The Works of Robert Louis Stevenson - Swanston Edition, Vol. 17

  THE BOTTLE IMP

  There was a man of the island of Hawaii, whom I shall call Keawe; forthe truth is, he still lives, and his name must be kept secret; but theplace of his birth was not far from Honaunau, where the bones of Keawethe Great lie hidden in a cave. This man was poor, brave, and active; hecould read and write like a schoolmaster; he was a first-rate marinerbesides, sailed for some time in the island steamers, and steered awhaleboat on the Hamakua coast. At length it came in Keawe's mind tohave a sight of the great world and foreign cities, and he shipped on avessel bound to San Francisco.

  This is a fine town, with a fine harbour, and rich people uncountable;and, in particular, there is one hill which is covered with palaces.Upon this hill Keawe was one day taking a walk with his pocket full ofmoney, viewing the great houses upon either hand with pleasure. "Whatfine houses these are!" he was thinking, "and how happy must thosepeople be who dwell in them, and take no care for the morrow!" Thethought was in his mind when he came abreast of a house that was smallerthan some others, but all finished and beautified like a toy; the stepsof that house shone like silver, and the borders of the garden bloomedlike garlands, and the windows were bright like diamonds; and Keawestopped and wondered at the excellence of all he saw. So stopping, hewas aware of a man that looked forth upon him through a window so clearthat Keawe could see him as you see a fish in a pool upon the reef. Theman was elderly, with a bald head and a black beard; and his face washeavy with sorrow, and he bitterly sighed. And the truth of it is, thatas Keawe looked in upon the man, and the man looked out upon Keawe,each envied the other.

  All of a sudden the man smiled and nodded, and beckoned Keawe to enter,and met him at the door of the house.

  "This is a fine house of mine," said the man, and bitterly sighed."Would you not care to view the chambers?"

  So he led Keawe all over it, from the cellar to the roof, and there wasnothing there that was not perfect of its kind, and Keawe wasastonished.

  "Truly," said Keawe, "this is a beautiful house; if I lived in the likeof it I should be laughing all day long. How comes it, then, that youshould be sighing?"

  "There is no reason," said the man, "why you should not have a house inall points similar to this, and finer, if you wish. You have some money,I suppose?"

  "I have fifty dollars," said Keawe; "but a house like this will costmore than fifty dollars."

  The man made a computation. "I am sorry you have no more," said he, "forit may raise you trouble in the future; but it shall be yours at fiftydollars."

  "The house?" asked Keawe.

  "No, not the house," replied the man; "but the bottle. For, I must tellyou, although I appear to you so rich and fortunate, all my fortune, andthis house itself and its garden, came out of a bottle not much biggerthan a pint. This is it."

  And he opened a lockfast place, and took out a round-bellied bottle witha long neck; the glass of it was white like milk, with changing rainbowcolours in the grain. Withinsides something obscurely moved, like ashadow and a fire.

  "This is the bottle," said the man; and when Keawe laughed, "You do notbelieve me?" he added. "Try, then, for yourself. See if you can breakit."

  So Keawe took the bottle up and dashed it on the floor till he wasweary; but it jumped on the floor like a child's ball, and was notinjured.

  "This is a strange thing," said Keawe. "For by the touch of it, as wellas by the look, the bottle should be of glass."

  "Of glass it is," replied the man, sighing more heavily than ever; "butthe glass of it was tempered in the flames of hell. An imp lives in it,and that is the shadow we behold there moving; or so I suppose. If anyman buy this bottle the imp is at his command; all that he desires--love,fame, money, houses like this house, ay, or a city like this city--allare his at the word uttered. Napoleon had this bottle, and by it he grewto be the king of the world; but he sold it at the last, and fell.Captain Cook had this bottle, and by it he found his way to so manyislands; but he, too, sold it, and was slain upon Hawaii. For, once it issold, the power goes and the protection; and unless a man remain contentwith what he has, ill will befall him."

  "And yet you talk of selling it yourself?" Keawe said.

  "I have all I wish, and I am growing elderly," replied the man. "Thereis one thing the imp cannot do--he cannot prolong life; and, it wouldnot be fair to conceal from you, there is a drawback to the bottle; forif a man die before he sells it, he must burn in hell for ever."

  "To be sure, that is a drawback and no mistake," cried Keawe. "I wouldnot meddle with the thing. I can do without a house, thank God; butthere is one thing I could not be doing with one particle, and that isto be damned."

  "Dear me, you must not run away with things," returned the man. "All youhave to do is to use the power of the imp in moderation, and then sellit to someone else, as I do to you, and finish your life in comfort."

  "Well, I observe two things," said Keawe. "All the time you keep sighinglike a maid in love, that is one; and, for the other, you sell thisbottle very cheap."

  "I have told you already why I sigh," said the man. "It is because Ifear my health is breaking up; and, as you said yourself, to die and goto the devil is a pity for anyone. As for why I sell so cheap, I mustexplain to you there is a peculiarity about the bottle. Long ago, whenthe devil brought it first upon earth, it was extremely expensive, andwas sold first of all to Prester John for many millions of dollars; butit cannot be sold at all, unless sold at a loss. If you sell it for asmuch as you paid for it, back it comes to you again like a homingpigeon. It follows that the price has kept falling in these centuries,and the bottle is now remarkably cheap. I bought it myself from one ofmy great neighbours on this hill, and the price I paid was only ninetydollars. I could sell it for as high as eighty-nine dollars andninety-nine cents, but not a penny dearer, or back the thing must cometo me. Now, about this there are two bothers. First, when you offer abottle so singular for eighty odd dollars, people suppose you to bejesting. And second--but there is no hurry about that--and I need notgo into it. Only remember it must be coined money that you sell it for."

  "How am I to know that this is all true?" asked Keawe.

  "Some of it you can try at once," replied the man. "Give me your fiftydollars, take the bottle, and wish your fifty dollars back into yourpocket. If that does not happen, I pledge you my honour I will cry offthe bargain and restore your money."

  "You are not deceiving me?" said Keawe.

  The man bound himself with a great oath.

  "Well, I will risk that much," said Keawe, "for that can do no harm."And he paid over his money to the man, and the man handed him thebottle.

  "Imp of the bottle," said Keawe, "I want my fifty dollars back." Andsure enough he had scarce said the word before his pocket was as heavyas ever.

  "To be sure this is a wonderful bottle," said Keawe.

  "And now good-morning to you, my fine fellow, and the devil go with youfor me!" said the man.

  "Hold on," said Keawe, "I don't want any more of this fun. Here, takeyour bottle back."

  "You have bought it for less than I paid for it," replied the man,rubbing his hands. "It is yours now; and, for my part, I am onlyconcerned to see the back of you." And with that he rang for his Chineseservant, and had Keawe shown out of the house.

  Now, when Keawe was in the street, with the bottle under his arm, hebegan to think. "If all is true about this bottle, I may have made alosing bargain," thinks he. "But perhaps the man was only fooling me."The first thing he did was to count his money; the sum wasexact--forty-nine dollars American money, and one Chili piece. "Thatlooks like the truth," said Keawe. "Now I will try another part."

  The streets in that part of the city were as clean as a ship's decks,and though it was noon, there were no passengers. Keawe set the bottlein the gutter and walked away. Twice he looked back, and there was themilky, round-bellied bottle where he left it. A third time he lookedback, and turned a corner; but he had scarce done so, when somethingknocked upon his elbow, and behold! it
was the long neck sticking up;and as for the round belly, it was jammed into the pocket of hispilot-coat.

  "And that looks like the truth," said Keawe.

  The next thing he did was to buy a corkscrew in a shop, and go apartinto a secret place in the fields. And there he tried to draw the cork,but as often as he put the screw in, out it came again, and the cork aswhole as ever.

  "This is some new sort of cork," said Keawe, and all at once he began toshake and sweat, for he was afraid of that bottle.

  On his way back to the port-side he saw a shop where a man sold shellsand clubs from the wild islands, old heathen deities, old coined money,pictures from China and Japan, and all manner of things that sailorsbring in their seachests. And here he had an idea. So he went in andoffered the bottle for a hundred dollars. The man of the shop laughed athim at the first, and offered him five; but, indeed, it was a curiousbottle--such glass was never blown in any human glass-works, so prettilythe colours shone under the milky white, and so strangely the shadowhovered in the midst; so, after he had disputed a while after the mannerof his kind, the shopman gave Keawe sixty silver dollars for the thing,and set it on a shelf in the midst of his window.

  "Now," said Keawe, "I have sold that for sixty which I bought forfifty--or, to say truth, a little less, because one of my dollars wasfrom Chili. Now I shall know the truth upon another point."

  So he went back on board his ship, and, when he opened his chest, therewas the bottle, and had come more quickly than himself. Now Keawe had amate on board whose name was Lopaka.

  "What ails you," said Lopaka, "that you stare in your chest?"

  They were alone in the ship's forecastle, and Keawe bound him tosecrecy, and told all.

  "This is a very strange affair," said Lopaka; "and I fear you will be introuble about this bottle. But there is one point very clear--that youare sure of the trouble, and you had better have the profit in thebargain. Make up your mind what you want with it; give the order, and ifit is done as you desire, I will buy the bottle myself; for I have anidea of my own to get a schooner, and go trading through the islands."

  "That is not my idea," said Keawe; "but to have a beautiful house andgarden on the Kona Coast, where I was born, the sun shining in at thedoor, flowers in the garden, glass in the windows, pictures on thewalls, and toys and fine carpets on the tables, for all the world likethe house I was in this day--only a story higher, and with balconiesall about like the King's palace; and to live there without care andmake merry with my friends and relatives."

  "Well," said Lopaka, "let us carry it back with us to Hawaii; and if allcomes true, as you suppose, I will buy the bottle, as I said, and ask aschooner."

  Upon that they were agreed, and it was not long before the ship returnedto Honolulu, carrying Keawe and Lopaka, and the bottle. They were scarcecome ashore when they met a friend upon the beach, who began at once tocondole with Keawe.

  "I do not know what I am to be condoled about," said Keawe.

  "Is it possible you have not heard," said the friend, "your uncle--hatgood old man--is dead, and your cousin -- that beautiful boy--wasdrowned at sea?"

  Keawe was filled with sorrow, and, beginning to weep and to lament, heforgot about the bottle. But Lopaka was thinking to himself, andpresently, when Keawe's grief was a little abated, "I have beenthinking," said Lopaka. "Had not your uncle lands in Hawaii, in thedistrict of Kaue?"

  "No," said Keawe, "not in Kaue; they are on the mountain-side--a littleway south of Hookena."

  "These lands will now be yours?" asked Lopaka.

  "And so they will," says Keawe, and began again to lament for hisrelatives.

  "No," said Lopaka, "do not lament at present. I have a thought in mymind. How if this should be the doing of the bottle? For here is theplace ready for your house."

  "If this be so," cried Keawe, "it is a very ill way to serve me bykilling my relatives. But it may be, indeed; for it was in just such astation that I saw the house with my mind's eye."

  "The house, however, is not yet built," said Lopaka.

