Jewel of the Pacific (11 page)

At that time, the settlement had no permanent doctor. No one came from the Board of Health to help them, except the appointed superintendent of the settlement, Rudolph Meyer. Eden had heard more than once how he’d been well paid for doing little. The superintendent would assemble the group and march them toward Kalawao. He rode horseback and the lepers followed on foot.

Dr. Bolton then told them of one captain who encouraged the lepers to leap over the rails and swim. Others were dumped into the water. A few might make it, but most were sucked back by the current. If not, the water swept them toward the shore and they were killed upon sharp lava rocks.

“How like this earthly pilgrimage without the Savior,” Ambrose commented. “No safe harbor, no lighthouse to warn heedless arrivals of great dangers ahead. No helping hand, only treacherous rock, and pounding waves to sweep the heedless soul to its final end.”

“Well said,” Dr. Bolton stated.

“In my opinion Rudolph Meyer and the Board of Health did precious little to alleviate their sufferings,” her father said.

“We need to be just in our judgment, Jerome. The problem was then, and remains now, money,” Dr. Bolton said. “The Hawaiian government was deeply in debt and simply didn’t have the finances to provide food, clothing, and shelter for all those people. Even now there is never enough.”

“After the reckless spending by the Kalakaua and Walter Murray Gibson government, I’m not surprised they had no money,” Ambrose lamented. “However, I understand your point. The government can hardly provide every need for every individual.”

“Matters now are much improved from what they were in the 1860s and ’70s,” Bolton said. “Even so, I agree with Jerome—much more needs to be done. Now that I’m one of the exiles maybe I can have more influence with the Board. I shall do my best, anyway.”

“And your abilities as a doctor, dear friend, cannot be too highly appreciated.” Jerome put a hand on his fellow doctor’s shoulder. “With you and Lana working at the research clinic, we’re bound to make great headway.”

The ship weighed anchor and moved a quarter-mile off the coast of Molokai, to the Kalaupapa landing.

When it was time to board the whaleboats, Keno came to Eden, and looking uneasy, ran his hand through his curly dark hair.

Eden smiled. “If you’re worried about me, Keno, thank you. But I’ll be all right—” She glanced toward the swells. “I think,” she added lightly.

“For everyone going ashore, people and cargo are alike, Miss Eden. It’s going to be a little risky and very wet. No one arrives dry, or with much dignity intact. We’ll all be dumped on shore like baggage, drenched to the skin. You’re sure you want to go on with this?”

“Yes. Thanks for your concern. But I’m going.”

“I thought so, but your aunt wanted me to ask you one more time.”

“There’s no turning back for me now.”

Keno’s brown eyes reflected his understanding of the deeper meaning behind her words.

“No,” he said, “I don’t suppose there is.” He gestured. “That whaleboat is the one you’re to ride in. The
kanakas
are experts. I’ll join them. There’s some canvas inside. Try to keep underneath. I’ve told Mrs. Bolton the same. Those waves can be mighty intimidating.”

He then went off to get Dr. Jerome and Ambrose. Meanwhile, a seasoned
kanaka
picked up her baggage as if it were feather-filled, and grinned. “This way, miss,” he said as he walked toward the whaleboat.

To board the small craft Eden and others had to cautiously descend a loosely strung “contraption of rope and wood,” as Eden called it. Eden felt tremendous sympathy for the lepers. How difficult this would be in their maimed condition.

Eden was last to go down the rope ladder while Keno and Ambrose held it straight and her father looked on uneasily, calling out to place her feet carefully.

She was finally helped into the boat, breathless from the excitement. She smiled at her father who nodded. While the passengers settled, the four oarsmen, strong and shirtless, pushed off from the ship and began rowing as the steersman turned the bow toward shore.

The cliffs of Kalaupapa appeared to rise, stark and black, from a narrow shore, upon which the waves rolled in with swells of white foam. The cliffs wore a thick layer of cloud which extended for miles along the shore, while below the torches flared and seemed to sway. She imagined lepers gathered, waiting to greet the boats.

