. A
score of us would start at the same moment from the same line and
race to shore; we would carry two on a board; we would stand and
kneel and direct our course so that we could touch a marked spot on
the beach or curve about and swerve and jostle each other. Exploding
Eggs was the king of us all, and Teata was queen. She advanced as
effortlessly as a mermaid, her superb figure shining on the shining
water, tossing her long black hair, and shrieking with delight.

Occasionally we varied these sports by a much more dangerous and
arduous game. We would push our boards far out in the bay, half a
mile or more, diving under each wave we faced, until after
tremendous effort we reached the farthest sea-ward line of breakers.
Often while I swam, clinging to the board and struggling with the
waves for its possession, I saw in the emerald water curling above
me the shadowy shapes of large fish, carried on the crests of the
combers, transfigured clearly against the sky, fins and heads and
tails outlined with light.

Once in smoother water we waited for the proper moment, counting the
foam-crests as they passed. Waves go in multiples of three, the
third being longer and going farther than the two before it, and the
ninth, or third third, being strongest of all. This ninth wave we
waited for. Choosing any other meant being spilled in tumbling water
when it broke far from land, and falling prey to the succeeding ones,
which bruised unmercifully.

[Illustration: Double canoes]

[Illustration: Harbor sports]

But taking the ninth monster at its start, we rode marvelously,
staying at its summit as it mounted higher and higher, shouting
above the lesser rollers, until it dashed upon the smooth sand half
a mile away. Exultation kept the heart in the throat, the pulses
beating wildly, as the breaker tore its way over the foaming rollers,
I on the roof of the swell, lying almost over its front wall,
holding like death to my plank while the wind sang in my ears and
sky and sea mingled in rushing blueness.

To take such a ride twice in an afternoon taxed my strength, but the
Marquesan boys and girls were never wearied, and laughed at my
violent breathing.

The Romans ranked swimming with letters, saying of an uneducated man,
"_Nec literas didicit nec natare._" He had neither learned to read
nor to swim. The sea is the book of the South Sea Islanders. They
swim as they walk, beginning as babies to dive and to frolic in the
water.