn this poor soul to the faith. St. Nicholas praised his\npetitioner's zeal, and promised to work a miracle. The friar possessed\nhis soul in patience, and the conversion came that very week. Wong was\nassailed in his office by five robbers, armed with knives and daubed\nwith blood, to show that they intended neither to give nor ask for\nquarter. He had sold many goods that day, and they had come for his\nmoney. Wong reached for the sword that always hung within his grasp,\nbut to his dismay it was gone. St. Nicholas or the friar had hidden\nit. He glanced rapidly about the room, but saw nothing that he could\noppose to the knives of the desperadoes, and even if he had, they were\nfive to one, so his escape from a cruel death seemed impossible. Just\nthen the robbers were struck into a stupor, for on the wall behind\nthe merchant a light was shining, and soft music floated through\nthe room. The partition opened, and St. Nicholas stepped within the\napartment. Turning to the Chinaman the visitant said, \"Believe in the\ntrue faith, Wong, and your life shall be saved. Believe otherwise,\nand you shall die.\" Wong changed his faith in one second, and said\nso. The saint waved his hand toward the ruffians and they dropped to\nthe floor in a faint, whereupon Wong, plucking the knife from the\nhand of the nearest, carefully but expeditiously and joyfully cut\nthe throats of all five, called in his neighbors and persuaded them\nto join the church with him. They did this almost immediately, and\nthe most popular saint among the Chinese of Cebu is still St. Nicholas.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Devil's Bridge\n\n\nYou may say what you please, but it is certain that the Evil One\nnever appeared in the Philippines until after the Spanish had taken\npossession of the islands. At least, this applies to Luzon. And,\nstrange to tell, he has not been seen there since the Spanish\nleft. Some will have it that he was smitten into a despairing\nbashfulness during Weyler's administration, and that when the governor\nwent home with a couple of million dollars in his valise--the savings\nfrom his salary--the Devil went home likewise, awe-struck. His Satanic\nMajesty's last recorded exploit occurred in the view of three men,\nof whom one may still be alive to vouch for it. They were farmers\nof Wild Laguna, a few miles above Manila, and on one memorable day\nwere cutting wood in the ravine near by,--a deep gulch through which\nbabbles a stone-choked stream. This glen has precipitous sides, but is\nso thickly overhung with green that it is almost like a verdant cave.\n\nWhile they were resting--and the Filipino's ability to rest is one of\nhis striking qualities--they were startled by the hurried advance of\nsomething, or somebody, on the bank. There was a swish and crash of\nundergrowth, a hobbling stamp, and something that sounded like the\nsmiting of leaves with a club. At first the farmers thought that a\nwater buffalo had run away from some plantation and was angry because\nhe could not descend the craggy sides and reach the water. Then came\na volley of expletives in an unknown tongue, and in a voice so deep\nand harsh that the hair of the three heads bristled, and three pairs\nof eyes goggled with fright. The farmer who was good crossed himself;\nthe one who was bad turned white and tried to remember how prayers\nwere said; the one who was betwixt-and-between clung to the stone on\nwhich he was seated and held his breath; for a tall, lank personage,\nwith overhanging brows, slanting eyes, long chin and nose, and\nwrathful aspect, was striding to and fro on the edge of the ravine,\nlooking at the opposite bank as if trying to decide whether or not\nhe could leap that distance. He was scowling, gnashing his teeth,\nand brandishing his arms. Any Spaniard might have done as much,\nand brandished a sword besides; but the terrible thing about this\ngentleman was the great length of tail, with a dart at its tip, that\nhe was flourishing among the bushes, for only one being, on the earth\nor under it, was known to have a toil like that.\n\nAs if to leave no doubt, the stranger, in stamping on the ground,\nlifted his leg so high that the watchers could see that it ended,\nnot in a foot, but a hoof. It was Satan himself! The farmers did\nnot dare to tremble, but each shrank within himself as far as he\ncould and thought upon his sins, the worst of the trio with the least\ncompunction, because he was not conscious of any immorality in robbing\nSpaniards. As he tramped back and forth, the devil now and then looked\nup into the branches, as if guessing the height of the trees. Presently\nhe stopped before the tallest, levelled his finger at it, and cried\nwith a stentorian voice a command in words that belong to none of the\nforty or fifty languages and dialects of the islands. Then the souls of\nthe spectators fell, like chilling currents, and their hearts swelled\nlike balloons and arose into their throats, and there was