At
noon,
we
hired
a Kanaka
to
take
us
down
to
the
ancient
ruins
at
Honaunan
in
his
canoe—price
two
dollars—reasonable enough,
for
a
sea
voyage
of
eight
miles,
counting
both
ways.
The
native
canoe
is
an
irresponsible
looking
contrivance. I cannot
think
of
anything
to
liken
it
to
but
a boy's sled runner
hollowed
out,
and
that
does
not
quite
convey
the
correct
idea.
It
is
about
fifteen
feet long, high
and
pointed
at
both
ends,
is
a
foot
and
a
half
or
two
feet deep,
and
so
narrow
that
if
you
wedged a
fat
man
into
it
you
might
not
get
him
out
again.
It
sits
on
top
of
the
water
like
a duck,
but
it
has
an
outrigger
and
does
not
upset easily,
if
you
keep
still.
This
outrigger
is
formed
of
two
long
bent sticks
like
plow
handles,
which
project
from
one
side,
and
to
their
outer
ends
is
bound a curved
beam
composed
of
an
extremely
light
wood,
which
skims
along
the
surface
of
the
water
and
thus
saves
you
from
an
upset
on
that
side,
while
the
outrigger's
weight
is
not
so
easily lifted
as
to
make
an
upset
on
the
other
side
a
thing
to
be
greatly
feared. Still,
until
one
gets
used
to
sitting
perched
upon
this
knifeblade,
he
is
apt
to
reason
within
himself
that
it
would
be
more
comfortable
if
there
were
just
an
outrigger
or
so
on
the
other
side
also. I had
the
bow
seat,
and
Billings sat amidships
and
faced
the
Kanaka,
who
occupied
the
stern
of
the
craft
and
did
the
paddling.
With
the
first
stroke
the
trim
shell
of
a
thing
shot
out
from
the
shore
like
an
arrow.
There
was
not
much
to
see.
While
we
were
on
the
shallow
water
of
the
reef,
it
was
pastime
to
look
down
into
the
limpid
depths
at
the
large
bunches
of
branching
coral—the
unique
shrubbery
of
the
sea.
We
lost that, though,
when
we
got
out
into
the
dead
blue
water
of
the
deep.
But
we
had
the
picture
of
the
surf, then, dashing angrily against
the
crag- bound
shore
and
sending
a
foaming
spray high
into
the
air.
There
was
interest
in
this
beetling
border, too,
for
it
was
honey-combed
with
quaint
caves
and
arches
and
tunnels,
and
had a
rude
semblance
of
the
dilapidated
architecture
of
ruined
keeps
and
castles rising
out
of
the
restless
sea.
When
this
novelty
ceased
to
be
a novelty,
we
turned
our
eyes
shoreward
and
gazed
at
the
long
mountain
with
its
rich
green
forests stretching
up
into
the
curtaining
clouds,
and
at
the
specks
of
houses
in
the
rearward distance
and
the
diminished
schooner
riding sleepily
at
anchor.
And
when
these
grew
tiresome
we
dashed
boldly
into
the
midst
of
a
school
of
huge, beastly
porpoises
engaged
at
their
eternal
game
of
arching
over
a
wave
and
disappearing,
and
then
doing
it
over
again
and
keeping
it
up—always circling over,
in
that
way,
like
so
many
well-
submerged
wheels.
But
the
porpoises
wheeled
themselves
away,
and
then
we
were
thrown
upon
our
own
resources.
It
did
not
take
many
minutes
to
discover
that
the
sun
was
blazing
like
a bonfire,
and
that
the
weather
was
of
a
melting
temperature.
It
had a
drowsing
effect, too.
In
one
place
we
came
upon
a
large
company
of
naked
natives,
of
both
sexes
and
all
ages, amusing
themselves
with
the
national
pastime
of
surf-bathing.
Each
heathen
would
paddle
three
or
four
hundred
yards
out
to
sea, (taking a
short
board
with
him),
then
face
the
shore
and
wait
for
a particularly
prodigious
billow
to
come
along;
at
the
right
moment
he
would
fling
his
board
upon
its
foamy
crest
and
himself
upon
the
board,
and
here
he
would
come
whizzing
by
like
a bombshell!
It
did
not
seem
that
a
lightning
express
train
could
shoot
along
at
a
more
hair-lifting speed. I tried surf-bathing once, subsequently,
but
made
a
failure
of
it. I got
the
board
placed
right,
and
at
the
right
moment, too;
but
missed
the
connection
myself.—The
board
struck
the
shore
in
three
quarters
of
a second,
without
any
cargo,
and
I struck
the
bottom
about
the
same
time,
with
a
couple
of
barrels
of
water
in
me.
None
but
natives
ever
master
the
art
of
surf-bathing thoroughly.
At
the
end
of
an
hour,
we
had
made
the
four
miles,
and
landed
on
a
level
point
of
land,
upon
which
was
a
wide
extent
of
old
ruins,
with
many
a
tall
cocoanut tree
growing
among
them.
