Eight Years' Wanderings in Ceylon

CHAPTER XII

The Pearl Fishery—Desolation of the Coast—Harbor of Trincomalee—Fatal Attack by a Shark—Ferocious Crocodiles—Salt Monopoly—Salt Lakes—Method of Collection—Neglect of Ceylon Hides—Fish and Fishing—Primitive Tackle—Oysters and Penknives—A Night Bivouac for a Novice—No Dinner, but a Good Fire—Wild Yams and Consequences—The Elephants' Duel—A Hunting Hermitage—Bluebeard's last Hunt—The Leopard—Bluebeard's Death—Leopard Shot.

While fresh from the subject of government mismanagement, let us turn our eyes in the direction of one of those natural resources of wealth for which Ceylon has ever been renowned—the "pearl fishery." This was the goose which laid the golden egg, and Sir W. Horton, when governor of Ceylon, was the man who killed the goose.

Here was another fatal instance of the effects of a five years' term of governorship.

It was the last year of his term, and he wished to prove to the Colonial Office that "his talent" had not been laid up in a napkin, but that he had left the colony with an excess of income over expenditure. To obtain this income he fished up all the oysters, ruined the fishery in consequence; and from that day to the present time it has been unproductive.

This is a serious loss of income to the colony, and great doubts are entertained as to the probability, of the oyster-banks ever recovering their fertility.

Nothing can exceed the desolation of the coast in the neighborhood of the pearl-banks. For many miles the shore is a barren waste of low sandy ground, covered for the most part with scrubby, thorny jungle, diversified by glades of stunted herbage. Not a hill is to be seen as far as the eye can reach. The tracks of all kind of game abound on the sandy path, with occasionally those of a naked foot, but seldom does a shoe imprint its civilized mark upon these lonely shores.

The whole of this district is one of the best in Ceylon for deer-shooting, which is a proof of its want of inhabitants. This has always been the case, even in the prosperous days of the pearl fishery. So utterly worthless is the soil, that it remains in a state of nature, and its distance from Colombo (one hundred and fifty miles) keeps it in entire seclusion.

It is a difficult to conceive that any source of wealth should exist in such a locality. When standing on the parched sand, with the burning sun shining in pitiless might upon all around, the meagre grass burnt to a mere straw, the tangled bushes denuded of all verdure save a few shriveled leaves, the very insects seeking shelter from the rays, there is not a tree to throw a shadow, but a dancing haze of molten air hovers upon the ground, and the sea like a mirror reflects a glare, which makes the heat intolerable. And yet beneath the wave on this wild and desolate spot glitter those baubles that minister to man's vanity; and, as though in mockery of such pursuits, I have seen the bleached skulls of bygone pearl-seekers lying upon the sand, where they have rotted in view of the coveted treasures.

There is an appearance of ruin connected with everything in the neighborhood. Even in the good old times this coast was simply visited during the period for fishing. Temporary huts were erected for thousands of natives, who thronged to Ceylon from all parts of the East for the fascinating speculations of the pearl fishery. No sooner was the season over than every individual disappeared; the wind swept away the huts of sticks and leaves; and the only vestiges remaining of the recent population were the government stores and house at Arripo, like the bones of the carcase after the vultures had feasted and departed. All relapsed at once into its usual state of desolation.

The government house was at one time a building of some little pretension, and from its style it bore the name of the "Doric." It is now, like everything else, in a state of lamentable decay. The honeycombed eighteen pounder, which was the signal gun of former years, is choked with drifting sand, and the air of misery about the place is indescribable.

Now that the diving helmet has rendered subaqueous discoveries, so easy, I am surprised that a government survey has not been made of the whole north-west coast of Ceylon. It seems reasonable to suppose that the pearl oyster should inhabit depths which excluded the simple diver of former days, and that our modern improvements might discover treasures in the neighborhood of the old pearl-beds of which we are now in ignorance. The best divers, without doubt, could never much exceed a minute in submersion. I believe the accounts of their performances generally to have been much exaggerated. At all events, those of the present day do not profess to remain under water much more than a minute.

The accounts of Ceylon pearl fisheries are so common in every child's book that I do not attempt to describe the system in detail. Like all lotteries, there are few prizes to the proportion of blanks.