no joy in\nthem; for the great tree bent slowly down and swung itself entirely\nacross the chasm. Its reach was great, and Satan skipped along the\ntrunk as spryly as a cat on a fence, his arms and tail held out for\nbalance and twitching nervously. Half-way over he spied the three\nspectators and stopped. Their circulation stopped also. He grinned\nfrom ear to ear, showing two rows of tusk-like teeth, shook his fist\nplayfully, and shouted a laugh so loud, so awful, that they believed\ntheir last moment had come. But it had not. Their hair turned white,\nto be sure, and they took on fifty years' growth of wrinkles; but the\nDevil was after bigger game. He scampered over the arching trunk,\ndisappeared on the farther side, and hurried off at a run toward\nManila, where a certain rich lawyer was rumored to be dying. From\nlater whisperings it appears that His Majesty was not late.\n\nThe strange part of the incident is that, although the tree was thus\nill-used to serve the Devil's convenience, and is marked along its\nbark by his cloven feet, it was not blasted, but to this hour is\ngreen and flourishing. The Devil's Bridge, as everybody calls it,\nis an arboreal wonder, curving lightly and gracefully over the chasm,\nits branches resting on the bank opposite to its root, some of them\ngrowing upside down, but all as green and healthy as those of any\ntree that the Devil spared when he was looking for a way to cross\nthe ravine. Had he waded the stream he not only would have wet his\nfeet, which would have been unpleasant, but would have touched water\nthat had once been blessed, and that would have been torture. The bad\nfarmer did not survive this spectacle by many years, though it is not\nrelated that he reformed. The fair-to-middling one lasted for a while\nlonger. The good one may yet be in the land of the living, unless he\nenlisted under Aguinaldo, which is not likely, because old men cannot\nrun fast enough to be effective members of the Filipino army.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Great Earthquake\n\n\nAfter months of fighting, Li Ma Hong, the Chinese pirate, and his six\nthousand followers had been beaten out of Philippine waters. Manila\nwas celebrating the victory on this last night of November, 1645. The\nchurch bells had been clanging and chiming, the windows had been\nlighted, flags and pennants had streamed from the house-tops, sounds\nof music and cries of rejoicing were heard, a thousand fairy lamps\nstarred the darkness and quivered in the Pasig. The flag of Spain had\nbeen carried through the streets in solemn procession, the cathedral\naltar had smoked with incense, the friars had chanted the \"Te Deum,\"\nbut now all was gayety and music and perfume. A ball was among the\nfestivities, and military and civic officers, pranked in the lace\nand bullion so dear to the Latins, were going through the narrow\nways with their ladies on their arms. Taking no part in the joyous\nhurly-burly, two men walked apart, near the cathedral, in talk. One\nwas a father in the church; the other, secretary and major-domo of the\ngovernor. The calling of the one, the age and dignity of the other,\nto say nothing of an old wound that gave a hitch and drag to his step,\nforbade their mingling with the throng.\n\nThe secretary spoke: \"No, father, I hardly agree with your view. That\nheaven has been on our side I admit, since we have conquered the\ninfidels, seized their treasure, and strewn their corpses on our\nshores. But that the blessed St. Francis interposes in our behalf,\nI doubt.\"\n\n\"This is dangerous doctrine,--a reflection on our order. We have\nprayed daily for the success of the Spanish arms, and although we\naddressed the Virgin and all the saints, the statue of St. Francis\nis the only one that moved while we were at prayer----\"\n\n\"With your eyes on the ground?\"\n\n\"The sacristan saw it. Furthermore, let me tell you that the figure\nof the saint owned by the worthy Indian, Alonzo Cuyapit, at his house\nin Dilao, was stirred to tears last night.\"\n\n\"Tears! For victory?\"\n\n\"I fear, for some reason worthy of tears.\"\n\n\"And your imaginations have nothing to do with all this? Men who are\nwasted with vigils and fasting\"--here the secretary chuckled and made\nas if he would nudge the churchman in his ample paunch--\"are prone\nto see what common men cannot. Though I protest that when I eat much\ncheese before retiring I have visions, too. But not always holy ones.\"\n\nThe priest answered with gravity, \"A life of devotion does clear the\nvision. It opens the gates of heaven. I fear, senor, that too many in\nthis doubting age are affected like you,--that a study of philosophy\nand ungodly sciences has harmed your respect for the saints and\nthe church.\"\n\n\"By no means, father. All I maintain is that the figure of St. Francis\nwas not seen in the thick of the battle, as some of the friars\nallege. Good sooth! What do they know of battle? Our victories were\nwon by stout Spanish arms and good Toledo steel. All praise to Heaven\nthat we had the power.