A Yankee doctor in paradise

by S. M. Lambert

He was the only physician available when Queen Salote gave birth to the Crown Prince. His elegant bedside manner combined with his official prestige had elevated him beyond criticism. The accouchement took place, according to tradition, in the royal suite; following old custom, the great nobles waited in an antechamber to hear the birth proclaimed. Now and then the much-titled physician would pop in to take a look at his patient, then pop out to smoke a cigarette and shoot his cuffs. Finally a capable half-caste nurse, who had been constantly in attendance, poked her head out and announced that the baby was coming. The titled one hurried to the bedside a minute late; the child was already born. He stepped over to the nurse and whispered confidentially, “And what shall I do next?” It was his first obstetrical case.

Well, the nurse must have taken care of it, for when I was in Tonga the Crown Prince was a charming little boy. The obstetrical curiosity was not dismissed; he served the kingdom for quite a while. When Fatafehi, father of the late king, finally succumbed to his family’s hereditary disease (old age) our hero was on something of a spot. He was told of one royal funeral where the body lay so long awaiting the family’s arrival that the pallbearers had had an unpleasant task in bearing away the casket. It was decided to embalm the remains of Fatafehi—which stumped the poor fellow again. Finally he compromised by filling the lead coffin with formaldehyde solution. On the way to the grave the pallbearers wondered why it was too heavy to manage. They had to bore holes in the side and let out the solution before they could lower the coffin into the grave.

At last the good doctor was faced by a flu epidemic. He couldn’t handle it, so he went to Fiji for “medical supplies,” and never came back. I didn’t know much about him when he came around to me in Suva and impressed me with his charming manner. I wanted a competent doctor to take my place while I was home on leave, and his fine talk almost decided me to take him on. “All I want,” he said, “is a chance to treat the natives. Just for my board and keep. I love the natives.” When I asked the Tongan Consul about him the answer didn’t quite satisfy me, so I changed my mind.

He went the way of all flash: a very minor sanitary inspector in Fiji; then a job as little doctor on a little ship; then a move back to Tonga to settle down to beachcombing with a native wife. He could at least lay some claim to having brought a royal heir into the world. Even though he hadn’t known what to do next.

If the Saga of Tropical Medicine has a comic section, some of the Tongan M.D.’s legitimately graduated from the pick of the universities deserve a place in it. One very able physician was a practical-joke addict. In his office was a skeleton, jointed and movable, with which he scared natives by jerking the strings. At night he would rub phosphorus on his bony playmate and take him driving in his buggy; the ghastly hell-light threw the town in a panic. When old Bridges was Collector of Customs the fun-loving doctor brought in a “drug order” which included a great many household furnishings. To dodge duty, he gave the furniture large Latin names: like Carpetorum brusselorum and Hattus rackus. This got by the native inspector, to whom Latin was all Greek, but Collector Bridges stopped the racket.

They told me of another doctor who was anxious to become C.M.O. Over in Haapai he quarreled with Chief Israeli, who was a great swell in Tonga and closely related to the King. Some minor skin disease took Israeli to this doctor, who found his revenge in saying, “Man, you’ve got leprosy!” He kept poor Israeli interned for six months outside the village and started a dicker with the Tongan Government. He craved promotion to Chief Medical Officer, he said, and if they handed him that, Israeli would be pronounced cured. The doctor got what he wanted, and proclaimed that his treatment had saved the patient from a leper’s tragic end.

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When I began hookworm treatments the royal family were the first to take the medicine, as a good example to Tonga. For me that was a delicate assignment. The household numbered forty in all, for Tongan hospitality kept the palace bulging with relatives and near-relatives. Keeping up the establishment must have been quite a drain, although Salote had a competent income and Prince Tungi was well-salaried as Premier; both had landed estates. But they were rich relations to two large families, and feudal tradition imposed on their generosity.

Feudal tradition encountered modern medicine when it came to dosing the Queen. The tetrachloride had to be mixed in a special mug; for custom demanded that no common mortal should eat or drink from any dish or cup that royalty had used. However, the Queen and Consort took their medicine gracefully, and allowed themselves to be photographed taking it. An anxious populace waited outside the palace, and there was a murmur of relief when it was announced that our medicine had taken its normal course.

As a special favor I was given “back-door privileges” at the palace, and it was an honor I valued highly. Here on quiet mornings I would find Salote sitting in loose, easy clothes, a relief from the British-made silks and satins of her state appearances. Our talks got me very close to her quick mind and her eager desire to learn what was best for her people. Taufaahau, the heir apparent, and his two brothers would be playing around the place. Sometimes I would see them riding the giant turtle which has never left the palace grounds since Captain Cook brought him from the Galapagos in 1773, a gift for the King of Tonga. I always had chocolate bars or some other sweet for the children to nibble when they decided to sit on my knee. That was sixteen years ago. The turtle is still alive and the Crown Prince has graduated with honors from Sydney University. He is going to Oxford to study law and anthropology. Salote and Tungi have a right to be proud of this tall, splendid young man. Lord, how time has slipped along....