  "No, nor like to be!" said Keawe; "for though my uncle has some coffeeand ava and bananas, it will not be more than will keep me in comfort;and the rest of that land is the black lava."

  "Let us go to the lawyer," said Lopaka; "I have still this idea in mymind."

  Now, when they came to the lawyer's, it appeared Keawe's uncle had grownmonstrous rich in the last days, and there was a fund of money.

  "And here is the money for the house!" cried Lopaka.

  "If you are thinking of a new house," said the lawyer, "here is the cardof a new architect, of whom they tell me great things."

  "Better and better!" cried Lopaka. "Here is all made plain for us. Letus continue to obey orders."

  So they went to the architect, and he had drawings of houses on histable.

  "You want something out of the way," said the architect. "How do youlike this?" and he handed a drawing to Keawe.

  Now, when Keawe set eyes on the drawing, he cried out aloud, for it wasthe picture of his thought exactly drawn.

  "I am in for this house," thought he. "Little as I like the way it comesto me, I am in for it now, and I may as well take the good along withthe evil."

  So he told the architect all that he wished, and how he would have thathouse furnished, and about the pictures on the wall and the knick-knackson the tables; and he asked the man plainly for how much he wouldundertake the whole affair.

  The architect put many questions, and took his pen and made acomputation; and when he had done he named the very sum that Keawe hadinherited.

  Lopaka and Keawe looked at one another and nodded.

  "It is quite clear," thought Keawe, "that I am to have this house,whether or no. It comes from the devil, and I fear I will get littlegood by that; and of one thing I am sure, I will make no more wishes aslong as I have this bottle. But with the house I am saddled, and I mayas well take the good along with the evil."

  So he made his terms with the architect, and they signed a paper; andKeawe and Lopaka took ship again and sailed to Australia; for it wasconcluded between them they should not interfere at all, but leave thearchitect and the bottle imp to build and to adorn that house at theirown pleasure.

  The voyage was a good voyage, only all the time Keawe was holding in hisbreath, for he had sworn he would utter no more wishes, and take no morefavours from the devil. The time was up when they got back. Thearchitect told them that the house was ready, and Keawe and Lopaka tooka passage in the _Hall_, and went down Kona way to view the house, andsee if all had been done fitly according to the thought that was inKeawe's mind.

  Now, the house stood on the mountain side, visible to ships. Above, theforest ran up into the clouds of rain; below, the black lava fell incliffs, where the kings of old lay buried. A garden bloomed about thathouse with every hue of flowers; and there was an orchard of papaia onthe one hand and an orchard of bread-fruit on the other, and right infront, toward the sea, a ship's mast had been rigged up and bore a flag.As for the house, it was three stories high, with great chambers andbroad balconies on each. The windows were of glass, so excellent that itwas as clear as water and as bright as day. All manner of furnitureadorned the chambers. Pictures hung upon the wall in golden frames:pictures of ships, and men fighting, and of the most beautiful women,and of singular places; nowhere in the world are there pictures of sobright a colour as those Keawe found hanging in his house. As for theknick-knacks, they were extraordinary fine; chiming clocks and musicalboxes, little men with nodding heads, books filled with pictures,weapons of price from all quarters of the world, and the most elegantpuzzles to entertain the leisure of a solitary man. And as no one wouldcare to live in such chambers, only to walk through and view them, thebalconies were made so broad that a whole town might have lived uponthem in delight; and Keawe knew not which to prefer, whether the backporch, where you got the land-breeze, and looked upon the orchards andthe flowers, or the front balcony, where you could drink the wind of thesea,
and look down the steep wall of the mountain and see the _Hall_going by once a week or so between Hookena and the hills of Pele, or theschooners plying up the coast for wood and ava and bananas.

  When they had viewed all, Keawe and Lopaka sat on the porch.

  "Well," asked Lopaka, "is it all as you designed?"

  "Words cannot utter it," said Keawe. "It is better than I dreamed, and Iam sick with satisfaction."

  "There is but one thing to consider," said Lopaka; "all this may bequite natural, and the bottle imp have nothing whatever to say to it. IfI were to buy the bottle, and got no schooner after all, I should haveput my hand in the fire for nothing. I gave you my word, I know; but yetI think you would not grudge me one more proof."

  "I have sworn I would take no more favours," said Keawe. "I have gonealready deep enough."

  "This is no favour I am thinking of," replied Lopaka. "It is only to seethe imp himself. There is nothing to be gained by that, and so nothingto be ashamed of; and yet, if I once saw him, I should be sure of thewhole matter. So indulge me so far, and let me see the imp; and, afterthat, here is the money in my hand, and I will buy it."

  "There is only one thing I am afraid of," said Keawe. "The imp may bevery ugly to view: and if you once set eyes upon him you might be veryundesirous of the bottle."

  "I am a man of my word," said Lopaka. "And here is the money betwixtus."

  "Very well," replied Keawe. "I have a curiosity myself.--So come, let ushave one look at you, Mr. Imp."

  Now as soon as that was said the imp looked out of the bottle, and inagain, swift as a lizard; and there sat Keawe and Lopaka turned tostone. The night had quite come, before either found a thought to say orvoice to say it with; and then Lopaka pushed the money over and took thebottle.

  "I am a man of my word," said he, "and had need to be so, or I would nottouch this bottle with my foot. Well, I shall get my schooner and adollar or two for my pocket; and then I will be rid of this devil asfast as I can. For to tell you the plain truth, the look of him has castme down."

  "Lopaka," said Keawe, "do not you think any worse of me than you canhelp; I know it is night, and the roads bad, and the pass by the tombsan ill place to go by so late, but I declare since I have seen thatlittle face, I cannot eat or sleep or pray till it is gone from me. Iwill give you a lantern, and a basket to put the bottle in, and anypicture or fine thing in all my house that takes your fancy;--and begone at once, and go sleep at Hookena with Nahinu."

  "Keawe," said Lopaka, "many a man would take this ill; above all, when Iam doing you a turn so friendly as to keep my word and buy the bottle;and for that matter, the night, and the dark, and the way by the tombs,must be all tenfold more dangerous to a man with such a sin upon hisconscience, and such a bottle under his arm. But for my part, I am soextremely terrified myself I have not the heart to blame you. Here I gothen; and I pray God you may be happy in your house, and I fortunatewith my schooner, and both get to heaven in the end in spite of thedevil and his bottle."

  So Lopaka went down the mountain; and Keawe stood in his front balcony,and listened to the clink of the horse's shoes, and watched the lanterngo shining down the path, and along the cliff of caves where the olddead are buried; and all the time he trembled and clasped his hands, andprayed for his friend, and gave glory to God that he himself wasescaped out of that trouble.

  But the next day came very brightly, and that new house of his was sodelightful to behold that he forgot his terrors. One day followedanother, and Keawe dwelt there in perpetual joy. He had his place on theback porch; it was there he ate and lived, and read the stories in theHonolulu newspapers; but when anyone came by they would go in and viewthe chambers and the pictures. And the fame of the house went far andwide; it was called _Ka-Hale-Nui_--the Great House--in all Kona; andsometimes the Bright House, for Keawe kept a Chinaman, who was all daydusting and furbishing; and the glass, and the gilt, and the finestuffs, and the pictures, shone as bright as the morning. As for Keawehimself, he could not walk in the chambers without singing, his heartwas so enlarged; and when ships sailed by upon the sea, he would fly hiscolours on the mast.

  So time went by, until one day Keawe went upon a visit as far as Kailuato certain of his friends. There he was well feasted; and left as soonas he could the next morning, and drove hard, for he was impatient tobehold his beautiful house; and, besides, the night then coming on wasthe night in which the dead of old days go abroad in the sides of Kona;and having already meddled with the devil, he was the more chary ofmeeting with the dead. A little beyond Honaunau, looking far ahead, hewas aware of a woman bathing in the edge of the sea; and she seemed awell-grown girl, but he thought no more of it. Then he saw her whiteshift flutter as she put it on, and then her red holoku; and by the timehe came abreast of her she was done with her toilet, and had come upfrom the sea, and stood by the track side in her red holoku, and she wasall freshened with the bath, and her eyes shone and were kind. Now Keaweno sooner beheld her than he drew rein.

  "I thought I knew everyone in this country," said he. "How comes it thatI do not know you?"

  "I am Kokua, daughter of Kiano," said the girl, "and I have justreturned from Oahu. Who are you?"

  "I will tell you who I am in a little," said Keawe, dismounting from hishorse, "but not now. For I have a thought in my mind, and if you knewwho I was, you might have heard of me, and would not give me a trueanswer. But tell me, first of all, one thing: Are you married?"

  At this Kokua laughed out aloud. "It is you who ask questions," shesaid. "Are you married yourself?"

  "Indeed, Kokua, I am not," replied Keawe, "and never thought to be untilthis hour. But here is the plain truth. I have met you here at theroadside, and I saw your eyes, which are like the stars, and my heartwent to you as swift as a bird. And so now, if you want none of me, sayso, and I will go on to my own place; but if you think me no worse thanany other young man, say so, too, and I will turn aside to your father'sfor the night, and to-morrow I will talk with the good man."

  Kokua said never a word, but she looked at the sea and laughed.

  "Kokua," said Keawe, "if you say nothing, I will take that for the goodanswer; so let us be stepping to your father's door."

  She went on ahead of him, still without speech; only sometimes sheglanced back and glanced away again, and she kept the strings of her hatin her mouth.

  Now, when they had come to the door, Kiano came out on his verandah, andcried out and welcomed Keawe by name. At that the girl looked over, forthe fame of the great house had come to her ears; and, to be sure, itwas a great temptation. All that evening they were very merry together;and the girl was as bold as brass under the eyes of her parents, andmade a mock of Keawe, for she had a quick wit. The next day he had aword with Kiano, and found the girl alone.

  "Kokua," said he, "you made a mock of me all the evening; and it isstill time to bid me go. I would not tell you who I was, because I haveso fine a house, and I feared you would think too much of that house andtoo little of the man who loves you. Now you know all, and if you wishto have seen the last of me, say so at once."

  "No," said Kokua; but this time she did not laugh, nor did Keawe ask formore.

  This was the wooing of Keawe; things had gone quickly; but so an arrowgoes, and the ball of a rifle swifter still, and yet both may strike thetarget. Things had gone fast, but they had gone far also, and thethought of Keawe rang in the maiden's head; she heard his voice in thebreach of the surf upon the lava, and for this young man that she hadseen but twice she would have left father and mother and her nativeislands. As for Keawe himself, his horse flew up the path of themountain under the cliff of tombs, and the sound of the hoofs, and thesound of Keawe singing to himself for pleasure, echoed in the caverns ofthe dead. He came to the Bright House, and still he was singing. He satand ate in the broad balcony, and the Chinaman wondered at his master,to hear how he sang between the mouthfuls. The sun went down into thesea, and the night came; and Keawe walked the balconies by lamplight,high on the mountai
ns, and the voice of his singing startled men onships.

  "Here am I now upon my high place," he said to himself. "Life may be nobetter; this is the mountain top: and all shelves about me toward theworse. For the first time I will light up the chambers, and bathe in myfine bath with the hot water and the cold, and sleep alone in the bed ofmy bridal chamber."

