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The sun had just cleared the water when I left the hut I shared with the shaman Holamaka Kahuna, who still slept. A few fish for breakfast sounded perfect.
One-armed, I dragged our canoe in and jumped aboard, seizing the opposite gunwale as it rocked. I took up an oar and settled in the back, stroking hard on one side then across to the other; harder work than if I could still use both hands.
When the boat was past the breakers, two dorsal fins rose out of the water near me. Nana and Maopopo swam around the canoe.
I laughed to see our old friends. If Holamaka and I were both aboard, ready for a long voyage to offer aid to our fellow islanders, I would gladly welcome the two sharks' aiding us by pushing the boat with their snouts and saving us hours of paddling. But this was only a short fishing trip, and I needed to keep my arm strong by rowing.
I uttered the strange sound Holamaka had taught me, and both sharks swam away.
But soon after, a leaping, splashing shoal of fat fish headed straight for me. Two dorsal fins moved behind the school, herding the creatures right into my net.
When Holamaka finally awoke, I was already back with a canoe full of bonito.