Hawaii - James Michener [161]
"Are you proud when the sailors burn down the houses?" Abner pressed.
"They never burn my house," Pupali replied.
"How old is your prettiest daughter, Pupali?"
Abner could hear him suck in his breath in pride. "Iliki? She was born in the year of Keopuolani's illness."
"Fourteen, and probably already sick to death!” *1
"What do you expect? She's a woman."
On the spur of the moment Abner said, "I want you to give her to me, Pupali."
At last something was happening that the rough old man could understand. Smiling lasciviously he whispered, "You'll enjoy Iliki. All the men do. How much you give me for her?"
"I am taking her for God," Abner corrected.
"I know, but how much you give me?" Pupali pressed.
"I will clothe her and feed her and treat her as my daughter," Abner explained.
"You mean, you don't want . . ." Pupali shook his head. "Well, Makua Hale, you must be a good man." And when morning dawned, Abner, in the dust of riots, started his school for Hawaiian girls. His first pupil was Pupali's most beautiful daughter, Iliki, and when she appeared she wore only a thin slip about her hips and a silver chain around her neck, from which dangled a whale's tooth handsomely carved with these words:
Observe the truth; enough for man to know Virtue alone is happiness below.
When the other island families saw what an advantage Pupali enjoyed by having his daughter as an observer within the missionary household, for she could report on the strangest occurrences, they offered their girls, too, which nullified Pupali's superiority, so that he countered by enrolling his other three daughters, and when the next whaling ship touched port, matters were different. Before, sailors had instructed the Lahaina girls in profanity in the steaming fo'c's'ls; now Jerusha taught them cooking and the Psalms in the mission garden, and her ablest pupil was Iliki, Ee-Lee-Kee, the Pelting Spray of Ocean.
ABNER WAS NOT PRESENT to congratulate Iliki on the August afternoon when she first wrote her name and carried it proudly to her father, for that morning had brought an exhausted messenger to Lahaina. He had run across the mountains from the other side of the island, blurting out so bizarre a story that Abner summoned Keoki to translate formally, and the young man said, "It is true! Abraham and Urania Hewlett have marched all the way from Hana, at the opposite end of Maui."
"Why didn't they take a canoe?" Abner asked, puzzled.
Keoki rapidly interrogated the gasping messenger and then looked blank as the man explained. "It's hard to believe," Keoki muttered. "Abraham and Urania set out yesterday morning at four o'clock in a double canoe, but at six o'clock the waves were so great that the canoe broke apart, so Abraham brought his wife ashore through the surf. Then they walked forty miles to Wailuku, where they are now."
"I thought that trail was impossible for women," Abner argued.
"It is. The worst on Maui. But Urania had to make it, because next month she is due to have her baby and they wanted to be with you."
"What can I ..." Abner began in bewilderment.
"They are afraid she is dying," the messenger said.
"If she's dying . . ." Abner was sweating and nervous. "Well, how did she get to Wailuku?"
With gestures, the messenger explained, "The paddlers from the wrecked canoe tied vines under her arms and pulled her up the gullies. Then, when it came time to go down the other side, they grabbed the vines . . ."
Before the tired messenger could finish, Abner knelt in the dust and raised his hands. He could visualize Urania, a dull woman and frightened, undergoing this tremendous trip, and he prayed, "Dear Heavenly Father, save Thy servant, Sister Urania. In her hours of fear, save her."
The messenger interrupted and said, "Abraham Hewlett says you must bring your book and help him."
"The book?" Abner cried. "I thought. . ."
"They need you now," the messenger insisted. "Because when I left she seemed about to have the baby."
The idea of assisting at a birth appalled Abner, but he hurried