  So the Chinaman had word, and he must rise from sleep and light thefurnaces; and as he wrought below, beside the boilers, he heard hismaster singing and rejoicing above him in the lighted chambers. When thewater began to be hot the Chinaman cried to his master; and Keawe wentinto the bathroom; and the Chinaman heard him sing as he filled themarble basin; and heard him sing, and the singing broken, as heundressed; until of a sudden the song ceased. The Chinaman listened, andlistened; he called up the house to Keawe to ask if all were well, andKeawe answered him "Yes," and bade him go to bed; but there was no moresinging in the Bright House; and all night long the Chinaman heard hismaster's feet go round and round the balconies without repose.

  Now the truth of it was this: as Keawe undressed for his bath, he spiedupon his flesh a patch like a patch of lichen on a rock, and it was thenthat he stopped singing. For he knew the likeness of that patch, andknew that he was fallen in the Chinese Evil.[6]

  Now, it is a sad thing for any man to fall into this sickness. And itwould be a sad thing for anyone to leave a house so beautiful and socommodious, and depart from all his friends to the north coast ofMolokai between the mighty cliff and the sea-breakers. But what was thatto the case of the man Keawe, he who had met his love but yesterday, andwon her but that morning, and now saw all his hopes break, in a moment,like a piece of glass?

  A while he sat upon the edge of the bath; then sprang, with a cry, andran outside; and to and fro, to and fro, along the balcony, like onedespairing.

  "Very willingly could I leave Hawaii, the home of my fathers," Keawe wasthinking. "Very lightly could I leave my house, the high-placed, themany-windowed, here upon the mountains. Very bravely could I go toMolokai, to Kalaupapa by the cliffs, to live with the smitten and tosleep there, far from my fathers. But what wrong have I done, what sinlies upon my soul, that I should have encountered Kokua coming cool fromthe sea-water in the evening? Kokua, the soul ensnarer! Kokua, the lightof my life! Her may I never wed, her may I look upon no longer, her mayI no more handle with my loving hand; and it is for this, it is for you,O Kokua! that I pour my lamentations!"

  Now you are to observe what sort of a man Keawe was, for he might havedwelt there in the Bright House for years, and no one been the wiser ofhis sickness; but he reckoned nothing of that, if he must lose Kokua.And again, he might have wed Kokua even as he was; and so many wouldhave done, because they have the souls of pigs; but Keawe loved the maidmanfully, and he would do her no hurt and bring her in no danger.

  A little beyond the midst of the night, there came in his mind therecollection of that bottle. He went round to the back porch, and calledto memory the day when the devil had looked forth; and at the thoughtice ran in his veins.

  "A dreadful thing is the bottle," thought Keawe, "and dreadful is theimp, and it is a dreadful thing to risk the flames of hell. But whatother hope have I to cure my sickness or to wed Kokua? What!" hethought, "would I beard the devil once, only to get me a house, and notface him again to win Kokua?"

  Thereupon he called to mind it was the next day the _Hall_ went by onher return to Honolulu. "There must I go first," he thought, "and seeLopaka. For the best hope that I have now is to find that same bottle Iwas so pleased to be rid of."

  Never a wink could he sleep; the food stuck in his throat; but he sent aletter to Kiano, and, about the time when the steamer would be coming,rode down beside the cliff of the tombs. It rained; his horse wentheavily; he looked up at the black mouths of the caves, and he enviedthe dead that slept there and were done with trouble; and called to mindhow he had galloped by the day before, and was astonished. So he camedown to Hookena, and there was all the country gathered for the steameras usual. In the shed before the store they sat and jested and passedthe news; but there was no matter of speech in Keawe's bosom, and he satin their midst and looked without on the rain falling on the houses, andthe surf beating among the rocks, and the sighs arose in his throat.

  "Keawe of the Bright House is out of spirits," said one to another.Indeed, and so he was, and little wonder.

  Then the _Hall_ came, and the whale-boat carried him on board. Theafter-part of the ship was full of Haoles[7] who had been to visit thevolcano, as their custom is; and the midst was crowded with Kanakas, andthe fore-part with wild bulls from Hilo and horses from Kaue; but Keawesat apart from all in his sorrow, and watched for the house of Kiano.There it sat, low upon the shore in the black rocks, and shaded by thecocoa-palms, and there by the door was a red holoku, no greater than afly, and going to and fro with a fly's busyness. "Ah, queen of myheart," he cried, "I'll venture my dear soul to win you!"

  Soon after, darkness fell, and the cabins were lit up, and the Haolessat and played at the cards and drank whisky as their custom is; butKeawe walked the deck all night; and all the next day, as they steamedunder the lee of Maui or of Molokai, he was still pacing to and fro likea wild animal in a menagerie.

  Towards evening they passed Diamond Head, and came to the pier ofHonolulu. Keawe stepped out among the crowd and began to ask for Lopaka.It seemed he had become the owner of a schooner--none better in theislands--and was gone upon an adventure as far as Pola-Pola or Kahiki;so there was no help to be looked for from Lopaka. Keawe called to minda friend of his, a lawyer in the town (I must not tell his name), andinquired of him. They said he was grown suddenly rich, and had a finenew house upon Waikiki shore; and this put a thought in Keawe's head,and he called a hack and drove to the lawyer's house.

  The house was all brand new, and the trees in the garden no greater thanwalking-sticks, and the lawyer, when he came, had the air of a man wellpleased.

  "What can I do to serve you?" said the lawyer.

  "You are a friend of Lopaka's," replied Keawe, "and Lopaka purchasedfrom me a certain piece of goods that I thought you might enable me totrace."

  The lawyer's face became very dark. "I do not profess to misunderstandyou, Mr. Keawe," said he, "though this is an ugly business to bestirring in. You may be sure I know nothing, but yet I have a guess, andif you would apply in a certain quarter I think you might have news."

  And he named the name of a man, which, again, I had better not repeat.So it was for days, and Keawe went from one to another, findingeverywhere new clothes and carriages, and fine new houses, and meneverywhere in great contentment, although, to be sure, when he hinted athis business their faces would cloud over.

  "No doubt I am upon the track," thought Keawe. "These new clothes andcarriages are all the gifts of the little imp, and these glad faces arethe faces of men who have taken their profit and got rid of the accursedthing in safety. When I see pale cheeks and hear sighing, I shall knowthat I am near the bottle."

  So it befell at last that he was recommended to a Haole in BeritaniaStreet. When he came to the door, about the hour of the evening meal,there were the usual marks of the new house, and the young garden, andthe electric light shining in the windows; but when the owner came, ashock of hope and fear ran through Keawe; for here was a young man,white as a corpse, and black about the eyes, the hair shedding from hishead, and such a look in his countenance as a man may have when he iswaiting for the gallows.

  "Here it is, to be sure," thought Keawe, and so with this man he nowaysveiled his errand. "I am come to buy the bottle," said he.

  At the word, the young Haole of Beritania Street reeled against thewall.

  "The bottle!" he gasped. "To buy the bottle!" Then he seemed to choke,and seizing Keawe by the arm carried him into a room and poured out winein two glasses.

  "Here is my respects," said Keawe, who had been much about with Haolesin his time. "Yes," he added, "I am come to buy the bottle. What is theprice by now?"

&nb
sp; At that word the young man let his glass slip through his fingers, andlooked upon Keawe like a ghost.

  "The price," says he; "the price! You do not know the price?"

  "It is for that I am asking you," returned Keawe. "But why are you somuch concerned? Is there anything wrong about the price?"

  "It has dropped a great deal in value since your time, Mr. Keawe," saidthe young man, stammering.

  "Well, well, I shall have the less to pay for it," says Keawe. "How muchdid it cost you?"

  The young man was as white as a sheet. "Two cents," said he.

  "What!" cried Keawe, "two cents? Why, then, you can only sell it forone. And he who buys it----" The words died upon Keawe's tongue; he whobought it could never sell it again, the bottle and the bottle imp mustabide with him until he died, and when he died must carry him to the redend of hell.

  The young man of Beritania Street fell upon his knees. "For God's sake,buy it!" he cried. "You can have all my fortune in the bargain. I wasmad when I bought it at that price. I had embezzled money at my store; Iwas lost else: I must have gone to gaol."

  "Poor creature," said Keawe, "you would risk your soul upon so desperatean adventure, and to avoid the proper punishment of your own disgrace;and you think I could hesitate with love in front of me. Give me thebottle and the change which I make sure you have all ready. Here is afive-cent piece."

  It was as Keawe supposed; the young man had the change ready in adrawer; the bottle changed hands, and Keawe's fingers were no soonerclasped upon the stalk than he had breathed his wish to be a clean man.And, sure enough, when he got home to his room, and stripped himselfbefore a glass, his flesh was whole like an infant's. And here was thestrange thing: he had no sooner seen this miracle than his mind waschanged within him, and he cared naught for the Chinese Evil, and littleenough for Kokua; and had but the one thought, that here he was bound tothe bottle imp for time and for eternity, and had no better hope but tobe a cinder for ever in the flames of hell. Away ahead of him he sawthem blaze with his mind's eye, and his soul shrank, and darkness fellupon the light.

  When Keawe came to himself a little, he was aware it was the night whenthe band played at the hotel. Thither he went, because he feared to bealone; and there, among happy faces, walked to and fro, and heard thetunes go up and down, and saw Berger beat the measure, and all the whilehe heard the flames crackle, and saw the red fire burning in thebottomless pit. Of a sudden the band played _Hiki-ao-ao_; that was asong that he had sung with Kokua, and at the strain courage returned tohim.

  "It is done now," he thought, "and once more let me take the good alongwith the evil."

  So it befell that he returned to Hawaii by the first steamer, and assoon as it could be managed he was wedded to Kokua, and carried her upthe mountain side to the Bright House.

  Now it was so with these two, that when they were together, Keawe'sheart was stilled; but so soon as he was alone he fell into a broodinghorror, and heard the flames crackle, and saw the red fire burn in thebottomless pit. The girl, indeed, had come to him wholly; her heartleapt in her side at sight of him, her hand clung to his; and she was sofashioned from the hair upon her head to the nails upon her toes thatnone could see her without joy. She was pleasant in her nature. She hadthe good word always. Full of song she was, and went to and fro in theBright House, the brightest thing in its three stories, carolling likethe birds. And Keawe beheld and heard her with delight, and then mustshrink upon one side, and weep and groan to think upon the price that hehad paid for her; and then he must dry his eyes, and wash his face, andgo and sit with her on the broad balconies, joining in her songs, and,with a sick spirit, answering her smiles.

  There came a day when her feet began to be heavy and her songs morerare; and now it was not Keawe only that would weep apart, but eachwould sunder from the other and sit in opposite balconies with the wholewidth of the Bright House betwixt. Keawe was so sunk in his despair hescarce observed the change, and was only glad he had more hours to sitalone and brood upon his destiny, and was not so frequently condemned topull a smiling face on a sick heart. But one day, coming softly throughthe house, he heard the sound of a child sobbing, and there was Kokuarolling her face upon the balcony floor, and weeping like the lost.