Somewhere up there on that promontory of land jutting out over the beach were two villages. At the far side was Kalaupapa. On the other was Kalawao, where the main leper settlement was located. From the beach position beneath the overhang of cliffs, a person could not see the huts. The “village” lay behind the jagged lava rocks and scraggly trees.

An inrushing wave rolled upon them. With shouts in cadence the crewmen pulled in unison upon their oars as the boat moved faster before the wave.

“Pull!” Keno shouted. They gained speed and the swell lifted the entire boat, raising the rear upon the wave’s advancing slope.

Eden wanted to scream, terrified of the deep water as the boat tilted downward. The oarsmen yelled and Eden turned her head in alarm, but their glee assured her they were cheering for having caught the huge wave.

Eden buried her face in Ambrose’s jacket and felt his arm around her. She heard his laughter rising with Keno’s. She remembered then; how it was Ambrose who had taught both Rafe and Keno the ways of surfing the big waves, and diving for pearls.

She groaned, nauseated. Would they ever get there—alive?

H
aving caught the wave, the
kanaka
oarsmen held the oars above water as the wave speedily carried them through the greenish water. All Eden could see in front of them were sharp black rocks along the beach. A scream died in her throat. There was no sand at their landing site! Only rocks! Big, black rocks washed with white foam.

“It’s okay! Don’t worry. My cousins are the best of the
kanakas!”
Keno shouted at her.

Eden saw the glow in her father’s deep-set eyes. This landing was, for him, a victory long fought for and now close at hand.

The boat sped toward Kalaupapa, landing in the curve of the bay beneath the cliffs.

“Get ready!” Keno shouted. She felt his strong grasp on her shoulders.

Near the beach, the swell turned into a wave that rose from behind the boat to break all around them. At the moment when the boat was between the departing wave and the next incoming, the oarsmen slid over the sides into water above their waists. Avoiding the rocks underfoot, they moved the boat toward shore, and then called out, “Now!”

The muscular
kanakas
were dragging and lifting the heavy boat over rocks to a spot safe from the waves.

Eden lifted the hem of her cape and skirt to keep them from gathering sand. Her skirt, shoes, and stockings were soaked. She was miserable but silenced the inner groan.

When Keno turned back for Eden’s father, Ambrose was still beside Jerome, trying to get him out of waist-deep water while another wave rushed upon them. Keno ran out into the water and helped them reach the shore.

Satisfied that everyone was safe so far, Eden looked up toward the overhanging dark lava cliff said to be the highest sea cliff in the world.

Eden dropped her gaze from the lofty heights to the foot of the cliff wall where she saw some of the lepers, who’d come to meet the boat, huddled against the dank rock, away from the incoming waves and loose stones that would come pelting down. Just then a heavier hunk of rock hurtled close to where she stood. Eden darted nearer the cliff, away from the overhang. Here, against the cliff, she took refuge from the damp wind sweeping in from the ocean.

The lepers watched her, noting the red cross on her nursing pinafore, which she wore over the plain gray dress of her uniform. Her clothes were now dripping wet and her hair was stuck like seaweed to her neck.

These individuals were not badly deformed yet. Because they weren’t, they retained some strength and ability to work.

“I’m sorry,” she called above a wind that sighed morosely among the cracks and crevices of the cliff. “You mistook the private ship for the government steamer.”

“No
poi?
”

“No, I’m so sorry,” she repeated, folding her arms tightly about her. She was shivering, perhaps from more than the chilling wind. “The steamer will arrive in a few days. Have you enough to eat? Is anyone going hungry? If so I can come up with something from our supplies.”

“We survive,” another man answered. “Don’t worry about us; no one ever has.”

“That isn’t so—” She stopped. It was pointless to get into a discourse here and now. From the gruffness of the man’s speech she guessed he’d already made up his mind about life and was bitter.

