Authors: Charles Knief
Silversword (9 page)
Her eyes burned with a kind of cold fire. Her forearms were covered with chicken skin. “Do you know why I looked for a certain ship? Why that name?”
I shook my head.
“Earlier this year I discovered the tomb of an ali'i in the most unexpected location. It was a combination of luck and circumstance that I found this tomb. It is difficult to get to, and has been hidden for hundreds of years. I have taken every precaution to ensure that nobody knows what I am doing and why.”
She cleared her throat, sipped some coffee, and looked directly at me. Gone was the shy student. Miss Wong could not hide the pride and the awe in her voice.
“It is the tomb of a man I believe to be the greatest king of the Hawaiians, long believed to be lost, so well hidden that nobody would ever find it. With the tomb was treasure. Spanish treasure. On several of the artifacts was written the name of that vessel. All the gold and silver that could be crowded into the holds of a Spanish galleon is now in that Hawaiian tomb, resting with the remains that I believe are those of King Kamehameha.
“The Lonely One was buried with Spanish Treasure.”
T
he Lonely One?”
he Lonely One?”
I looked at Kimo, who shook his head. He was out of his depth here and admitted it. So was I. Spanish treasure? King Kamehameha the Great, first king of Hawaii? What could any of it have to do with me?
“Would you like some more coffee, Tutu Mae?” I asked.
“Would you happen to have a little rum? Could you add a small drop?”
“Certainly.”
“Coffee isn't good for the body. But rum makes everything work,” she said.
Kimo smiled and got to his feet. “I'll do it,” he said. “I know how much a âdrop' is these days. I'm afraid that you wouldn't put enough in.”
“Oh.”
“Big drops,” said Kimo, with a little grin.
I thought about it for a two-count. Felix wasn't around. “Give me some, too.”
“Big drops?”
“I wouldn't want Tutu Mae to feel lonely. Anything for you, Miss Wong?”
“No, but thank you.”
“You were saying?”
“Do you know about the bones?”
I noticed that Miss Wong lectured through questions. The technique usually irritated me. It's what people usually do when they know something in a narrow area and use it to demonstrate their superior knowledge. In that one area. In this case I felt that she was trying to gauge my level of understanding of the subject. It would save time, for example, if I knew something about the bones of the ancient Hawaiians.
“I know that the Hawaiians honor the bones of the people,” I said. “They are sacred, if I remember correctly. The most important part of us, the part that lasts after our flesh is gone.” I noticed that Tutu Mae rubbed her own elbow as I spoke, and I wondered if she might have been considering her own mortality.
“Good, Mr. Caine,” said Miss Wong. “The bones of the common folk are honored. Bones of great men are revered. The bones of the greatest king these islands ever knew are valuable far beyond the mere scientific and historic. They have great cultural and religious significance, as well.”
“So you think you found Kamehameha.”
“I think I found his tomb. We're not sure. We're not even sure how to proceed with provenance. Because of where it is, and because of what is buried with it, I have a strong belief that what we found is the final resting place of Kamehameha I.”
I glanced out the window, watching the tourists playing on the sand and the gentle surf of Waikiki. This was one of the old king's favorite beaches. I wondered how he would react to the giant hotels, the ABC Stores, and Crazy Shirts.
“Are you listening, Mr. Caine?”
“Yes.”
“People have sought the bones of Kamehameha I for centuries,” she continued. “Every so often someone claims to have found them. And then the claim is proven false and the poor soul is reinterred. There are plenty of bones in the mountains.”
I nodded again, remembering the hundreds of skeletons
uncovered during the last hurricane. It took months to get them all back into their mountain burial caves.
uncovered during the last hurricane. It took months to get them all back into their mountain burial caves.
“The search for Kamehameha has been described as the Hawaiian Holy Grail. It would be very good for the person who finds the actual site. If it were handled correctly.”
Kimo brought the rum-laced coffee. I saw that he'd found a beer for himself.
“What do you mean?”
“If the site were plundered, if the material were removed from its location and brought to a museum or a university, there could be trouble.”
“How?” It seemed odd, speaking of old bones as if they actually had power to cause trouble.
