THE PEARL FISHERY OF CEYLON

THE finding of pearls is probably one of the most interesting industries in the world. It is carried on with every element of romance and by methods which have not materially varied during historic time. It is an industry which can only be prosecuted for a few weeks in the year. The profits are a gamble; while the beautiful products, useless in themselves, are only valuable owing to the pride and vanity of purchasers. For all these reasons some account of the Ceylon pearl fishery may be of interest. The matter has recently been brought to the notice of the British public owing to the fact that the Ceylon Government has lately leased its fishing rights to a private company for a period of twenty years-a transaction which has called forth unfavourable comment in England.

At a time when public opinion is more and more inclined to a certain amount of nationalisation or municipalisation of industry, it is only natural that any action of a Government which is diametrically opposed to this principle should excite criticism, and when a Government actually surrenders a great enterprise and leases it to a private company the public is inclined to judge the matter without weighing the evidence. The transaction itself runs counter to the political faith of many, and these, earnest and vocal, ignorant of detail but eager for a principle, condemned the Colonial Government unheard. Questions were asked in Parliament, and the Press, keen to attack or defend general principles, was for a short time busy over the matter, which then fell back out of the public mind and now lies dormant. I do not desire either to defend or condemn the lease of the Ceylon Government's property to private persons. All I desire to do is to set forth such facts as I have been able to gather on the spot as to the fishery in general, its history and vicissitudes, and leave the reader to decide for himself whether, with the facts before him, he condemns the Government of Ceylon or holds with that Government that the best interests of the Colony have been served by their action.

The known facts in regard to the pearl oyster are so few, its natural history, in spite of constant study, remains so mysterious, that it is almost impossible to arrive at an absolute conclusion, but I will

endeavour to set these facts out and leave the matter for judgment. A short description of the pearl fishery itself and a few personal details of a visit to the banks will, I think, present the matter clearly.

The north-west coast of Ceylon, a low-lying coast of red-brown sand, harbourless, encumbered with sandbanks and shoals at sea, is clothed with a wild and thorny jungle. For the greater part of the year a resounding surf breaks unceasingly, and only between the monsoons is it possible for a ship to approach the shore. For hundreds of square miles the jungle is unbroken by any sign of cultivation. Elephants, leopards, deer, and pig wander undisturbed, and only here and there a few tiny villages near reedy tanks shelter a few poor fishermen and hunters. Far inland lie the vast remains of ancient buried cities once great and populous: to-day the land is desolate, fever-haunted, and solitary. To this wild coast year by year there comes a multitude. Here, year by year, a city more ephemeral than any other in the world rises and disappears, leaving no trace behind. A few boats arrive upon the coast and workmen disembark. Palm leaves are cut and wattled, old wattled leaves are unpiled, stout posts are driven into the ground, and building operations begin. In a few weeks a town of palm-leaf houses has arisen more marvellous in the rapidity of its construction than any one-day city of the West, ordered into broad streets, market places, police courts, official residences, lighted with street lamps, provided with shops, bazaars, and public houses, and ready for the reception of from ten to forty thousand people. Within a few days every house is let at prices which would excite the cupidity of a London landlord. Divers, boatmen, merchants from the whole East, arrive and settle in their quarters. Where the wild pig roamed, a vast multitude of men traffic, bargain and throng the streets, long lines of women wend down the roads to the well, hundreds of boats cover the sea, vast fortunes change hands; and a few weeks later the palm-leaf town melts once more. Where so many thousands have lived, where the police patrolled the ordered streets and the lamps shone on accumulated wealth, the sun pours down upon the empty shore, and the elephant, the deer, and the pig wander again at their will.

Early in the year the oyster banks far out to sea have been carefully surveyed and the fishing limits marked by flags and buoys, and upon a given day the fishery is declared open and work begins. By this time the interval between the two monsoons has come and the sea is calm. At midnight several hundred large boats, each containing some sixty men, set sail and stand out to sea, running before a favourable wind which, with extraordinary regularity, changes and brings them back again during the afternoon. The boats sail out some twelve or fifteen miles, and on reaching the bank which is to be fished lie within the buoyed limits and the fishing begins. The divers descend with a heavy weight which brings them quickly to the sea floor, collect as

many oysters as possible, and on giving a signal are rapidly pulled to the surface again with their catch. There they remain for a few minutes alongside the boat, their heads rising and falling in the swell, and then, one after another, sink down into the sea and again return with their basket; a short time to get their breath, and then down again, and so on without ceasing for six hours. The only appliance used to assist them is a tortoise-shell clip upon the nostrils to prevent the entrance of water, and even this is not universally used. The time which the men can remain under water has, I think, been exaggerated. The average dive occupies about. thirty-five to fifty seconds, the Arabs, who are the best divers, remain under from seventy to eighty-five seconds, while the maximum is not above ninety seconds. When it is remembered that the whole of this period is one of violent exertion it is possible to realise how great a strain is put upon the diver. At about noon the fishing for the day is closed, and the boats set sail for the shore, racing one another in their desire to unload the first oysters of the day.

As soon as the oysters are landed they are taken into a large stockade, where the sacks are checked and counted, one-third of the catch being handed back to the divers as payment for their work. These are immediately sold in the street, and promptly opened and searched by eager workers. About half a million oysters are brought in in a day, the record catch being, I believe, 5,000,000. When the extent of the catch has been ascertained, the buyers assemble and the sale begins. The auctioneer announces the name of the bank, the number to be sold, and the value of the pearls taken from a sample lot of oysters from the same locality.