Here
was
the
ancient
City
of
Refuge—a
vast
inclosure,
whose
stone
walls
were
twenty
feet
thick
at
the
base,
and
fifteen
feet high;
an
oblong
square, a
thousand
and
forty
feet
one
way
and
a
fraction
under
seven
hundred
the
other.
Within
this
inclosure,
in
early
times, has been
three
rude
temples;
each
two
hundred
and
ten
feet
long
by
one
hundred
wide,
and
thirteen
high.
In
those
days,
if
a
man
killed
another
anywhere
on
the
island
the
relatives
were
privileged
to
take
the
murderer's life;
and
then
a
chase
for
life
and
liberty
began—the
outlawed
criminal
flying
through
pathless forests
and
over
mountain
and
plain,
with
his
hopes
fixed
upon
the
protecting
walls
of
the
City
of
Refuge,
and
the
avenger
of
blood
following
hotly
after
him! Sometimes
the
race
was
kept
up
to
the
very
gates
of
the
temple,
and
the
panting
pair
sped
through
long
files
of
excited natives,
who
watched
the
contest
with
flashing
eye
and
dilated
nostril,
encouraging
the
hunted
refugee
with
sharp, inspiriting ejaculations,
and
sending
up
a ringing shout
of
exultation
when
the
saving gates closed
upon
him
and
the
cheated pursuer sank exhausted
at
the
threshold.
But
sometimes
the
flying
criminal
fell
under
the
hand
of
the
avenger
at
the
very
door,
when
one
more
brave
stride,
one
more
brief
second
of
time
would
have
brought
his
feet
upon
the
sacred
ground
and
barred
him
against
all
harm.
Where
did
these
isolated
pagans
get
this
idea
of
a
City
of
Refuge—this
ancient
Oriental custom?
This
old
sanctuary
was
sacred
to
all—even
to
rebels
in
arms
and
invading
armies.
Once
within
its
walls,
and
confession
made
to
the
priest
and
absolution
obtained,
the
wretch
with
a
price
upon
his
head
could
go
forth
without
fear
and
without
danger—he
was
tabu,
and
to
harm
him
was
death.
The
routed rebels
in
the
lost
battle
for
idolatry
fled
to
this
place
to
claim
sanctuary,
and
many
were
thus
saved. Close
to
the
corner
of
the
great
inclosure
is
a round structure
of
stone,
some
six
or
eight
feet high,
with
a
level
top
about
ten
or
twelve
in
diameter.
This
was
the
place
of
execution. A high
palisade
of
cocoanut
piles
shut
out
the
cruel
scenes
from
the
vulgar
multitude.
Here
criminals
were
killed,
the
flesh
stripped
from
the
bones
and
burned,
and
the
bones
secreted
in
holes
in
the
body
of
the
structure.
If
the
man
had been
guilty
of
a high crime,
the
entire
corpse
was
burned.
The
walls
of
the
temple
are
a study.
The
same
food
for
speculation
that
is
offered
the
visitor
to
the
Pyramids
of
Egypt
he
will
find here—the
mystery
of
how
they
were
constructed
by
a
people
unacquainted
with
science
and
mechanics.
The
natives
have
no
invention
of
their
own
for
hoisting
heavy weights,
they
had
no
beasts
of
burden,
and
they
have
never
even
shown
any
knowledge
of
the
properties
of
the
lever.
Yet
some
of
the
lava
blocks quarried out, brought
over
rough,
broken
ground,
and
built
into
this
wall,
six
or
seven
feet
from
the
ground,
are
of
prodigious
size
and
would
weigh
tons.
How
did
they
transport
and
how
raise
them?
Both
the
inner
and
outer
surfaces
of
the
walls
present
a
smooth
front
and
are
very
creditable
specimens
of
masonry.
The
blocks
are
of
all
manner
of
shapes
and
sizes,
but
yet
are
fitted
together
with
the
neatest
exactness.
The
gradual
narrowing
of
the
wall
from
the
base
upward
is
accurately
preserved.
No
cement
was
used,
but
the
edifice
is
firm
and
compact
and
is
capable
of
resisting
storm
and
decay
for
centuries.
Who
built
this
temple,
and
how
was
it
built,
and
when,
are
mysteries
that
may
never
be
unraveled. Outside
of
these
ancient
walls
lies a
sort
of
coffin-shaped
stone
eleven
feet
four
inches
long
and
three
feet
square
at
the
small
end
(it
would
weigh
a
few
thousand
pounds),
which
the
high
chief
who
held
sway
over
this
district
many
centuries
ago
brought
thither
on
his
shoulder
one
day
to
use
as
a lounge!
This
circumstance
is
established
by
the
most
reliable traditions.
He
used
to
lie
down
on
it,
in
his
indolent
way,
and
keep
an
eye
on
his
subjects
at
work
for
him
and
see
that
there
was
no
"soldiering" done.
