From some of the pans we see coolies lifting big lumps of a white substance that looks like very heavy dough. These are put into a machine which tears them into small pieces. A second machine, which has rollers covered with a diamond pattern, kneads the pieces together, and turns out a long strip of material which looks like tripe. When this has been passed two or three times through a third machine, which has smooth-faced rollers, a strip of “crêpe” rubber is ready to be taken to the drying-room or to the smoking-room.
The slabs taken out of the trays are passed through a machine which has smooth, copper rollers. The compact, oblong pieces of rubber which are the result of this method of preparation are called “sheets.” Some factories send smooth-surfaced sheets to market, others stamp their sheets top and bottom with a deep diamond pattern, to provide for ventilation when they are packed. Here we see the sheets, after they leave the smooth rollers, passed through a machine that has a diamond pattern deeply indented on its rollers.
C. H. Kerr & Co., Kandy, Ceylon
MAKING RUBBER BISCUITS. [Page 82]
All the rubber we see leaving the machine is white. We go now to the drying-room, and there we find sheets and crêpe in all shades of yellow, hanging over the wooden rails that stretch from end to end and side to side of the apartment. The material turns yellow as it dries; sometimes it takes on a pale lemon tint, sometimes a rich, deep amber, or golden hue. The quality of rubber does not depend on the shade of the material, but if any dirt has been allowed to get into the milk, the light-hued strips tell tales more plainly than the dark ones. The rubber which is finished off in the drying-room is uncured.
We are very anxious to see the smoking-room, for we know that every planter’s great ambition is to turn out of his factory rubber which is so thoroughly well cured that it can compete with the exceptionally well cured Brazilian Para. We are even more anxious to get out of that room. After a very few minutes we feel that not for another moment shall we be able to breathe in such an atmosphere. On the ground floor beneath us a big fire is consuming cocoanut shells, and belching forth clouds of smoke. We cannot actually see the smoke, but, like all the rubber around us, we are getting the full “benefit” of it as it finds its way through a double ceiling of perforated zinc. The smoke is turning most of the rubber in this room brown; some thin crêpe, which has been here nearly three weeks, and some thick crêpe, called “blanket,” which has been here over a month, are very dark brown. You are quite right in thinking they must be well baked. They will soon be taken from their present quarters, packed up and sent to market; and they are so well cured, and are of such excellent quality, that they will probably fetch a higher price per pound than the best quality wild Para.
It is in this room that you happen to make your first acquaintance with some crêpe rubber of a greyish hue. It is made from scraps, which are collected by the tappers from trees, cups, and cans, after they have taken the day’s milk to the factory. The scraps are washed as clean as it is possible to get them, and then put through the crêping machines. Plantation scrap is far superior in quality to wild scrap.