the gravesite although a few were so substantial they required the use of wooden rollers.
No mechanical equipment was used; every aspect of the work was performed by hand. Prior to removal, each boulder was photographed, sketched, and numbered to facilitate the monument’s stone-by-stone reconstruction. The interior of the table was not hollow but packed with mortar and smaller stones that also had to be carefully removed. The entire morning was taken with finishing this initial task.
Under the mortared granite table, we found a tier of dry-laid rectangular and rounded foundation stones supporting the aboveground structure. The largest stones were leveled at the lower foot area, providing greater downslope stability. These were measured, drawn, photographed, and removed. Once the stone layer was detached, we were surprised to find a second layer of foundation underneath, consisting of smaller flat stones with the largest supporting the upslope head region of the monument. Assuming we had finally exhausted foundation levels, we were astounded to encounter yet a third tier of stones resting well below the frost line. ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia’s memorial had been solidly constructed with three tiers of foundation providing reinforcement for the structure on its steep embankment, facilitating its survival for 175 years without shifting or pulling apart.
It was not until the mid-afternoon once all the stones were pulled away from the gravesite that we were able to erect a portable, aluminum-framed canopy to keep direct sunlight from contacting the anticipated skeletal remains. We cleaned up the bottom of the excavated area, leveled the floor and sidewalls, and rid the excavation unit of loose soil and stones that had toppled when the foundations were cleared. After all data, including soil samples, were taken from the exposure, a plastic tarp was laid out on the grass adjacent to the excavation unit. A hardware quarter-inch mesh screen was set up to sift excavated soils in case any funerary objects were missed during the excavation process.
Prepared for the disinterment, we commenced by slicing the soil thinly with flat, sharp-edged mason trowels to level the excavation and highlight differences in the coloration and compaction of the mottled earth. Soon a distinct outline of a hexagonal coffin appeared, confined at the head, expanding outward to the shoulders and tapering down to the narrow foot. We were at a depth of forty-two inches from the upper ground surface, and the configuration of the coffin was clear in soil coloration contrasts.
As we continued digging into the late afternoon, ominous dark clouds appeared in the west and were moving rapidly toward the cemetery. Within minutes we were engulfed by dangerous lightning strikes that preceded a violent thunderstorm. The crew hurriedly secured all the equipment into vehicles while I finished up the last level of the day under the canopy.
Amid lightening flashes, remains of the sideboards of the wooden coffin became exposed, appearing as a linear soil shadow of dark brown, decomposing wood and a pattern of hardware nails that would have held the top board in place. We were now working within the coffin and getting close to determining if Henry’s remains had been preserved. At this point, I didn’t want to stop though my heart pounded as lightening bolts flared overhead and thunderclaps deafened. Dave Cooke and I had made an earlier decision not to expose any skeletal remains this late in the afternoon. John O’Donnell arranged for overnight security, so I reluctantly climbed a short wooden ladder out of the burial unit, watched lightening hop-scotching the bordering hills, and anticipated tomorrow’s rendezvous with Henry ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia.24
The sweat beaded upon his forehead, seeping into his burning eyes. He swung the steel axe, repeatedly cutting wood for “Mr. F,” a neighbor of Rev. Mills amid the rolling hills of Torringford, stacking the logs between two small trees.25 The morning sun was relentless; the day already seemed long, the work tiring. Yet, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia maintained his pace methodically, swinging the blade as he mimicked other field workers. Then he stopped. He experienced a rushing sensation overcoming him. His heart beat heavily; he felt weak, and in his rising anxiety a fearful thought occurred, “What if I die today, what would become of my soul? Surely I would be cast off forever.”26 His apprehension was followed by a voice that seemed to encompass him, “Cut it down, why cumbereth it the ground.”27 He gazed around. No one was within sight.
He dropped his axe and fell to his knees, looking up to the heavens, seeking help from “Almighty Jehovah.”28 Realizing now that he was nothing more than a “hell-deserving sinner” and that God had the right to thrust his wretched soul into eternal damnation;29 he deserved nothing less. He had ignored the Word though presented to him by many gracious and religious friends: Russell Hubbard onboard the Triumph; Edwin and the Rev. Timothy Dwight at Yale College; and now Rev. Samuel Mills and his son in Torringford—all of them had tried to save his soul. He had listened, yet refused to hear. Now he was pitiful.
‘Ōpūkaha‘ia lost track of the time spent on his knees in meditative reflection until removed from his revelry by another sound, the earthly voice of a boy beckoning him to lunch. At the Mills’ home, ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia picked at his food and looked forlorn enough for people to question the source of his apparent melancholy. He kept to himself, went to bed early, and laid awake most of the night, sorting out his emotions. He rose promptly the next morning before the others to find a place where he could be alone. Morning turned into afternoon, afternoon into evening. He did no labor, remaining distant.30
Troubled and searching inwardly, he recalled the long days studying with his uncle at Heiau Hikiau; learning the traditions of his people and devotion to the island akuas; beseeching the deities to intervene favorably in the lives of his people; and, honoring his warrior father and priestly uncle. Was he not Hawaiian? Could he commit to this religious conversion and worship the singular God of these British Americans? Or was he simply seeking the approval of these at times arrogant and pious Calvinists by adopting their rhetoric and mores? He did aspire to get religion into his head, intellectually, as a means of learning that much he understood. But ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia remained uncertain about allowing this new belief, this Christianity “into his heart.”31 He had felt the same struggle learning the disciplines of Lono and Kū. He studied, memorized, recited, and sought knowledge though coveted little emotional involvement. Having been traumatized in his youth, Henry blocked any passionate responses from his mind. Now, for the first time, he would consider an alterative conviction.
The revelation in the wood lot was sandwiched between trips to Andover, Massachusetts, attending Bradford Academy where ‘Opūkaha‘ia boarded in the Abbot household, a family he considered as pious as that of Dwight and Mills. His earlier attendance in Andover was marked by his refusal to accept any solemn feelings for the Christian God, however, after the wood lot experience, his second attendance at Bradford marked more resolve in learning Scripture. He now immersed himself in the Gospels, memorizing every story, every miracle. He absorbed his spelling book so he could write and read the Bible more proficiently. He learned and made rapid progress in his religious training, exerting the concentrated work he had shown when schooled by his uncle. He remained inquisitive; his willingness to learn saw no bounds.
What endeared ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia to the Abbot family was not simply his growing scholarship but also his “excellence of character.”32 Mrs. Abbot confided to a friend that Henry is “always pleasant. I never saw him angry. He used to come into my chamber and kneel down by me and pray. Mr. Mills did not think he was a Christian at that time, but he appeared to be thinking of nothing else but religion. He afterwards told me that there was a time when he wanted to get religion into his head more than into his heart.”33
With renewed diligence in his Bible study, Henry began to submit to the devotion of the Christian God. Heartfelt and sincere were his new feelings, no longer simply academic. With the fervor of a convert, he began to see his kahuna knowledge as irrational. He would tell a fellow Hawaiian, “O how foolish we are to worship wood and stone gods; we give them hogs and cocoa nuts and banana but they cannot eat.”34 Once ‘Ōpūkaha‘ia threw off the veil of his youthful training
