Turtle-Hunters Of Hawaii

Auckland Star, Volume LXIX, Issue 226, 24 September 1938, Page 3 (Supplement)

Turtle-Hunters Of Hawaii

Written by Odo Strewe

—Photographs by Jo Gernert

LIGHT dips the boat with the turtle-hunters through the ground swell, which breaks round the island of Kauai. It is the most northern of the Hawaiian group. With her million Bowers it is like a gigantic garden. Its inhabitants call it the Garden Island.

In a Mu,ill liny near the dwelling- ; liirt* hi I lie turtle, tliey let the keel „f tln-ir l"'iil run on the sand. Xeli, an i'jilf yi>tiii'_' Hawaiian, storms, with the licavv. lull.' spear, to the rock*. He is full of greed for hunting, to throw the *teel through the breast of the armoured tiui d.

Moki. routrary to the other, is quiet and fat. With a silencc of the corpulcnt, ho looks firet after the boat to gee if the anchor is fast, then takes the tikelele out to while away the time on the rocks. Waddling, he walks with Polynesian quietness after his friend. Here in the turtle hunt, he plays a secondary role —the pulling—when the turtle gets fpeared and is trying to escape. Against its heavy weight, he puts his weight. Over the n;.ked rocks of the cooled lava, which are sharp like old razors, both are climbing. Keli, the turtle-hunter, ha« now arrived on the overhanging rock. He looks in the slow-rolling waves of the ocean. Lcad-black stands the volcanic atone in there. As the glowing lava was thrown into the air, it fell in the cold sea, sizzling and bursting, connecting gas and water, exploding anew, affecting the rock to make millions of holee.

Stormy is the dsy. Just right to hunt turtles. When the sea is calm they keep fur outside. And the muscular arms of Keli do not reach so far. Slowly the waves shove themselves against the thnre. Now runs the bouncing wave dashing back from the rocks and towered high up with the incoming wave and to sina«h with eardrum-splitting sound back to the rocks. In the breaking, the wave lose® her blue colour, changes to jade green and becomes transparent.

That's the moment, when the turtle becomes in view. In the next second the surface is feet- high with white foam bedecked. Then from the bottom comes the upstirring sand, colouring the sea

to a dirty yellow, until it sinks back. The turtles stay five or ten minutes groundling like ducks, diving along on the sea bottom, to search for growths and 6mall animals.

There, one comes up. Both men duck lightning-fast to the rocks, lest they gee. Those who fail, stand still and stiff because the turtle has sharp eyes, keeps away and immediately swims to the open sea. The turtle had taken air, looked to the land, then to the horizon, and dived again. In the same moment came a huge wave, its power, going deep in the water. It catches the turtle and brings it 10 yards nearer the cliffs. Twenty yards more and its fate is definite. Keli is crawling on the edge of the rock and watches when it is grabbed by the undertow and nearly overthrown to plunge to the bottom. Nothing more is seen of it.

White froth and driven sand pass over. Once more rolls a wave in her **reen transparency, rocking the turtle. ° All muscles on Keifs body stretch, he makes the line free; but the turtle becomes uncomfortable with the wave mountain, and deep-diving, swims to the sea. Far outside, it comes up.

So this goes on, often for hours. The wave rolls, the turtle dives to the ground being thrown to the cliffs, one spear gets lifted—and the play begins once more.

From the water comes more heads, 'l'hey look like sea snakes.

Suddenly the fat Moki bawls: "In the water a shadow!" They are busy watching the turtles outside that they forget to watch the water before them. Keli lets himself down in a second. There roars a gigantic wave on him. He screws up his face and holds himself rigid to the rocks. He does not care to get spilled down. Xo, the back-flowing water which touches his body is bring" ing back the smell of the human and drives the sensitive turtle away.

In the foam envelope Keli still stays. Scarcely has the wave leceded when he throws the spear to the escaping, dark spot in the sea. The line rolls out from his hand. He yells up and the fat Moki lays himself back, stemming his feet against the sharp lava crust, the rope around his body. The shaft of the spear sails like the mast of a wrecked ship through the water. The line is at an end, stretched taut. Still a few minutes' fight (sometimes hours) and the turtle i 3 lifted with a second rope on to the rocks.

With an unspeakably sad look it lies there, turned on its back, helpless on the land, the head of the steel spear sticking out of its breast. A little red blood is dropping in a salty puddle of water in the black lava. It lifts its too-weakly, armoured breast, groaning and closing its eyes in pain. c Keli takes the ukelele, flirting with his eyes and breathing his breast'fuU of salty air. In childlike happiness of killing he sings: "To you sweetheart Aloha ..." Then they cut the head off.