Out there in the midst of such a succession of big smoky ones, a third man was added to our party, one Freeth.Shaking the water from my eyes as I emerged from one wave and peered ahead to see what the next one looked like, I saw him tearing in on the back of it, standing upright on his board, carelessly poised, a young god bronzed with sunburn.We went through the wave on the back of which he rode.Ford called to him.He turned an airspring from his wave, rescued his board from its maw, paddled over to us and joined Ford in showing me things.One thing in particular I learned from Freeth, namely, how to encounter the occasional breaker of exceptional size that rolled in.Such breakers were really ferocious, and it was unsafe to meet them on top of the board.But Freeth showed me, so that whenever I saw one of that calibre rolling down on me, I slid off the rear end of the board and dropped down beneath the surface, my arms over my head and holding the board.
Thus, if the wave ripped the board out of my hands and tried to strike me with it (a common trick of such waves), there would be a cushion of water a foot or more in depth, between my head and the blow.When the wave passed, I climbed upon the board and paddled on.Many men have been terribly injured, I learn, by being struck by their boards.
The whole method of surf-riding and surf-fighting, learned, is one of non-resistance.Dodge the blow that is struck at you.Dive through the wave that is trying to slap you in the face.Sink down, feet first, deep under the surface, and let the big smoker that is trying to smash you go by far overhead.Never be rigid.Relax.
Yield yourself to the waters that are ripping and tearing at you.
When the undertow catches you and drags you seaward along the bottom, don't struggle against it.If you do, you are liable to be drowned, for it is stronger than you.Yield yourself to that undertow.Swim with it, not against it, and you will find the pressure removed.And, swimming with it, fooling it so that it does not hold you, swim upward at the same time.It will be no trouble at all to reach the surface.
The man who wants to learn surf-riding must be a strong swimmer, and he must be used to going under the water.After that, fair strength and common-sense are all that is required.The force of the big comber is rather unexpected.There are mix-ups in which board and rider are torn apart and separated by several hundred feet.The surf-rider must take care of himself.No matter how many riders swim out with him, he cannot depend upon any of them for aid.The fancied security I had in the presence of Ford and Freeth made me forget that it was my first swim out in deep water among the big ones.I recollected, however, and rather suddenly, for a big wave came in, and away went the two men on its back all the way to shore.
I could have been drowned a dozen different ways before they got back to me.
One slides down the face of a breaker on his surf-board, but he has to get started to sliding.Board and rider must be moving shoreward at a good rate before the wave overtakes them.When you see the wave coming that you want to ride in, you turn tail to it and paddle shoreward with all your strength, using what is called the windmill stroke.This is a sort of spurt performed immediately in front of the wave.If the board is going fast enough, the wave accelerates it, and the board begins its quarter-of-a-mile slide.
I shall never forget the first big wave I caught out there in the deep water.I saw it coming, turned my back on it and paddled for dear life.Faster and faster my board went, till it seemed my arms would drop off.What was happening behind me I could not tell.One cannot look behind and paddle the windmill stroke.I heard the crest of the wave hissing and churning, and then my board was lifted and flung forward.I scarcely knew what happened the first half-minute.Though I kept my eyes open, I could not see anything, for Iwas buried in the rushing white of the crest.But I did not mind.
I was chiefly conscious of ecstatic bliss at having caught the wave.
At the end, of the half-minute, however, I began to see things, and to breathe.I saw that three feet of the nose of my board was clear out of water and riding on the air.I shifted my weight forward, and made the nose come down.Then I lay, quite at rest in the midst of the wild movement, and watched the shore and the bathers on the beach grow distinct.I didn't cover quite a quarter of a mile on that wave, because, to prevent the board from diving, I shifted my weight back, but shifted it too far and fell down the rear slope of the wave.
It was my second day at surf-riding, and I was quite proud of myself.I stayed out there four hours, and when it was over, I was resolved that on the morrow I'd come in standing up.But that resolution paved a distant place.On the morrow I was in bed.Iwas not sick, but I was very unhappy, and I was in bed.When describing the wonderful water of Hawaii I forgot to describe the wonderful sun of Hawaii.It is a tropic sun, and, furthermore, in the first part of June, it is an overhead sun.It is also an insidious, deceitful sun.For the first time in my life I was sunburned unawares.My arms, shoulders, and back had been burned many times in the past and were tough; but not so my legs.And for four hours I had exposed the tender backs of my legs, at right-angles, to that perpendicular Hawaiian sun.It was not until after I got ashore that I discovered the sun had touched me.Sunburn at first is merely warm; after that it grows intense and the blisters come out.Also, the joints, where the skin wrinkles, refuse to bend.That is why I spent the next day in bed.I couldn't walk.
And that is why, to-day, I am writing this in bed.It is easier to than not to.But to-morrow, ah, to-morrow, I shall be out in that wonderful water, and I shall come in standing up, even as Ford and Freeth.And if I fail to-morrow, I shall do it the next day, or the next.Upon one thing I am resolved: the Snark shall not sail from Honolulu until I, too, wing my heels with the swiftness of the sea, and become a sun-burned, skin-peeling Mercury.
