Hawaii - James Michener [173]
The wind subsided. Only fitful sounds came from the topmost crowns of the coconut palms, and there was no echo of marching feet. It could have been the kahunas going home, Abner thought. It could have been a group of dogs. Or wind along the dusty footpath. Now there was no sound; the low scudding clouds were gone, and the stars shone.
"What was it?" Abner asked, as he wiped the mud from his mouth.
"They were marching to take me away," Kelolo explained. "Whom were you speaking to?" Abner inquired, spitting the gravel from his teeth.
"Pele. Didn't you hear her tell the marchers that we were her children?"
Abner did not reply. He brushed the sand from his clothes and wondered how he would get the muddy portions of his clothing cleaned, and he was brushing his knees when Kelolo grabbed him and spun him around, demanding, "You did hear Pele, didn't you? When she protected you?"
"Did she mention my name?" Abner asked quietly.
"You heard her!" Kelolo cried. "Makua Hale, it is a very good sign when Pele protects a man. It means . . ." But his joy at having been saved from the revengeful night marchers was so great that he could not express his gratitude, either for her aid in saving him or for her unprecedented benevolence in protecting the little missionary. "You are my brother," Kelolo said passionately. "Now you see that it would have been foolish for me to have torn down my platform to the gods. Suppose Pele had not come to help us tonight!”
"Did you see the night marchers?" Abner pressed.
"I saw them," Kelolo replied.
"Did you see Pele?" the missionary continued.
"I often see her," Kelolo assured him. Then in a burst of passion he caught Abner by the hands and pleaded: "It is for these reasons, Makua Hale, that I beg you not to keep the door where it is."
"That door . . ." Abner began. But he did not bother to finish his sentence, and when he reached home and Jerusha cried, "Abner, what have you been doing?" he replied simply, "It was dark and I fell in a ditch." And the door was built where he intended.
Then, when it seemed as if the mission were gaining control of Lahaina, the whaler John Goodpasture, out of New Bedford, put in with a record tonnage of oil from the recently discovered Off-Japan whaling grounds, and Jerusha's school for girls was suddenly interrupted by the excited cry from the road: "Kelamoku! Too many sailors inside boat! Come right away here!"
Since the John Goodpasture was well and favorably known in Lahaina from previous visits, the intelligence created much excitement, especially among the four daughters of Pupali, who spent the next few minutes darting significant glances at one another. Finally, they arose as a team and marched out of class. When Jerusha tried to stop them, the oldest girl explained that their youngest sister felt ill: "Poor Iliki head all come sore," and amid loud giggles they disappeared.
At first Jerusha did not appreciate what had happened, but later when one of her students blurted out, "Kapena aloha Iliki. She swim ship, see kapena," it became obvious that the mission's moral teaching had been outraged, and Jerusha dismissed class. Wrapping a light shawl about her shoulders and placing her poke bonnet firmly on her brown locks, she marched down to the waterfront in time to see the four girls, largely naked, climbing eagerly aboard the John Goodpasture, where sailors who had known them before greeted them with cheers.
Running up to an elderly American sailor who was scrimshawing a whalebone beside