The whole of this coast is rich in the biche de mer more commonly called the sea-slug. This is a disgusting species of mollusca, which grows to a large size, being commonly about a foot in length and three or four inches in diameter. The capture and preparation of these creatures is confined exclusively to the Chinese, who dry them in the sun until they shrink to the size of a large sausage and harden to the consistency of horn; they are then exported to China for making soups. No doubt they are more strengthening than agreeable; but I imagine that our common garden slug would be an excellent substitute to any one desirous of an experiment, as it exactly resembles its nautical representative in color and appearance. Trincomalee is the great depot for this trade, which is carried on to a large extent, together with that of sharks' fins, the latter being used by the Chinese for the same purpose as the biche de mer. Trincomalee affords many facilities for this trade, as the slugs are found in large quantities on the spot, and the finest harbor of the East is alive with sharks. Few things surpass the tropical beauty of this harbor; lying completely land-locked, it seems like a glassy lake surrounded by hills covered with the waving foliage of groves of cocoa-nut trees and palms of great variety. The white bungalows with their red-tiled roofs, are dotted about along the shore, and two or three men-of-war are usually resting at their ease in this calm retreat. So deep is the water that the harbor forms a perfect dock, as the largest vessel can lie so close to the shore that her yards overhang it, which enables stores and cargo to be shipped with great facility.

The fort stands upon a projecting point of land, which rises to about seventy feet above the level of the galle face (the race-course) which faces it. Thus it commands the land approach across this flat plain on one side and the sea on the other. This same fort is one of the hottest corners of Ceylon, and forms a desirable residence for those who delight in a temperature of from 90 degrees to 140 degrees in the shade. Bathing is the great enjoyment, but the pleasure in such a country is destroyed by the knowledge that sharks are looking out for you in the sea, and crocodiles in the rivers and tanks; thus a man is nothing more than an exciting live-bait when he once quits terra firma. Accidents necessarily must happen, but they are not so frequent as persons would suppose from the great number of carnivorous monsters that exist. Still, I am convinced that a white man would run greater risk than a black; he is a more enticing bait, being bright and easily distinguished in the water. Thus in places where the natives are in the habit of bathing with impunity it would be most dangerous for a white man to enter.

There was a lamentable instance of this some few years ago at Trincomalee. In a sheltered nook among the rocks below the fort, where the natives were always in the habit of bathing, a party of soldiers of the regiment then in garrison went down one sultry afternoon for a swim. It was a lovely spot for bathing; the water was blue, clear and calm, as the reef that stretched far out to sea served as a breakwater to the heavy surf, and preserved the inner water as smooth as a lake. Here were a fine lot of English soldiers stripped to bathe; and although the ruddy hue of British health had long since departed in the languid climate of the East, nevertheless their spirits were as high as those of Englishmen usually are, no matter where or under what circumstances. However, one after the other took a run, and then a "header" off the rocks into the deep blue water beneath. In the long line of bathers was a fine lad of fifteen, the son of one of the sergeants of the regiment; and with the emulation of his age he ranked himself among the men, and on arriving at the edge he plunged head-foremost into the water and disappeared. A crowd of men were on the margin watching the bathing; the boy rose to the surface within a few feet of them, but as he shook the water from his hair, a cloudy shadow seemed to rise from the deep beneath him, and in another moment the distinct outline of a large shark was visible as his white belly flashed below. At the same instant there was a scream of despair; the water was crimsoned, and a bloody foam rose to the surface—the boy was gone! Before the first shock of horror was well felt by those around, a gallant fellow of the same regiment shot head first into the bloody spot, and presently reappeared from his devoted plunge, bearing in his arms one-half of the poor boy. The body was bitten off at the waist, and the lower portion was the prize of the ground shark.

For several days the soldiers were busily employed in fishing for this monster, while the distracted mother sat in the burning sun, watching in heart-broken eagerness, in the hope of recovering some trace of her lost son. This, however, was not to be; the shark was never seen again.

There is as much difference in the characters of sharks as among other animals or men. Some are timid and sluggish, moving as though too lazy to seek their food; and there is little doubt that such would never attack man. Others, on the contrary, dash through the water as a pike would seize its prey, and refuse or fear nothing. There is likewise a striking distinction in the habits of crocodiles; those that inhabit rivers being far more destructive and fearless than those that infest the tanks. The natives hold the former in great terror, while with the latter they run risks which are sometimes fatal. I recollect a large river in the southeast of Ceylon, which so abounds with ferocious crocodiles that the natives would not enter the water in depths above the knees, and even this they objected to, unless necessity compelled them to cross the river. I was encamped on the banks for some little time, and the natives took the trouble to warn me especially not to enter; and, as proof of the danger, they showed me a spot where three men had been devoured in the course of one year, all three of whom are supposed to have ministered to the appetite of the same crocodile.