In an open space there stands a small building, the roof of palm leaves, the sides open to admit the air. The night is still and hot. Far down on the beach and in the town the hoarse clamour of thousands of voices fills the air like the distant murmur of a racecourse crowd, but in and around the little hall men stand silent and expectant. They are of all races, Bombay pearl merchants, Kilakarai moormen, Paumben chetties, all nationalities, all creeds, all the costumes of the East. The high cap of the Mahomedan, long robes of red and white, plump men almost naked, young and old, backed many of them by vast sums to their credit and all eager for the gamble of the evening. The price bid per thousand oysters slowly rises; it is not only a sale, it is a lottery. A man may buy fifty thousand at ninety rupees a thousand, and find that he incurs a heavy loss; another from a modest thousand may obtain a start in life. Every shell is a lottery ticket of an unknown value. At last the hammer falls and the first lot is

sold. So the sale goes on. The bids are repeated in two languages, so that all may understand, and in half an hour half a million oysters have been sold. At first sight it seems extraordinary that the owners VOL. LXI-No. 363 3 I

of the fishery should not find it worth their while to find the pearls themselves. But it is probable that a greater average profit is derived from the sale of the oysters. This sale attracts merchants to the spot who are throughout India the middlemen and distributors in the pearl trade, so that without them it would be difficult to dispose of the enormous quantities found. The searching of from forty to eighty million oysters would involve a gigantic staff, so that it would be almost impossible to prevent theft; and it is always difficult and sometimes dangerous to disturb an immemorial custom in the East. The pay of the divers also hangs upon the sale, as they are able to get a good price for their share of the oysters from merchants who buy them as samples of the day's catch, opening them on the spot and deciding what price they are prepared to pay at the auction. It is quite possible, too, that on many days the prices obtained from sale are higher than the actual value of the pearls contained in the oysters sold. A gambling fever runs through the whole community. Any full-grown oyster may contain a pearl worth two hundred pounds. On an average, from a good bank, one oyster in every ten contains a pearl of some sort-possibly very small indeed, like a grain of sand; one-tenth of these pearls will probably be round, smooth, and of a good colour, but in any case every pearl commands a price, and a few good ones give a profit. As the fishery goes on, every man in the camp is more and more drawn into the fascination of this gigantic lottery. Small urchins collect their cents and buy one oyster; one boy finds a valuable pearl, and immediately every child in the town is saving and buying and opening. Here and there throughout the neighbourhood men squat down beside a pile of shells, open their oysters with a knife, and with anxious fingers grope among the flesh. The same spirit which fires these small purchasers falls upon the great dealers, and as the bids go up you will see men's faces working with excitement. The East is said to be stoical, but I have never seen such emotion among Monte Carlo gamblers.

That pearls of great value are often found is certain. But they are seldom seen. The lucky finder has no desire to send up the price of the next auction by his boasting, and hides his treasure away in the hope of finding a match, in which case the value of the pair is greatly enhanced. Thus it is impossible to say what is the total value of the pearls found, or how large a proportion of the world's supply comes from the Ceylon fishery.

The last state of the oysters, that in which they deliver up their secrets, is more disagreeable than it is possible to describe. They remain in great heaps guarded by strong stockades for several days under the burning rays of the sun. For some hours they survive, but in a short time the rotting begins. Myriads of flies buzz around them, depositing their eggs in the putrefying mass. A faint sickly odour

arises, which in a few days has become an absolutely overpowering stench, so evil that it sickens a man at a breath. When many millions are rotting the whole neighbourhood seems corrupted. For five miles out at sea the smell is overpowering, and when, in the evening, the wind changes the town and the jungle for miles inland is invaded by this ghastly scent of corruption. As the fishery progresses the place becomes black with flies, which, breeding in the oysters, invade every house and, added to the smell, make life hideous. When the oysters are sufficiently rotten they are washed for pearls.

Having fallen under the universal mania of the place, I had myself bought a few thousand oysters and was therefore obliged to superintend the washing. When several days had passed and the lot. were what is euphemistically called 'matured,' I had the sacks taken to a spot some distance away from all habitations. A large tub was procured and partly filled with water, and the putrefying contents of one sack was emptied in. It is quite impossible to describe the appalling smell which immediately arose, a smell quite overwhelming and next to impossible to endure. In a moment the surface of the water was covered with thousands of maggots struggling wildly to escape out of the tub. These were drained off and fresh water poured in, while the shells were picked out from beneath the water, tapped together to shake out any pearl which might chance to adhere to them, and thrown away. The putrid flesh now remained under the water, and this was kneaded by the men, who must not, without permission, take their hands out of the tub during the operation. Every few minutes a man, churning the filthy mixture, would come upon a pearl and hand it over. This continued until the whole mass of material had been broken up, when it was removed in cloths and left in the sun to dry. Even when dry the smell was horrible, and among these dry but unpleasant remains it was necessary to search for the smaller pearls which had escaped notice during the washing. The quantity discovered was quite extraordinary, and though the majority of these were small or mis-shapen, a few good pearls appeared. I do not think that after a few days at the fishery it is possible ever to regard these beautiful jewels with the same admiration as before. One remembers when one sees their wonderful refinement and beauty the ghastly corruption in which they are discovered. One remembers that they are but a disease, a kind of tumour, epidemic in certain places; and, though the pearl itself shines bright and clear among the filth in which one sees it first, one does not forget how many days must pass before the smell of putrid flesh finally leaves it clean and pure and ready to be worn.

The fishery commences about the 20th of February. Five or six weeks later the monsoon usually breaks. The sea becomes too rough for the divers, and operations cease. The men return to their