\"\n\nThe priest shook his head and sighed. Then he looked curiously into\nthe sky. The stars were shining, save in the south, where lightning\nflickered in a bank of cloud, and there was no threat of storm. Yet\nin the air was a curious stagnation that had fallen within the hour\nand brooded over the city like a palpable thing. It was hot and close\nand lifeless; stale smells from the streets reeked into the nostrils,\nand from the Pasig came a heavy, sickish odor of river vegetation.\n\n\"Sometimes it fills me with a fear that Heaven has a punishment in\nstore for us,\" said the priest, stopping in his walk and looking\nmeditatively into the distance, where the lightning now played more\nbrightly. \"We have grown worldly. We have thought less of serving God\nby our wars than of increasing our power and importance in the eyes\nof the nations. We have grown proud. We are in danger of losing our\npiety. Pray that the wrath do not fall.\"\n\n\"With all my heart,--especially to-night. Your blessing, father. And\nsound sleep.\"\n\nIt was the last time that these friends were to walk together. It was\nthe last time in many a day when Manila would be in gala. At midnight\nthe greasy calm that lay on the sea was broken by a breeze which\nruffled the water and made a pleasant stir in the trees ashore. It\neased the sultriness of the night and brought rest to many who had been\ntossing on their beds, excited doubtless by the shows and dissipations\nof the last few hours. Presently the sleepers were roused again, for\nthe wind was rising steadily; the trees were writhing and wringing\ntheir branches in what was surely going to be a gale. The lightning\nwas near. A growl of thunder could be heard. The clock boomed the hour\nof two. Out of an intense dark leaped a bolt of green fire, and the\nair was filled with baying and cannonade. Almost at the moment the\nearth began to rock. The city awoke. The rocking increased. Roofs\nbegan to fall, walls to bulge, masonry to split and sway.\n\n\"The earthquake! The earthquake!\" screamed a thousand voices, and\nwith cries and lamenting the people hurried into the streets and\nfell on their knees or their faces, unable to stand on the waving,\ntrembling ground. It was an hour of terror. All lights were blown\nout by the storm or extinguished in the fall of houses, save one or\ntwo of baleful meaning that flickered above roofs which had caught\nfire. The sea could be heard advancing toward the land with tremendous\nroaring, driving up the channel of the Pasig and overspreading its\nbanks on either side, while far below, and most dreadful of all,\nthe fall could be heard of pieces of the earth's crust into pits\nof fire and the vast rumble and groan of a world. Houses crumbled,\npeople were pressed to death and maimed in the blackness, streets\ncracked asunder, trees were uprooted, chaos was come again.\n\nIn the morning the survivors looked upon a scene of ruin worse than\nany wrought by the pirates. The sanctity of the cathedral had not saved\nit. Of its imposing walls hardly anything remained. A heap of masonry\nmarked its place. Every public building was destroyed. Wretches hurt\nto the death were pinned under fallen stones and timbers, and many,\nwilling enough to relieve them, were too dazed and agonized by their\nown pains and misfortunes to pull their wits together. Spain had\nenjoyed her triumphs. Now her calamities had begun.\n\nOn the night before the catastrophe, Alonzo Cuyapit, a rich Indian\nof Dilao, a suburb of the city, and his friend, the chaplain of the\nSan Francisco Convent, were at prayers together before a statue of\nSt. Francis, that was the Indian's dearest pride. He had shrined it\nfittingly in his home, with flowers and candles about it, and adored\nit daily. The statue was of life-size, the work of an adept carver;\nwas brilliantly painted and gemmed, and had about the neck a rosary\nfrom which hung a cross of polished gold. So many miracles of healing\nhad been performed by this figure that its renown had gone through\nall Luzon.\n\nWhile Cuyapit and the chaplain were on their knees a tremor shook\nthe floor. Slight earthquakes of this kind were not unusual. Though\nthe walls of the house rattled, the statue remained fixed and\nstill. Another jar was felt in the ground, and raising their hands\nto the saint, the petitioners begged him fervently to intercede\nagainst a dangerous shock. Presently they lifted their eyes, and were\nstruck dumb with amazement, for the statue had unclasped its hands,\nthe one pointing toward Manila, as if in warning; the other holding\nthe golden cross toward heaven, as if in an appeal for mercy. A\nhalo, so bright as to dazzle the beholders, played about the head,\nthe lips moved, and from the upturned eyes tears trickled down the\ncheeks. Cuyapit and the priest arose and tried to stanch these tears,\nbut the cloth they used was soon as wet as if they had just taken it\nfrom the river. Then the statue raised its arms high over its head,\nas in a last appeal for mercy to the world, while the tears gushed\nin such a stream that they made a continuous fall to the floor. A\nlook of horror wrung the face, as if the prayer had been refused;\nand, extending its hands in benediction, the saint toppled from his\npedestal and was broken into fragments.