The Last Ride of Kobus

This is the story of the Dutch tourist Jacobus, who lost something of value in Hawaii, but received something else in return.


When Jacobus first came to the Big Island of Hawaii and saw people surfing, he thought it was the coolest thing he’d ever seen. He was just a young man then, about 20 or so, and he was as ready for a challenge as any of the local boys. Of course he wanted to try his hand at surfing, and he was going to do it his own way, which would be so much better than the way the Hawaiians had done it for years. Since he was a hip, cool dude, he knew he could do it without any lesson, either. He would show them how. So he went to one of the beach shacks and rented a board for the day.

“The whole day?” Kalani, the kanaka who owned the surf shop, looked this guy up and down, noticing his white skin, so pale it almost seemed to be glowing inside the shop, how his whole body proclaimed that he thought he was Perfect.

Kalani had to ask: “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure! How much to rent that big one over there?”

Kalani looked at the surfboard the haole (white stranger) was pointing to. Now this was back in the days of the longboard, when a surfboard weighed about 100 pounds and was twelve feet long. This tourist had pointed out one that was easily the biggest one in the shop, but only meant for display. Kalani decided that he had to be mistaken about the board the haole wanted. “You mean the yellow one over there?”

“Hell no!” was the haughty reply. “I want that big one right there, the brown one, the biggest one.” Jacobus hitched himself up, standing proud. “The one with the racing stripes.”

Now the “racing stripes” were actually the natural variations of the wood of the koa tree, which was what they were made of back then. This was in the days when no one had ever heard of sun block, when it was mostly the locals who braved the big waves. Kalani had to hide a smile. This guy was going to get cooked, in more ways than one. Certain that the man wouldn’t meet it, Kalani named a high rental price.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Kobus, who equated money with excellence. He was reaching for his wallet even as he heard the figure. “I’ll take it—and yes, for the whole damn day!”

While Kalani rang up the sale, Jacobus asked, “Do you know an old lady who lives near here? An old grandmother who might be out walking, seemingly without destination?”

Kalani gave a wide smile. “That’s no 'old lady,' that's Pele, the volcano goddess. She watches over the islands. If you help her, she help you.” He looked at Jacobus carefully. “Did you do her one favor?”

The haole seemed almost embarrassed as he replied softly, “Yeah, I gave her a ride to the edge of town.” Then he resumed his aura of arrogance. “But it was no big deal. She said that was as far as she wanted to go. I just couldn’t see her walking out in the hot sun on a day like this.”

Somehow, Jacobus managed to get that oversized board under his arm and stay upright, and Kalani put the money in the register with a smirk. He couldn’t wait to tell someone about this. He might even close shop for a few and stroll over to Uncle Abe’s Place to “talk story” about this crazy haole.

Next time anyone noticed Kobus, he was out on the breakers, sitting on that improbable longboard, watching the local boys catch the waves. His gleaming white skin has begun to turn a light shade of pink and he seems a bit nervous—hesitant, anyway—to paddle out deep enough to catch a wave to step up on that board. In his mind he might’ve been getting ready to Hang Ten, but to the few onlookers, he’s just another scared, sunburned haole.

Soon even those onlookers were bored with waiting for Jacobus to take his first step on the board. They left to get to their favorite watering hole in time to catch the sunset on the beach. Many of the regulars were at Uncle Abe’s place, and it’s there that Kalani—whose shop always closes an hour before sunset—was telling his tale of the determined tourist again. The onlookers from the beach fill in the rest of what’s happened—or rather, not happened—at the beach so far.

Just as the story concludes, a keiki ran in, breathless. Children were usually frowned upon at Uncle Abe’s during the sunset cocktail hour, but this one was a kama lei (beloved child); one of Abe’s grandchildren. So he was cut a little slack, especially when he burst forth with the news: “That stupidhead haole wiped out on the reef! Only thing came back is the board, cracked in half!” Now you didn’t have to be Hawaiian or even a surfer to know that a broken board isn’t good news. So with a quick frown from Uncle for his grandson’s bad language, everyone ran out to the beach.

Sure enough, two halves of a giant’s surfboard were bobbing in the surf, looking like that same giant broke it over his knee in anger. Of the tourist, there was no sign, not a white—or pink—arm flailing in the surf, not a bobbing head, nor a call from the sea.

The lifeguards have already organized a search, and boys and men of all ages grabbed their boards and headed out beyond the breakers. But no one, nothing was found.