“The bones carry the mana, or spirit energy, of the family. We cannot move the bones because of the harm it would do to the descendents of the person in the tomb. I have been very careful to work around them. It has caused us a great deal of additional tasks, and it is not in the best of locations. But we have been extremely careful not to disturb the bones. You, of course, know about scattering the bones?”
“No.”
“That is why Kamehameha's body was hidden in the first place. His people were afraid that if his bones fell into the wrong hands they could be used against his own. Or, worse, they would be scattered. There is a cursing chant, when you scatter the bones of your enemy. It destroys his spirit for all eternity.”
I nodded, trying to go along. This wasn't my area. It was like listening to ghost stories. Interesting, but futile.
“Scattering his bones would be the worst thing that could happen to the Hawaiian people,” she continued. If she had expected a reaction from me she had been disappointed. When I had nothing to say I contented myself with silence. “Because he was so powerful and important, the chief ali'i, the scattering of his bones could possibly lead to the destruction of the Hawaiian people's spirit energy.”
I stared at her, wondering how this obviously bright woman could believe this kind of nonsense. She didn't see the disbelief in my eyes. If she did, it didn't bother her because she plunged ahead.
“In the hands of the Hawaiian separatists, the bones could become the catalyst for revolution. Those who had them would feel that they had been granted a power they would not otherwise have.”
“You're not just talking about the Antiquities Repatriation Act?”
“You would know something of that?”
“I helped a friend rebury his auntie a few years ago. The female skeleton that had been in the University of California at Berkeley since 1928. I helped him retrieve it from the university. We brought it back and reburied it in the mountains of Kauai.”
“I read about that. You were involved?”
“I just helped. But I learned about the Act.” Some of the things that Ed Alapai had told me flooded back. The importance of the bones, the gravity of the Hawaiians' feelings about them. They were the only permanent things of the body. They would last. It was that permanence that granted them their importance. It had been extremely important to Ed. I had listened, and respected his wishes, and helped him return the bones, not questioning what it was he wanted, or why. This was the same thing. I listened to Donna Wong a little more carefully.
“So you know that we don't just plunder tombs for the educational value. There are more advanced techniques we can use these days. We need the information, but we do not have to scatter the bones. We survey. We videotape. We photograph. Everything. There are three-dimensional photographic techniques that virtually capture an object as if it were actually there. The only thing we cannot replicate is the weight. We make certain that everything we find is identified and catalogued, listed and captured electronically. If we have to take samples, we do so with a minimum of damage.”
“You spoke of secrecy,” I said, now really listening for the first time. “Yet you talk of âwe.' Who is âwe?'”
“My sisters and I are the only ones who have worked the site. We are the only ones who know exactly where it is.”
“And it would be bad if the information got out?”
She nodded, her face a serious mask. “Very bad.”
Tutu Mae said, “Think of the bones. The bones of Kamehameha should never be disturbed. It would be the same as disinterring those of Washington or Lincoln. But there are those who think they can take anything, as if it is their right. No one should have that right.”
“If news of the treasure were to get out, there would be no stopping the media and the treasure hunters. They would tear the tomb apart plundering the gold and silver. They would destroy all of the other artifacts we found.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“When we're finished studying the remains and the artifacts we're going to seal the entrance so it cannot be found again.”
“What makes you so sure nobody else can find it? You did.”
“The old ones left clues. They thought they'd hidden it well, but they left enough clues for us to follow their trail. Still, they did a good job. It took two hundred years.”
“If it's Kamehameha.”
She smiled like the Cheshire Cat. “Yes,” she said, as if she
knew
.
knew
.
“Well, thank you for allowing me to hear this story,” I said. “But what does it have to do with me?”
“Do you swear to secrecy, Mr. Caine? Do you swear that you will not reveal what I am about to tell you without my express permission?”
“You can count on it, Miss Wong,” I said, wondering if I should hold up my right hand.
“You must know,” said Tutu Mae, again surging out of the deep chair cushions, pointing a bony finger in my direction, “that this discovery belongs entirely to Miss Wong. No one else had the
brains or the tenacity to make this find. It was not accidental. In fact, it was truly the work of genius.”
brains or the tenacity to make this find. It was not accidental. In fact, it was truly the work of genius.”
