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〃Did you ever hear of Lucy Mokunui？〃 he asked。
〃Lucy Mokunui？〃 I repeated； haunted by some familiar association。 I
shook my head。 〃It seems to me I've heard the name； but I've forgotten
it。〃
〃Never heard of Lucy Mokunui！ The Hawaiian nightingale！ I beg
your pardon。 Of course you are a malahini； ｛1｝ and could not be
expected to know。 Well； Lucy Mokunui was the best beloved of
Honoluluof all Hawaii； for that matter。〃
〃You say WAS；〃 I interrupted。
〃And I mean it。 She is finished。〃 He shrugged his shoulders
pityingly。 〃A dozen haolesI beg your pardon； white menhave lost
their hearts to her at one time or another。 And I'm not counting in the
ruck。 The dozen I refer to were haoles of position and prominence。〃
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〃She could have married the son of the Chief Justice if she'd wanted
to。 You think she's beautiful； eh？ But you should hear her sing。
Finest native woman singer in Hawaii Nei。 Her throat is pure silver
and melted sunshine。 We adored her。 She toured America first with
the Royal Hawaiian Band。 After that she made two more trips on her
ownconcert work。〃
〃Oh！〃 I cried。 〃I remember now。 I heard her two years ago at the
Boston Symphony。 So that is she。 I recognize her now。〃
I was oppressed by a heavy sadness。 Life was a futile thing at best。
A short two years and this magnificent creature； at the summit of her
magnificent success； was one of the leper squad awaiting deportation to
Molokai。 Henley's lines came into my mind：…
〃The poor old tramp explains his poor old ulcers； Life is； I think； a
blunder and a shame。〃
I recoiled from my own future。 If this awful fate fell to Lucy
Mokunui； what might my lot not be？or anybody's lot？ I was
thoroughly aware that in life we are in the midst of deathbut to be in
the midst of living death； to die and not be dead； to be one of that draft
of creatures that once were men； aye； and women； like Lucy Mokunui；
the epitome of all Polynesian charms； an artist as well； and well beloved
of men …。 I am afraid I must have betrayed my perturbation； for Doctor
Georges hastened to assure me that they were very happy down in the
settlement。
It was all too inconceivably monstrous。 I could not bear to look at
her。 A short distance away； behind a stretched rope guarded by a
policeman； were the lepers' relatives and friends。 They were not
allowed to come near。 There were no last embraces； no kisses of
farewell。 They called back and forth to one anotherlast messages； last
words of love； last reiterated instructions。 And those behind the rope
looked with terrible intensity。 It was the last time they would behold
the faces of their loved ones； for they were the living dead； being carted
away in the funeral ship to the graveyard of Molokai。
Doctor Georges gave the command； and the unhappy wretches
dragged themselves to their feet and under their burdens of luggage
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began to stagger across the lighter and aboard the steamer。 It was the
funeral procession。 At once the wailing started from those behind the
rope。 It was blood…curdling； it was heart…rending。 I never heard such
woe； and I hope never to again。 Kersdale and McVeigh were still at the
other end of the wharf； talking earnestly politics； of course； for both were
head…over…heels in that particular game。 When Lucy Mokunui passed
me； I stole a look at her。 She WAS beautiful。 She was beautiful by
our standards； as wellone of those rare blossoms that occur but once in
generations。 And she； of all women； was doomed to Molokai。 She
straight on board； and aft on the open deck where the lepers huddled by
the rail； wailing now； to their dear ones on shore。
The lines were cast off； and the Noeau began to move away from the
wharf。 The wailing increased。 Such grief and despair！ I was just
resolving that never again would I be a witness to the sailing of the
Noeau； when McVeigh and Kersdale returned。 The latter's eyes were
sparkling； and his lips could not quite hide the smile of delight that was
his。 Evidently the politics they had talked had been satisfactory。 The
rope had been flung aside； and the lamenting relatives now crowded the
stringer piece on either side of us。
〃That's her mother；〃 Doctor Georges whispered； indicating an old
woman next to me； who was rocking back and forth and gazing at the
steamer rail out of tear…blinded eyes。 I noticed that Lucy Mokunui was
also wailing。 She stopped abruptly and gazed at Kersdale。 Then she
stretched forth her arms in that adorable； sensuous way that Olga
Nethersole has of embracing an audience。 And with arms outspread；
she cried：
〃Good…bye； Jack！ Good…bye！〃
He heard the cry； and looked。 Never was a man overtaken by more
crushing fear。 He reeled on the stringer piece； his face went white to
the roots of his hair； and he seemed to shrink and wither away inside his
clothes。 He threw up his hands and groaned； 〃My God！ My God！〃
Then he controlled himself by a great effort。
〃Good…bye； Lucy！ Good…bye！〃 he called。
And he stood there on the wharf； waving his hands to her till the
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Noeau was clear away and the faces lining her after…rail were vague and
indistinct。