\n\nWhen these occurrences had been told by Cuyapit in the Church of San\nFrancisco, under an oath before the Virgin, the pieces were carried\nin reverential procession to Manila, and the miracle of San Francisco\nof the Tears is accepted there as history.\n\n\n\n\n\nSuppressing Magic in Manila\n\n\nCrowds of all kinds are easily swayed, but it is said that nowhere\nis it so easy to rouse a panic or a revolution as in Manila. Several\ntimes during the earlier months of the American occupation vague\nfears spread through the city, people ran to their homes or locked\nthemselves in their shops in terror, lights were put out, armed guards\nwere posted; then, after a few hours, everybody asked everybody else\nwhat the matter had been, and nobody knew.\n\nIn 1820 a strange scene was enacted in the Philippine capital. People\nassembled in groups at evening and whispered mysteriously. Gowned\nfriars moved from group to group, but whether encouraging or\nexpostulating it was impossible for one to say, unless he understood\nSpanish or Tagalog. The captain of an American ship that was taking\non its load of hemp reported to a neighbor captain, who sailed\nunder the cross of St. George, that there had been a violation of\nthe government order against the importing of Protestant Bibles and\npocket-pistols,--two things taboo in the country at that time. This,\nhowever, may have been the Yankee captain's joke. As the night deepened\ntorches were seen flitting hither and thither, the crowds thickened,\nthe whispers and hushed talk increased by degrees to a widespread,\nmenacing growl, then arose to a roar. Now drums were heard in\nthe barracks, and the light, quick tread of marching feet could be\ndistinguished through the babble of voices. The mob was slowly wedging\nitself into one of the streets before an inn, and just at the doors\nof that hostelry the noise was loudest and most threatening.\n\nPresently came a crash. The building had been entered. Instantly\nthere were shouts and cries, and the throng seemed fairly to boil\nwith anger. In the light of candles that shone through windows\nthe faces lifted toward the tavern were drawn and wolfish. Shots\nwere heard. The mob was shaken, as a wood is shaken by a gale, but\nthere was no retreat. There could be none. The people were packed too\ndensely. Now a glint of bayonets was seen at one end of the street, and\nsome sharp orders rang out. This was more effective. The throng began\nto thin away at the farther end, and those nearest to the soldiers\nattempted to break through the line, loudly declaring that they were\nmerely spectators, and did not know what had happened. But in another\nmoment everybody knew. Two dark shapes were passed out at the inn door,\nand were, in some fashion, pushed along over the heads of the multitude\nto its freer edge. These shapes had recently been men. With ropes about\ntheir necks they were dragged at a run through the streets. More houses\nwere attacked. Other forms were found lying on the earth, pulseless,\nbloody, after the mob had passed. The military was, seemingly, unable\nto head it off or give effective chase. Flames now lighted various\nquarters of the city, and shots were frequently heard. It was a night\nof terror. History speaks of it as a night of rioting. Many declare\nthat it was a St. Bartholomew massacre, on a smaller scale, and that\nthe Protestants who were killed that night were put to death at the\ninstigation of the friars. Tradition relates that when the sun arose\nthe people, numbering thousands, marched in triumph through the city,\nfollowing a dozen of their number who bore in their hands the phials in\nwhich two French naturalists, recently landed in Luzon, had preserved\na number of snakes and insects for their scientific collection.\n\nThere was the mischief,--in those jars and bottles. Nobody would put\na serpent or a scorpion into alcohol except for some grim purpose,\nand that purpose could be nothing other than black magic. Hence the\nraid on the inn; hence the killing of the naturalists and of other\npeople suspected of complicity or sympathy with forbidden arts;\nhence the state of education of Luzon.