65. CHAPTER LXV.
BY and by, after a rugged climb, we halted on the summit of a
hill which commanded a far-reaching view. The moon rose and
flooded mountain and valley and ocean with a mellow radiance,
and out of the shadows of the foliage the distant lights of Honolulu
glinted like an encampment of fireflies. The air was heavy with
the fragrance of flowers. The halt was brief.—Gayly laughing and
talking, the party galloped on, and I clung to the pommel and
cantered after. Presently we came to a place where no grass
grew—a wide expanse of deep sand. They said it was an old battle
ground. All around everywhere, not three feet apart, the bleached
bones of men gleamed white in the moonlight. We picked up a lot
of them for mementoes. I got quite a number of arm bones and leg
bones—of great chiefs, may be, who had fought savagely in that
fearful battle in the old days, when blood flowed like wine where
we now stood.—and wore the choicest of them out on Oahu
afterward, trying to make him go. All sorts of bones could be
found except skulls; but a citizen said, irreverently, that there had
been an unusual number of "skull-hunters" there lately—a species
of sportsmen I had never heard of before.
Nothing whatever is known about this place—its story is a
secret that will never be revealed. The oldest natives make no
pretense of being possessed of its history. They say these
bones were here when they were children. They were here when
their grandfathers were children—but how they came here, they can
only conjecture. Many people believe this spot to be an ancient
battle-ground, and it is usual to call it so; and they believe that
these skeletons have lain for ages just where their proprietors fell
in the great fight. Other people believe that Kamehameha I.
fought his first battle here. On this point, I have heard a story,
which may have been taken from one of the numerous books
which have been written concerning these islands—I do not know
where the narrator got it. He said that when Kamehameha (who
was at first merely a subordinate chief on the island of Hawaii),
landed here, he brought a large army with him, and encamped at
Waikiki. The Oahuans marched against him, and so confident
were they of success that they readily acceded to a demand of their
priests that they should draw a line where these bones now lie, and
take an oath that, if forced to retreat at all, they would never retreat
beyond this boundary. The priests told them that death and
everlasting punishment would overtake any who violated the oath,
and the march was resumed. Kamehameha drove them back step
by step; the priests fought in the front rank and exhorted them both
by voice and inspiriting example to remember their oath—to die, if
need be, but never cross the fatal line. The struggle was manfully
maintained, but at last the chief priest fell, pierced to the heart
with a spear, and the unlucky omen fell like a blight upon the
brave souls at his back; with a triumphant shout the invaders
pressed forward—the line was crossed—the offended gods deserted
the despairing army, and, accepting the doom their perjury had
brought upon them, they broke and fled over the plain where
Honolulu stands now—up the beautiful Nuuanu Valley—paused a
moment, hemmed in by precipitous mountains on either hand and
the frightful precipice of the Pari in front, and then were driven
over—a sheer plunge of six hundred feet!
The story is pretty enough, but Mr. Jarves' excellent history
says the Oahuans were intrenched in Nuuanu Valley; that
Kamehameha ousted them, routed them, pursued them up the
valley and drove them over the precipice. He makes no mention of
our bone-yard at all in his book.
Impressed by the profound silence and repose that rested over
the beautiful landscape, and being, as usual, in the rear, I gave
voice to my thoughts. I said:
"What a picture is here slumbering in the solemn glory of the
moon! How strong the rugged outlines of the dead volcano stand
out against the clear sky! What a snowy fringe marks the bursting
of the surf over the long, curved reef! How calmly the dim city
sleeps yonder in the plain! How soft the shadows lie upon the
stately mountains that border the dream-haunted Mauoa Valley!
What a grand pyramid of billowy clouds towers above the storied
Pari! How the grim warriors of the past seem flocking in ghostly
squadrons to their ancient battlefield again—how the wails of the
dying well up from the—"
At this point the horse called Oahu sat down in the sand. Sat
down to listen, I suppose. Never mind what he heard, I stopped
apostrophising and convinced him that I was not a man to allow
contempt of Court on the part of a horse. I broke the back-bone of
a Chief over his rump and set out to join the cavalcade again.
Very considerably fagged out we arrived in town at 9 o'clock
at night, myself in the lead—for when my horse finally came to
understand that he was homeward bound and hadn't far to go, he
turned his attention strictly to business.
This is a good time to drop in a paragraph of information.
There is no regular livery stable in Honolulu, or, indeed, in any
part of the Kingdom of Hawaii; therefore unless you are
acquainted with wealthy residents (who all have good horses), you
must hire animals of the wretchedest description from the
Kanakas. (i.e. natives.) Any horse you hire, even though it be
from a white man, is not often of much account, because it will be
brought in for you from some ranch, and has necessarily been
leading a hard life. If the Kanakas who have been caring for him
(inveterate riders they are) have not ridden him half to death every
day themselves, you can depend upon it they have been doing the
same thing by proxy, by clandestinely hiring him out. At least, so I
am informed. The result is, that no horse has a chance to eat,
drink, rest, recuperate, or look well or feel well, and so strangers
go about the Islands mounted as I was to-day.
