On the Makaloa Mat/Island Tales by Jack London

myriad of them, beautiful ones, from an ounce in weight for the

finer carving of idols to fifteen pounds for the felling of trees,

and all with the sweetest handles I have ever beheld.

“There were the kaekeekes–you know, our ancient drums, hollowed

sections of the coconut tree, covered one end with shark-skin. The

first kaekeeke of all Hawaii Ahuna pointed out to me and told me

the tale. It was manifestly most ancient. He was afraid to touch

it for fear the age-rotted wood of it would crumble to dust, the

ragged tatters of the shark-skin head of it still attached. ‘This

is the very oldest and father of all our kaekeekes,’ Ahuna told me.

‘Kila, the son of Moikeha, brought it back from far Raiatea in the

South Pacific. And it was Kila’s own son, Kahai, who made that

same journey, and was gone ten years, and brought back with him

from Tahiti the first breadfruit trees that sprouted and grew on

Hawaiian soil.’

“And the bones and bones! The parcel-delivery array of them!

Besides the small bundles of the long bones, there were full

skeletons, tapa-wrapped, lying in one-man, and two- and three-man

canoes of precious koa wood, with curved outriggers of wiliwili

wood, and proper paddles to hand with the io-projection at the

point simulating the continuance of the handle, as if, like a

skewer, thrust through the flat length of the blade. And their war

weapons were laid away by the sides of the lifeless bones that had

wielded them–rusty old horse-pistols, derringers, pepper-boxes,

five-barrelled fantastiques, Kentucky long riffles, muskets handled

in trade by John Company and Hudson’s Bay, shark-tooth swords,

wooden stabbing-knives, arrows and spears bone-headed of the fish

and the pig and of man, and spears and arrows wooden-headed and

On the Makaloa Mat/Island Tales

69

fire-hardened.

“Ahuna put a spear in my hand, headed and pointed finely with the

long shin-bone of a man, and told me the tale of it. But first he

unwrapped the long bones, arms, and legs, of two parcels, the

bones, under the wrappings, neatly tied like so many faggots.

‘This,’ said Ahuna, exhibiting the pitiful white contents of one

parcel, ‘is Laulani. She was the wife of Akaiko, whose bones, now

placed in your hands, much larger and male-like as you observe,

held up the flesh of a large man, a three-hundred pounder seven-

footer, three centuries agone. And this spear-head is made of the

shin-bone of Keola, a mighty wrestler and runner of their own time

and place. And he loved Laulani, and she fled with him. But in a

forgotten battle on the sands of Kalini, Akaiko rushed the lines of

the enemy, leading the charge that was successful, and seized upon

Keola, his wife’s lover, and threw him to the ground, and sawed

through his neck to the death with a shark-tooth knife. Thus, in

the old days as always, did man combat for woman with man. And

Laulani was beautiful; that Keola should be made into a spearhead

for her! She was formed like a queen, and her body was a long bowl

of sweetness, and her fingers lomi’d’ (massaged) ‘to slimness and

smallness at her mother’s breast. For ten generations have we

remembered her beauty. Your father’s singing boys to-day sing of

her beauty in the hula that is named of her! This is Laulani, whom

you hold in your hands.’

“And, Ahuna done, I could but gaze, with imagination at the one

time sobered and fired. Old drunken Howard had lent me his

Tennyson, and I had mooned long and often over the Idyls of the

King. Here were the three, I thought–Arthur, and Launcelot, and

Guinevere. This, then, I pondered, was the end of it all, of life

and strife and striving and love, the weary spirits of these long-

gone ones to be invoked by fat old women and mangy sorcerers, the

bones of them to be esteemed of collectors and betted on horse-

races and ace-fulls or to be sold for cash and invested in sugar

stocks.

“For me it was illumination. I learned there in the burial-cave

the great lesson. And to Ahuna I said: ‘The spear headed with the

long bone of Keola I shall take for my own. Never shall I sell it.

