Читать книгу Secret Cave of Kamanawa - Helen Lamar Berkey - Страница 8

CHAPTER 1

THE CAT-WOMAN

"Boy" McFarlane stood on the open lanai and observed the beach and the sky. Clouds bulging with rain hung low over the sea. The rain fell softly but steadily, dimpling the surface of the water, running in tiny rivulets down the long, sharp leaves of the pandanus, and bruising and crumpling the red and pink hibiscus blossoms that grew on the hedges bordering the lawn.

Boy had gotten his nickname from a Japanese maid who couldn't pronounce his real name, Llewelyn.

"What a day!" observed Boy disgustedly. "What a day! It looks as though it will rain forever."

The tide was out and the reef lay exposed beneath a thin covering of water, but Boy was not tempted to hunt for coral in the little pools among the rocks, not today in the rain! He eyed the skiff, Hula Girl, rocking unconcernedly with the motion of the water. But he didn't want to fish in a wet boat, either.

Boy looked clown Kamanawa Beach for some sign of life. The brown soggy sand was deserted. There was not even a beach boy, or a meandering fisherman with his casting nets to be seen. Then a stray cat, with his tail high, scampered lightly across the lawn looking for shelter, flicking the drops of water from his feet as he ran. Boy's face brightened; why hadn't he thought of it before? This was a perfect day to visit the Cat-Woman.

He called out to Lovely, the maid, who was doing a spectacular cleaning job in the kitchen.

"I'm going over to the Cat-Woman's, Lovely," he cried, "and please call The Mutt. I don't want him to follow me."

The Mutt, who had escaped the turmoil of Lovely's cleaning of the lanai, barked and wagged his tail when he heard Boy's voice, He had been patiently anticipating a walk in the rain.

"No, no!" said Boy patting the big shaggy dog. "You cannot go. You have to stay home. The Cat-Woman will not allow a dog near her place."

Lovely, drying her hands on her apron, appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"The Cat-Woman!" she said derisively. "Why do you want to see her? Anyone who would live with all those cats must be slightly touched,"

"I like her," said Boy. "She's fun. She can tell the most interesting stories."

"Well, then, be back for lunch," advised Lovely, sourly returning to her cleaning.

The Mutt followed Boy to the door, but Boy opened it just wide enough for himself to squeeze through, leaving The Mutt behind to cry in disappointment.

"Never mind," he heard Lovely speak to the dog. "The Cat-Woman hates dogs because they chase her cats. You stay home with me."

The homes along the edge of Kamanawa Beach were set back from the highway in damp, lush grounds amid tall old coco palms, giant bread-fruits, and mango trees. On this rainy morning there were no yardmen clipping hedges and grass; no barefooted children peddling tricycles up and down driveways; no maids wheeling baby carriages under the palms. The rain was like a gauzy curtain obscuring the big houses from sight, muting all sounds.

The last house on Kamanawa Beach belonged to the Cat-Woman, and it was the largest house of all—gray, weatherbeaten, and shabby. All around it were Norfolk pines that had been cut back to thicken and form an impenetrable barrier between the house and the curious or venture-some, and to prevent the intrusion of strange dogs.

A tall wooden gate placed between the hedges bore the legend, "Kamanawa Place," in tarnished brass letters. Boy lifted the latch and immediately a bell jangled. This was to warn the Cat-Woman she had a visitor.

With rusty hinges creaking, the wooden gate swung open and Boy stepped inside the enclosure and followed the wet flagstones across the untidy yard. Under the shelter of an ancient hibiscus bush he saw the first of the Cat-Woman's pets, two tiger-cats asleep with their paws tucked under them like mittens in a muff. At the front door there were two more cats sleeping on the setees on either side of the tiny entrance way.

Boy pressed the buzzer and it reverberated through the high-ceilinged rooms. Through the ragged screen door he could make out little in the dim shadows of the interior, but he soon heard the slap-slap of the Cat-Woman's sandals on the bare floors.

