end. Some, refusing to eat, died within months. Those who lived to be cured often faced rejection from their children when they went to the orphanage to collect them.
No, no, you are too ugly to be my mother.
But the Chacachacare Mumsford was on his way to was a different place. There were better drugs, better treatments, and patients stayed on the colony because they chose to, because the disease had so deformed them they feared ridicule on the mainland, because they preferred to be treated at the leprosarium in Chacachacare than at the outpatient clinics in Trinidad, where they were seen as pariahs. In fact, for a brief time, between 1950 and 1952, visiting doctors performed surgeries in Chacachacare to excise and graft sagging lips, build bone nose bridges where the tissue had been eaten away, correct “claw hands,” and open eyes closed by the disease.
There was one doctor left on the island now, the commissioner had informed Mumsford. Most of the doctors had been Europeans who had come to the colony primarily to conduct research. Once that research had produced a cure, he said (Mumsford thought with some bitterness), they left for new adventures.
Was the remaining doctor Dr. Peter Gardner? Mumsford asked reasonably.
Oh no, not Dr. Peter Gardner. Yes, Gardner was a medical doctor, but he was referring to the other doctor, a local man who sometimes stayed on the island and took care of the remaining patients.
“Then what is Dr. Gardner doing there?” Mumsford asked.
The commissioner had no answer, but to Mumsford’s second question as to the character of Dr. Gardner (“What sort of man is he?” Mumsford had asked), he was quick to respond. “A gentleman. A rare breed. A white man who is not intimidated by the goings-on on the island these days.”
The harshness of his tone puzzled Mumsford. There it was, without the least prompting from him, the commissioner had spoken disparagingly about “goings-on,” and yet it had been impossible to draw him out to say unequivocally that he supported the Crown against the movement for independence.
“What goings-on?” Mumsford took the chance to ask.
“Colored people getting too big for their shoes,” the commissioner said.
And because on that point Mumsford could agree, he didn’t press him for more, he didn’t ask, as he wanted to, if he didn’t think the people in Trinidad owed a debt to England for the progress they had made, and, if owing England, they shouldn’t be willing to remain, as the French colonies of Martinique and Guadeloupe were willing to remain, a loyal Crown colony.
The commissioner’s orders to Mumsford were to get Dr. Gardner’s deposition and to bring the alleged assailant (he could not bring himself to say rapist) back with him to Trinidad. Mumsford was not to question the English girl. In his letter, Dr. Gardner had specifically requested that no one interrogate his daughter. She was only fifteen. He did not want her involved in a scandal. He had done his part: filed the complaint and locked the savage in a pen in the back of his house. All that was left for the commissioner to do was to arrange to have the brute taken to prison.
“Of course we cannot do that,” the commissioner said to Mumsford.
“Cannot?” Again, a shadow of a doubt darkened Mumsford’s brow.
“Everything will be on the QT, of course,” the commissioner said. “Nothing in the newspapers, or anything like that. Still, there is the matter of the law, due process. You can’t put someone in jail without some inquiry, at least the semblance of one. The monks at St. Benedict’s owe me a favor. They will keep the boy until we can lock him up.”
How long? Mumsford wanted to know.
“All the facts have to be gathered and corroborated.”
“Corroborated?”
“There has to be evidence to support the allegations. That’s your job, Mumsford. That girl Ariana has made things a little messy for us. She is a bloody liar, of course, but we need to get the
No, no, you are too ugly to be my mother.
But the Chacachacare Mumsford was on his way to was a different place. There were better drugs, better treatments, and patients stayed on the colony because they chose to, because the disease had so deformed them they feared ridicule on the mainland, because they preferred to be treated at the leprosarium in Chacachacare than at the outpatient clinics in Trinidad, where they were seen as pariahs. In fact, for a brief time, between 1950 and 1952, visiting doctors performed surgeries in Chacachacare to excise and graft sagging lips, build bone nose bridges where the tissue had been eaten away, correct “claw hands,” and open eyes closed by the disease.
There was one doctor left on the island now, the commissioner had informed Mumsford. Most of the doctors had been Europeans who had come to the colony primarily to conduct research. Once that research had produced a cure, he said (Mumsford thought with some bitterness), they left for new adventures.
Was the remaining doctor Dr. Peter Gardner? Mumsford asked reasonably.
Oh no, not Dr. Peter Gardner. Yes, Gardner was a medical doctor, but he was referring to the other doctor, a local man who sometimes stayed on the island and took care of the remaining patients.
“Then what is Dr. Gardner doing there?” Mumsford asked.
The commissioner had no answer, but to Mumsford’s second question as to the character of Dr. Gardner (“What sort of man is he?” Mumsford had asked), he was quick to respond. “A gentleman. A rare breed. A white man who is not intimidated by the goings-on on the island these days.”
The harshness of his tone puzzled Mumsford. There it was, without the least prompting from him, the commissioner had spoken disparagingly about “goings-on,” and yet it had been impossible to draw him out to say unequivocally that he supported the Crown against the movement for independence.
“What goings-on?” Mumsford took the chance to ask.
“Colored people getting too big for their shoes,” the commissioner said.
And because on that point Mumsford could agree, he didn’t press him for more, he didn’t ask, as he wanted to, if he didn’t think the people in Trinidad owed a debt to England for the progress they had made, and, if owing England, they shouldn’t be willing to remain, as the French colonies of Martinique and Guadeloupe were willing to remain, a loyal Crown colony.
The commissioner’s orders to Mumsford were to get Dr. Gardner’s deposition and to bring the alleged assailant (he could not bring himself to say rapist) back with him to Trinidad. Mumsford was not to question the English girl. In his letter, Dr. Gardner had specifically requested that no one interrogate his daughter. She was only fifteen. He did not want her involved in a scandal. He had done his part: filed the complaint and locked the savage in a pen in the back of his house. All that was left for the commissioner to do was to arrange to have the brute taken to prison.
“Of course we cannot do that,” the commissioner said to Mumsford.
“Cannot?” Again, a shadow of a doubt darkened Mumsford’s brow.
“Everything will be on the QT, of course,” the commissioner said. “Nothing in the newspapers, or anything like that. Still, there is the matter of the law, due process. You can’t put someone in jail without some inquiry, at least the semblance of one. The monks at St. Benedict’s owe me a favor. They will keep the boy until we can lock him up.”
How long? Mumsford wanted to know.
“All the facts have to be gathered and corroborated.”
“Corroborated?”
“There has to be evidence to support the allegations. That’s your job, Mumsford. That girl Ariana has made things a little messy for us. She is a bloody liar, of course, but we need to get the
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