  "You do well to weep in this house, Kokua," he said. "And yet I wouldgive the head off my body that you (at least) might have been happy."

  "Happy!" she cried. "Keawe, when you lived alone in your Bright House,you were the word of the island for a happy man; laughter and song werein your mouth, and your face was as bright as the sunrise. Then youwedded poor Kokua; and the good God knows what is amiss in her--but fromthat day you have not smiled. O!" she cried, "what ails me? I thought Iwas pretty, and I knew I loved him. What ails me that I throw this cloudupon my husband?"

  "Poor Kokua," said Keawe. He sat down by her side, and sought to takeher hand; but that she plucked away. "Poor Kokua!" he said again. "Mypoor child--my pretty. And I had thought all this while to spare you!Well, you shall know all. Then, at least, you will pity poor Keawe; thenyou will understand how much he loved you in the past--that he daredhell for your possession--and how much he loves you still (the poorcondemned one), that he can yet call up a smile when he beholds you."

  With that he told her all, even from the beginning.

  "You have done this for me?" she cried. "Ah, well, then what do Icare!"--and she clasped and wept upon him.

  "Ah, child!" said Keawe, "and yet, when I consider of the fire of hell,I care a good deal!"

  "Never tell me," said she; "no man can be lost because he loved Kokua,and no other fault. I tell you, Keawe, I shall save you with thesehands, or perish in your company. What! you loved me, and gave yoursoul, and you think I will not die to save you in return?"

  "Ah, my dear! you might die a hundred times, and what difference wouldthat make?" he cried, "except to leave me lonely till the time comes ofmy damnation?"

  "You know nothing," said she. "I was educated in a school in Honolulu; Iam no common girl. And I tell you, I shall save my lover. What is thisyou say about a cent? But all the world is not American. In England theyhave a piece they call a farthing, which is about half a cent. Ah!sorrow!" she cried, "that makes it scarcely better, for the buyer mustbe lost, and we shall find none so brave as my Keawe! But then, there isFrance: they have a small coin there which they call a centime, andthese go five to the cent, or thereabout. We could not do better. Come,Keawe, let us go to the French islands; let us go to Tahiti as fast asships can bear us. There we have four centimes, three centimes, twocentimes, one centime; four possible sales to come and go on; and two ofus to push the bargain. Come, my Keawe! kiss me, and banish care. Kokuawill defend you."

  "Gift of God!" he cried. "I cannot think that God will punish me fordesiring aught so good! Be it as you will, then; take me where youplease: I put my life and my salvation in your hands."

  Early the next day Kokua was about her preparations. She took Keawe'schest that he went with sailoring; and first she put the bottle in acorner; and then packed it with the richest of their clothes and thebravest of the knick-knacks in the house. "For," said she, "we must seemto be rich folks, or who will believe in the bottle?" All the time ofher preparation she was as gay as a bird; only when she looked uponKeawe the tears would spring in her eye, and she must run and kiss him.As for Keawe, a weight was off his soul; now that he had his secretshared, and some hope in front of him, he seemed like a new man, hisfeet went lightly on the earth, and his breath was good to him again.Yet was terror still at his elbow; and ever and again, as the wind blowsout a taper, hope died in him, and he saw the flames toss and the redfire burn in hell.

  It was given out in the country they were gone pleasuring to the States,which was thought a strange thing, and yet not so strange as the truth,if any could have guessed it. So they went to Honolulu in the _Hall_,and thence in the _Umatilla_ to San Francisco with a crowd of Haoles,and at San Francisco took their passage by the mail brigantine, the_Tropic Bird_, for Papeete, the
chief place of the French in the southislands. Thither they came, after a pleasant voyage, on a fair day ofthe trade wind, and saw the reef with the surf breaking, and Motuitiwith its palms, and the schooner riding withinside, and the white housesof the town low down along the shore among green trees, and overhead themountains and the clouds of Tahiti, the wise island.

  It was judged the most wise to hire a house, which they did accordingly,opposite the British Consul's, to make a great parade of money, andthemselves conspicuous with carriages and horses. This it was very easyto do, so long as they had the bottle in their possession; for Kokua wasmore bold than Keawe, and, whenever she had a mind, called on the impfor twenty or a hundred dollars. At this rate they soon grew to beremarked in the town; and the strangers from Hawaii, their riding andtheir driving, the fine holokus and the rich lace of Kokua, became thematter of much talk.

  They got on well after the first with the Tahitian language, which isindeed like to the Hawaiian, with a change of certain letters: and assoon as they had any freedom of speech, began to push the bottle. Youare to consider it was not an easy subject to introduce; it was not easyto persuade people you were in earnest, when you offered to sell themfor four centimes the spring of health and riches inexhaustible. It wasnecessary besides to explain the dangers of the bottle; and eitherpeople disbelieved the whole thing and laughed, or they thought the moreof the darker part, became overcast with gravity, and drew away fromKeawe and Kokua, as from persons who had dealings with the devil. So farfrom gaining ground, these two began to find they were avoided in thetown; the children ran away from them screaming, a thing intolerable toKokua; Catholics crossed themselves as they went by; and all personsbegan with one accord to disengage themselves from their advances.

  Depression fell upon their spirits. They would sit at night in their newhouse, after a day's weariness, and not exchange one word, or thesilence would be broken by Kokua bursting suddenly into sobs. Sometimesthey would pray together; sometimes they would have the bottle out uponthe floor, and sit all evening watching how the shadow hovered in themidst. At such times they would be afraid to go to rest. It was long ereslumber came to them, and, if either dozed off, it would be to wake andfind the other silently weeping in the dark, or, perhaps, to wake alone,the other having fled from the house and the neighbourhood of thatbottle, to pace under the bananas in the little garden, or to wander onthe beach by moonlight.

  One night it was so when Kokua awoke. Keawe was gone. She felt in thebed, and his place was cold. Then fear fell upon her, and she sat up inbed. A little moonshine filtered through the shutters. The room wasbright, and she could spy that bottle on the floor. Outside it blewhigh, the great trees of the avenue cried aloud, and the fallen leavesrattled in the verandah. In the midst of this Kokua was aware of anothersound; whether of a beast or of a man she could scarce tell, but it wasas sad as death, and cut her to the soul. Softly she arose, set the doorajar, and looked forth into the moonlit yard. There, under the bananas,lay Keawe, his mouth in the dust, and as he lay he moaned.

  It was Kokua's first thought to run forward and console him; her secondpotently withheld her. Keawe had borne himself before his wife like abrave man; it became her little in the hour of weakness to intrude uponhis shame. With the thought she drew back into the house.

  "Heaven!" she thought, "how careless have I been--how weak! It is he,not I, that stands in this eternal peril; it was he, not I, that tookthe curse upon his soul. It is for my sake, and for the love of acreature of so little worth and such poor help, that he now beholds soclose to him the flames of hell--ay, and smells the smoke of it, lyingwithout there in the wind and moonlight. Am I so dull of spirit thatnever till now I have surmised my duty, or have I seen it before andturned aside? But now, at least, I take up my soul in both the hands ofmy affection; now I say farewell to the white steps of heaven and thewaiting faces of my friends. A love for a love, and let mine be equalledwith Keawe's! A soul for a soul, and be it mine to perish!"

  She was a deft woman with her hands, and was soon apparelled. She tookin her hands the change--the precious centimes they kept ever at theirside; for this coin is little used, and they had made provision at agovernment office. When she was forth in the avenue clouds came on thewind, and the moon was blackened. The town slept, and she knew notwhither to turn till she heard one coughing in the shadow of the trees.

  "Old man," said Kokua, "what do you here abroad in the cold night?"

  The old man could scarce express himself for coughing, but she made outthat he was old and poor, and a stranger in the island.

  "Will you do me a service?" said Kokua. "As one stranger to another, andas an old man to a young woman, will you help a daughter of Hawaii?"

  "Ah," said the old man. "So you are the witch from the Eight Islands,and even my old soul you seek to entangle. But I have heard of you, anddefy your wickedness."

  "Sit down here," said Kokua, "and let me tell you a tale." And she toldhim the story of Keawe from the beginning to the end.

  "And now," said she, "I am his wife, whom he bought with his soul'swelfare. And what should I do? If I went to him myself and offered tobuy it, he would refuse. But if you go, he will sell it eagerly; I willawait you here; you will buy it for four centimes, and I will buy itagain for three. And the Lord strengthen a poor girl!"

  "If you meant falsely," said the old man, "I think God would strike youdead."

  "He would!" cried Kokua. "Be sure He would. I could not be sotreacherous--God would not suffer it."

  "Give me the four centimes and await me here," said the old man.

  Now, when Kokua stood alone in the street her spirit died. The windroared in the trees, and it seemed to her the rushing of the flames ofhell; the shadows tossed in the light of the street lamp, and theyseemed to her the snatching hands of the evil ones. If she had had thestrength, she must have run away, and if she had had the breath she musthave screamed aloud; but in truth she could do neither, and stood andtrembled in the avenue, like an affrighted child.

  Then she saw the old man returning, and he had the bottle in his hand.

  "I have done your bidding," said he. "I left your husband weeping like achild; to-night he will sleep easy." And he held the bottle forth.

  "Before you give it me," Kokua panted, "take the good with the evil--askto be delivered from your cough."

  "I am an old man," replied the other, "and too near the gate of thegrave to take a favour from the devil.--But what is this? Why do you nottake the bottle? Do you hesitate?"

  "Not hesitate!" cried Kokua. "I am only weak. Give me a moment. It is myhand resists, my flesh shrinks back from the accursed thing. One momentonly!"

  The old man looked upon Kokua kindly. "Poor child!" said he, "you fear;your soul misgives you. Well, let me keep it. I am old, and can nevermore be happy in this world, and as for the next--"

  "Give it me!" gasped Kokua. "There is your money. Do you think I am sobase as that? Give me the bottle."

  "God bless you, child," said the old man.

  Kokua concealed the bottle under her holoku, said farewell to the oldman, and walked off along the avenue, she cared not whither. For allroads were now the same to her, and led equally to hell. Sometimes shewalked, and sometimes ran; sometimes she screamed out loud in the night,and sometimes lay by the wayside in the dust and wept. All that she hadheard of hell came back to her; she saw the flames blaze, and she smeltthe smoke, and her flesh withered on the coals.

  Near day she came to her mind again, and returned to the house. It waseven as the old man said--Keawe slumbered like a child. Kokua stood andgazed upon his face.

  "Now, my husband," said she, "it is your turn to sleep. When you wake itwill be your turn to sing and laugh. But for poor Kokua, alas! thatmeant no evil--for poor Kokua no more sleep, no more singing, no moredelight, whether in earth or heaven."

  With that she lay down in the bed by his side, and her misery was soextreme that she fell in a deep slumber instantly.

  Late in the morning her
husband woke her and gave her the good news. Itseemed he was silly with delight, for he paid no heed to her distress,ill though she dissembled it. The words stuck in her mouth, it matterednot; Keawe did the speaking. She ate not a bite, but who was to observeit? for Keawe cleared the dish. Kokua saw and heard him, like somestrange thing in a dream; there were times when she forgot or doubted,and put her hands to her brow; to know herself doomed and hear herhusband babble seemed so monstrous.

