And so, at the beginning, let me add my testimony to that of Jack London, in saying that the horrors with which Molokai is associated in the average mind, simply do not exist. The sensationalists have done their work well. To the four corners of the earth they have disseminated their ghastly fictions, with a persistency truly wonderful; and the people of every nation, hungry for things that are gruesome, have pounced greedily on all that was offered. As a result, their minds are full-fed with every variety of deceit, from mere harmless fables to the most inexcusable lies, and to such an extent that the truth, even when shown to them, may find little room for lodgment. Nevertheless, I am optimistic enough to hope that a pinch of real fact may leaven a mountain of misrepresentation, and that, in time, the people of every civilised country will come to know just what sort of place Molokai is, and just what things take place there.

It is strange that the greatest misapprehension exists p120 among the people of Hawaii. Living next door, as it were, to the segregated unfortunates, many of whom have been recruited from their own ranks, it might be supposed that they would be the very first to disburden their minds of delusion. Not so. In the city of Honolulu, there are many who still credit the idea that Molokai is the place of life-long confinement, inhuman torture, and melancholy death. The word "Molokai" spells for them nothing but the most unmerciful disaster. The very name is enough to send the hot blood rushing to the heart, and to strike laughter from the lips. Truly, to their unhappy conception, Molokai is but the valley of the shadows, wherein shines never a ray of light to brighten the path of him who must tread its sombre way.

Much of this sentiment is due to demagogues, who stir the people constantly with their recital of the lepers' wrongs. Indignation often runs high when some particularly outrageous abuse is instanced. The natives are almost inconceivably credulous, and, unfortunately, they will not take the trouble to test the truth of demagogic assertion. However, a campaign of education has been begun; persons long resident in the Leper Settlement have been shown by the bacteriological test to be free from the imputed disease; and, returned to friends and families, they shatter by direct evidence the absurd fancies theretofore current. More and more the value and necessity of segregation is being impressed upon the Hawaiian natives' minds. p121

Jack and Mrs. London were at Molokai a week; they spent the Fourth of July there. I went with them down to the wharf to catch the leper-steamer, which makes weekly trips. It is almost always sure of at least one passenger, from the receiving station at Kalihi, where suspects are put through the bacteriological examination; and of course Superintendent McVeigh is usually on board, to take charge of the lepers and see them safely to the island.

A number of new lepers were to go that day, and the wharf was crowded with friends and relatives, come down to say the good-byes and to see the poor patients off. It was not a happy sight. I shall never forget it. Such stormy scenes of grief are terrible. Men and women and children were there; and on the faces of those who were to stay was great sadness, on the faces of those who were to go sadness and something more: a sick look, a lurking dread in their eyes, a pallor not natural to human flesh. As the time drew near for departure, a sudden stir came over the crowd; grief grew more vociferous. The babel of voices, hitherto somewhat subdued, rose first to a hum and then into a sharp murmur. Somewhere a rich native voice, low-pitched and beautiful, began softly singing the song of farewell. Aloha oe—aloha oe, was the refrain. Wheresoever the departing lepers might roam, through all their days of enforced segregation from those who loved them and whom they loved, affection and best wishes would be with them. p122

Then came the bustle of going aboard; last handclasps; tears; voices that shook with emotion; and though the sad hearts could not be seen nor heard, their beat somehow found its way into the scene; misery bound the many hearts into one, and their pulse was united by some mighty bond of sympathy. A harsh cry from the steamer now stirred everyone into action; the lepers broke sorrowfully away from their friends and families, whose grief burst out anew, and hurried aboard. Such was the parting—not a happy thing to see, not a thing one can forget.

At this point I was compelled to go back to the Snark, leaving Mr. and Mrs. London to make the trip to Molokai on the leper-boat. Two hours must elapse ere their arrival. Jack carried with him his camera, and took a number of unique and interesting pictures of the island and its inhabitants. Some of these pictures are here reproduced.

As the leper-boat approached the island, he secured some good views of its rocky coast. Owing to the fact that there is no anchorage close up, the leper-steamer must stand on and off a half-mile from shore, and the landing is made by shooting the surf, through a very dangerous passage, to a little wharf that extends about two hundred feet out into the channel. As they came near, a sound of music floated to them over the water. The return of Superintendent McVeigh is always considered an occasion for rejoicing, among the lepers. A number of the leper men and p123 women, gathered on the beach, play stringed instruments and sing happy songs to make the arrival of the new lepers as pleasant as possible.

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