“We’re from the Board of Health,” she called. “You may have heard of my father, Dr. Jerome Derrington? That’s him by the boat—the tall, slim man in white. I’m his daughter, a nurse from Kalihi.”

One of the more friendly asked, “Why you come here, to this evil prison?”

“Dr. Derrington and Dr. Bolton will explain. They’ll hold a meeting as soon as we’re settled into bungalows.”

Some made sounds of approval, and two or three tried to smile.

“Did he bring any whiskey or opium?” asked the gruff one with a raspy chortle. “That’s the only thing to help the likes of me.”

Some of the others joined in the gurgling sounds of laughter from decaying throats.

Even though Eden had experienced some symptoms of leprosy at the Kalihi hospital, she’d never met people in the later stages, when decay and deformity had taken over.

Keno walked forward with the authority of a ship’s captain. He stopped beside Eden and, in a stance very much like Rafe Easton, stood with hands on hips looking at them. It was a silent reminder that they were to treat her with respect. They quickly quieted.

As his cousins began to unload the cargo, stashing it upon the rocks out of way of the waves, the lepers began to leave their shelter. They came, some hobbling, over loose stones toward the goods.

Keno raised a palm toward them. “Say, pals, I’m real sorry, but these belong to the medical team. Cheer up, though! Pastor Ambrose, my uncle, has brought you some goods from his mission church. If you line up, he’ll see that each of you gets a bag to take back with you.”

His words brought smiles and cheers. The cynic called: “Any whiskey from the church pantry?”

“Watch your tongue, pal,” Keno warned.

Evidently the quiet tone was convincing, for the leper’s mood changed and he hobbled into line with the rest of them.

Ambrose was uncasing his goods with friendly talk, and Keno went to help in the distribution.

Dr. Jerome walked up, wet, with sand stuck to his soggy trousers that flapped around his ankles in the wind.

“I’m Dr. Jerome Derrington from Kalihi hospital. I’m here to open a research clinic. These goods are for my work, and those who will assist me.”

“Oe!”
One of the native Hawaiian men pointed at Dr. Bolton.

“You remember my good colleague, Dr. Bolton?”

Dr. Bolton walked up, looking at ease around the lepers.

“Sure they remember me,” Dr. Bolton said with a tired smile.

“We remember,” one of them grumbled. “You send us here.”

“To protect others. Even your families. And now I’m one of you. Like Dr. Derrington, I want to help others who are not yet lepers from ever coming to this place.” He pulled up his trouser and a low murmuring sounded as the men saw the signs of leprosy on his leg.

“So sorry,” some said, shaking their heads. “You caught it from us, eh?”

Two or three murmured as they hobbled away, “You get what you deserve for sending us here.”

“I remember you,” another man said to Jerome. “You try to help us at Kakaako.” Kakaako was the holding station center near the entrance to Honolulu’s harbor.

Dr. Jerome smiled. “Yes. We, here, are
all
your friends. We want to help all of you. But first my clinic must be built by these men.” He gestured toward Keno, Ambrose, and six of Keno’s cousins, all from Ambrose’s mission church. “I’m asking you to cooperate with anything they may ask of you.”

“We all help,
kauka
, no worry.”

“Aloha!” a male voice called from behind them.

Eden turned to see a sturdy man in a plain monk’s robe seated in a worn, one-seat buggy pulled by a swaybacked horse. He climbed down and strode toward them with a smile.

“Aloha!” Dr. Jerome and the others echoed, smiling in return. “You must be Ira B. Dutton,” Dr. Jerome greeted him warmly. “I believe we may have met once in the past.”

“It was several years ago I believe, Dr. Derrington. You called at Kalaupapa with several others. I believe a Mr. Hartley was with you also.”

Eden, surprised, looked at her father’s face. When had her father been here on Molokai? And why had he not told her? Surely he’d seen Rebecca then.

Dr. Jerome showed no concern over the revelation, however. Although Brother Dutton was not an official priest, he had taken the place of the beloved Priest Damien who’d died of leprosy a few years earlier.