I shall keep it always.’

“‘And for what purpose?’ he demanded. And I replied: ‘That the

contemplation of it may keep my hand sober and my feet on earth

with the knowledge that few men are fortunate enough to have as

much of a remnant of themselves as will compose a spearhead when

they are three centuries dead.’

“And Ahuna bowed his head, and praised my wisdom of judgment. But

at that moment the long-rotted olona-cord broke and the pitiful

woman’s bones of Laulani shed from my clasp and clattered on the

rocky floor. One shin-bone, in some way deflected, fell under the

dark shadow of a canoe-bow, and I made up my mind that it should be

On the Makaloa Mat/Island Tales

70

mine. So I hastened to help him in the picking up of the bones and

the tying, so that he did not notice its absence.

“‘This,’ said Ahuna, introducing me to another of my ancestors, ‘is

your great-grandfather, Mokomoku, the father of Kaaukuu. Behold

the size of his bones. He was a giant. I shall carry him, because

of the long spear of Keola that will be difficult for you to carry

away. And this is Lelemahoa, your grandmother, the mother of your

mother, that you shall carry. And day grows short, and we must

still swim up through the waters to the sun ere darkness hides the

sun from the world.’

“But Ahuna, putting out the various calabashes of light by drowning

the wicks in the whale-oil, did not observe me include the shinbone

of Laulani with the bones of my grandmother.”

The honk of the automobile, sent up from Olokona to rescue us,

broke off the Prince’s narrative. We said good-bye to the ancient

and fresh-pensioned wahine, and departed. A half-mile on our way,

Prince Akuli resumed.

“So Ahuna and I returned to Hiwilani, and to her happiness, lasting

to her death the year following, two more of her ancestors abided

about her in the jars of her twilight room. Also, she kept her

compact and worried my father into sending me to England. I took

old Howard along, and he perked up and confuted the doctors, so

that it was three years before I buried him restored to the bosom

of my family. Sometimes I think he was the most brilliant man I

have ever known. Not until my return from England did Ahuna die,

the last custodian of our alii secrets. And at his death-bed he

pledged me again never to reveal the location in that nameless

valley, and never to go back myself.

“Much else I have forgotten to mention did I see there in the cave

that one time. There were the bones of Kumi, the near demigod, son

of Tui Manua of Samoa, who, in the long before, married into my

line and heaven-boosted my genealogy. And the bones of my great-

grandmother who had slept in the four-poster presented her by Lord

Byron. And Ahuna hinted tradition that there was reason for that

presentation, as well as for the historically known lingering of

the Blonde in Olokona for so long. And I held her poor bones in my

hands–bones once fleshed with sensate beauty, informed with

sparkle and spirit, instinct with love and love-warmness of arms

around and eyes and lips together, that had begat me in the end of

the generations unborn. It was a good experience. I am modern,

’tis true. I believe in no mystery stuff of old time nor of the

kahunas. And yet, I saw in that cave things which I dare not name

to you, and which I, since old Ahuna died, alone of the living

know. I have no children. With me my long line ceases. This is

the twentieth century, and we stink of gasolene. Nevertheless

these other and nameless things shall die with me. I shall never

revisit the burial-place. Nor in all time to come will any man

gaze upon it through living eyes unless the quakes of earth rend

On the Makaloa Mat/Island Tales

71

the mountains asunder and spew forth the secrets contained in the

hearts of the mountains.”

Prince Akuli ceased from speech. With welcome relief on his face,

he removed the lei hala from his neck, and, with a sniff and a

sigh, tossed it into concealment in the thick lantana by the side

of the road.

“But the shin-bone of Laulani?” I queried softly.

He remained silent while a mile of pasture land fled by us and

yielded to caneland.

“I have it now,” he at last said. “And beside it is Keola, slain

ere his time and made into a spear-head for love of the woman whose

Leave a Reply