SURF-RIDING.
AUWAE has a loved playmate, Upa, a boy a little older than herself. He
goes with the party to the beach. Carrying their surf-boards under their
arms, the two children hurry ahead to the beach of shining white coral
sand. Look! The broad Pacific now stretches out before their eyes. How
blue are the waters, reaching out in the distance till they seem to meet
a sky just as blue and clear of a passing cloud! How the hot sunshine
beats down upon the sand! Yet Auwae does not seem to mind it. She stoops
to pick a wild morning-glory growing almost at the water's edge, and
then dances about, saying to Upa:
"Hurrah! The waves are just fine to-day for bathing, aren't they?"
We almost hold our breath at the thought of these children trusting
themselves out in the high waves rushing in from the coral reef a
quarter of a mile outside. Then, too, we know there are sharks in these
waters; and what a terrible death would be Auwae's if one of these
creatures should grind her between his many teeth!
As to the sharks, we need not fear, as they never venture nearer than
the coral reefs, which seem to be a wall beyond which they dare not
pass. And as for the water! why, when we have once seen Auwae swim, we
can no longer fear for her safety. It seems as though water, instead of
land, must be her natural abiding-place.
But now the rest of the party have arrived, bringing with them their
surf-boards, or wave-sliding-boards, as we might call them.
For those living on Hawaii's shore, much of the pleasure of life
depends on these pieces of wood so carefully prepared. They are made
from the strong, tough trunk of the breadfruit-tree, are highly
polished, and about two feet wide. They look very much like coffin lids,
and are long enough for one to stretch at length upon them.
It takes but a few moments to remove their clothing and put on their
bathing-costumes. For the men, it is the malo, a piece of cloth wound
about the loins and between the legs, and, before the white people came,
the only garment worn by them at any time.
All are now ready for the sport. They wade out into deep water with the
surf-boards under their arms. Then, pushing them in front, they swim out
till they reach the breakers, when they suddenly dive and disappear from
view.
There is no sign of them for several moments. Now look far out and you
can see their black heads bobbing about in the smooth water beyond the
waves. Watch them carefully as they wait for that great roller about to
turn toward the shore. They leap upon its crest, lying flat upon their
boards, and are borne to the beach with the speed of the wind.
It must be grand sport, once they know just how and when to take
advantage of the incoming wave, as well as the still greater skill in
riding on that wave without being swallowed by it. It is harder to
succeed than one imagines before trying the experiment himself, for the
swimmers are obliged to use their hands and feet constantly to keep
themselves in place.
Some of them do not even rest on the shore before swimming out for
another wave slide; and as the afternoon passes they rival each other in
more and more daring feats. See those two men no longer lying flat on
their boards as they rush onward in the water! They only kneel, and wave
their arms and shout in glee to their companions. But most daring of all
is Auwae's father, who actually stands erect as he is borne toward the
shore on the crest of a huge wave. He travels at a rate sufficient to
deprive one of breath.
The kind man takes time during the afternoon to give Auwae lessons in
riding her own board, which he has lately made for her. Up to this time
she has had to be content with swimming only, and in this, as I told
you, she is already wonderfully skilful and graceful.
The hours pass only too quickly, and night suddenly shuts down upon the
happy people. The moon comes out in such beauty as is seen only in the
tropics. It bathes sea and shore in a soft, sweet light, so pleasant
after the dazzling brightness of the sun. Auwae and Upa once more lead
the party as they wander slowly homeward and again enter the shadow of
the tall palm-trees.
The children look toward the mountains behind the village reaching up
so grandly till their tops are lost in the clouds, and Upa says:
"Auwae, do you know that my father is going to Kilauea next week, and he
says I may go with him. Ask your father if you may go, too. It will be
such fun!"
Auwae has wished a long, long time for such a chance as this. She claps
her hands in delight, as she feels quite sure of her parents' consent.
Kilauea! She has heard so much about the mighty crater. Even now she can
see a faint reddish gleam light up the sky in the distance. The largest
active volcano in the world is showing that it is still alive and using
the mighty forces directed from the very bowels of the earth.[1]
It would almost seem as if Auwae would feel fear at living in the
shadow of a volcano. Is she not sometimes awakened in the night by the
low rumbling sound coming to her through the clear air? And does she not
then lie trembling at the thought that she may sometime be swallowed up
in a tremendous flow of lava? Other children in towns like hers have met
such a fate in the years that are gone. Why should she not fear?
But Auwae was born here, and has always lived where she could see the
light from that huge furnace of Nature. She is so used to it that she
does not dread its power. She lives in the joy of the present, and does
not consider that which might possibly come to her.
Think of it! This home of hers and its sister islands are the children
of volcanoes, for they were born of fierce explosions of lava, thrown
above the surrounding waters from the floor of the sea. Foot by foot
Hawaii has been built up out of the water. Layer after layer of lava has
been poured, one above the other; then, cooling and crumbling, a soil
has been formed on which the beautiful plants and trees of the tropics
have taken root.
But this is not the whole story of the island, for tiny creatures of the
sea have given what was in their power. The coral reefs lying along the
shore have been built up by the growth of millions of polyps, and the
shining white sand is composed of finely ground coral, which once formed
the skeletons of similar polyps.
What curious helpers Mother Nature sometimes chooses! Think of the
coral polyps and their strange lives, leaving when they die a foundation
upon which men and animals shall afterward have a home! Upa often dives
for the sprays of coral, pink or white. He sells them to the white
people in the village, who send them as curiosities to other countries.
Auwae and Upa bid each other good night at the garden wall. The little
girl stops for a moment at the pond in the garden where many goldfish
are moving about in the moonlight. She loves her beautiful fish; she
feeds them every day, and often thinks how kind her father was to make
the pond for her delight.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 1: This volcano is not constantly, but intermittently, in
eruption.]