\n\n\n\n\n\nFaith that Killed\n\n\nBack in the 30's an emigrant of some account arrived in Manila. He was\na young doctor of medicine who had just won his sheepskin in Salamanca,\nand had been persuaded that there was small hope of a living for\nhim in a province where the people were too poor to be ill and too\nlazy to die. The Philippines had been suggested as a promising field\nfor his practice, and realizing that he needed practice he made the\nlong journey around Good Hope and reached the Luzon capital nearly\npenniless, but full of gratitude and expectancy. Having secured\nlodgings, to which he at once affixed his shingle, he sallied forth to\nsee the town and its people, and one of the first of its inhabitants\nto claim his attention, though she claimed it unwittingly, was a\ngirl of the lower class who was walking along the street with an\neasy, elastic step, and in seeming health, yet who was evidently\nsuffering from a hemorrhage, for at every few paces she paused and\nspat blood. Her bearing and expression were in odd contrast with her\nperil, for she seemed indifferent to the danger.\n\nPrompted by compassion as well as by a professional interest,\nthe physician followed the invalid, expecting at every moment to\nsee her fall or hear her beg for help, his wonder at the stoicism\nand endurance of the Filipino growing constantly. When she reached\nher home, an humble house in a poor quarter of the city, he begged\nimmediate audience with her parents, who were, unfortunately,\nacquainted with the Spanish tongue, and told them it was his duty to\nwarn them that the girl had not twenty-four hours to live; that she\nwas afflicted with a mortal illness; that a priest should be called\nat once. The girl's cheeks were ruddy, she was in good spirits, and\nthe old people were inclined to resent the warning as a joke, being an\nexceeding poor one. The visitor explained that he was a medical man,\nthat he was actuated by the most charitable of motives, that he would\ndo everything in his power to delay the fatal ending of the disease,\nbut that restoration to health was impossible.\n\nWhen this dreadful news was broken to the girl she had a violent fit\nof weeping, then hysterics, then a long fainting spell, and sank into a\ndecline so swift that the parents were in despair. Neighbors flocked in\nto offer condolences and comforts; a priest received the young woman's\nconfession and performed the last rites; the doctor plied his patient\nwith drugs, fomentations, and stimulants; father, mother, and friends\ngroaned, prayed, and tore their hair. All the time the poor creature\nsank steadily, the color left her face, her breath grew labored,\nand as night fell the doctor's warning was fulfilled,--she was dead.\n\nIn a single day the fame of this wonderful physician spread through\nall the city, and people flocked to his lodging with money and\ndiseases. He was dazzled at the prospect of riches. After three or\nfour years of this kind of thing, if the tax man did not hear too\nmuch of his success, he could return to Spain and live in comfortable\nretirement. Alas! for human hopes, he returned sooner than he had\nintended. A few days after the death of his first patient somebody\nasked how he forecast her fate so exactly.\n\n\"It was easy enough,--she spat blood,\" he answered.\n\n\"Are you sure it was blood?\"\n\n\"Certainly. It was red.\"\n\n\"Ah, senor, every one spits red in Manila.\"\n\n\"Bah!\"\n\n\"Oh, it is true! Everybody chews the buyo leaf, which is like the\nbetel of India, that you have heard of, just as everybody smokes in\nLuzon. The juice of the buyo is red.\"\n\nThen the doctor realized that he had killed his patient by making\nher believe she was doomed to die, and with the earnings of his brief\ncareer in the Philippines he bought a passage back to Spain in the same\nship that had carried him to the East. So, if you hear that a person\nis ill, but if your informant winks and says that he is spitting red,\nyou may believe that the invalid will be out after a good sleep and\na little bromide.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Widow Velarde's Husband\n\n\nEnchanted Lake, near Los Banos, on the Pasig, fills an ancient crater\nand is an object of natural interest. Its enchantment, so far as is\ngenerally known, consists in the visits of Widow Velarde's husband to\nits shores, and his occasional moonlight excursions over its waters\nin a boat that has the same pale green shine as himself. This Velarde\nwas a fisherman and being somewhat of a gallant he had roused the\nmortal jealousy of his wife. In revenge for his supposed slights she\nengaged two of his friends to confer on her the joys of widowhood,\nwhich they agreed to do for a consideration. The amount promised was\nsix dollars, but the preliminary negotiations appear to have been\nhasty, for when these worthies had earned the money, having held the\nunfortunate Velarde under the water until he ceased to bubble, the\nthrifty woman wanted them to accept three dollars apiece. They held\nstoutly for six dollars apiece. The widow would not pay it. There\nwas a long and undignified wrangle,--disputes over funeral bills\nare often warranted, but are seldom seemly,--and it ended in the\nangry departure of the fishermen, without even their three dollars,\nto lodge a complaint against the Widow Velarde for cheating.