Its a matter of delicacy, I suppose, or of taste, that prevents you from following me, Dr. Kennedy snapped out. Its all very well, for the sake of society, tacitly to ignore some things, but you do more than tacitly ignore.
What is it, pray, that I tacitly ignore!
Dr. Kennedy was angry. A deeper red than that of constitutional Scotch and soda suffused his face, as he answered:
Your fathers son.
Now just what do you mean?
Damn it, man, you cant ask me to be plainer spoken than that. But if you will, all right Isaac Fords son Joe Garland your brother.
Percival Ford sat quietly, an annoyed and shocked expression on his face. Kennedy looked at him curiously, then, as the slow minutes dragged by, became embarrassed and frightened.
My God! he cried finally, you dont mean to tell me that you didnt know!
As in answer, Percival Fords cheeks turned slowly grey.
Its a ghastly joke, he said; a ghastly joke.
The doctor had got himself in hand.
Everybody knows it, he said. I thought you knew it. And since you dont know it, its time you did, and Im glad of the chance of setting you straight. Joe Garland and you are brothers half-brothers.
Its a lie, Ford cried. You dont mean it. Joe Garlands mother was Eliza Kunilio. (Dr. Kennedy nodded.) I remember her well, with her duck pond and taro patch. His father was Joseph Garland, the beach-comber. (Dr. Kennedy shook his head.) He died only two or three years ago. He used to get drunk. Theres where Joe got his dissoluteness. Theres the heredity for you.
And nobody told you, Kennedy said wonderingly, after a pause.
Dr. Kennedy, you have said something terrible, which I cannot allow to pass. You must either prove or, or..
Prove it yourself. Turn around and look at him. Youve got him in profile. Look at his nose. Thats Isaac Fords. Yours is a thin edition of it. Thats right. Look. The lines are fuller, but they are all there.
Percival Ford looked at the Kanaka half-breed who played under the hau tree, and it seemed, as by some illumination, that he was gazing on a wraith of himself. Feature after feature flashed up an unmistakable resemblance. Or, rather, it was he who was the wraith of that other full-muscled and generously moulded man. And his features, and that other mans features, were all reminiscent of Isaac Ford. And nobody had told him. Every line of Isaac Fords face he knew. Miniatures, portraits, and photographs of his father were passing in review through his mind, and here and there, over and again, in the face before him, he caught resemblances and vague hints of likeness. It was devils work that could reproduce the austere features of Isaac Ford in the loose and sensuous features before him. Once, the man turned, and for one flashing instant it seemed to Percival Ford that he saw his father, dead and gone, peering at him out of the face of Joe Garland.
Its nothing at all, he could faintly hear Dr. Kennedy saying, They were all mixed up in the old days. You know that. Youve seen it all your life. Sailors married queens and begat princesses and all the rest of it. It was the usual thing in the Islands.
But not with my father, Percival Ford interrupted.
There you are. Kennedy shrugged his shoulders. Cosmic sap and smoke of life. Old Isaac Ford was straitlaced and all the rest, and I know theres no explaining it, least of all to himself. He understood it no more than you do. Smoke of life, thats all. And dont forget one thing, Ford. There was a dab of unruly blood in old Isaac Ford, and Joe Garland inherited it all of it, smoke of life and cosmic sap; while you inherited all of old Isaacs ascetic blood. And just because your blood is cold, well-ordered, and well-disciplined, is no reason that you should frown upon Joe Garland. When Joe Garland undoes the work you do, remember that it is only old Isaac Ford on both sides, undoing with one hand what he does with the other. You are Isaac Fords right hand, let us say; Joe Garland is his left hand.
Percival Ford made no answer, and in the silence Dr. Kennedy finished his forgotten Scotch and soda. From across the grounds an automobile hooted imperatively.
Theres the machine, Dr. Kennedy said, rising. Ive got to run. Im sorry Ive shaken you up, and at the same time Im glad. And know one thing, Isaac Fords dab of unruly blood was remarkably small, and Joe Garland got it all. And one other thing. If your fathers left hand offend you, dont smite it off. Besides, Joe is all right. Frankly, if I could choose between you and him to live with me on a desert isle, Id choose Joe.
Little bare-legged children ran about him, playing, on the grass; but Percival Ford did not see them. He was gazing steadily at the singer under the hau tree. He even changed his position once, to get closer. The clerk of the Seaside went by, limping with age and dragging his reluctant feet. He had lived forty years on the Islands. Percival Ford beckoned to him, and the clerk came respectfully, and wondering that he should be noticed by Percival Ford.
