Finally, through a mutual agreement between Gene and Jack, Gene decided that the trip was too much for his delicate constitution, and Jack decided that he must consent to Gene's going. So Gene got ready to go back to San Francisco.
One day I got a call from Jack over the telephone, telling me that I was promoted to the position of engineer, and instructing Captain Y—— and me to look out for a new cook, a new cabin-boy, and a new sailor. I don't believe I would have traded positions with the President, or King Edward, that day. I was in a greater state of excitement than at the time of securing the position of cook. A Dutchman named Hermann—which is all the name we ever got out of him—was secured for the crew of one sailor. Hermann was one of the real deep-water sailors, of the kind that is rapidly passing away. He was about the best-natured fellow I ever worked with; in storm or calm he was always the same, always singing in one or another of the half-dozen tongues he could speak. We secured the cook and cabin-boy at the same time. Wada, a Japanese, could speak fluent English, and was a very good cook. He had been in almost every large port in the world. Nakata, whom we hired for cabin-boy, was likewise Japanese, and could not speak a word of English. All we could understand of his vocabulary p116 was pau, which means finished, and pilikea, which means trouble. But when Nakata reached Australia, one year and a half later, he could speak very passable English, and could write quite well.
The principal photographer in Hilo was a young Chinese boy, who did excellent work. He used to make pictures of the Snark to sell; and wherever Jack went, the Chink would be on hand to photograph him. In the end, Jack could only get rid of the boy by consenting to pose for a number of pictures, which were afterward published in a Chinese magazine, with certain descriptive text beneath each one. I have no doubt Jack is a very big man in their eyes.
The time was rapidly nearing for us to leave. The engines were in good repair, we had fuel and provisions aboard, and practically every one of us was anxious to be off. Our way led now to the Marquesas Islands; and the trip, sixty-one days across the trackless Pacific, in which we sailed four thousand miles in order to advance two thousand miles, was to prove the greatest adventurous event of my life. And it ended by our landing in the world's Garden of Eden.
But before going further with the voyage, I must devote some consideration to one island of the Hawaiian group to which as yet no attention has been directed, Molokai, the Leper Island. p117
CHAPTER V
MOLOKAI, THE LEPER ISLAND
In telling of Molokai, the Leper Island, I might as well confess at the outset that I was never on it. But Jack London was, and everything here set forth was gotten direct from him or from others who had intimate knowledge whereof they spoke. Not many persons, outside the officials of the Board of Health, have ever been allowed to leave the island of Molokai, once they had entered the Settlement. Dr. Pinkham, president of the Board of Health, who has the entire managing of the island, was an ardent admirer of the literary works of Jack London; and he so managed it that both the Londons were allowed to visit Molokai, in order that Mr. London might properly describe the life on this island, and thus correct the Kanaka notion that Molokai is a place of torture. Dr. Pinkham's decision was a wise one. Much has been written in the past of the horrors of the Leper Settlement, but almost without exception these expositions have been wild and lurid—as London put it, the work of sensationalists, most of whom had never laid eyes on a single one of the things they described in such exaggerated and undependable detail. But there are a great many persons among English-speaking peoples who have learned that Jack London always tells the truth as he sees it. p118 Dr. Pinkham knew that if London were to go to the Settlement, his account of it would present conditions as they actually are, not as they are shown to be in the distorted articles of the yellow press. And so, permission was granted.
But when I tried to follow, the doctor, though my very good friend, stopped me. He could not take me to the island of Molokai, because he had no excuse for doing so. I was not a noted writer—I was merely a sightseer; and to take a sightseer to Molokai would have lost him his position. For that matter, the Hawaiian citizens and the Honolulu press did criticise him severely for taking Mr. and Mrs. London to the island.
But while I have never seen the lepers in their Settlement, I have seen hundreds of cases of leprosy all through the South Seas. Furthermore, I have discussed the disease and the managing of Molokai with Dr. Pinkham, than whom surely there could be no better source of information. Leprosy was a constant topic of conversation, morning, noon, and night, with the little crew of voyageurs on the Snark; we were all deeply interested; and of this, as of every other island subject, Jack London had almost encyclopædic knowledge. In fact, leprosy was his hobby; he was an untiring defender of segregation. What of my own experiences, and the memory of other men's experiences, and what of all that Jack London told me at this time, there has been bred in me a profound conviction p119 that my own knowledge of leprosy is considerable—certainly greater than that of many who live all their lives within a stone's throw of Molokai. In the very nature of the thing, I was bound to learn, and learn more than could any ordinary tourist, even though my actual observation might not extend quite so far as did the observation of the specialists, the members of the Board of Health, the executives, and those visitors, few in number, who have had the privilege of setting foot within the Leper Settlement.