Page 24 - Personal Column (Charles Belgrave)_Neat

shopkeepers imported more goods on which the Government collected
Customs duty, which was its main source of income. There was no tax
on pearls, the only direct revenue from the industry being a small sum
collected from boat registrations. It was a flourishing industry, providing
employment for about 20,000 Bahrain men during the season, but when
cultured pearls began to make their appearance the real pearl industry
suffered a blow from which it never recovered.
I must admit a prejudice against cultured pearls. I hope that in time
it will be found that they do not have the long life of real pearls, which
last for centuries. A cultured pearl contains a scrap of foreign substance
artificially introduced into the oyster which covers it with skins of nacre.
If one cuts through a cultured pearl it is like cutting open a hard-boiled
egg; on the outside there is nacre, in the centre something resembling a
scrap of cement. A real pearl appears to consist of nacre all the way
through. I never knew a Bahrain pearl merchant fail to distinguish a
cultured pearl on sight.
Persian Gulf pearls arc the finest in the world and have been famous
since ancient times. Probably the first reference to them is in a cuneiform
inscription, found in Nineveh, in Iraq, which reads, ‘In the Sea of Change­
able Winds [the Persian Gulf] his merchants fished for pearls.’ Classical
authors describe Persian Gulf pearls as more perfect and exquisite than
any others and from the ninth till the fourteenth century Arab geo­
graphers and travellers relate minutely how pearls were found and
bought and sold. The account of Masudi, an Arab historian of the ninth
century, could, with a few reservations, serve as a description of pearl-
diving today. The centre of this most ancient industry and the chief
market in the Gulf was Bahrain.
I shall never forget the first time I saw the pearling fleet set out from
Muharraq. It was evening and the tide was full. The graceful ships, like
Roman galleys, with huge lateen sails, moved smoothly through the
iridescent water, silhouetted against the sunset sky. The sound of the
sailors singing and the throbbing of their drums was borne across the
water to where I stood with the people who were watching the departure.
But this splendid sight may not be seen for much longer. A year or two
’ ago a launch was used for pearling and, as the experiment was a success,
soon, probably, the fleet will discard sails in favour of petrol engines.
In my second summer in Bahrain I paid a visit to the pearl banks and
afterwards I used to go out once or twice every season. It was a hot,
sticky night in September, but September is the best month for these
expeditions, although on shore it is the most humid and unpleasant month
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in the year. The Arabs say that in September the dampness leaves the sea
and comes over the land. After dinner l went to the pier to board the
launch which was to take me out. The pier was almost deserted except
for sleeping figures, lying stretched on the decks ot the boats which were
anchored alongside, and one or two little groups ot Arabs sitting round
a lantern and singing softly to the accompaniment of a stringed instru­
ment. The sea, in the moonlight, looked more like oil than water. I took
two or three policemen, who had been divers before they joined up, but
the man who was really in charge of the expedition was the Shaikh’s
tuikhuda, Sultan bin Ali, who could find his way anywhere in the seas
around Bahrain without a compass. Our destination was a pearl bank
about forty miles away, where most of the fleet was working, so in order
not to arrive before dawn we anchored during part of the night in the
lee of one of the big reefs which provide shelter for ships even in the
roughest weather. It was light when we sighted the first group of dhows
and we went alongside the largest one.
I clambered up the slippery side of the dhow on a loose rope and was
received by the captain, who invited me to join him on a sort of shelf in
the poop where he slept and kept his carved wooden sea chest, which
contained his own belongings and the pearls. The crew, who numbered
about sixty men, were squatting in the middle of the deck around a
huge heap of shells wliich had been caught on the previous day. With
their short knives they prised open every shell, searching each one care-
fully, prodding about in the flesh of the oyster. When a man found a
pearl he placed it between his toes and when two or three were collected
he handed them over to the captain, who watched the men from his eyrie
with an eagle eye. Most of the pearls were so tiny that I could hardly see
them. Large pearls were few and far between. The captain told me that
thefts of pearls by divers were unheard of, nor were pearls stolen by
brokers who were often entrusted, on shore, with valuable lots of pearls
to sell on behalf of their owners. Later I was to discover that this statement
was true. When all the shells had been opened they were thrown into the
and the decks were swilled over. I asked one of the divers why they
sea
did not keep the shells, which might have been of commercial value. ‘The
oysters in the sea feed on the old opened shells,’ he said. I asked him if he
knew what made pearls. He replied: ‘When it rains the oysters come up
to the surface. They open their shells and receive drops of rain. These
drops become pearls.* Several of the divers had gathered round and they
all solemnly confirmed this statement. One of the ‘travellers’ tales’
mentioned by Masudi was that the divers filled their mouths with oil,
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