  All the while Keawe was eating and talking, and planning the time oftheir return, and thanking her for saving him, and fondling her, andcalling her the true helper after all. He laughed at the old man thatwas fool enough to buy that bottle.

  "A worthy old man he seemed," Keawe said. "But no one can judge byappearances. For why did the old reprobate require the bottle?"

  "My husband," said Kokua humbly, "his purpose may have been good."

  Keawe laughed like an angry man.

  "Fiddle-de-dee!" cried Keawe. "An old rogue, I tell you, and an old assto boot. For the bottle was hard enough to sell at four centimes; and atthree it will be quite impossible. The margin is not broad enough, thething begins to smell of scorching--brrr!" said he, and shuddered. "It istrue I bought it myself at a cent, when I knew not there were smallercoins. I was a fool for my pains; there will never be found another: andwhoever has that bottle now will carry it to the pit."

  "O my husband!" said Kokua. "Is it not a terrible thing to save oneselfby the eternal ruin of another? It seems to me I could not laugh. Iwould be humbled. I would be filled with melancholy. I would pray forthe poor holder."

  Then Keawe, because he felt the truth of what she said, grew the moreangry. "Heighty-teighty!" cried he. "You may be filled with melancholyif you please. It is not the mind of a good wife. If you thought at allof me you would sit shamed."

  Thereupon he went out, and Kokua was alone.

  What chance had she to sell that bottle at two centimes? None, sheperceived. And if she had any there was her husband hurrying her away toa country where there was nothing lower than a cent. And here--on themorrow of her sacrifice--was her husband leaving her and blaming her.

  She would not even try to profit by what time she had, but sat in thehouse, and now had the bottle out and viewed it with unutterable fear,and now, with loathing, hid it out of sight.

  By and by Keawe came back, and would have her take a drive.

  "My husband, I am ill," she said. "I am out of heart. Excuse me, I cantake no pleasure."

  Then was Keawe more wroth than ever. With her, because he thought shewas brooding over the case of the old man; and with himself, because hethought she was right, and was ashamed to be so happy.

  "This is your truth," cried he, "and this your affection! Your husbandis just saved from eternal ruin, which he encountered for the love ofyou--and you can take no pleasure! Kokua, you have a disloyal heart."

  He went forth again furious, and wandered in the town all day. He metfriends, and drank with them; they hired a carriage and drove into thecountry, and there drank again. All the time Keawe was ill at ease,because he was taking this pastime while his wife was sad, and becausehe knew in his heart that she was more right than he; and the knowledgemade him drink the deeper.

  Now there was an old brutal Haole drinking with him, one that had been aboatswain of a whaler, a runaway, a digger in gold mines, a convict inprisons. He had a low mind and a foul mouth; he loved to drink and tosee others drunken; and he pressed the glass upon Keawe. Soon there wasno more money in the company.

  "Here you!" says the boatswain, "you are rich, you have been alwayssaying. You have a bottle or some foolishness."

  "Yes," says Keawe, "I am rich; I will go back and get some money from mywife, who keeps it."

  "That's a bad idea, mate," said the boatswain. "Never you trust apetticoat with dollars. They're all as false as water; you keep an eyeon her."

  Now this word stuck in Keawe's mind; for he was muddled with what he hadbeen drinking.

  "I should not wonder but she was false, indeed," thought he. "Why elseshould she be so cast down at my release? But I will show her I am notthe man to be fooled. I will catch her in the act."

  Accordingly, when they were back in town, Keawe bade the boatswain waitfor him at the corner, by the old calaboose, and went forward up theavenue alone to the door of his house. The night had come again; therewas a light within, but never a sound; and Keawe crept about the corner,opened the back-door softly, and looked in.

  There was Kokua on the floor, the lamp at her side; before her was amilk-white bottle, with a round belly and a long neck; and as she viewedit, Kokua wrung her hands.

  A long time Keawe stood and looked in the doorway. At first he wasstruck stupid; and then fear fell upon him that the bargain had beenmade amiss, and the bottle had come back to him as it came at SanFrancisco; and at that his knees were loosened, and the fumes of thewine departed from his head like mists off a river in the morning. Andthen he had another thought; and it was a strange one, that made hischeeks to burn.

  "I must make sure of this," thought he.

  So he closed the door, and went softly round the corner again, and thencame noisily in, as though he were but now returned. And, lo! by thetime he opened the front door no bottle was to be seen; and Kokua sat ina chair and started up like one awakened out of sleep.

  "I have been drinking all day and making merry," said Keawe. "I havebeen with good companions, and now I only come back for money, andreturn to drink and carouse with them again."

  Both his face and voice were as stern as judgment, but Kokua was tootroubled to observe.

  "You do well to use your own, my husband," said she, and her wordstrembled.

  "O, I do well in all things," said Keawe, and he went straight to thechest and took out money. But he looked besides in the corner where theykept the bottle, and there was no bottle there.

  At that the chest heaved upon the floor like a sea-billow, and the housespan about him like a wreath of smoke, for he saw he was lost now, andthere was no escape. "It is what I feared," he thought. "It is she whohas bought it."

  And then he came to himself a little and rose up; but the sweat streamedon his face as thick as the rain and as cold as the well-water.

  "Kokua," said he, "I said to you to-day what ill became me. Now I returnto carouse with my jolly companions," and at that he laughed a littlequietly. "I will take more pleasure in the cup if you forgive me."

  She clasped his knees in a moment; she kissed his knees with flowingtears.

  "O," she cried, "I asked but a kind word!"

  "Let us never one think hardly of the other," said Keawe, and was goneout of the house.

  Now, the money that Keawe had taken was only some of that store ofcentime pieces they had laid in at their arrival. It was very sure hehad no mind to be drinking. His wife had given her soul for him, now hemust give his for hers; no other thought was in the world with him.

  At the corner, by the old calaboose, there was the boatswain waiting.

  "My wife has the bottle," said Keawe, "and, unless you help me torecover it, there can be no more money and no more liquor to-night."

  "You do not mean to say you are serious about that bottle?" cried theboatswain.

  "There is the lamp," said Keawe. "Do I look as if I was jesting?"

  "That is so," said the boatswain. "You look as serious as a ghost."

  "Well, then," said Keawe, "here are two centimes; you must go to my wifein the house, and offer her these for the bottle, which (if I am notmuch mistaken) she will give you instantly. Bring it to me here, and Iwill buy it back from you for one; for that is the law with this bottle,that it still must be sold for a less sum. But whatever you do, neverbreathe a word to her that you have come from me."

  "Mate, I wonder are you making a fool of me?" asked the boatswain.

  "It will do you no harm if I am," returned Keawe.

  "That is so, mate," said the boatswain.

  "And if you doubt me," added Keawe,
"you can try. As soon as you areclear of the house, wish to have your pocket full of money, or a bottleof the best rum, or what you please, and you will see the virtue of thething."

  "Very well, Kanaka," says the boatswain. "I will try; but if you arehaving your fun out of me, I will take my fun out of you with abelaying-pin."

  So the whaler-man went off up the avenue; and Keawe stood and waited. Itwas near the same spot where Kokua had waited the night before; butKeawe was more resolved, and never faltered in his purpose; only hissoul was bitter with despair.

  It seemed a long time he had to wait before he heard a voice singing inthe darkness of the avenue. He knew the voice to be the boatswain's; butit was strange how drunken it appeared upon a sudden.

  Next, the man himself came stumbling into the light of the lamp. He hadthe devil's bottle buttoned in his coat; another bottle was in his hand;and even as he came in view he raised it to his mouth and drank.

  "You have it," said Keawe. "I see that."

  "Hands off!" cried the boatswain, jumping back. "Take a step near me andI'll smash your mouth. You thought you could make a cat's-paw of me, didyou?"

  "What do you mean?" cried Keawe.

  "Mean?" cried the boatswain. "This is a pretty good bottle, this is;that's what I mean. How I got it for two centimes I can't make out; butI'm sure you shan't have it for one."

  "You mean you won't sell it?" gasped Keawe.

  "No, _sir!_" cried the boatswain. "But I'll give you a drink of the rum,if you like."

  "I tell you," said Keawe, "the man who has that bottle goes to hell."

  "I reckon I'm going anyway," returned the sailor; "and this bottle's thebest thing to go with I've struck yet. No, sir!" he cried again, "thisis my bottle now, and you can go and fish for another."

  "Can this be true?" Keawe cried. "For your own sake, I beseech you, sellit me!"

  "I don't value any of your talk," replied the boatswain. "You thought Iwas a flat; now you see I'm not; and there's an end. If you won't have aswallow of the rum I'll have one myself. Here's your health, andgood-night to you!"

  So off he went down the avenue towards town, and there goes the bottleout of the story.

  But Keawe ran to Kokua light as the wind; and great was their joy thatnight; and great, since then, has been the peace of all their days inthe Bright House.

  FOOTNOTES:

  [6] Leprosy.

  [7] Whites.

  THE ISLE OF VOICES

  THE ISLE OF VOICES

  Keola was married with Lehua, daughter of Kalamake, the wise man ofMolokai, and he kept his dwelling with the father of his wife. There wasno man more cunning than that prophet; he read the stars, he coulddivine by the bodies of the dead, and by the means of evil creatures: hecould go alone into the highest parts of the mountain, into the regionof the hobgoblins, and there he would lay snares to entrap the spiritsof ancient.

  For this reason no man was more consulted in all the Kingdom of Hawaii.Prudent people bought, and sold, and married, and laid out their livesby his counsels; and the King had him twice to Kona to seek thetreasures of Kamehameha. Neither was any man more feared: of hisenemies, some had dwindled in sickness by the virtue of hisincantations, and some had been spirited away, the life and the clayboth, so that folk looked in vain for so much as a bone of their bodies.It was rumoured that he had the art or the gift of the old heroes. Menhad seen him at night upon the mountains, stepping from one cliff to thenext; they had seen him walking in the high forest, and his head andshoulders were above the trees.

  This Kalamake was a strange man to see. He was come of the best blood inMolokai and Maui, of a pure descent; and yet he was more white to lookupon than any foreigner: his hair the colour of dry grass, and his eyesred and very blind, so that "Blind as Kalamake, that can see acrossto-morrow" was a byword in the islands.

  Of all these doings of his father-in-law, Keola knew a little by thecommon repute, a little more he suspected, and the rest he ignored. Butthere was one thing troubled him. Kalamake was a man that spared fornothing, whether to eat or to drink or to wear; and for all he paid inbright new dollars. "Bright as Kalamake's dollars" was another saying inthe Eight Isles. Yet he neither sold, nor planted, nor took hire--onlynow and then for his sorceries--and there was no source conceivable forso much silver coin.

