The Night Marchers

or

 The Bones of Kalanikūpule

Samuel was so out of breath he almost tripped over the decaying remains. The sun was blaring and it in truth felt like it was ninety degrees on top of this ancient volcano despite the wind and elevation. Back in 1866, when Samuel Clemens visited Lē‘ahi or what is better known around Honolulu as Diamond Head, it didn’t have a tunnel through the middle of the mountain with stairs or a visitor center selling cold drinks and shaved ice. The trek was rather cumbersome, steep, and dangerous. The last hundred feet were straight up and brought them to a ridge that was narrow and steep drops over hundreds of feet. From here you could look out at the bustling city of Honolulu or in the other direction see the summit of Hawaii Island. The bones were barely discernible, they had been there a long time bleached in the hot Hawaiian sun. Supposedly since sometime around 1795 or 1796.

“Are those human bones?” Mr. Clemens asked.

The Hawaiian tour guide nodded.

Who’s remain are these,” Mr. Clemens asked.

“Da former king of Oahu.”

“You wouldn’t be telling me a few stretchers?” Mr. Clemens thought the man to be lying.

The Hawaiian tour guide looked confused.

“Why doesn’t someone clean them up.”

“No one like touch da iwi. Cuz of da mana”

 The Hawaiians believed in mana or a divine energy and it was believed that a chief’s bones contained a lot of mana. Iwi means bones.

“Oh right, they idea of divine energy in the bones,” Mr. Clemens said more to himself than the Hawaiian.

“How did they get here?”

“That is a rather complicated story.”

                “I happen to write stories.”

                “Kalanikūpule was on the run after the Battle of Nu’uanu. His army had been driven over a cliff and the island of Oahu conquered by King Kamehameha.

                He hid in the jungles of Ko’olaupoko, but eventually he was caught by Kamehameha and he was taken up here to be sacrificed to the war god.

                “Well that’s not really that complicated,” Mr. Clemens said.

                The tour guide whose name was Anaiki was perplexed. He scratched his forehead.

                “And the Pali,” Mr. Clemens asked, “Can we go up after dark?”

                The guide looked rather apprehensive, “You know of da night marchers?”

                “Why do you think I want to go up after dark,”Mr. Clemens explained. According to legend, the Night Marchers were ancient Hawaiian warriors. Today, their spirits are said to roam various areas on the islands, many of which were once great battlefields. They appear as ghostly apparitions who carry torches and play drums while they chant. According to Hawaiian myth, if someone happens to encounter the night marchers, they must lie face down on the ground, shut their eyes and pretend to be dead, follow these directions and you may live to tell the tale of the Night Marchers.

                “I no tink yooh unda stand…dey really real…da nite marchers is no myth.” Anaiki explained.

                “Well, that’s what I hope to see for myself,” Mr. Clemens descended the extinct volcano and spent the afternoon in the shade napping and resting. Anaiki in truth did not want to take Mr. Clemens he kept trying to talk him out of it, but after a light supper around dusk they started to head out of the city and into the mountains. The road was enough and unkempt. Both men aboard horses and they were carrying lanterns, though Anaiki was acting more skittish by the moment.

“Anytime yooh like turn back, jus let me no,” he announced mysterious.

The valley was battle ground for the largest battle in Hawaiian history between the Hawaiians and the Oahuians, at the time the Hawaiian Islands were separate warring kingdoms. The climax was reached when the two armies said to be in the ten thousands clashed and the Hawaiians drove the Oahuians over a cliff. It is said some of the warriors from Oahu turned around and jumped near the end of the battle.

The Nu’uanu Pali is spooky today, but in 1860 with almost no electric lights on the horizon or to light the sky, the Pali was downright scary. The trees themselves with their vines and twisting limbs looked like monstrous creatures and the fog made everything look like ghostly apparitions were wandering to and fro just beyond eyes reach. Mr. Clemens was a stubborn man though and he was determined to see him some ghosts. The horses clip clop echoed off the mountains and Anaiki kept looking behind them as if they were being followed. He had a sinister look in his eyes or maybe it was closer to terror either way, Mr. Clemens didn’t care. They stopped at trading outpost, near what is today, Morgan’s Corner, as Anaiki tried one last time to talk Samuel Clemens out of going up to the haunted Pali.

“Da journey is rough from here on out,” Anaiki explained, “Can fall and make,” Make pronounced mah-kay meaning die in Hawaiian.

Mr. Clemens did not faulter, “When then, we better get on with it shan’t we.”

The terrain was mostly uphill from here on out and the trek was slow, but Anaiki knew the way. His grandfather had fought and died in the very same battle. He had been one of the warriors pushed over the edge by Kamehameha and the Hawaiian forces. Kalanikūpule had tried to set a trap for Kamehameha, he had cannon set up along the ridgeline and he was attempting to lure Kamehameha into the valley and then rain down cannon fire upon him. What Kalanikūpule did not know is that Kamehameha had sent a special strike force along the ridgeline to take out the cannon. The strike force was successful eliminating the cannons, and from there Kalanikūpule army was forced to flee backwards unti they finally ran out of room. At the Nu’uanu Pali they made their final stand, but most were forced to plummet to their death while others jumped.