\n\nNow, would you suppose that two men, having just murdered a\nfellow-creature, would go to a magistrate to complain about the\npayment? These Filipinos did it. They went to a judge at Los Banos and\ntried to get an order for the woman's arrest. The judge, fancying this\nmust be a kind of joke peculiar to Luzon, said he would think over the\nmatter, and he resumed his slumbers. In a day or two he learned that\nthe men had really killed their companion, and had fallen out with the\nwidow on the matter of terms. They meanwhile had learned that their\nact was contrary to white man's law and had escaped, though it is said\nthey were afterward caught and put to death. Perhaps it is the disquiet\ncaused by the reflection that he was worth no more than six dollars\nthat leads the extinguished husband to vex the scene of his demise.\n\n\n\n\n\nThe Grateful Bandits\n\n\nMonsieur de la Gironiere, a French planter and trader, who visited the\nPhilippines a lifetime ago, or more, told stories of the islands and\ntheir people that are taken in these days with a lump of salt. Among\nthese narrations is one pertaining to the bandits who in the first\nyears of the nineteenth century were numerous and troublesome\non several of the islands, and who were alternately harassed and\nbefriended by the officials,--chased when they had money and well\ntreated when they had parted with most of it to cool the sweating palms\nof authority. Gironiere was visiting the cascades of Yang Yang when\nhe found himself surrounded by brigands who were chattering volubly\nand pointing to his horses. They did not at first offer violence, but\npresently he understood that soldiers were in chase of them, and they\nwere considering whether it would not be wise to kill the horses, lest\nthe troop, on its arrival, should seize them to aid in the pursuit.\n\nGironiere could not afford horses often. He eagerly assured the\nthieves that he would not give his nags to the military; that he\nwould, on the contrary, depart by the road over which he had come,\nin order to avoid meeting the soldiers, and this promise he made on\nthe honor of a gentleman. The leader of the brigands saluted, and\nthe Frenchman drove away, as he had agreed, the thieves watching him\nuntil he was out of sight. For months after this incident he had no\ntrouble with the natives. His household goods, his garden products,\nhis poultry were spared. Some years later, when he had definitely\ncast his fortunes with the Spaniards, he accepted a commission as\ncaptain of the horse guards at Laguna, and it then became his duty\nto trouble the very robbers who once had spared him. Their fighting\nwas usually open, and, as the marksmanship on both sides was the\nvery worst, it was seldom that anybody was hurt. Truces were made,\nas in honorable war, and the leaders corresponded with one another\nas to terms of battle or surrender. One unofficial document received\nby Gironiere cautioned him to look out for himself, as there was one\nin the bandit ranks who was ungrateful. \"Beware of Pedro Tumbaga,\" it\nsaid. \"He has ordered us to take you by surprise in your house. This\nwarning is in payment for your kindness at the cascades. You kept\nyour word. We are ready to fight you now, as you would fight us;\nbut we don't strike in the back. Tumbaga will shoot you from hiding.\"\n\nGironiere was a crafty person, likewise a cautious one. He knew where\nto send an answer to this epistle, and he sent it: \"You are brave men,\nand I thank you. I do not fear Tumbaga, for he is a coward. How can\nyou keep among you a man who would shoot another in the back?\" Just\nlook at that for slyness! And the message had the effect he desired\nand expected. Some brave bandit got behind a tree a couple of weeks\nafterward and shot a bullet through Tumbaga. Thus was the power of\nthe brigands weakened, the safety of Gironiere assured, and good\nfeeling re-established between the law and its habitual breakers.\n\n\n\n                            THE END\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nBy Charles M. Skinner\n\n\nMyths and Legends of Our Own Land Illustrated. Two volumes in a\nbox. 12mo. Buckram, $3.00; half calf or half morocco, $6.00\n\nMyths and Legends Beyond Our Borders Illustrated. 12mo. Buckram,\n$1.50; half calf or half morocco, $3.00\n\nMyths and Legends of Our New Possessions and\nProtectorate. Illustrated. 12mo. Buckram, $1.50; half calf or half\nmorocco, $3.00\n\n_Myths and Legends Beyond Our Borders and Myths and Legends of Our\nNew Possessions and Protectorate._ Two volumes in a box. Buckram,\n$3.00; half calf or half morocco, $6.00\n\n\nWith Feet to the Earth\n\n_New Edition, Enlarged_\n\nIllustrated. 12mo. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50\n\nDo-Nothing Days\n\nIllustrated. 12mo. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50\n\nFlowers in the Pave\n\nIllustrated. 12mo. Cloth, ornamental, $1.50","title":"Myths & Legends of our New Possessions & Protectorate","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":85137}