seas and mountains to his leper bride. Keoua swam ashore silently,
fearing every second to see the white fin of a shark start up beside
him in the water. Once he felt the cold, slimy sucker of a squid
against his ankle, but he tore himself free, and, shooting on a high
roller through a narrow break in the reef, lay at last, spent and
breathless, but safe upon the beach.
Yet the worst was still before him. Kalaupapa could only be approached
by crossing the mountain range, and the only path on the other side was
down a _pali_ so steep that it made the head of the bravest climber
dizzy to look upon it. However, there was no help for it, and in a
few minutes, Keoua, recovering from the exhaustion consequent upon
his swim, set off on the upward journey. This was comparatively easy,
though it was still easier in the darkness to miss the path and get
into those haunted gorges where of old the poison goddess had her
grove. Long ropes of _ieie_, tough as wire cables, formed a ladder
up the face of the mountain. By these, scarcely touching the ground,
he toiled upwards through tangled growths which would otherwise have
been impassable. When he reached the top, the sun was just rising from
the clouds, and revealing one after another the majestic ridges of
Haleakala and the rock-bound coasts of Maui and Lanai. Then the wind
came sweeping up and threatened to dash the intruder backwards down the
rocks. The trees swayed and bent, the foliage of the _kukui_ shivered
with its ghostly sheen, the clouds swept away from the bay of Kalawao,
and there, several thousand feet below, lay the white roofs and
_lanais_ of as peaceful a settlement, to all appearances, as any upon
which the sun has ever shone.
But if ever a place could be called a whited sepulchre it was this;
not that Christian love and self-sacrifice had not cast an aureole
of beauty about it which made it sacred, but because here was the
realization of Milton’s terrible vision:
“A lazar house it seemed, wherein were laid
Numbers of all diseased; all maladies
Of ghastly spasm, or racking torture, qualms
Of heart-sick agony, all feverous kinds,
Convulsions, epilepsies, fierce catarrhs,
Intestine stone and ulcer, cholic pangs,
Demoniac frenzy, moping melancholy,
And moonstruck madness, pining atrophy,
Marasmus and wide-wasting pestilence,
Dropsies and asthmas and joint-racking rheums.
Dire was the tossing, deep the groans: Despair
Tended the sick, busiest from couch to couch;
And over them triumphant Death his dart
Shook, but delayed to strike, though oft invoked,
With vows, as their chief good and final hope.”
How could Nature sing so sweetly and smile so fair when the eyes rested
upon a cancer so foul!
Keoua looked down as though he expected to see there the grass hut
of Pauoa Valley with Luka and her baby at the door to greet him, but
the place seemed deserted till, when half-way down, the sweet tinkle
of a chapel bell roused him from a dream, and he supported himself
by a clump of guava bushes to watch the dark-cassocked priests and
white-hooded sisters passing from the House of Misery to the solace of
the House of God. Such was the mood of Keoua that he could not feel any
thrill in the thought of these brave men and sweet women thus living
in grim company with death. He thought only of the curse the white man
had brought to his race from the days of Cook, the discoverer, to the
day when the fruits of ancient vice had burst forth in the heart of his
own home. So it was with hard and bitter thoughts he hastened on his
way, scarce knowing what he intended to do, perhaps carry Luka bodily
away from the pest-house to the fastnesses of the mountains, where they
might live like the free wild beasts and die in peace.
As he came near the hospital, however, there met him, sauntering forth,
a man dressed in a cool suit of white linen, whose keen eye and earnest
serious face proclaimed him the doctor.
He glanced at the wayfarer with something of surprise, seeing that he
was endeavoring to avoid an encounter.
“_Aloha!_” he exclaimed, using the familiar Hawaiian greeting. The man
made no response, but looked savagely on the ground.
“Hello, my man; what’s the matter?” For Keoua looked ghastly through
his olive skin, and his steps tottered. But strength came to answer,
fiercely:
“_Hele aku_--go away--curse you. Before time, _kanaka_ live here, no
_pake mai_--(leprosy)--all _maikai loa_--very good. Then _haole_ man
come, bring _pake mai_. Poor _kanaka_ die; make die all time. _Haole_
man thief steal kanaka’s _wahine_; _haole_ man kill _kanaka’s keiki_
(child). _Hele!_”
The doctor thought of all he might say, for it was eminently
reasonable, all this segregation, and the kanaka had much cause to
be grateful for what the government was doing for the lepers. But he
knew logic was not what the poor wretch wanted, and while he hesitated
the need of answering vanished, for there rose up from the hospital a
strange sound, strange at least from such a place. It was the strain
of a band of music, plaintive yet joyful--no dirge, but the voice of
rejoicing. For in this lazar-house joy is not unknown, albeit it comes
at an hour when others weep. A soul freed from pain, from pollution,
and from the body of death, born into the light of Paradise--in such a
case was it not fitting that cymbals should clash and trumpets sound?
“_Heaha kela?_” exclaimed Keoua; “what is that?”
“The good God has taken to rest the soul of a poor woman who was glad
to go.”
“What was her name?” cried the Hawaiian, excitedly.
“Luka,” replied the doctor.
An ashy pallor spread over the man’s already bloodless face. It was
plain to the doctor that Death had come even quicker than Love. Then
there came a bitter cry, mingled with bitter laughter.
“_Akua maikai!_ Good God!... Ha, ha, ha, ha.... He bad God! He all same
_haole_! Steal poor kanaka’s _wahine_.... _Auwe_ ... _auwe_.... Me
curse Him!”
But the curse came not. A change as though an angel had whispered
to him came swift as thought. He pressed his hands on his heart and
murmured:
“Me no curse Him! Good God! He good God! Sweet wife, sweet _keiki_ ...
I come. _E Christo e aloha mai._” Then he fell heavily to the ground.
An angel had indeed spoken to him--the kindest angel whom God had sent
to Kalaupapa--the angel of Death.
The music played on, and celestial harmonies seemed to mingle with its
strains. It was as though glad spirits met and welcomed one another in
a land fairer even than Hawaii, a land, moreover, where the serpent’s
blight may never come.
* * * * *
A double funeral took place in the leper cemetery that very afternoon,
and those who were there said the priest must have been absent-minded,
for at the close of the service he spread his hands over the grave and
said:
“Those whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder.”
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Perceived typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.