and rocks, gurgled darkly and receded.
Facing Boy on the opposite wall were two pictures he had seen before, but today he found himself examining them more closely. One was an oil painting by a famous Island artist of the eruption of Kilauea Volcano. It was a night scene showing the great fire pit glowing blood-red in the darkened crater. The other picture was a steel engraving, a portrait of a Hawaiian warrior. He stood tall and straight with a short feather cape, or kihei, over his shoulders, a malo around his waist, and a spear in his hand. His hair was long and black and gathered into a knot on the top of his head. Boy studied the portrait a long time. He wondered if the picture was of a real person.
"Is that picture of a real Hawaiian warrior?" he asked the Cat-Woman.
The Cat-Woman turned to look.
"Indeed, yes!" she said proudly. "That is a likeness of my great-grandfather, Chief Kamanawa. This beach we live on is named after him. I am his direct descendant, the last of the line of Kamanawas."
"Please tell me about him," begged Boy, "and all about how this beach became known as Kamanawa Beach."
The Cat-Woman gave a final smoothing to the paper she was folding.
"That is a good idea," she said. "Not many young people today know anything about old Hawaii. I'll tell you how the brave Chief Kamanawa paddled all the way to Molokai, and in the dark of night stole the beautiful daughter of the Molokai chief and carried her away to the island of Oahu."
CHAPTER 2
GREAT CHIEF KAMANAWA
"A little more than a hundred years ago this cove was the site of a Hawaiian village. Where the Kamanawa Beach homes now stand, clusters of grass shacks nestled at the foot of tall coco palms. It was a beautiful, happy village with Kamanawa as its good and just chief In the beginning the villagers were contented with their lot. There was much to keep them busy.
"The men did the fishing. They fished from the reefs, or stood on the rocky headlands and cast their nets billowing like mushrooms far out over the sea. Sometimes at night when the tide was out they walked the reefs and fished by the light of their kukui-nut torches, their spears poised, ready to impale any unwary fish that might be attracted by the golden shafts of light.
"The men were canoe builders, too. They searched the rugged mountains for stout koa trees, and hauled the logs to the shore, where they spent weeks, sometimes months, building the sturdy outriggers. They tended their gardens of dry-land taro, patches of yams, sugar cane, bananas, and breadfruit. In their leisure time during the warm drowsy afternoons, they spent hours sharpening their javelins, or polishing shark's teeth for much-prized necklaces.
"The women of the village wove mats from lauhala and made tapa cloth from the bark of the mulberry. The hollow sound of their tapa pounders could be heard echoing up and down the valley. In the afternoons while the men polished their necklaces, or sharpened their spears, the women went swimming with the children. They bobbed up and down in the soft warm water, now and then diving like plump porpoises beneath the waves to search for the delectable green limu.
"At harvest time when the crops were bountiful the village celebrated with a sports event or makahiki. There were contests in surfing, swimming, canoe racing, wrestling, foot races, bowling with round stones, and throwing of spears and javelins. At night when the games were over there was much feasting. Roast pig, yams, bananas, fish, and breadfruit were taken from the imu, and 'awa in coconut shells passed from lip to lip. Hula drums beat out a hypnotic rhythm; involuntarily young girls, old women, and men, entranced by the music, rose to their feet and danced in the flickering light of the torches, their sharks' teeth necklaces and slapping hands making a pleasant sound in the night.
"In all the sports events, Chief Kamanawa was the best, He could swim faster and farther than anyone. He could paddle his surfboard far out beyond the reef, catch a mountainous roller and ride to shore standing upright on his board with the frosty waves spraying in front of him. He could throw the javelin farther than any of his competitors. No one dared challenge him to a foot race or a wrestling match. His strength was of the mighty.
"It was at one of these events that Kamanawa fell in love with the daughter of a chief from Molokai. This chief was not as great a chief as Kamanawa, and he was a jealous and envious man. The area in which his village was located was dry and stony, and the villagers had to dig deep to cultivate the taro. Seldom did the rain clouds drop enough moisture to enable them to raise bananas or sugar cane. Even the sea around them was hostile. Huge waves, unbroken by protecting reefs, crashed against the pali, and most of the time it was too dangerous to fish from the rocks along the shore, and the villagers often went hungry.
"The Molokai chief thought angrily of Kamanawa's village sheltered by waving palms and its white beach washed by gentle lapping waves. One day be heard that Kamanawa's village was going to have a week long celebration. There had been a bountiful harvest of taro, breadfruit, bananas, and yams. The chief from Molokai thought the time was opportune to visit Kamanawa. Perhaps during the contests he could win a few feather leis or kapas, maybe some better fishhooks, or finer nets, or even something more valuable such as a bigger and better canoe. The Molokai chief was crafty. He knew that Kamanawa's lesser chiefs liked to gamble and although he could not hope to win a foot race, nor could he expect to excel in throwing the javelin a great distance, he considered himself lucky when it came to wagering on these events. If he were as lucky as he anticipated, he would return to Molokai with his canoe full of easy prizes.
"This Molokai chief was blessed with a daughter of rare charm and beauty. She was slender and as graceful as the bamboo. Her silken black hair fell in ripples to her waist; her dark eyes were tender and soft. When she danced her hands moved like flower petals in the wind, and her slim feet moved with the rhythm of poetry. She was the Molokai chief's most precious possession. No one in the Islands, from Kauai to Hawaii, not even the king himself, could boast of a child of such unusual beauty. He decided he would take her with him.
"He made ready for the long rough voyage through the Molokai channel. Into large gourds he packed their personal belongings and change of clothing. These, with the collection of fishhooks and heaps of fine nets he needed for bartering, he stowed away in the canoe. For food and drink during the arduous hours of paddling, he had coconut shells filled with poi, baked aku wrapped in cool ti leaves, and half a dozen young green coconuts to quench their thirst when the sun got high in the sky. At sunset he put his daughter, Naheina, in the bow of the canoe and pointed the craft in the direction of a large star that hung over the Koolau Mountains of Oahu. Then he paddled expertly over the waves of the strong Molokai surf into the open sea to the island of Oahu and Chief Kamanawa's makahiki.
"The Molokai chief's canoe was swift and rode lightly as a bird in flight over the sea. The wind was fair and blew behind him. This canoe he held second in value of all his possessions, his daughter being the first. He believed his canoe to be endowed with life. In building it he had faithfully followed all the ancient rituals. He had taken a kahuna, or priest, with him when he went into the forest to hunt for a suitable tree. They chose at last a beautiful tall koa, and they spent one entire day just watching the tree, waiting patiently to see if any birds found termites hidden beneath the bark. If by chance, the birds had tapped the tree, then the tree would be pronounced infected and unsuitable. But all that day as they watched, no bird lighted upon the trunk of the tree or tapped its bark.
"That night they said prayers to the forest god and made offerings of pig, coconut, red fish, and 'awa. At dawn the kahuna arose and spoke aloud to the canoe god.
"'Strike!'