Finally, it was too dark and too dangerous to continue. Sunset comes late in the tropics during the summer months, and the searchers were not the kind to give up easily. But they all knew that the chances of finding Jacobus were becoming smaller. The beach patrol called everyone together to call off the search. They’ll return at daybreak to try again. Everyone nodded, but they knew in their hearts how futile it was. The demi-god Maui doesn’t give up his captives easily.

But as they began to walk away, a small sound caught the attention of Ikaika, who had a new baby in his house, and so was more open to little sounds that others might not hear. “Wait!” he said, grabbing the arm of Kaina, the head lifeguard. “You hear something?”

Kaina stopped and looked at Ikaika, shaking his head as if to say Ikaika can’t be hearing what he thinks he does. It’s been dark for about fifteen minutes now, and since the moon hasn’t yet risen, the breakers can hardly be seen anymore. “Wait!” said Ikaika. “Listen!”

Ikaika didn't move, his hand still on Kaina’s arm to hold him there as he listened intently. This time everyone heard it—a sound so small it could be the sound of a wounded sea gull or a baby’s cry. They turned and stared at the surf, walking closer and straining their ears. Without another word, Ikaika dashed off, heading for the far right of the beach, where the ragged cliffs met the water.

By the time the rest have arrived, Ikaika was walking backwards, dragging something out of the water onto the shore. The sound became clearer as they got closer, and now it’s easily recognized as the sound of a man in great pain.

“Help! My leg, my leg! It got me! Arghhh!”

Ikaika pulled him out of the water. Before he could do more, Kaina tore off his shirt to make a tourniquet around the leg to hold the gushing blood. Bloody tracks that looked black in the hour of darkness led back in a wide trail to the water. More lifeguards made it to the scene, and soon Jacobus was rushed to the hospital.

When they gathered in Uncle Abe’s place after it was all over, the talk was full of speculation: how did Jacobus survive his horrible wound long enough to get to shore, never mind avoid the sharp reef? He didn't use his surf board, and a gaping wound like that would’ve drawn sharks. But he was in the hospital getting treated, and all they could do was wait for news.

Late that night, Kaina came in to Uncle Abe’s. He was worn out and ragged from the search and from being at the hospital for too long. Ikaika was the first to reach him, putting an arm over Kaina’s shoulders and leading him to a comfortable chair. “Hey Moki, ask Uncle for one beer for this guy.”

While Kaina had a long drink and settled in, his friends formed a circle around him and waited for the news. “That haole said he went lolo out there. He says he couldn’t have been saved the way it seemed. But when he told me what happened, I knew it was true.”

Kaina looked around at the anxious honey-brown faces that surrounded him. “He was so sunburned that it hurt me to look at him. He’s sure it was a hallucination. Kalani said this guy was full of himself when he rented that longboard, but he wasn’t like that on the way to the hospital. He said when he finally got up the guts to catch a wave, he got knocked off first thing and went under. Him and the board both hit the reef--he could almost hear the loud crack under the water when it broke in two. All he could think of was getting to the surface, where he could breathe again. His lungs were bursting with pain, he needed to breathe so bad.

“Before he could make it, something bit his left leg, something quick and full of sharp teeth. Sounds like a reef shark got him. He didn't know how bad it was; he wanted to get away. He kicked at that shark's empty black eye with his good right leg, kicking and kicking until it let go. He could feel the blood escaping with his life, but there was no time to think about it. He had to get to the top and get air before he died in the sea.

"Here’s the part he said was hallucination—an old lady, grey-haired and dark-skinned, like one of the local tutus, appeared beside him and pulled him to the surface. The shark no longer chased him, and sweet air flooded his lungs, pushing out the sea water. Then he was pushed to shore with suddenly gentle waves. The wahine patted his arm, said 'aloha' with a smile, then disappeared. That’s when he started yelling for help.”

Kaina looked around at his friends, reflecting the smiles he saw on their faces. They knew who had saved the arrogant tourist, and they knew that it was no hallucination. The man had been saved by the Hawaiian goddess Pele, who was said to watch over those who help her. Seems that Pele returned the favor that Jacobus had given her that very morning—the day he decided he could show the Hawaiian people how to surf.

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July 31, 2004
by Starr Rathburn

Note: Although my husband is Hawaiian, I'm not, so any mistakes in this story are mine.

Winner of the Writer's Cramp, from Bianca's prompt:
A Dutch song tells the story about Jacobus, who lost his left leg in Hawaii. Write a story in which you tell exactly what happened to him, and his left leg.