The Long Journeys Home. Nick Bellantoni

alongside. He would be with me for the disinterment of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and was especially valuable in the systematic removal of the stone monument weighing above the burial and in organizing the volunteer field crew.

      In the late spring of 1993, Dave, along with volunteers, Richard (Dick) LaRose and Gary Hottin, both avocational archaeologists, and William (Bill) Keegan, an undergraduate student of mine from the University of Connecticut, were assisting in the mitigation of sites associated with the 19^th century Enfield Shaker’s farming community. Lego, manufacturer of the popular plastic building blocks, was planning expansion of its offices and warehouse immediately adjacent to the Shaker South Family Farm; as state archaeologist I had raised concerns for the necessity of an archaeological survey to ensure that construction activities would have no adverse effect on any significant cultural resources associated with this National Register of Historic Places property.⁵⁴ The five of us where in the field salvaging a mid-19^th century Shaker refuse deposit when I casually mentioned the ‘“Opūkaha‘ia Project.”

      Dave consulted with a friend who serendipitously had purchased an 1819 first edition of Edwin Dwight’s “Memoirs of Henry Obookiah” at an antique bookstore days before. Passed from hand-to-hand, the narrative would inspire all of us with the true significance of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s life and death, furnishing a much better understanding of the roles we were about to assume.

      Our excavation plan provided for a systematic removal of stone and soil deep enough to expose whatever remains of Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia were still preserved in the ground. The excavation unit was limited to a narrow forty-six inches wide by ninety-six inches long rectangle directly underneath the stone table so as to avoid the possibility of encountering other human remains, which may reside in adjacent unmarked burial plots. We anticipated evidence of soil disturbance from the original digging and refilling of the grave shaft and of encountering ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia anywhere between four and six feet below surface.⁵⁵ Considering the Cornwall Cemetery Association’s concerns that even with the stone table in place the exact location of Henry’s remains was unknown, we were prepared to record biological characteristics of the skeleton in situ to determine whether the remains were that of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia prior to repatriation. To assist in the osteological analysis, we invited Dr. Michael Park, physical anthropology professor at Central Connecticut State University and my first instructor in the forensic aspects of the human skeleton, to participate in the field, expediting identification and later to serve in the laboratory, providing a more thorough analysis.

      With the field team assembled, we selected July 12, 1993, to commence the exhumation of Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia. Dave Cooke would oversee the archaeological operation; Bill Keegan would be the project photographer; Dick LaRose and Gary Hottin would assist in screening soils, recording of data, and other excavation logistics; Mike Park would be prepared to examine any skeletal remains recovered, and Will Trowbridge, a local stone mason, would assist in the removal of the raised granite table and be responsible for its restoration after the disinterment was complete. Also joining us was the Rev. Carmen Wooster, United Church of Christ, who represented the Lee family, David A. Poirier, staff archaeologist at the State Historic Preservation Office, and Jeffrey Bendremer and Shelley Smith, graduate students in the Department of Anthropology at UConn. All equipment and personnel were on site early that July morning, which was forecast to be hot and humid with the possibility of thundershowers in the afternoon.

      It was probably through his uncle that ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia would learn of an aunt, the sole surviving sister of his father, living nearby. Granted a break from his studies at the heiau, he travelled to her village, renewing their relationship. Regrettably, his aunt had angered a local chief by committing an infraction of the kapu, so when the chief sent his warriors to apprehend her, they discovered ‘Opūkaha‘ia. Both were seized and incarcerated in a guarded hut while the chief decided what to do with them. Overhearing the conversation of two sentries that he and his aunt were to be put to death, ‘Opūkaha‘ia made his escape by crawling through a small hole, absconding out the opposite side of the patrolled entrance. Unobserved, he fled into the thick, tropical vegetation and hid. Horrified, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia watched from his concealment as the warriors dragged his aunt out of the hut and brought her to an elevated precipice. In executing orders from the chief, they flung her over a steep pali (cliff), crashing to her death hundreds of feet below.⁵⁶

      Once again ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was caught up in the rivalry of competing chiefs; once again he witnessed the violent death of a family member; once again he survived and felt responsible; once again he despaired. Mental pictures of his parents’ brutal murder and his brother’s impalement came rushing back to him with his aunt’s execution. Anger and guilt revisited. Surely he had caused the death of his aunt by escaping from the hut, just as he had his brother’s when they fled from their parents’ execution. What was the point of this unremitting life, filled with the death of loved ones that he, in his cowardly behavior, had caused? He could obtain no answers, elicit no sympathy, find no wooden bowl into which to place a stone to confess and seek forgiveness for his actions. Despair and self-recrimination assaulted his brain.

      Confused, his mind raced and his body propelled him, the same as his flight from the sight of his parents’ dismemberment. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia broke from his concealment, rushing toward the same precipice from which his aunt had been hurled, hoping to replicate her death and follow her into eternity over the same pali, the same cliff. Death would be a welcomed relief.

      Two of the chief’s men saw ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s charge and took chase, catching up to him before he could hurl himself off the mountain. They tackled and subdued him. He cried out to be released but was held down by the strength of the warriors and the intense weight of his suffering. After overpowering him and foiling his suicide attempt, the warriors transported their captive to the chief’s quarters.⁵⁷

      Learning of ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s identity and his kahuna training, the chief who ordered his aunt executed returned his sullen captive to Pahua so the young man could resume his priestly studies under the benevolent care of his uncle. Though free and back home, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia remained reclusive and contemplative, developing an inner desire that he kept to himself—a yearning to leave the islands and break the cycle of violence, to start anew and journey to some distance place—to forget.

      ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia wrote many years later that it was at this time in his life that he began to consider leaving Hawai‘i. “Probably I may find some comfort, more than to live there without a father or mother. I thought it better for me to go than stay.”⁵⁸ He had formulated no specific plan for his exodus until serendipitously he spied the Triumph, an American merchant ship out of New Haven, Connecticut, sailing into Kealakekua Bay in 1808. The Triumph, a rather slow, but sturdy two-mast brig, constructed of strong Connecticut oak,⁵⁹ dropped anchor in the bay and began loading water, food, and wood supplies, while ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia mulled over the idea of leaving the island onboard this American ship.

      Should he forget this notion of abandoning his uncle and his priestly studies? If he left, where would this journey take him? Would he truly forget his personal horrors? While his mind pondered these mostly negative thoughts, he made his decision. He would go; better to do so before he was complicit in the deaths of his beloved uncle and grandmother as he had been for his brother and aunt.

      Impulsively, he dove headfirst into the surfing waters, sturdily swimming against the tide toward the twin-mast sailing ship. Though he was a strong diver, his heart pounded at the thought of his impulsive plan coming closer to reality with every stroke he swam. Beside the anchored ship, he reached for the rope ladder and hoisted himself upward onto the deck. Summoning the courage to act, ‘Opūkaha‘ia looked around at the strange wind-burned European faces. He observed a Hawaiian interpreter conversing with the ship’s captain. Approaching them, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia asked to have his words translated and immediately petitioned Capt. Caleb Brintnall to take him on as a member of the crew.

      Sailing out of New Haven just prior to the enforcement of the Embargo Act of 1807, the Triumph was part of the China Trade commerce of the early American Republic. The potential profits from the trading