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Updated: June 14, 2025
An hour later he was beneath the banyan tree at the Moana beach bar. Gilbert was still tending bar. "Gilbert, you haven't changed a bit." Gilbert was from Honolulu, medium sized with dark hair and dark eyes. He could have been from anywhere. His square features were professionally neutral; his smile was quick and ironic, under control. "Your eyes going," Gilbert said.
Well have the Samoans named the leather-jacket Isu'umu Moana the sea-rat.
"Well," she sighed when they reached her apartment building, "good night, Joe." "Good night, Rhiannon. See you in the morning?" "I'll be there." Summer was almost gone. Joe and Rhiannon crossed the boulevard at the Ewa end of Ala Moana park and walked toward the beach. The weather was warm and overcast, for a change. Rhiannon chattered about her upcoming trip to see her father in Connecticut.
Owning its own ranch in the mountains where milk, cream, butter, eggs, poultry and game are plentiful, the table at Moana Villa is provided with all the substantials and luxuries, cooked and served in home style. One great advantage is offered to guests at Moana Villa, viz.: they may divide their time between it and Rubicon Springs, as both are under the same ownership and management.
The Hosea C. Brewsters, of Winnebago, Wisconsin, were the people you've met on the veranda of the Moana Hotel at Honolulu, or at the top of Pike's Peak, or peering into the restless heart of Vesuvius. They were the prosperous Middle-Western type of citizen who runs down to Chicago to see the new plays and buy a hat, and to order a dozen Wedgwood salad plates at Field's. Mrs.
So, at each sailing on the "long course" the anguish is keen. "Ia ora na i te Atua! Farewell and God keep you!" the women cried as they stood beside the half-buried cannon that serve to make fast the ships by the coral bank. From the deck of the nearby Hinano came the music of an accordeon and a chorus of familiar words: "I teie nie mahana Ne tere no oe e Hati Na te Moana!"
The next stop of the steamer is quite close to McKinney's, viz., Moana Villa, and a mile or so further on at Pomin's, the former an old established resort, and the latter an entirely new one. After passing Sugar Pine Point, Meek's Bay and Grecian Bay are entered.
He went directly to the Moana. "I need a drink, Gilbert." "You in the right place." For the first time since he'd landed in Hawaii, Joe was lonely. Alison had given him something, and he missed it already. What was it? Her directness. It was how to be, a gift. He watched the young and the not so young prowl along the beach, bodies glistening with tanning oil. None were for him.
In a quarter of an hour we had caught but four schnapper and lost a dozen or more hooks; my own line was bitten through at about five fathoms from the surface a piece of meat skin had wound itself round it and had been discovered by one of these predatory villains. No wonder that the Samoans and natives of the Tokelau Islands term the leather-jacket isumu moana the sea-rat.
Colwell's Moana Villa, and Pomin's new and beautiful place are passed and then we ascend, and suddenly Meek's Bay is revealed to us, a glorious symphony in blues, deepening and richening into pure amethyst, with lines, patches and borders of emerald and lapis lazuli.
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