The Long Journeys Home. Nick Bellantoni

the watchful eye of the resourceful Capt. Brintnall, who ran a tight ship, confident investors found the risk worth taking, especially in exchange for the immense fortunes to be earned in New York City financial markets.

      The Triumph carried twenty guns, including four and six-pound cannons for protection against Spanish vessels blockading foreign ships intent on poaching seals off Baja waters. Entering the Pacific Ocean via the tumultuous currents around Cape Horn, the Triumph proceeded northward toward islands off the South American and Mexican coast that offered rookeries where congregating seals could be easily procured. Leaving a small crew behind to manage the dirty work of killing, skinning, and processing fur on islands off Baja California, Brintnall headed west to Hawai‘i to replenish the ship’s provisions.⁶⁰

      Arriving first in Honolulu, Capt. Brintnall received permission from Kamehameha to trade and take on Hawaiian males as additional crew for their return trip to the Baja sealers. Now anchored in Kealakekua Bay, Brintnall looked over the young teenage ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and felt he would fit the bill, possibly making a good seaman as Polynesians were known to be. Nevertheless, Brintnall was also cautious, wanting no trouble with the Hawaiians. Permission would have to be granted from the boy’s family. When told by the interpreter that the boy’s parents were dead and he was the nephew of an important kahuna, Brintnall invited ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia to have dinner and spend the night onboard ship but would make no abrupt decision.

      Onboard the Triumph was another young Hawaiian named Nauhopo‘ouah Ho‘opo‘o (Hopu), called Thomas by the American sailors. Born in 1795, Hopu was nine years old when his mother died. His father taught him the traditional ways of Hawaiian culture, but also instilled in the young boy that today’s magic comes from the haole and all their iron, nails, knives, and guns. Always keep Hawaiian ways in your heart, Hopu would be taught, but acquire the new practices, for tomorrow’s success and continued existence will come by knowing the customs of the light-skinned haoles. Accordingly, when the Triumph arrived, Hopu’s father gave permission for his son to go aboard and travel with Brintnall; he could be educated and learn the secrets of their valuable technology.⁶¹

      Brintnall kept his eye on ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia throughout supper. He noticed how the young “heathen” seemed to pick up Western gestures and comportment of consuming food at the officer’s table. Though ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia could little understand what was being spoken among the officers, his gift of mimicry allowed him to follow their behaviors and copy their table mannerisms. In his handling of a fork and knife, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was deemed a quick learner. Brintnall asked the young Native if he would like to go to America, become a luina kelemania e, a sailor, on their ship. Once he understood, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia replied with a positive nod of his head and was overjoyed.

      After spending the night onboard the Triumph, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was informed that he would need his uncle’s permission before he could accompany the crew on their voyage. So the young Hawaiian returned to shore seeking Pahua’s acquiescence to leave the island. When they met, his uncle questioned ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia as to his overnight whereabouts. His nephew told the kahuna pule that he had spent the evening onboard the ship, and furthermore, Capt. Brintnall had invited him to join the crew and sail with them; he very much wished to do so.

      Pahua flew into a rage. How ungrateful was this child after the gods had twice spared his life? He and his grandmother had been sick with worry when ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia did not return in the evening, and now he wanted to leave his family entirely, leave the island, leave the heiau and leave his studies? No, he was saved to serve the akuas and that was exactly what he would do! Angrily, Pahua forced ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia into his hut, shutting him in.

      Hina implored her grandson to give up this foolish idea of leaving Hawai‘i. They loved him and were frightened that if he did leave, he would never live to return. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia assured her that he likewise loved them, but he needed liberation. There was an aching in his heart. He had wanted to move on for a long time and this was his opportunity. He must travel on this journey, he insisted. Maybe he didn’t truly comprehend all the reasons why he had to go, but he simply did. He assured her that he would return in a matter of months. She left the hut with tears in her eyes, knowing he would never come back. He was a very foolish boy.⁶²

      Pahua would hear none of this pleading. There would be no discussion of deserting the island, his family, or his training. ‘Opūkaha‘ia would be confined to the house, a captive once again, until the Triumph left the harbor. The repeated injustices welled within him. He was incessant, more determined than ever. Defiantly, he would become a luina kelemania e and find the new life he was searching for among the American haole. Nothing would stop him.

      While inspecting his latest prison, he noticed a weak spot in the back of the grass hut and crawled through it as he had when confined with his aunt. Unnoticed, he worked his way downhill to the waterfront, hiding until darkness, then silently waded into Kealakekua Bay, swimming out once again to the anchored Triumph. This time he climbed aboard secretly, careful not to be seen by the sailors, and concealed himself below deck among the cargo crates. With luck they would not find him until the ship was well underway, a stowaway. But his plan was foiled when he was discovered the next morning about the time Pahua’s canoe appeared alongside the large sailing vessel.

      With the inherent dignity of a proud and influential kahuna, Pahua came onboard the Triumph, declaring to Brintnall that ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia had run away, was hiding on the ship, and must be found. The captain, impressed with the presence of the kahuna, ordered a search for ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, who was readily brought forth. Straightening himself and fighting back tears, the young man pleaded again for his release to follow the Americans, to go on his journey, appealing to his uncle that a force in his soul cried out for him to leave. He must go, and he would go.

      Resigned, Pahua realized that one way or the other ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia was going to abandon the island, either on the Triumph or another sailing vessel. Pahua respected Capt. Brintnall, whom he knew to be honest and trustworthy. If ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia must go, this was the haole that would surely care for him. Nonetheless, the gods would be angry and must be appeased. Pahua would grant ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia his request, but first Brintnall must purchase a pig to be sacrificed to ensure the boy’s protection and consent of the deities. Their parting was disagreeable, but ‘Opūkaha‘ia was willing to “leave all my relations, friends and acquaintances; (and) expected to see them no more in this world.”⁶³

      2 | “I Have Neither A Father Nor A Mother… But, He”

      She awoke with a start, rising up in bed while the room was still draped in eerie nightly darkness. As she later explained to me, something strange was happening to her that she did not understand. A sudden rush emerged overwhelmingly from the depths of her inner being like a swelling impulse needing to be forced out. Her heart raced, short of breath. “What is this?” she thought, unsure if health was failing her young adult body. Rather than asleep, now, at two in the morning, she was wide-awake and anxious.

      Debbie Li‘ikapeka Lee, thirty-two years old, a seventh generation cousin of Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia, rose from her bed and took hold of the Bible on the nightstand, seeking comfort and reassurance. She recognized the need to let go of this feeling though she remained puzzled, “What am I to do?”

      It was Sunday, Oct. 11, 1992, in Seattle, Washington, a thousand miles of ocean separating her from her devoted Hawaiian family in Hilo. Alone in the dark, she sought an explanation for this feeling that was mounting inside her. The Bible brought solace but no immediate clarification. Then from within her heart and soul, five words emerged in a voice as clear as if being spoken, “He wants to come home.”¹

      The surfing waves of Kealakekua Bay began to fade from sight. Onboard the Triumph, setting sail eastward toward the Baja coast, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia and Thomas Hopu occupied themselves by learning the work of a luina kelemania e: preparing sails, climbing yardarms, pulling and tying ropes, and doing their best to stay out of the way of experienced sailors. They were unwittingly