UP FOR AIR took many long hours PEARL TOWN A MUSH- It is intensely interesting to watch the crowded decks of the dhoneys from the stern of the trawler. The Arabs, after the day's work, wrap themselves in their burnooses, some of them grimy white. others blue and yellow. They herd round the fire lit in the dhoney, stretch themselves out, and sleep till the boats approach Pearl Town. Then there is bustle and stir on board. About half a mile from shore the dhoneys cast off from the tugs, and a race for the shore takes place. It is a case of "first come, first served," and every diver is anxious to be the first to get his oysters into the government kottu, the inclosure in which the oysters are counted and divided. Photograph by Walter Pine Note the clip worn over the nose; the basket in which the pearl-oysters are brought to the surface is seen at the right. ing ceases for the day. The government sealing officer sets out in his launch and goes from one boat to the other, putting the government seal on the bags. When this useful precautionary work is accomplished, the dhoneys collect round the tugs, set their sails, and are attached to the tugs by towlines (see page 172). A more beautiful sight than the dhoneys following after the tugs cannot be imagined, their huge brown-and-white sails. shining in the sunshine, flapping like the wings of great birds, and a curling, sparkling wave breaking from their bows. In the old days, of course, the fleet made for Pearl Town under its own sail and Meanwhile we in the trawler transship to a launch and hurry shoreward, in order to see the arrival of the boats (see page 174). Marichchukaddi, Pearl Town, seen from the sea, is a most attractive spot-a low, reddish coast line, tree- and turf-covered, with a background of jungle, stretching away to a game sanctuary. The shore is crowded with people, in colored cloths and turbans. It is astonishing to think that when there is no pearl fishery Marichchukaddi is deserted, save for a few native huts. Now a town of The diver employs a smooth, flat stone to aid him in his descent. When ready to dive, he places one foot in a sort of stirrup on the stone, grasps the edge of a rope basket attached to another rope (see illustration, page 168), inflates his lungs, loosens the slipknot holding the stone, and sinks rapidly to the bottom, where he disengages his foot and begins scrambling about, gathering the oysters and putting them in the basket. While most of the waters surrounding Ceylon produce pearls, the most important fishery is in the Gulf of Manaar, an indentation between the island and the southern apex of the India peninsula. Note the flat stone in its rope stirrup (left foreground), which the diver uses to aid him in his descent (see, also, page 169). SEALING THE OYSTER BAGS BEFORE THE DHONEYS REACH SHORE Before the government began sealing the bags, the leisure of the trip from the fishing grounds to the shore, requiring from two to four hours, was employed by the natives in opening the oysters and concealing any pearls which they might find. It is estimated that at times this illicit practice cost the government fully one-fourth of the catch. 30,000 to 40,000 inhabitants has sprung up, as if by magic. A day or two after the closing of the fishery these inhabitants of Pearl Town melt away like the figment of a dream. Only the cadjan (palm-leaf) huts and a few substantial buildings remain. The shore is deserted and silence reigns where for weeks rose a babel of many tongues, while Pearl Town enjoyed her crowded hour of glorious life. THE GOVERNMENT TAKES TWO-THIRDS AND ALLOWS DIVERS ONE-THIRD It is delightful to watch the dhoneys. making for the shore like a flock of birds on brown-and-white translucent wings, skimming over the shining waters. The moment the boats are beached the divers leap ashore, seize their bags and carry them up the beach on their heads. Each looks like the slave, in the story of Aladdin, bearing treasure, and so indeed they do in some cases (see page 176). The bags are dumped in the kottu, a huge palisaded inclosure, with a numbered place set aside for bags from each correspondingly numbered boat. The shells are counted by government officials and made up into bags of 1,000 each. The government's share is two-thirds, the diver keeps one-third. The bustle and hustle and clamor in the kottus can be imagined when it is realized that at one point of the fishery 125 boats were out and 1,908 divers had to pass through the inclosure. All was conducted |