Dr. Montague’s enthusiasm was as great as mine, but I moved cautiously at first. The next set of East Indians I tried it on was less satisfactory than the original four. It wasn’t the fault of tetrachloride, but of Gandhi; his sick disciples were so independent that they threw their specimens out of the window before we could make an accurate worm-count. We recovered enough, however, to keep Kendrick and his force of Fijian helpers pretty busy going over the thin washings spread out on tightly stretched gauze.
I look over some of the reports of those experimental days and read:—
... Almost total lack of symptoms in the group that received the purge after the drug. Not one of them was incapacitated for his regular duties ... with no after-purge there were some who had minor symptoms. Many were sleepy for several hours....
... Young Indian working in our office given 3 cc. at 7:45 A.M. ... by 10:15 gave 85 hookworms. Total for three days 101. Test treatment showed he was cured. This illustrates the rapid expulsion of worms by this drug, which we have observed generally.
The time came when I felt that the whole thing was too important to keep to myself, so I wrote a careful letter to the Foundation. The answer from 61 Broadway with its code-name “Rockfound” was cabled back so fast that it burned a streak across the Pacific: “Forbid use. We do not experiment with human life.”
I took the limp message to Dr. Montague and said, “Well, the jig’s up. I’m forbidden to play with fire extinguishers.”
Montague thought a long time. Tetrachloride was God’s gift to Fiji, he said, and he didn’t intend to give it up. He was recommending it for all the institutions under his authority.
Then I found an out. I asked, “Do you authorize me, as your subordinate, to continue its use? Would you O.K. a letter to that effect?” He said he would, and he did. After that I heard no more objections from the Foundation, whose administrators were only too glad, of course, to have the drug tried out on a large scale, as long as the Government of Fiji took the responsibility.
******
Up to the time when I grew bolder and dosed a whole large Indian school, the new treatment had been tried very quietly. Then it got too public to be kept away from the press. It was at the Dilkusha Mission that we gave this first “mass treatment”—the only practical way of administering a cure to the many. Before that it had been a matter of tedious house-to-house canvas. At Dilkusha we lined up 400 children, and I was about as jittery as I had been when I tackled the four adults at the War Memorial. But I went away smiling, a little cocky about myself. One dose of tetrachloride had removed 99 per cent of the infestation. Meanwhile in Suva Jail Dr. Kalamkar, East Indian physician, had run up a score of 94.5.