"Who is it?" she called in her soft throaty voice.

"It's me, Boy McFarlane."

"Well! Come in! Come in!" she greeted him, unlatching the door. "Aloha to you!"

Boy pulled open the screen and almost stepped on a huge black-and-yellow calico cat lying on the rug in front of the door.

"Watch out! Don't step on Buzzy," warned the Cat-Woman, "he likes to lie here."

But when Boy stepped into the dark hall, Buzzy, now awake, rose from the rug, stretched mightily, arched his back, yawned widely, and dutifully followed in the wake of the Cat-Woman's straw sandals.

The Cat-Woman looked tiny in her voluminous mu'umu'u. She was slightly hunchbacked from a childhood accident. Perhaps because of this and the fact she loved cats, Lovely accused her of having a witchlike personality. She had a lot of soft gray hair which was twisted into a bun and held up with a high filigreed tortoise-shell comb, but unfortunately most of it escaped in unruly wisps around her face and over her dark luminous eyes.

"I'm folding newspapers this morning," explained the Cat-Woman going over to a long table loaded with papers. "You can sit down in the rocker and keep me company."

The light in the vast living room was dim and Boy almost sat on Patches, a black-and-yellow cat sleeping in the rocking chair.

"Careful! Don't sit on Patches," cried the Cat-Woman excitedly. "She thinks she owns that chair. Put her on the floor; she's been there all morning." She looked fondly at the cat Boy gently put on the floor.

On the long table there were two other cats watching the Cat-Woman with bright alert eyes, following every move she made as she folded and creased the papers. Then one of the cats put a gentle restraining paw on the Cat-Woman's wrist, as though to play a little.

"Isn't that cute?" glowed the Cat-Woman delightedly. "The little pet wants to play."

"Why are you folding all those newspapers?" Boy asked finally.

"I like to save everything," the Cat-Woman said. "I do not believe in throwing things away. If you will look over there by the wall, you will see all the papers I have saved."

Boy saw that the Cat-Woman had, indeed, saved her papers. Neatly folded and stacked they reached almost to the ceiling, and on the very top of them a black cat with shiny green eyes watched them warily, his body poised, ready to leap at the first sign of danger.

"Never mind, Inky," the Cat-Woman spoke soothingly to the animal. "Everything is fine." Strangely enough, the cat's tense muscles relaxed and it sank back again into a restful position.

Boy sat and rocked as the Cat-Woman folded her papers. He loved the Cat-Woman's house. It was much more interesting than his, with Lovely's immaculate housekeeping. Every time he called on the Cat-Woman, he discovered something he had never seen before. In tall, glassed, oaken cabinets were many items: old feather leis, a collection of Spanish combs that Hawaiian women love so much to wear when they dress up, an old poi pounder, innumerable shells from the South Seas—beautiful pink spiny ones, black-spotted cowries, and one rare golden cowrie that Cat-Woman said was very valuable—a necklace of kukui nuts as black as night and highly polished, an anklet of yellowed shark's teeth, two or three calabashes, two carved wooden images with pearly shell eyes, a model outrigger canoe exquisitely carved in every detail, a cluster of blue glass balls that had floated loose from the nets of fishermen from Japan, and many other things.

"I like your house," said Boy finally. "It's full of many interesting things."

"Thank you, Boy," replied the Cat-Woman. "That is because it is old and because I do not throw things away."

Boy rocked some more. Without much ado, Patches suddenly jumped into Boy's lap and settled herself comfortably. Boy found himself stroking the cat's soft fur over and over. In the far corner of the shadowy room he saw the outline of an old grand piano, its once beautiful wood now warped and stained from the humid, salty sea air. A tattered Chinese silk shawl covered its scarred surface. There, lying full length upon a stack of music was another cat, a snow-white animal. There was still another cat sitting on the piano bench. This one washed its face and licked itself tirelessly. Beneath the bench, still another cat rolled over and over on its back as it tried to manipulate a bright red rubber ball.

