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in the ship crowding to the vessel's side and gazing in anxious dismay
toward the shorethebut I discovered that I could not do it。
It was growing dark； the rain began to fall； we could see that the
distant Boomerang was helplessly becalmed at sea； and so I adjourned to
the cheerless little box of a warehouse and sat down to smoke and think；
and wish the ship would make the landfor we had not eaten much for ten
hours and were viciously hungry。
Plain unvarnished history takes the romance out of Captain Cook's
assassination； and renders a deliberate verdict of justifiable homicide。
Wherever he went among the islands； he was cordially received and
welcomed by the inhabitants； and his ships lavishly supplied with all
manner of food。 He returned these kindnesses with insult and ill…
treatment。 Perceiving that the people took him for the long vanished and
lamented god Lono； he encouraged them in the delusion for the sake of the
limitless power it gave him； but during the famous disturbance at this
spot； and while he and his comrades were surrounded by fifteen thousand
maddened savages； he received a hurt and betrayed his earthly origin with
a groan。 It was his death…warrant。 Instantly a shout went up： 〃He
groans！he is not a god！〃 So they closed in upon him and dispatched him。
His flesh was stripped from the bones and burned （except nine pounds of
it which were sent on board the ships）。 The heart was hung up in a
native hut； where it was found and eaten by three children； who mistook
it for the heart of a dog。 One of these children grew to be a very old
man； and died in Honolulu a few years ago。 Some of Cook's bones were
recovered and consigned to the deep by the officers of the ships。
Small blame should attach to the natives for the killing of Cook。
They treated him well。 In return； he abused them。 He and his men
inflicted bodily injury upon many of them at different times； and killed
at least three of them before they offered any proportionate retaliation。
Near the shore we found 〃Cook's Monument〃only a cocoanut stump； four
feet high and about a foot in diameter at the butt。 It had lava boulders
piled around its base to hold it up and keep it in its place； and it was
entirely sheathed over； from top to bottom； with rough； discolored sheets
of copper； such as ships' bottoms are coppered with。 Each sheet had a
rude inscription scratched upon itwith a nail； apparentlyand in every
case the execution was wretched。 Most of these merely recorded the
visits of British naval commanders to the spot； but one of them bore this
legend：
〃Near this spot fell
CAPTAIN JAMES COOK；
The Distinguished Circumnavigator； who Discovered these Islands
A。 D。 1778。
After Cook's murder； his second in command； on board the ship； opened
fire upon the swarms of natives on the beach； and one of his cannon balls
cut this cocoanut tree short off and left this monumental stump standing。
It looked sad and lonely enough to us； out there in the rainy twilight。
But there is no other monument to Captain Cook。 True； up on the mountain
side we had passed by a large inclosure like an ample hog…pen； built of
lava blocks； which marks the spot where Cook's flesh was stripped from
his bones and burned； but this is not properly a monument since it was
erected by the natives themselves； and less to do honor to the
circumnavigator than for the sake of convenience in roasting him。
A thing like a guide…board was elevated above this pen on a tall pole；
and formerly there was an inscription upon it describing the memorable
occurrence that had there taken place； but the sun and the wind have long
ago so defaced it as to render it illegible。
Toward midnight a fine breeze sprang up and the schooner soon worked
herself into the bay and cast anchor。 The boat came ashore for us； and
in a little while the clouds and the rain were all gone。 The moon was
beaming tranquilly down on land and sea； and we two were stretched upon
the deck sleeping the refreshing sleep and dreaming the happy dreams that
are only vouchsafed to the weary and the innocent。
CHAPTER LXXII。
In the breezy morning we went ashore and visited the ruined temple of the
last god Lono。 The high chief cook of this templethe priest who
presided over it and roasted the human sacrificeswas uncle to Obookia；
and at one time that youth was an apprentice…priest under him。 Obookia
was a young native of fine mind； who； together with three other native
boys； was taken to New England by the captain of a whaleship during the
reign of Kamehameha I； and they were the means of attracting the
attention of the religious world to their country。 This resulted in the
sending of missionaries there。 And this Obookia was the very same
sensitive savage who sat down on the church steps and wept because his
people did not have the Bible。 That incident has been very elaborately
painted in many a charming Sunday School bookaye； and told so
plaintively and so tenderly that I have cried over it in Sunday School
myself； on general principles； although at a time when I did not know
much and could not understand why the people of the Sandwich Islands
needed to worry so much about it as long as they did not know there was a
Bible at all。
Obookia was converted and educated； and was to have returned to his
native land with the first missionaries； had he lived。 The other native
youths made the voyage； and two of them did good service； but the third；
William Kanui； fell from grace afterward； for a time； and when the gold
excitement broke out in California he journeyed thither and went to
mining； although he was fifty years old。 He succeeded pretty well； but
the failure of Page； Bacon & Co。 relieved him of six thousand dollars；
and then； to all intents and purposes； he was a bankrupt in his old age
and he resumed service in the pulpit again。 He died in Honolulu in 1864。
Quite a broad tract of land near the temple； extending from the sea to
the mountain top； was sacred to the god Lono in olden timesso sacred
that if a common native set his sacrilegious foot upon it it was
judicious for him to make his will； because his time had come。 He might
go around it by water； but he could not cross it。 It was well sprinkled
with pagan temples and stocked with awkward； homely idols carved out of
logs of wood。 There was a temple devoted to prayers for rainand with
fine sagacity it was placed at a point so well up on the mountain side
that if you prayed there twenty…four times a day for rain you would be
likely to get it every time。 You would seldom get to your Amen before
you would have to hoist your umbrella。
And there was a large temple near at hand which was built in a single
night； in the midst of storm and thunder and rain； by the ghastly hands
of dead men！ Tradition says that by the weird glare of the lightning a
noiseless multitude of phantoms were seen at their strange labor far up
the mountain side at dead of nightflitting hither and thither and
bearing great lava…blocks clasped in their nerveless fingersappearing
and disappearing as the pallid lustre fell upon their forms and faded
away ag