“Thunder in his ears. Water strangling him. Terror in his soul. The canoe slewed round into the trough. The boy flung himself forward, wound his arms about the mid-thwart. It was the end of a world.”
“Then the thought of killing a wild boar in single-handed combat struck him dumb with wonder. Why, he would never have dreamed such a thing in Hikueru! He was Mafatu, the Boy Who Was Afraid.”
“They worshiped courage, those early Polynesians. The Spirit which had urged them across the Pacific in their sailing canoes, before the dawn of recorded history... still sang its song of danger in their blood.”
“And so it was that he shuddered when the mighty seas, gathering far out, hurled themselves at the barrier reef of Hikueru and the whole island quivered under the assault.”
“It was obvious to everyone that Mafatu was useless upon the sea. He would never earn his proper place in the tribe. Stout Heart- how bitter the name must taste upon his father’s lips!”
“The palms, trooping to the edge of the beach, were motionless in the night air. All the world seemed to hold its breath as this boy climbed up out of the sea.”
“But beyond lurked a terrifying world of water and wind. Out there lay everything most to be feared. The boy’s hands tightened on his paddle. Behind him lay safety, security from the sea. What matter if they jeered? For a second he almost turned back.”
“Kivi’s flight moved in exact parallel. Once more it seemed as if his albatross were leading him onward, just as he had led the canoe out of the passage of Hikueru.”
“Then it all came crowding back upon him, and he scarcely dared to believe that there was earth, solid earth beneath him; that once more Moana, the Sea God, had been cheated.”