And
no
doubt
there
was
not
any
done
to
speak
of,
because
he
was
a
man
of
that
sort
of
build
that
incites
to
attention
to
business
on
the
part
of
an
employee.
He
was
fourteen
or
fifteen
feet high.
When
he
stretched
himself
at
full
length
on
his
lounge,
his
legs
hung
down
over
the
end,
and
when
he
snored
he
woke
the
dead.
These
facts
are
all
attested
by
irrefragable
tradition.
On
the
other
side
of
the
temple
is
a
monstrous
seven-ton rock,
eleven
feet long,
seven
feet
wide
and
three
feet thick.
It
is
raised
a
foot
or
a
foot
and
a
half
above
the
ground,
and
rests
upon
half
a
dozen
little
stony
pedestals.
The
same
old
fourteen-footer brought
it
down
from
the
mountain, merely
for
fun
(he had
his
own
notions
about
fun),
and
propped
it
up
as
we
find
it
now
and
as
others
may
find
it
a
century
hence,
for
it
would
take
a score
of
horses
to
budge
it
from
its
position.
They
say
that
fifty
or
sixty
years
ago
the
proud
Queen
Kaahumanu used
to
fly
to
this
rock
for
safety, whenever
she
had been
making
trouble
with
her
fierce
husband,
and
hide
under
it
until
his
wrath
was
appeased.
But
these
Kanakas
will
lie,
and
this
statement
is
one
of
their
ablest
efforts—for Kaahumanu
was
six
feet high—she
was
bulky—she
was
built
like
an
ox—and
she
could
no
more
have
squeezed
herself
under
that
rock
than
she
could
have
passed
between
the
cylinders
of
a sugar mill.
What
could
she
gain
by
it,
even
if
she
succeeded?
To
be
chased
and
abused
by
a savage husband
could
not
be
otherwise
than
humiliating
to
her
high spirit,
yet
it
could
never
make
her
feel
so
flat
as
an
hour's
repose
under
that
rock would.
We
walked a
mile
over
a
raised
macadamized
road
of
uniform width; a
road
paved
with
flat
stones
and
exhibiting
in
its
every
detail
a
considerable
degree
of
engineering skill.
Some
say
that
that
wise
old
pagan, Kamehameha I
planned
and
built it,
but
others
say
it
was
built
so
long
before
his
time
that
the
knowledge
of
who
constructed
it
has
passed
out
of
the
traditions.
In
either
case, however,
as
the
handiwork
of
an
untaught
and
degraded
race
it
is
a
thing
of
pleasing
interest.
The
stones
are
worn
and
smooth,
and
pushed
apart
in
places,
so
that
the
road
has
the
exact
appearance
of
those
ancient
paved
highways
leading
out
of
Rome
which
one
sees
in
pictures.
The
object
of
our
tramp
was
to
visit
a
great
natural
curiosity
at
the
base
of
the
foothills—a
congealed
cascade
of
lava.
Some
old
forgotten
volcanic
eruption
sent
its
broad
river
of
fire
down
the
mountain
side
here,
and
it
poured
down
in
a
great
torrent
from
an
overhanging bluff
some
fifty
feet high
to
the
ground below.
The
flaming
torrent
cooled
in
the
winds
from
the
sea,
and
remains
there
to-day,
all
seamed,
and
frothed
and
rippled a petrified Niagara.
It
is
very
picturesque,
and
withal
so
natural
that
one
might
almost
imagine
it
still
flowed. A smaller
stream
trickled
over
the
cliff
and
built
up
an
isolated
pyramid
about
thirty
feet high,
which
has
the
semblance
of
a
mass
of
large
gnarled
and
knotted
vines
and
roots
and
stems
intricately
twisted
and
woven together.
We
passed
in
behind
the
cascade
and
the
pyramid,
and
found
the
bluff pierced
by
several
cavernous
tunnels,
whose
crooked
courses
we
followed
a
long
distance.
Two
of
these
winding
tunnels
stand
as
proof
of
Nature's mining abilities.
Their
floors
are
level,
they
are
seven
feet wide,
and
their
roofs
are
gently arched.
Their
height
is
not
uniform, however.
We
passed
through
one
a
hundred
feet long,
which
leads
through
a
spur
of
the
hill
and
opens
out
well
up
in
the
sheer
wall
of
a
precipice
whose
foot
rests
in
the
waves
of
the
sea.
It
is
a
commodious
tunnel,
except
that
there
are
occasional
places
in
it
where
one
must
stoop
to
pass under.
The
roof
is
lava,
of
course,
and
is
thickly
studded
with
little
lava-pointed
icicles
an
inch long,
which
hardened
as
they
dripped.
They
project
as
closely
together
as
the
iron teeth
of
a corn-sheller,
and
if
one
will
stand
up
straight
and
walk
any
distance there,
he
can
get
his
hair
combed
free
of
charge.