Few reptiles are more disgusting in appearance than these brutes; but, nevertheless, their utility counterbalances their bad qualities, as they cleanse the water from all impurities. So numerous are they that their heads may be seen in fives and tens together, floating at the top of the water like rough corks; and at about five P.M. they bask on the shore close to the margin of the shore ready to scuttle in on the shortest notice. They are then particularly on the alert, and it is a most difficult thing to stalk them, so as to get near enough to make a certain shot. This is not bad amusement when no other sport can be had. Around the margin of a lake, in a large plain far in the distance, may be seen a distinct line upon the short grass like the fallen trunk of a tree. As there are no trees at hand, this must necessarily be a crocodile. Seldom can the best hand at stalking then get within eighty yards of him before he lifts his scaly head, and, listening for a second, plunges off the bank.

I have been contradicted in stating that a ball will penetrate their scales. It is absurd, however, to hold the opinion that the scales will turn a ball—that is to say, stop the ball (as we know that a common twig will of course turn it from its direction, if struck obliquely).

The scales of a crocodile are formed of bone exquisitely jointed together like the sections of a skull; these are covered externally with a horny skin, forming, no doubt, an excellent defensive armor, about an inch in thickness; but the idea of their being impenetrable to a ball, if struck fair, is a great fallacy. People may perhaps complain because a pea rifle with a mere pinch of powder may be inefficient, but a common No. 16 fowling-piece, with two drachms of powder, will penetrate any crocodile that was ever hatched.

Among the most harmless kinds are those which inhabit the salt lakes in the south of Ceylon. I have never beard of an accident in these places, although hundreds of persons are employed annually in collecting salt from the bottom.

These natural reservoirs are of great extent, some of them being many miles in circumference. Those most productive are about four miles round, and yield a supply in August, during the height of the dry season.

Salt in Ceylon is a government monopoly; and it has hitherto been the narrow policy of the government to keep up an immense price upon this necessary of life, when the resources of the country could produce any amount required for the island consumption.

These are now all but neglected, and the government simply gathers the salt as the wild pig feeds upon the fruit which falls from the tree in its season.

The government price of salt is now about three shillings per bushel. This is very impure, being mixed with much dirt and sand. The revenue obtained by the salt monopoly is about forty thousand pounds per annum, two-thirds of which is an unfair burden upon the population, as the price, according to the supply obtainable, should never exceed one shilling per bushel.

Let us consider the capabilities of the locality from which it is collected.

The lakes are some five or six in number, situated within half a mile of the sea, separated only by a high bank of drift sand, covered for the most part with the low jungle which clothes the surrounding country. Flat plains of a sandy nature form the margins of the lakes. The little town of Hambantotte, with a good harbor for small craft, is about twenty miles distant, to which there is a good cart road.

The water of these lakes is a perfect brine. In the dry season the evaporation, of course, increases the strength until the water can no longer retain the amount of salt in solution it therefore precipitates and crystalizes at the bottom in various degrees of thickness, according to the strength of the brine.

Thus, as the water recedes from the banks by evaporation and the lake decreases in size, it leaves a beach, not of shingles, but of pure salt in crystallized cubes, to the depth of several inches, and sometimes to half a foot or more. The bottom of the lake is equally coated with this thick deposit.

These lakes are protected by watchers, who live upon the margin throughout the year. Were it not for this precaution, immense quantities of salt would be stolen. In the month of August the weather is generally most favorable for the collection, at which time the assistant agent for the district usually gives a few days' superintendence.

The salt upon the shore being first collected, the natives wade into the lake and gather the deposit from the bottom, which they bring to the shore in baskets; it is then made up into vast piles, which are subsequently thatched over with cajans (the plaited leaf of the cocoanut). In this state it remains until an opportunity offers for carting it to the government salt stores.

This must strike the reader as being a rude method of collecting what Nature so liberally produces. The waste is necessarily enormous, as the natives cannot gather the salt at a greater depth than three feet; hence the greater proportion of the annual produce of the lake remains ungathered. The supply at present afforded might be trebled with very little trouble or expense.

If a stick is inserted in the mud, so that one end stands above water, the salt crystallizes upon it in a large lump of several pounds' weight. This is of a better quality than that which is gathered from the bottom, being free from sand or other impurities. Innumerable samples of this may be seen upon the stakes which the natives have stuck in the bottom to mark the line of their day's work. These, not being removed, amass a collection of salt as described.

Were the government anxious to increase the produce of these natural reservoirs, nothing could be more simple than to plant the whole lake with rows of stakes. The wood is on the spot, and the rate of labor sixpence a day per man; thus it might be accomplished for a comparatively small amount.