  It chanced one day Keola's wife was gone upon a visit to Kaunakakai, onthe lee side of the island, and the men were forth at the sea-fishing.But Keola was an idle dog, and he lay in the verandah and watched thesurf beat on the shore and the birds fly about the cliff. It was a chiefthought with him always--the thought of the bright dollars. When he laydown to bed he would be wondering why they were so many, and when hewoke at morn he would be wondering why they were all new; and the thingwas never absent from his mind. But this day of all days he made sure inhis heart of some discovery. For it seems he had observed the placewhere Kalamake kept his treasure, which was a lockfast desk against theparlour wall, under the print of Kamehameha the Fifth, and a photographof Queen Victoria with her crown; and it seems again that, no later thanthe night before, he found occasion to look in, and behold! the bag laythere empty. And this was the day of the steamer; he could see her smokeoff Kalaupapa; and she must soon arrive with a month's goods, tinnedsalmon and gin, and all manner of rare luxuries for Kalamake.

  "Now if he can pay for his goods to-day," Keola thought, "I shall knowfor certain that the man is a warlock, and the dollars come out of theDevil's pocket."

  While he was so thinking, there was his father-in-law behind him,looking vexed.

  "Is that the steamer?" he asked.

  "Yes," said Keola. "She has but to call at Pelekunu, and then she willbe here."

  "There is no help for it then," returned Kalamake, "and I must take youin my confidence, Keola, for the lack of anyone better. Come here withinthe house."

  So they stepped together into the parlour, which was a very fine room,papered and hung with prints, and furnished with a rocking-chair, and atable and a sofa in the European style. There was a shelf of booksbesides, and a family Bible in the midst of the table, and the lockfastwriting-desk against the wall; so that anyone could see it was the houseof a man of substance.

  Kalamake made Keola close the shutters of the windows, while he himselflocked all the doors and set open the lid of the desk. From this hebrought forth a pair of necklaces, hung with charms and shells, a bundleof dried herbs, and the dried leaves of trees, and a green branch ofpalm.

  "What I am about," said he, "is a thing beyond wonder. The men of oldwere wise; they wrought marvels, and this among the rest; but that wasat night, in the dark, under the fit stars and in the desert. The samewill I do here in my own house and under the plain eye of day."

  So saying, he put the Bible under the cushion of the sofa so that it wasall covered, brought out from the same place a mat of a wonderfully finetexture, and heaped the herbs and leaves on sand in a tin pan. And thenhe and Keola put on the necklaces and took their stand upon the oppositecorners of the mat.

  "The time comes," said the warlock; "be not afraid."

  With that he set flame to the herbs, and began to mutter and wave thebranch of palm. At first the light was dim because of the closedshutters; but the herbs caught strongly afire, and the flames beat uponKeola, and the room glowed with the burning: and next the smoke rose andmade his head swim and his eyes darken, and the sound of Kalamakemuttering ran in his ears. And suddenly, to the mat on which they werestanding came a snatch or twitch, that seemed to be more swift thanlightning. In the same wink the room was gone and the house, the breathall beaten from Keola's body. Volumes of light rolled upon his eyes andhead, and he found himself transported to a beach of the sea, under astrong sun, with a great surf roaring: he and the warlock standing thereon the same mat, speechless, gasping and grasping at one another, andpassing their hands before their eyes.

  "What was this?" cried Keola, who came to himself the first, because hewas the younger. "The pang of it was like death."
br />   "It matters not," panted Kalamake. "It is now done."

  "And in the name of God where are we?" cried Keola.

  "That is not the question," replied the sorcerer. "Being here, we havematter in our hands, and that we must attend to. Go, while I recover mybreath, into the borders of the wood, and bring me the leaves of suchand such a herb, and such and such a tree, which you will find to growthere plentifully--three handfuls of each. And be speedy. We must behome again before the steamer comes; it would seem strange if we haddisappeared." And he sat on the sand and panted.

  Keola went up the beach, which was of shining sand and coral, strewnwith singular shells; and he thought in his heart--

  "How do I not know this beach? I will come here again and gathershells."

  In front of him was a line of palms against the sky; not like the palmsof the Eight Islands, but tall and fresh and beautiful, and hanging outwithered fans like gold among the green, and he thought in his heart--

  "It is strange I should not have found this grove. I will come hereagain, when it is warm, to sleep." And he thought, "How warm it hasgrown suddenly!" For it was winter in Hawaii, and the day had beenchill. And he thought also, "Where are the grey mountains? And where isthe high cliff with the hanging forest and the wheeling birds?" And themore he considered, the less he might conceive in what quarter of theislands he was fallen.

  In the border of the grove, where it met the beach, the herb wasgrowing, but the tree farther back. Now, as Keola went toward the tree,he was aware of a young woman who had nothing on her body but a belt ofleaves.

  "Well!" thought Keola, "they are not very particular about their dressin this part of the country." And he paused, supposing she would observehim and escape; and, seeing that she still looked before her, stood andhummed aloud. Up she leaped at the sound. Her face was ashen; she lookedthis way and that, and her mouth gaped with the terror of her soul. Butit was a strange thing that her eyes did not rest upon Keola.

  "Good-day," said he. "You need not be so frightened; I will not eatyou." And he had scarce opened his mouth before the young woman fledinto the bush.

  "These are strange manners," thought Keola. And, not thinking what hedid, ran after her.

  As she ran, the girl kept crying in some speech that was not practisedin Hawaii, yet some of the words were the same, and he knew she keptcalling and warning others. And presently he saw more peoplerunning--men, women, and children, one with another, all running andcrying like people at a fire. And with that he began to grow afraidhimself, and returned to Kalamake, bringing the leaves. Him he told whathe had seen.

  "You must pay no heed," said Kalamake. "All this is like a dream andshadows. All will disappear and be forgotten."

  "It seemed none saw me," said Keola.

  "And none did," replied the sorcerer. "We walk here in the broad suninvisible by reason of these charms. Yet they hear us; and therefore itis well to speak softly, as I do."

  With that he made a circle round the mat with stones, and in the midsthe set the leaves.

  "It will be your part," said he, "to keep the leaves alight, and feedthe fire slowly. While they blaze (which is but for a little moment) Imust do my errand; and before the ashes blacken, the same power thatbrought us carries us away. Be ready now with the match; and do you callme in good time, lest the flames burn out and I be left."

  As soon as the leaves caught, the sorcerer leaped like a deer out of thecircle, and began to race along the beach like a hound that has beenbathing. As he ran he kept stooping to snatch shells; and it seemed toKeola that they glittered as he took them. The leaves blazed with aclear flame that consumed them swiftly; and presently Keola had but ahandful left, and the sorcerer was far off, running and stooping.

  "Back!" cried Keola. "Back! The leaves are near done."

  At that Kalamake turned, and if he had run before, now he flew. But fastas he ran, the leaves burned faster. The flame was ready to expire when,with a great leap, he bounded on the mat. The wind of his leaping blewit out; and with that the beach was gone, and the sun and the sea, andthey stood once more in the dimness of the shuttered parlour, and wereonce more shaken and blinded; and on the mat betwixt them lay a pile ofshining dollars. Keola ran to the shutters; and there was the steamertossing in the swell close in.

  The same night Kalamake took his son-in-law apart, and gave him fivedollars in his hand.

  "Keola," said he, "if you are a wise man (which I am doubtful of) youwill think you slept this afternoon on the verandah, and dreamed as youwere sleeping. I am a man of few words, and I have for my helpers peopleof short memories."

  Never a word more said Kalamake, nor referred again to that affair. Butit ran all the while in Keola's head--if he were lazy before he wouldnow do nothing.

  "Why should I work," thought he, "when I have a father-in-law who makesdollars of sea-shells?"

  Presently his share was spent. He spent it all upon fine clothes. Andthen he was sorry:

  "For," thought he, "I had done better to have bought a concertina, withwhich I might have entertained myself all day long." And then he beganto grow vexed with Kalamake.

  "This man has the soul of a dog," thought he. "He can gather dollarswhen he pleases on the beach, and he leaves me to pine for a concertina!Let him beware: I am no child, I am as cunning as he, and hold hissecret." With that he spoke to his wife Lehua, and complained of herfather's manners.

  "I would let my father be," said Lehua. "He is a dangerous man tocross."

  "I care that for him!" cried Keola; and snapped his fingers. "I have himby the nose. I can make him do what I please." And he told Lehua thestory.

  But she shook her head.

  "You may do what you like," said she; "but as sure as you thwart myfather, you will be no more heard of. Think of this person, and thatperson; think of Hua, who was a noble of the House of Representatives,and went to Honolulu every year; and not a bone or a hair of him wasfound. Remember Kamau, and how he wasted to a thread, so that his wifelifted him with one hand. Keola, you are a baby in my father's hands; hewill take you with his thumb and finger and eat you like a shrimp."

  Now Keola was truly afraid of Kalamake, but he was vain too; and thesewords of his wife incensed him.

  "Very well," said he, "if that is what you think of me, I will show howmuch you are deceived." And he went straight to where his father-in-lawwas sitting in the parlour.

  "Kalamake," said he, "I want a concertina."

  "Do you indeed?" said Kalamake.

  "Yes," said he, "and I may as well tell you plainly, I mean to have it.A man who picks up dollars on the beach can certainly afford aconcertina."

  "I had no idea you had so much spirit," replied the sorcerer. "I thoughtyou were a timid, useless lad, and I cannot describe how much pleased Iam to find I was mistaken. Now I begin to think I may have found anassistant and successor in my difficult business. A concertina? Youshall have the best in Honolulu. And to-night, as soon as it is dark,you and I will go and find the money."

  "Shall we return to the beach?" asked Keola.

  "No, no!" replied Kalamake; "you must begin to learn more of my secrets.Last time I taught you to pick shells; this time I shall teach you tocatch fish. Are you strong enough to launch Pili's boat?"

  "I think I am," returned Keola. "But why should we not take your own,which is afloat already?"

  "I have a reason which you will understand thoroughly before to-morrow,"said Kalamake. "Pili's boat is the better suited for my purpose. So, ifyou please, let us meet there as soon as it is dark; and in themeanwhile let us keep our own counsel, for there is no cause to let thefamily into our business."

  Honey is not more sweet than was the voice of Kalamake, and Keola couldscarce contain his satisfaction.

  "I might have had my concertina weeks ago," thought he, "and there isnothing needed in this world but a little courage."

  Presently after he espied Lehua weeping, and was half in a mind to tellher all was well.

  "But no," thinks he; "I
shall wait till I can show her the concertina;we shall see what the chit will do then. Perhaps she will understand inthe future that her husband is a man of some intelligence."

  As soon as it was dark, father and son-in-law launched Pili's boat andset the sail. There was a great sea, and it blew strong from theleeward; but the boat was swift and light and dry, and skimmed thewaves. The wizard had a lantern, which he lit and held with his fingerthrough the ring; and the two sat in the stern and smoked cigars, ofwhich Kalamake had always a provision, and spoke like friends of magicand the great sums of money which they could make by its exercise, andwhat they should buy first, and what second; and Kalamake talked like afather.

  Presently he looked all about, and above him at the stars, and back atthe island, which was already three parts sunk under the sea, and heseemed to consider ripely his position.

