Father Damien [antikvár]

Going to MolokaiYou are standing huddled against your mother in a driving, hammering rain that has soaked you both to the skin. She has a tight hold on your hand, but she is not looking at you, or speaking to you. She is staring through the curtain of rain out to sea, like everyone else in the sodden little group on the beach. They all have bundles, but they have long since given up trying to keep them dry. Yours lies at your feet, a roll of palm-leaf matting that holds everything that you possess in the world. You are shivering, not only because you are cold, but alsó because you are very, very frightened.Only a week ago the government inspector came to your village with a doctor, who examined you and all your family and spoke very seriously to your mother. She began to cry and everyone in the house - your father, your sisters, your grandmother and your uncle - tried to explain to the doctor that the yellow marks on your arms and the lump on your ear were nothing bad. But he took no notice of them and put down your name, and your mother's, on a piece of printed paper.After that it was all muddle and crying, until now here you both are, waiting on the stony beach for the boát that is to take you to the island of Molokai, to the leper settlement on the isolated peninsula - the place you have heard called Makandu, which means The Given Grave.Your father has come with you, but only to sayALL LEPERS ARE REQUIRED TO REPORT THEMSELVES TO THE GOVERNMENT HEALTH A UTHORITIES WITH1N FOURTEEN DAYS FROM TH1S DATE FOR INSPECTION AND FINAL BANISHMENT TO MOLOKAI.Local notice at the time, in Hawaii