In the morning while it was still dark, they roused and started afresh. Their way led through lehua groves of the most luxuriant growth, the bloom of which crimsons the landscape to this day, exuding a honey that is most attractive to the birds of heaven. The cool still air wafted to their ears the hum of voices which was soon explained when they came upon a bevy of girls who were busily plucking the bright flowers to string into wreaths and garlands, in anticipation of some entertainment. This rural scene made an appeal to the poet in Hiiaka which she could not resist:

TRANSLATION

At sight of Hiiaka’s party, the lively flower-girls made a rush, as if to capture and appropriate their friendly acquaintance for individual possession. The most vivacious and forward of the whole party was Pa-pulehu, their leader, a buxom young woman, of good family, who at once took possession of Hiiaka for herself, crowned and bedecked her with wreaths and garlands, with many expressions of enthusiastic admiration: “This is my friend!—What a beauty!—How the scarlet lehua becomes her!—Just look, girls!—And now you are to come and be my guest.—The feast is set for this very day.—But you are all welcome.”

The unrestrained gush of the young woman’s rattling talk was quite in contrast to the selected words of Hiiaka.

Now Pa-pulehu was of a large and important family, embracing numerous friends and relations, and, having ample means, her hospitalities were unstinted. The report spread quickly, “Pa-pulehu has a distinguished guest come to visit her. There is to be a feast this afternoon. All are invited.”

The tables were spread with a great variety of fish, meats, fruits and vegetables. The parents and guardians of the girl, nevertheless, came to her and inquired, “What is there that this young woman, your friend, would specially like to eat?” PaÚ-o-pala’e took it upon her to answer, that the one thing that would be most acceptable to Hiiaka would be a dish of luau. Thereupon a large quantity of young and delicate taro leaves were prepared for the table.

When they were gathered at the tables, Hiiaka sitting in the place of honor, PaÚ-o-pala’e, at her request, bade all the people incline their heads and close their eyes. Then Hiiaka called upon her allies, the Sun, the Moon, the Stars, the elements and all the gods to come to the feast and partake; and when the prayer was ended and they opened their eyes—lo, the tables spread for Hiiaka were empty! Hiiaka had not been seen to take into her hands any of the food that was spread before her. It had vanished away as a drop of water evaporates in the heat of the sun.

The feast being concluded, Hiiaka rose, bade good bye to the people and resumed her journey, taking with her Pa-pulehu.

This girl Pa-pulehu was of genuine flesh and blood, with no blend of divine ichor in her veins, such as enriched the blood of Hiiaka; nor had she, like Wahine-oma’o and PaÚ-o-pala’e, been strengthened and made more resistant to spiritual and physical foes—a privilege granted to those who had enjoyed a close approach to Pele as attendants and worshippers. This weakness in her nature had its influence in determining the fate to which her history now quickly leads.

Their journey still lay through Puna. They were at Kalalau, not far from Haena (at the place where, centuries afterwards, Kamehameha was struck with that well-nigh fatal blow by an outraged fisherman). Some fishermen were hauling in their nets full of fish. The sight was too much for Pa-pulehu. “I hunger for fish,” she exclaimed. “These fish belong to my father. Oh, if I only were at home! how I would eat until I was satisfied!”

Hiiaka thought it best to indulge the appetite of this novice in her service. From a little knoll overlooking the ocean, she descried the canoe of a fisherman named Pahulu floating in the offing, but already well stocked with fish. Hiiaka used her power and drove away the school of fish that would have come to his net. The man himself was so intent on his work that he had no eyes for what was passing on shore; but his assistant exclaimed, “Look at the beautiful woman standing on the shore and watching us!”

“I must keep my eyes on my nets,” the fisherman replied.

Thereupon Hiiaka attracted his attention with a song:

TRANSLATION

This brought the two fishermen ashore who thereupon willingly parted with some of their fish to Hiiaka, coupling the gift, however, with a proposition insulting to the honor of the two women. The fishermen, imagining they had the two women under their power, were soon after seen lying in the open embracing two figures of stone which they, in their insane infatuation, fancied were the two women, thus exposing themselves to the jeers and derision of their fellows.

Pa-pulehu cooked and ate the fish, but her manner of eating was lacking in due punctilio, in that she did not dispose properly of the unconsumed parts—the tails, fins, bones and scales—of the fish. She should have burned or buried them; instead she left them lying about in a slovenly way. This neglect was highly offensive to Pele and caused her to withdraw from Pa-pulehu the protection she otherwise would have given her.