In hiring a horse from a Kanaka, you must have all your eyes
about you, because you can rest satisfied that you are dealing with
a shrewd unprincipled rascal. You may leave your door open and
your trunk unlocked as long as you please, and he will not meddle
with your property; he has no important vices and no inclination to
commit robbery on a large scale; but if he can get ahead of you in
the horse business, he will take a genuine delight in doing it. This
traits is characteristic of horse jockeys, the world over, is it not?
He will overcharge you if he can; he will hire you a fine-looking
horse at night (anybody's—may be the King's, if the royal steed be
in convenient view), and bring you the mate to my Oahu in the
morning, and contend that it is the same animal. If you make
trouble, he will get out by saying it was not himself who made the
bargain with you, but his brother, "who went out in the country this
morning." They have always got a "brother" to shift the
responsibility upon. A victim said to one of these fellows one
day:
"But I know I hired the horse of you, because I noticed that
scar on your cheek."
The reply was not bad: "Oh, yes—yes—my brother all same—we
twins!"
A friend of mine, J. Smith, hired a horse yesterday, the Kanaka
warranting him to be in excellent condition.
Smith had a saddle and blanket of his own, and he ordered the
Kanaka to put these on the horse. The Kanaka protested that he
was perfectly willing to trust the gentleman with the saddle that
was already on the animal, but Smith refused to use it. The change
was made; then Smith noticed that the Kanaka had only changed
the saddles, and had left the original blanket on the horse; he said
he forgot to change the blankets, and so,
to cut the bother short, Smith mounted and rode away. The horse
went lame a mile from town, and afterward got to cutting up some
extraordinary capers. Smith got down and took off the saddle, but
the blanket stuck fast to the horse—glued to a procession of raw
places. The Kanaka's mysterious conduct stood explained.
Another friend of mine bought a pretty good horse from a
native, a day or two ago, after a tolerably thorough examination of
the animal. He discovered today that the horse was as blind as a
bat, in one eye. He meant to have examined that eye, and came
home with a general notion that he had done it; but he remembers
now that every time he made the attempt his attention was called
to something else by his victimizer.
One more instance, and then I will pass to something else. I
am informed that when a certain Mr.L., a visiting stranger, was
here, he bought a pair of very respectable-looking match horses
from a native. They were in a little stable with a partion through
the middle of it—one horse in each apartment. Mr. L. examined
one of them critically through a window (the Kanaka's "brother"
having gone to the country with the key), and then went around the
house and examined the other through a window on the other side.
He said it was the neatest match he had ever seen, and paid for the
horses on the spot. Whereupon the Kanaka departed to join his
brother in the country. The fellow had shamefully swindled L.
There was only one "match" horse, and he had examined his
starboard side through one window and his port side through
another! I decline to believe this story, but I give it because it is
worth something as a fanciful illustration of a fixed fact—namely,
that the
Kanaka horse-jockey is fertile in invention and elastic in
conscience.
You can buy a pretty good horse for forty or fifty dollars, and a
good enough horse for all practical purposes for two dollars and a
half. I estimate "Oahu" to be worth somewhere in the
neighborhood of thirty-five cents. A good deal better animal than
he is was sold here day before yesterday for a dollar and
seventy-five cents, and sold again to-day for two dollars and
twenty-five cents; Williams bought a handsome and lively little
pony yesterday for ten dollars; and about the best common horse
on the island (and he is a really good one) sold yesterday, with
Mexican saddle and bridle, for seventy dollars—a horse which is
well and widely known, and greatly respected for his speed, good
disposition and everlasting bottom.
You give your horse a little grain once a day; it comes from San
Francisco, and is worth about two cents a pound; and you give him
as much hay as he wants; it is cut and brought to the market by
natives, and is not very good it is baled into long, round bundles,
about the size of a large
man; one of them is stuck by the middle on each end of a six foot
pole, and the Kanaka shoulders the pole and walks about the
streets between the upright bales in search of customers. These
hay bales, thus carried, have a general resemblance to a colossal
capital H.
The hay-bundles cost twenty-five cents apiece, and one will
last a horse about a day. You can get a horse for a song, a week's
hay for another song, and you can turn your animal loose among
the luxuriant grass in your neighbor's broad front yard without a
song at all—you do it at midnight, and stable the beast again before
morning. You have been at no expense thus far, but when you
come to buy a saddle and bridle they will cost you from twenty to
thirty-five dollars. You can hire a horse, saddle and bridle at from
seven to ten dollars a week, and the owner will take care of them
at his own expense.
It is time to close this day's record—bed time. As I prepare for
sleep, a rich voice rises out of the still night, and, far as this ocean
rock is toward the ends of the earth, I recognize a familiar home
air. But the words seem somewhat out of joint:
"Waikiki lantoni œ Kaa hooly hooly wawhoo."
Translated, that means "When we were marching through
Georgia."