John, Ford said, I want you to give me some information. Wont you sit down?
The clerk sat down awkwardly, stunned by the unexpected honour. He blinked at the other and mumbled, Yes, sir, thank you.
John, who is Joe Garland?
The clerk stared at him, blinked, cleared his throat, and said nothing.
Go on, Percival Ford commanded.
Who is he?
Youre joking me, sir, the other managed to articulate.
I spoke to you seriously.
The clerk recoiled from him.
You dont mean to say you dont know? he questioned, his question in itself the answer.
I want to know.
Why, hes John broke off and looked about him helplessly. Hadnt you better ask somebody else? Everybody thought you knew. We always thought..
Yes, go ahead.
We always thought that that was why you had it in for him.
Photographs and miniatures of Isaac Ford were trooping through his sons brain, and ghosts of Isaac Ford seemed in the air about hint I wish you good night, sir, he could hear the clerk saying, and he saw him beginning to limp away.
John, he called abruptly.
John came back and stood near him, blinking and nervously moistening his lips.
You havent told me yet, you know.
Oh, about Joe Garland?
Yes, about Joe Garland. Who is he?
Hes your brother, sir, if I say it who shouldnt.
Thank you, John. Good night.
And you didnt know? the old man queried, content to linger, now that the crucial point was past.
Thank you, John. Good night, was the response.
Yes, sir, thank you, sir. I think its going to rain. Good night, sir.
Out of the clear sky, filled only with stars and moonlight, fell a rain so fine and attenuated as to resemble a vapour spray. Nobody minded it; the children played on, running bare-legged over the grass and leaping into the sand; and in a few minutes it was gone. In the south-east, Diamond Head, a black blot, sharply defined, silhouetted its crater-form against the stars. At sleepy intervals the surf flung its foam across the sands to the grass, and far out could be seen the black specks of swimmers under the moon. The voices of the singers, singing a waltz, died away; and in the silence, from somewhere under the trees, arose the laugh of a woman that was a love-cry. It startled Percival Ford, and it reminded him of Dr. Kennedys phrase. Down by the outrigger canoes, where they lay hauled out on the sand, he saw men and women, Kanakas, reclining languorously, like lotus-eaters, the women in white holokus; and against one such holoku he saw the dark head of the steersman of the canoe resting upon the womans shoulder. Farther down, where the strip of sand widened at the entrance to the lagoon, he saw a man and woman walking side by side. As they drew near the light lanai, he saw the womans hand go down to her waist and disengage a girdling arm. And as they passed him, Percival Ford nodded to a captain he knew, and to a majors daughter. Smoke of life, that was it, an ample phrase. And again, from under the dark algaroba tree arose the laugh of a woman that was a love-cry; and past his chair, on the way to bed, a bare-legged youngster was led by a chiding Japanese nurse-maid. The voices of the singers broke softly and meltingly into an Hawaiian love-song, and officers and women, with encircling arms, were gliding and whirling on the lanai; and once again the woman laughed under the algaroba trees.
And Percival Ford knew only disapproval of it all. He was irritated by the love-laugh of the woman, by the steersman with pillowed head on the white holoku, by the couples that walked on the beach, by the officers and women that danced, and by the voices of the singers singing of love, and his brother singing there with them under the hau tree. The woman that laughed especially irritated him. A curious train of thought was aroused. He was Isaac Fords son, and what had happened with Isaac Ford might happen with him. He felt in his cheeks the faint heat of a blush at the thought, and experienced a poignant sense of shame. He was appalled by what was in his blood. It was like learning suddenly that his father had been a leper and that his own blood might bear the taint of that dread disease. Isaac Ford, the austere soldier of the Lord the old hypocrite! What difference between him and any beach-comber? The house of pride that Percival Ford had builded was tumbling about his ears.
The hours passed, the army people laughed and danced, the native orchestra played on, and Percival Ford wrestled with the abrupt and overwhelming problem that had been thrust upon him. He prayed quietly, his elbow on the table, his head bowed upon his hand, with all the appearance of any tired onlooker. Between the dances the army men and women and the civilians fluttered up to him and buzzed conventionally, and when they went back to the lanai he took up his wrestling where he had left it off.
