Hawaii native, Jason Mamoa’s, casting as Aquaman in DC Comics’ cinematic universe is apropos, seeing how the mortal who's come closest to Aquaman’s strength and prowess in the sea was also born and raised in Hawaii.

His name? Duke Kahanamoku. A.k.a., the Big Kahuna.

During the first half of the 20th century, Duke was the best swimmer and surfer in the world. With several Olympic gold medals to his name.

So graceful and powerful was he, that one could easily think the nautical city of Atlantis was his childhood home.

Duke was a pioneer not just in the sports of modern-day swimming and surfing; he was also an experienced lifeguard who pioneered the use of a surfboard to assist in dangerous rescues.

One morning, on June 14, 1925, when he was 35 years old, Duke put his swimming and rescue skills to the ultimate test. He was hanging out with few surf buddies in Corona del Mar, California, when they saw a fishing boat capsize off the coast. With over a dozen passengers in need of rescue.

What happened next was one heck of a superhuman feat.

In His Own Words...

"Big green walls of water were sliding in from the horizon, building up to barn-like heights, then curling and crashing on the shore. Only a porpoise, a shark or a sea lion had any right to be out there.

From shore, we suddenly saw the charter fishing boat, the Thelma, wallowing in the water just seaward of where the breakers were falling with the CRUMP of tumbling buildings. The craft appeared to be trying to fight her way toward safe water, but it was obviously a losing battle.

You could see her rails crowded with fishermen who, at the moment, certainly had other things in mind than fishing. Mine was the only board handy right then — and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to use it…

In that instant, my knees went to tallow, for a mountain of solid green water curled down upon the vessel. Spume geysered up in all directions, and everything was exploding water for longer than you would believe.

Then, before the next mammoth breaker could blot out the view again, it was obvious that the Thelma had capsized and thrown her passengers into the billing sea. Neither I nor my pals were thinking heroics; we were simply running — me with a board, and the others to get their boards — and hoping we could save lives.

I hit the water hard and flat with all the forward thrust I could generate, for those bobbing heads in the water could not remain long above the surface of that churning surge. Fully clothed persons have little chance in a wild sea like that, and even the several who were clinging to the slick hull of the overturned boat could not last long under the pounding.

It was some surf to try and push through! But I gave it all I had, paddling until my arms begged for mercy. I fought each towering breaker that threatened to heave me clear back onto the beach, and some of the combers almost creamed me for good. I hoped my pals were already running toward the surf with their boards. Help would be at a premium.

Don’t ask me how I made it, for it was just one long nightmare of trying to shove through what looked like a low Niagara Falls. The prospects for picking up victims looked impossible.

Arm-weary, I got into that area of screaming, gagging victims, and began grabbing at frantic hands, thrashing legs. I didn’t know what was going on with my friends and their boards. All I was sure of was that I brought one victim in on my board, then two on another trip, possibly three on another — then back to one. It was a delirious shuttle system working itself out.

In a matter of a few minutes, all of us were making rescues. [Unfortunately,] some victims we could not save at all, for they went under before we could get to them."

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Duke's heroic efforts saved 8 lives that day. (His friends, 4 more.) A superhuman aquatic feat like no other.