Michael stroked over the first of two waves and halfway up the face of the third, then sat back on his board, grabbed the left rail, reversed his board, and pulled it under him and aimed it down the face of the wave. There was no need to paddle in this situation. The board was like a dart, and the hand of the wave propelled it toward the target.
As the wave lifted the tail of his board, he sprang to his feet and poised in a graceful, cat-like stance. He'd been through it dozens of times...
A farmer's daughter duty was to carry fresh milk to customers in various villages had, one of whom was a priest. To reach his house, the milkmaid had to cross a good-sized stream. People crossed it by a sort of ferry raft, for a small fee.
One day the priest, who performed worship daily with the offering to God of fresh milk, finding it arrived very late, scolded the poor woman. "What can I do?" she said, "I start out early from my house, but I have to wait a long time for the boatman to come."