  "Look!" says he, "there is Molokai already far behind us, and Maui likea cloud; and by the bearing of these three stars I know I am come whereI desire. This part of the sea is called the Sea of the Dead. It is inthis place extraordinarily deep, and the floor is all covered with thebones of men, and in the holes of this part gods and goblins keep theirhabitation. The flow of the sea is to the north, stronger than a sharkcan swim, and any man who shall here be thrown out of a ship it bearsaway like a wild horse into the uttermost ocean. Presently he is spentand goes down, and his bones are scattered with the rest, and the godsdevour his spirit."

  Fear came on Keola at the words, and he looked, and by the light of thestars and the lantern the warlock seemed to change.

  "What ails you?" cried Keola, quick and sharp.

  "It is not I who am ailing," said the wizard; "but there is one herevery sick."

  With that he changed his grasp upon the lantern, and, behold! as he drewhis finger from the ring, the finger stuck and the ring was burst, andhis hand was grown to be of the bigness of three.

  At that sight Keola screamed and covered his face.

  But Kalamake held up the lantern. "Look rather at my face!" said he--andhis head was huge as a barrel; and still he grew and grew as a cloudgrows on a mountain, and Keola sat before him screaming, and the boatraced on the great seas.

  "And now," said the wizard, "what do you think about that concertina?and are you sure you would not rather have a flute? No?" says he; "thatis well, for I do not like my family to be changeable of purpose. But Ibegin to think I had better get out of this paltry boat, for my bulkswells to a very unusual degree, and if we are not the more careful, shewill presently be swamped."

  With that he threw his legs over the side. Even as he did so, thegreatness of the man grew thirty-fold and forty-fold as swift as sightor thinking, so that he stood in the deep seas to the armpits, and hishead and shoulders rose like a high isle, and the swell beat and burstupon his bosom, as it beats and breaks against a cliff. The boat ranstill to the north, but he reached out his hand, and took the gunwale bythe finger and thumb, and broke the side like a biscuit, and Keola wasspilled into the sea. And the pieces of the boat the sorcerer crushed inthe hollow of his hand and flung miles away into the night.

  "Excuse me taking the lantern," said he; "for I have a long wade beforeme, and the land is far, and the bottom of the sea uneven, and I feelthe bones under my toes."

  And he turned and went off walking with great strides; and as often asKeola sank in the trough he could see him no longer; but as often as hewas heaved upon the crest, there he was striding and dwindling, and heheld the lamp high over his head, and the waves broke white about him ashe went.

  Since first the islands were fished out of the sea there was never a manso terrified as this Keola. He swam indeed, but he swam as puppies swimwhen they are cast in to drown, and knew not wherefore. He could butthink of the hugeness of the swelling of the warlock, of that face whichwas as great as a mountain, of those shoulders that were broad as anisle, and of the seas that beat on them in vain. He thought, too, of theconcertina, and shame took hold upon him; and of the dead men's bones,and fear shook him.

  Of a sudden he was aware of something dark against the stars thattossed, and a light below, and a brightness of the cloven sea; and heheard speech of men. He cried out aloud and a voice answered; and in atwinkling the bows of a ship hung above him on a wave like a thingbalanced, and swooped down. He caught with his two hands in the chainsof her, and the next moment was buried in the rushing seas, and the nexthauled on board by seamen.

  They gave him gin and biscuit and dry clothes, and asked him how he camewhere they found him, and whether the light which they had seen was thelighthouse Lae o Ka Laau. But Keola knew white men are like children andonly believe their own stories; so about himself he told them what hepleased, and as for the light (which was Kalamake's lantern) he vowed hehad seen none.

  This ship was a schooner bound for Honolulu and then to trade in the lowislands; and by a very good chance for Keola she had lost a man off thebowsprit in a squall. It was no use talking. Keola durst not stay in theEight Islands. Word goes so quickly, and all men are so fond to talk andcarry news, that if he hid in the north end of Kauai or in the south endof Kaue, the wizard would have wind of it before a month, and he mustperish. So he did what seemed the most prudent, and shipped sailor inthe place of the man who had been drowned.

  In some ways the ship was a good place. The food was extraordinarilyrich and plenty, with biscuits and salt beef every day, and pea-soup andpuddings made of flour and suet twice a week, so that Keola grew fat.The captain also was a good man, and the crew no worse than otherwhites. The trouble was the mate, who was the most difficult man toplease Keola had ever met with, and beat and cursed him daily, both forwhat he did and what he did not. The blows that he dealt were very sore,for he was strong; and the words he used were very unpalatable, forKeola was come of a good family and accustomed to respect. And what wasthe worst of all, whenever Keola found a chance to sleep, there was themate awake and stirring him up with a rope's end. Keola saw it wouldnever do; and he made up his mind to run away.

  They were about a month out from Honolulu when they made the land. Itwas a fine starry night, the sea was smooth as well as the sky fair; itblew a steady trade; and there was the island on their weather bow, aribbon of palm-trees lying flat along the sea. The captain and the matelooked at it with the night-glass, and named the name of it, and talkedof it, beside the wheel where Keola was steering. It seemed it was anisle where no traders came. By the captain's way, it was an isle besideswhere no man dwelt; but the mate thought otherwise.

  "I don't give a cent for the directory," said he. "I've been past hereone night in the schooner _Eugenie_; it was just such a night as this;they were fishing with torches, and the beach was thick with lights likea town."

  "Well, well," says the captain, "it's steep-to, that's the great point;and there ain't any outlying dangers by the chart, so we'll just hug thelee side of it.--Keep her romping full, don't I tell you!" he cried toKeola, who was listening so hard that he forgot to steer.

  And the mate cursed him, and swore that Kanaka was for no use in theworld, and if he got started after him with a belaying-pin, it would bea cold day for Keola.

  And so the captain and mate lay down on the house together, and Keolawas left to himself.

  "This island will do very well for me," he thought; "if no traders dealthere, the mate will never come. And as for Kalamake, it is not possiblehe can ever get as far as this."

  With that he kept edging the schooner nearer in. He had to do thisquietly, for it was the trouble with these white men, and above all withthe mate, that you could never be sure of them; they would be allsleeping sound, or else pretending, and if a sail shook they would jumpto their feet and fall on you with a rope's end. So Keola edged her uplittle by little, and kept all drawing. And presently the land was closeon board, and the sound of the sea on the sides of it grew loud.

  With that the mate sat up suddenly upon the house.

  "What are you doing?" he roars. "You'll have the ship ashore!"


  And he made one bound for Keola, and Keola made another clean over therail and plump into the starry sea. When he came up again, the schoonerhad payed off on her true course, and the mate stood by the wheelhimself, and Keola heard him cursing. The sea was smooth under the leeof the island; it was warm besides, and Keola had his sailor's knife, sohe had no fear of sharks. A little way before him the trees stopped;there was a break in the line of the land like the mouth of a harbour;and the tide, which was then flowing, took him up and carried himthrough. One minute he was without, and the next within: had floatedthere in a wide shallow water, bright with ten thousand stars, and allabout him was the ring of the land, with its string of palm-trees. Andhe was amazed, because this was a kind of island he had never heard of.

  The time of Keola in that place was in two periods--the period when hewas alone, and the period when he was there with the tribe. At first hesought everywhere and found no man; only some houses standing in ahamlet, and the marks of fires. But the ashes of the fires were cold andthe rains had washed them away; and the winds had blown, and some of thehuts were overthrown. It was here he took his dwelling; and he made afire drill, and a shell hook, and fished and cooked his fish, andclimbed after green cocoa-nuts, the juice of which he drank, for in allthe isle there was no water. The days were long to him, and the nightsterrifying. He made a lamp of cocoa-shell, and drew the oil of the ripenuts, and made a wick of fibre; and when evening came he closed up hishut, and lit his lamp, and lay and trembled till morning. Many a time hethought in his heart he would have been better in the bottom of the sea,his bones rolling there with the others.

  All this while he kept by the inside of the island, for the huts were onthe shore of the lagoon, and it was there the palms grew best, and thelagoon itself abounded with good fish. And to the outer side he wentonce only, and he looked but the once at the beach of the ocean, andcame away shaking. For the look of it, with its bright sand, and strewnshells, and strong sun and surf, went sore against his inclination.

  "It cannot be," he thought, "and yet it is very like. And how do I know?These white men, although they pretend to know where they are sailing,must take their chance like other people. So that after all we may havesailed in a circle, and I may be quite near to Molokai, and this may bethe very beach where my father-in-law gathers his dollars."

  So after that he was prudent, and kept to the land side.

  It was perhaps a month later, when the people of the place arrived--thefill of six great boats. They were a fine race of men, and spoke atongue that sounded very different from the tongue of Hawaii, but somany of the words were the same that it was not difficult to understand.The men besides were very courteous, and the women very towardly; andthey made Keola welcome, and built him a house, and gave him a wife;and, what surprised him the most, he was never sent to work with theyoung men.

  And now Keola had three periods. First he had a period of being verysad, and then he had a period when he was pretty merry. Last of all camethe third, when he was the most terrified man in the four oceans.

  The cause of the first period was the girl he had to wife. He was indoubt about the island, and he might have been in doubt about thespeech, of which he had heard so little when he came there with thewizard on the mat. But about his wife there was no mistake conceivable,for she was the same girl that ran from him crying in the wood. So hehad sailed all this way, and might as well have stayed in Molokai; andhad left home and wife and all his friends for no other cause but toescape his enemy, and the place he had come to was that wizard'shunting-ground, and the shore where he walked invisible. It was at thisperiod when he kept the most close to the lagoon side, and, as far as hedared, abode in the cover of his hut.

  The cause of the second period was talk he heard from his wife and thechief islanders. Keola himself said little. He was never so sure of hisnew friends, for he judged they were too civil to be wholesome, andsince he had grown better acquainted with his father-in-law the man hadgrown more cautious. So he told them nothing of himself, but only hisname and descent, and that he came from the Eight Islands, and what fineislands they were; and about the king's palace in Honolulu, and how hewas a chief friend of the king and the missionaries. But he put manyquestions and learned much. The island where he was was called the Isleof Voices; it belonged to the tribe, but they made their home uponanother, three hours' sail to the southward. There they lived and hadtheir permanent houses, and it was a rich island, where were eggs andchickens and pigs, and ships came trading with rum and tobacco. It wasthere the schooner had gone after Keola deserted; there, too, the matehad died, like the fool of a white man as he was. It seems, when theship came, it was the beginning of the sickly season in that isle; whenthe fish of the lagoon are poisonous, and all who eat of them swell upand die. The mate was told of it; he saw the boats preparing, because inthat season the people leave that island and sail to the Isle of Voices;but he was a fool of a white man, who would believe no stories but hisown, and he caught one of these fish, cooked it and ate it, and swelledup and died, which was good news to Keola. As for the Isle of Voices,it lay solitary the most part of the year; only now and then a boat'screw came for copra, and in the bad season, when the fish at the mainisle were poisonous, the tribe dwelt there in a body. It had its namefrom a marvel, for it seemed the sea-side of it was all beset withinvisible devils; day and night you heard them talking one with anotherin strange tongues; day and night little fires blazed up and wereextinguished on the beach; and what was the cause of these doings no manmight conceive. Keola asked them if it were the same in their own islandwhere they stayed, and they told him no, not there; nor yet in any otherof some hundred isles that lay all about them in that sea; but it was athing peculiar to the Isle of Voices. They told him also that thesefires and voices were ever on the seaside and in the seaward fringes ofthe wood, and a man might dwell by the lagoon two thousand years (if hecould live so long) and never be any way troubled; and even on thesea-side the devils did no harm if let alone. Only once a chief had casta spear at one of the voices, and the same night he fell out of acocoa-nut palm and was killed.