He began to patch together his shattered ideal of Isaac Ford, and for cement he used a cunning and subtle logic. It was of the sort that is compounded in the brain laboratories of egotists, and it worked. It was incontrovertible that his father had been made of finer clay than those about him; but still, old Isaac had been only in the process of becoming, while he, Percival Ford, had become. As proof of it, he rehabilitated his father and at the same time exalted himself. His lean little ego waxed to colossal proportions. He was great enough to forgive. He glowed at the thought of it. Isaac Ford had been great, but he was greater, for he could forgive Isaac Ford and even restore him to the holy place in his memory, though the place was not quite so holy as it had been. Also, he applauded Isaac Ford for having ignored the outcome of his one step aside. Very well, he, too, would ignore it.
The dance was breaking up. The orchestra had finished Aloha Oe and was preparing to go home. Percival Ford clapped his hands for the Japanese servant.
You tell that man I want to see him, he said, pointing out Joe Garland. Tell him to come here, now.
Joe Garland approached and halted respectfully several paces away, nervously fingering the guitar which he still carried. The other did not ask him to sit down.
You are my brother, he said.
Why, everybody knows that, was the reply, in tones of wonderment.
Yes, so I understand, Percival Ford said dryly. But I did not know it till this evening.
The half-brother waited uncomfortably in the silence that followed, during which Percival Ford coolly considered his next utterance.
You remember that first time I came to school and the boys ducked me? he asked. Why did you take my part?
The half-brother smiled bashfully.
Because you knew?
Yes, that was why.
But I didnt know, Percival Ford said in the same dry fashion.
Yes, the other said.
Another silence fell. Servants were beginning to put out the lights on the lanai.
You know.. now, the half-brother said simply.
Percival Ford frowned. Then he looked the other over with a considering eye.
How much will you take to leave the Islands and never come back? he demanded.
And never come back? Joe Garland faltered. It is the only land I know. Other lands are cold. I do not know other lands. I have many friends here. In other lands there would not be one voice to say, Aloha, Joe, my boy.
I said never to come back, Percival Ford reiterated. The Alameda sails tomorrow for San Francisco.
Joe Garland was bewildered.
But why? he asked. You know now that we are brothers.
That is why, was the retort. As you said yourself, everybody knows. I will make it worth your while.
All awkwardness and embarrassment disappeared from Joe Garland. Birth and station were bridged and reversed.
You want me to go? he demanded.
I want you to go and never come back, Percival Ford answered.
And in that moment, flashing and fleeting, it was given him to see his brother tower above him like a mountain, and to feel himself dwindle and dwarf to microscopic insignificance. But it is not well for one to see himself truly, nor can one so see himself for long and live; and only for that flashing moment did Percival Ford see himself and his brother in true perspective. The next moment he was mastered by his meagre and insatiable ego.
As I said, I will make it worth your while. You will not suffer. I will pay you well.
All right, Joe Garland said. Ill go.
He started to turn away.
Joe, the other called. You see my lawyer tomorrow morning. Five hundred down and two hundred a month as long as you stay away.
You are very kind, Joe Garland answered softly. You are too kind. And anyway, I guess I dont want your money. I go tomorrow on the Alameda.
He walked away, but did not say good-bye.
Percival Ford clapped his hands.
Boy, he said to the Japanese, a lemonade.
And over the lemonade he smiled long and contentedly to himself.
KOOLAU THE LEPER
Because we are sick they take away our liberty. We have obeyed the law. We have done no wrong. And yet they would put us in prison. Molokai is a prison. That you know. Niuli, there, his sister was sent to Molokai seven years ago. He has not seen her since. Nor will he ever see her. She must stay there until she dies. This is not her will. It is not Niulis will. It is the will of the white men who rule the land. And who are these white men?
We know. We have it from our fathers and our fathers fathers. They came like lambs, speaking softly. Well might they speak softly, for we were many and strong, and all the islands were ours. As I say, they spoke softly. They were of two kinds. The one kind asked our permission, our gracious permission, to preach to us the word of God. The other kind asked our permission, our gracious permission, to trade with us. That was the beginning. Today all the islands are theirs, all the land, all the cattle everything is theirs. They that preached the word of God and they that preached the word of Rum have fore-gathered and become great chiefs. They live like kings in houses of many rooms, with multitudes of servants to care for them. They who had nothing have everything, and if you, or I, or any Kanaka be hungry, they sneer and say, Well, why dont you work? There are the plantations.
Koolau paused. He raised one hand, and with gnarled and twisted fingers lifted up the blazing wreath of hibiscus that crowned his black hair. The moonlight bathed the scene in silver. It was a night of peace, though those who sat about him and listened had all the seeming of battle-wrecks. Their faces were leonine. Here a space yawned in a face where should have been a nose, and there an arm-stump showed where a hand had rotted off. They were men and women beyond the pale, the thirty of them, for upon them had been placed the mark of the beast.