The Cat-Woman saw Boy's eyes looking at the piano.

"That's the Snow Queen on top of the music," explained the Cat-Woman, "she has such beautiful blue eyes. I've never seen a cat with blue eyes before, except a Siamese cat. Now, look who's coming across the room. That is my Lady! Isn't she lovely? Her tail is Angora. I've put a black velvet bow around her neck, she's so special. But, if you want to see something sweet, look into that far corner by the cabinet."

Boy brushed Patches to the floor and went to the corner by the cabinet. In a cardboard carton upon an old sweater lay a golden cat with a pink nose and pink paws nursing a litter of kittens.

"That's Mommy," said the Cat-Woman. "She's the best little mother in the world! She raises her kittens properly, never deserts them."

"So many kittens!" observed Boy looking down at half a dozen tiny creatures, all different—white, black striped, calico, spotted, and yellow.

"Mommy's litters are always so unusual," said the Cat-Woman with great pride. "Now, Boy, how about some guava juice and cookies? I baked early this morning."

Boy followed her to the kitchen where there were even more cats! There were cats everywhere: cats on the sink, cats on top of the food safe, cats on the unlighted stove, cats on the floor in front of the icebox, and a cat even on top of the refrigerator. They all looked up expectantly when the Cat-Woman appeared.

"My!" gasped Boy dumbfounded, "bow many cats are there?"

"They are all waiting for me to feed them," explained the Cat-Woman." You see I have fresh fish in the icebox, but I'm not going to give them any until evening. I really am very firm with them."

As the Cat-Woman opened the refrigerator door to get the pitcher of cold guava juice, all the cats got to their feet, jumped to the floor and hugged close to the Cat-Woman's mu'umu'u.

"No! No!" scolded the Cat-Woman, "you have to wait until tonight for the fish."

With the plate of cookies and pitcher of guava juice in her hands, the Cat-Woman led the way back to the living room.

The Cat-Woman resumed her task of folding newspapers, and Boy, with Patches once more settled on his lap, rocked and munched his cookies. An eerie eye of yellow light filtered from the parchment shade and made a golden pool on the floor, but the remainder of the room was shadowy. All around him Boy felt the silent living presence of the cats, and saw their eyes gleaming from every darkened corner. Outside, the rain misted and dripped tears from the eaves and bushes. The waves, like white horses, reared and plunged over the reef, their roar filling the room. Beneath the house the sea rushed up under the pilings and rocks, gurgled darkly and receded.

Facing Boy on the opposite wall were two pictures he had seen before, but today he found himself examining them more closely. One was an oil painting by a famous Island artist of the eruption of Kilauea Volcano. It was a night scene showing the great fire pit glowing blood-red in the darkened crater. The other picture was a steel engraving, a portrait of a Hawaiian warrior. He stood tall and straight with a short feather cape, or kihei, over his shoulders, a malo around his waist, and a spear in his hand. His hair was long and black and gathered into a knot on the top of his head. Boy studied the portrait a long time. He wondered if the picture was of a real person.

"Is that picture of a real Hawaiian warrior?" he asked the Cat-Woman.

The Cat-Woman turned to look.

"Indeed, yes!" she said proudly. "That is a likeness of my great-grandfather, Chief Kamanawa. This beach we live on is named after him. I am his direct descendant, the last of the line of Kamanawas."

"Please tell me about him," begged Boy, "and all about how this beach became known as Kamanawa Beach."

The Cat-Woman gave a final smoothing to the paper she was folding.

"That is a good idea," she said. "Not many young people today know anything about old Hawaii. I'll tell you how the brave Chief Kamanawa paddled all the way to Molokai, and in the dark of night stole the beautiful daughter of the Molokai chief and carried her away to the island of Oahu."