  Keola thought a good bit with himself. He saw he would be all right whenthe tribe returned to the main island, and right enough where he was, ifhe kept by the lagoon, yet he had a mind to make things righter if hecould. So he told the high chief he had once been in an isle that waspestered the same way, and the folk had found a means to cure thattrouble.

  "There was a tree growing in the bush there," says he, "and it seemsthese devils came to get the leaves of it. So the people of the isle cutdown the tree wherever it was found, and the devils came no more."

  They asked what kind of tree this was, and he showed them the tree ofwhich Kalamake burned the leaves. They found it hard to believe, yet theidea tickled them. Night after night the old men debated it in theircouncils, but the high chief (though he was a brave man) was afraid ofthe matter, and reminded them daily of the chief who cast a spearagainst the voices and was killed, and the thought of that brought allto a stand again.

  Though he could not yet bring about the destruction of the trees, Keolawas well enough pleased, and began to look about him and take pleasurein his days; and, among other things, he was the kinder to his wife, sothat the girl began to love him greatly. One day he came to the hut, andshe lay on the ground lamenting.

  "Why," said Keola, "what is wrong with you now?"

  She declared it was nothing.

  The same night she woke him. The lamp burned very low, but he saw by herface she was in sorrow.

  "Keola," she said, "put your ear to my mouth that I may whisper, for noone must hear us. Two days before the boats begin to be got ready, goyou to the sea-side of the isle and lie in a thicket. We shall choosethat place before-hand, you and I; and hide food; and every night Ishall come near by there singing. So when a night comes and you do nothear me, you shall know we are clean gone out of the island, and you maycome forth again in safety."

  The soul of Keola died within him.
/>
  "What is this?" he cried. "I cannot live among devils. I will not beleft behind upon this isle. I am dying to leave it."

  "You will never leave it alive, my poor Keola," said the girl; "for totell you the truth, my people are eaters of men; but this they keepsecret. And the reason they will kill you before we leave is because inour island ships come, and Donat-Kimaran comes and talks for the French,and there is a white trader there in a house with a verandah, and acatechist. O, that is a fine place indeed! The trader has barrels filledwith flour; and a French war-ship once came in the lagoon and gaveeverybody wine and biscuit. Ah, my poor Keola, I wish I could take youthere, for great is my love to you, and it is the finest place in theseas except Papeete."

  So now Keola was the most terrified man in the four oceans. He had heardtell of eaters of men in the south islands, and the thing had alwaysbeen a fear to him; and here it was knocking at his door. He had heardbesides, by travellers, of their practices, and how when they are in amind to eat a man they cherish and fondle him like a mother with afavourite baby. And he saw this must be his own case; and that was whyhe had been housed, and fed, and wived, and liberated from all work; andwhy the old men and the chiefs discoursed with him like a person ofweight. So he lay on his bed and railed upon his destiny; and the fleshcurdled on his bones.

  The next day the people of the tribe were very civil, as their way was.They were elegant speakers, and they made beautiful poetry, and jestedat meals, so that a missionary must have died laughing. It was littleenough Keola cared for their fine ways; all he saw was the white teethshining in their mouths, and his gorge rose at the sight; and when theywere done eating, he went and lay in the bush like a dead man.

  The next day it was the same, and then his wife followed him.

  "Keola," she said, "if you do not eat, I tell you plainly you will bekilled and cooked to-morrow. Some of the old chiefs are murmuringalready. They think you are fallen sick and must lose flesh."

  With that Keola got to his feet, and anger burned in him.

  "It is little I care one way or the other," said he. "I am between thedevil and the deep sea. Since die I must, let me die the quickest way;and since I must be eaten at the best of it, let me rather be eaten byhobgoblins than by men. Farewell," said he, and he left her standing,and walked to the sea-side of that island.

  It was all bare in the strong sun; there was no sign of man, only thebeach was trodden, and all about him as he went the voices talked andwhispered, and the little fires sprang up and burned down. All tonguesof the earth were spoken there; the French, the Dutch, the Russian, theTamil, the Chinese. Whatever land knew sorcery, there were some of itspeople whispering in Keola's ear. That beach was thick as a cried fair,yet no man seen; and as he walked he saw the shells vanish before him,and no man to pick them up. I think the devil would have been afraid tobe alone in such a company: but Keola was past fear and courted death.When the fires sprang up, he charged for them like a bull. Bodilessvoices called to and fro; unseen hands poured sand upon the flames; andthey were gone from the beach before he reached them.

  "It is plain Kalamake is not here," he thought, "or I must have beenkilled long since."

  With that he sat him down in the margin of the wood, for he was tired,and put his chin upon his hands. The business before his eyes continued:the beach babbled with voices, and the fires sprang up and sank, and theshells vanished and were renewed again even while he looked.

  "It was a by-day when I was here before," he thought, "for it wasnothing to this."

  And his head was dizzy with the thought of these millions and millionsof dollars, and all these hundreds and hundreds of persons culling themupon the beach and flying in the air higher and swifter than eagles.

  "And to think how they have fooled me with their talk of mints," sayshe, "and that money was made there, when it is clear that all the newcoin in all the world is gathered on these sands! But I will know betterthe next time!" said he.

  And at last, he knew not very well how or when, sleep fell on Keola, andhe forgot the island and all his sorrows.

  Early the next day, before the sun was yet up, a bustle woke him. Heawoke in fear, for he thought the tribe had caught him napping; but itwas no such matter. Only, on the beach in front of him, the bodilessvoices called and shouted one upon another, and it seemed they allpassed and swept beside him up the coast of the island.

  "What is afoot now?" thinks Keola. And it was plain to him it wassomething beyond ordinary, for the fires were not lighted nor the shellstaken, but the bodiless voices kept posting up the beach, and hailingand dying away; and others following, and by the sound of them thesewizards should be angry.

  "It is not me they are angry at," thought Keola, "for they pass meclose."

  As when hounds go by, or horses in a race, or city folk coursing to afire, and all men join and follow after, so it was now with Keola; andhe knew not what he did, nor why he did it, but there, lo and behold! hewas running with the voices.

  So he turned one point of the island, and this brought him in view of asecond; and there he remembered the wizard trees to have been growing bythe score together in a wood. From this point there went up a hubbub ofmen crying not to be described; and by the sound of them, those that heran with shaped their course for the same quarter. A little nearer, andthere began to mingle with the outcry the crash of many axes. And atthis a thought came at last into his mind that the high chief hadconsented; that the men of the tribe had set-to cutting down thesetrees; that word had gone about the isle from sorcerer to sorcerer, andthese were all now assembling to defend their trees. Desire of strangethings swept him on. He posted with the voices, crossed the beach, andcame into the borders of the wood, and stood astonished. One tree hadfallen, others were part hewed away. There was the tribe clustered. Theywere back to back, and bodies lay, and blood flowed among their feet.The hue of fear was on all their faces: their voices went up to heavenshrill as a weasel's cry.

  Have you seen a child when he is all alone and has a wooden sword, andfights, leaping and hewing with the empty air? Even so the man-eatershuddled back to back, and heaved up their axes, and laid on, andscreamed as they laid on, and behold! no man to contend with them! onlyhere and there Keola saw an axe swinging over against them withouthands; and time and again a man of the tribe would fall before it, clovein twain or burst asunder, and his soul sped howling.

  For a while Keola looked upon this prodigy like one that dreams, andthen fear took him by the midst as sharp as death, that he should beholdsuch doings. Even in that same flash the high chief of the clan espiedhim standing, and pointed and called out his name. Thereat the wholetribe saw him also, and their eyes flashed, and their teeth clashed.

  "I am too long here," thought Keola, and ran further out of the wood anddown the beach, not caring whither.

  "Keola!" said a voice close by upon the empty sand.

  "Lehua! is that you?" he cried, and gasped, and looked in vain for her;but by the eyesight he was stark alone.

  "I saw you pass before," the voice answered; "but you would not hearme.--Quick! get the leaves and the herbs, and let us free."

  "You are there with the mat?" he asked.

  "Here, at your side," said she. And he felt her arms about him.--"Quick!the leaves and the herbs, before my father can get back!"

  So Keola ran for his life, and fetched the wizard fuel: and Lehua guidedhim back, and set his feet upon the mat, and made the fire. All the timeof its burning the sound of the battle towered out of the wood; thewizards and the man-eaters hard at fight; the wizards, the viewlessones, roaring out aloud like bulls upon a mountain, and the men of thetribe replying shrill and savage out of the terror of their souls. Andall the time of the burning, Keola stood there and listened, and shook,and watched how the unseen hands of Lehua poured the leaves. She pouredthem fast, and the flame burned high, and scorched Keola's hands; andshe speeded and blew the burning with her breath. The last leaf waseaten, the flame fell, and the shock followed, and there were Keol
a andLehua in the room at home.

  Now, when Keola could see his wife at last he was mighty pleased, and hewas mighty pleased to be home again in Molokai and sit down beside abowl of poi--for they make no poi on board ships, and there was none inthe Isle of Voices--and he was out of the body with pleasure to be cleanescaped out of the hands of the eaters of men. But there was anothermatter not so clear, and Lehua and Keola talked of it all night and weretroubled. There was Kalamake left upon the isle. If, by the blessing ofGod, he could but stick there, all were well; but should he escape andreturn to Molokai, it would be an ill day for his daughter and herhusband. They spoke of his gift of swelling, and whether he could wadethat distance in the seas. But Keola knew by this time where that islandwas--and that is to say, in the Low or Dangerous Archipelago. So theyfetched the atlas and looked upon the distance in the map, and by whatthey could make of it, it seemed a far way for an old gentleman to walk.Still, it would not do to make too sure of a warlock like Kalamake, andthey determined at last to take counsel of a white missionary.

  So the first one that came by, Keola told him everything. And themissionary was very sharp on him for taking the second wife in the lowisland; but for all the rest, he vowed he could make neither head nortail of it.

  "However," says he, "if you think this money of your father's illgotten, my advice to you would be, give some of it to the lepers andsome to the missionary fund. And as for this extraordinary rigmarole,you cannot do better than keep it to yourselves."

  But he warned the police at Honolulu that, by all he could make out,Kalamake and Keola had been coining false money, and it would not beamiss to watch them.

  Keola and Lehua took his advice, and gave many dollars to the lepers andthe fund. And no doubt the advice must have been good, for from that dayto this Kalamake has never more been heard of. But whether he was slainin the battle by the trees, or whether he is still kicking his heelsupon the Isle of Voices, who shall say?

  END OF VOL. XVII

  PRINTED BY CASSELL & CO., LIMITED, LA BELLE SAUVAGE LONDON, E.C.

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