This would not only increase the produce to an immense degree, but it would also improve the purity of the collection, and would render facilities for gathering the crop by means of boats, and thus obviate the necessity of entering the water; at present the suffering caused by the latter process is a great drawback to the supply of labor. So powerful is the brine that the legs and feet become excoriated after two or three days' employment, and the natives have accordingly a great aversion to the occupation.

Nothing could be easier than gathering the crop by the method proposed. Boats would paddle along between the rows of stakes, while each stick would be pulled up and the salt disengaged by a single blow; the stick would then be replaced in its position until the following season.

Nevertheless, although so many specimens exist of this accumulation, the method which was adopted by the savage is still followed by the soi-disant civilized man.

In former days, when millions occupied Ceylon, the demand for salt must doubtless have been in proportion, and the lakes which are now so neglected must have been taxed to their utmost resources. There can be little doubt that the barbarians of those times had some more civilized method of increasing the production than the enlightened race of the present day.

The productive salt lakes are confined entirely to the south of Ceylon. Lakes and estuaries of sea-water abound all round the island, but these are only commonly salt, and do not yield. The north and the east coasts are therefore supplied by artificial salt-pans. These are simple enclosed levels on the beach, into which the sea-water is admitted, and then allowed to evaporate by the heat of the sun. The salt of course remains at the bottom. More water is then admitted, and again evaporated; and this process continues until the thickness of the salt at the bottom allows of its being collected.

This simple plan might be adopted with great success with the powerful brine of the salt lakes, which might be pumped from its present lower level into dry reservoirs for evaporation.

The policy of the government, however, does not tend to the increase of any production. It is preferred to keep up the high rate of salt by a limited supply, which meets with immediate demand, rather than to increase the supply for the public benefit at a reduced rate. This is a mistaken mode of reasoning. At the present high price the consumption of salt is extremely small, is its rise is restricted to absolute necessaries. On the other hand, were the supply increased at one half the present rate, the consumption would augment in a far greater proportion, as salt would then be used for a variety of purposes which at the present cost is impossible, viz. For the purpose of cattle-feeding, manures, etc., etc. In addition to this, it would vastly affect the price of salt fish (the staple article of native consumption), and by the reduction in cost of this commodity there would be a corresponding extension in the trade.

The hundreds of thousands of hides which are now thrown aside to rot uncared for would then be preserved and exported, which at the present rate of salt is impossible. The skins of buffaloes, oxen, deer, swine, all valuable in other parts of the world, in Ceylon are valueless. The wild buffalo is not even skinned when shot; he is simply opened for his marrow-bones, his tail is cut off for soup, his brains taken out for cotelettes, and his tongue salted. The beast himself, hide and all, is left as food for the jackal. The wandering native picks up his horns, which find their way to the English market; but the "hide," the only really valuable portion, is neglected.

Within a short distance of the salt lakes, buffaloes, boars, and in fact all kind of animals abound, and I have no doubt that if it were once proved to the natives that the hides could be made remunerative, they would soon learn the method of preparation.

Some persons have an idea that a native will not take the trouble to do anything that would turn a penny; in this I do not agree. Certainly a native has not sufficient courage for a speculation which involves the risk of loss; but provided he is safe in that respect, he will take unbounded trouble for his own benefit, not valuing his time or labor in pursuit of his object.

I have noticed a great change in the native habits along the southern coast which exemplifies this, since the steamers have touched regularly at Galle.

Some years ago, elephants, buffaloes, etc., when shot by sportsmen, remained untouched except by wild beast; but now within one hundred and fifty miles of Galle every buffalo horn is collected and even the elephant's grinders are extracted from the skulls, and brought into market.

An elephant's grinder averages seven pounds in weight, and is not worth more than from a penny to three half-pence a pound; nevertheless they are now brought to Galle in large quantities to be made into knife-handles and sundry ornaments, to tempt the passengers of the various steamers. If the native takes this trouble for so small a recompense, there is every reason to suppose that the hides now wasted would be brought into market and form a valuable export, were salt at such a rate as would admit of their preparation.

The whole of the southern coast, especially in the neighborhood of the salt lakes, abounds with fish. These are at present nearly undisturbed; but I have little doubt that a reduction in the price of salt would soon call forth the energies of the Moormen, who would establish fisheries in the immediate neighborhood. This would be of great importance to the interior of the country, as a road has been made within the last few years direct from this locality to Badulla, distant about eighty miles, and situated in the very heart of the most populous district of Ceylon. This road, which forms a direct line of communication from the port of Hambantotte to Newera Ellia, is now much used for the transport of coffee from the Badulla estates, to which a cheap supply of salt and fish would be a great desideratum.