Donna Wong blushed at the praise.
I finished my coffee and rum. There were worse ways of whiling away an afternoon. Even in Waikiki.
“There are only so many places the tomb could have been located,” said Donna Wong. “Some scholars and even a few contemporary witnesses speculated that his bones had been thrown into the Kilauea caldera to avoid having them found and used by enemy sorcerers.”
“Scattering the bones,” I said.
“Yes. But tossing them into the volcano would have destroyed them, and that is not something you do with an ali'i's remains. Especially those of a Kamehameha.
“Since that made no sense culturally, and since the cavesâdo you know the Kona Coast, Mr. Caine?”
I nodded. It was a wasteland of lava, as barren of life as anyplace on earth, entirely inhospitable. Except for two or three luxury resorts that had been constructed there at great expense, nothing exists on the Kona Coast.
“Then you know that Kailua, where Kamehameha died, is close to the lava flows. There had been an eruption of Hualalai a dozen or so years before his death. He would have known about that. Most certainly he would have considered that. The most recent lava flows can still be seen today, running across older lava fields on into the sea.”
“Isn't that one extinct? I thought only Kilauea was active.”
“A volcano is defined as active if it has erupted during historic time. That means that any volcano whose eruption has been recorded in written accounts. Certainly Hualalai is still active, given those parameters. As is Mauna Loa, whose last eruption was in 1985, and certainly Kilauea, which continues erupting today. But Haleakala on Maui, which had a spectacular event in 1790, is also classified by the International Association of Volcanology and Chemistry as an active volcano.”
“Oh.”
“The problem the volcanologists have here is that written history in other places in the world dates back five to six thousand years. In Hawaii we have had writing for only a few hundred. Since Contact in 1778. Well, actually, now we know about a hundred years earlier, but those men did not return and aside from that map, which no one can account for, made no record of their visit. These may all be active volcanoes. They might awaken at any moment. It would not surprise me to see Diamond Head spewing lava someday.”
I looked out the window at the peak of the old cone. It would sure drop the property values in Waikiki.
“In that lava desert we found ancient workers' camps. Large numbers of men had lived and worked along that coast at least a decade. But there was no other record or mention in contemporary sources as to the reason.
“I searched the stone records, the petroglyphs, and found something that fascinated me. A large lava boulder had been upended, turned over so that the flat side was face down. The exposed bottom had been turned over a few hundred years before, but still looked as if it had been exposed only yesterday. It was obvious what had occurred.
“At the edge of the flat surface I found etching in the rock, difficult to make out. It disappeared under the boulder so I knew that the rock had been purposely turned over, as if someone had attempted to hide the petroglyph. We brought in heavy equipment and turned it.
“At first it was disappointing. Someone had etched a detailed petroglyph of what appeared to be a maze on the flat side of the rock. The etching was faded, but not weathered by a thousand years in the elements, so we photographed it and brought it back with computer enhancement and studied it. Suddenly it hit me. It was a tomb. The petroglyph was a blueprint of a tomb that the workers were either constructing or repairing.” She looked at me expectantly.
“Go on,” I said.
“But where was it? We could see no natural structures that
resembled the blueprint, as we came to call it. We hired aerial photographs in black-and-white that showed us nothing. Then we had some done in color.
resembled the blueprint, as we came to call it. We hired aerial photographs in black-and-white that showed us nothing. Then we had some done in color.
“The color photograph also showed the reef and the underwater rock formations in the shallow waters off the coast. Something about the blueprint matched the formations about half a kilometer from the campsite.
Other books
Blue Moon Promise by Colleen Coble
Rembrandt's Mirror by Devereux, Kim
Our First Love by Anthony Lamarr
Poison at the PTA by Laura Alden
CATCH (The Billionaire's Rules, Book 14) by Kelly Favor
The Stranger Beside Me by Simone Holloway
Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper by Alan Early
Broken Moon: Part 1 by King, Claudia
Holding On by Karen Stivali
City of Boys by Beth Nugent