And there are dangers also in nude diving, even to those who have spent a lifetime about the water. Sharks and sting-rays and devil-fish there are in abundance, and many of them know the taste of diver’s flesh; on the other hand many a daring South Sea Islander could tell of a fierce combat more thrilling than even those pictured by Victor Hugo. One of the chief advantages of the diving-suit is that in case a shark comes along, the diver can bide his time until the fish is ready to leave, or he can frighten it away by ejecting air bubbles from the sleeve of his suit or by other demonstrations; whereas a nude diver is obliged to seek the air without delay, and in the retreat is seized by the fish who, human like, has his appetite increased by the visible retreat of the object of his desire.

Not Schiller nor Edgar Allan Poe ever conjured up a picture more ghastly than that of a Penrhyn diver caught like a rat in a trap by some huge, man-eating shark or fierce kara mauua, crouching in a cleft of the overhanging coral, under the dark green gloom of a hundred feet of water, with bursting lungs and cracking eyeballs, while the threatening bulk of his terrible enemy looms dark and steady, full in the road to life and air. A minute or more has been spent in the downward journey; another minute has passed in the agonized wait under the rock.... Has he been seen?... Will the creature move away now, while there is still time to return? The diver knows to a second how much time has passed; the third minute is on its way; but one goes up quicker than one comes down, and there is still hope.... Two minutes and a half; it is barely possible now, but—the sentinel of death glides forward; his cruel eyes, phosphorescent in the gloom, look right into the cleft where the wretched creature is crouching, with almost twenty seconds of life still left, but now not a shred of hope. A few more beats of the laboring pulse, a gasp from the tortured lungs, a sudden rush of silvery air bubbles, and the brown limbs collapse down out of the cleft like wreaths of seaweed. The shark has his own. (Beatrice Grimshaw in the “Graphic.”)

At the end of the day’s work, the catch is opened by means of a large knife, and carefully searched for the much prized pearls. Usually the fisherman finds none; occasionally he discovers a small round one or a large baroque, and at long intervals—possibly once in two or three years—his search is rewarded with a fine pearl for which he may receive $50 or $60, and there is always the chance that the very next oyster will disclose a gem which will make him independent for the remainder of his life; and if no pearls whatever are found, there are the shells, the sale of which furnishes sufficient to purchase tobacco, knives, fish-hooks, the gaudy cotton cloths, the flour and other simple articles of food, and especially rum, that fatal gift of civilization which has been the curse of so many primitive peoples.

Some of the individual pearls secured have been remarkably large, weighing 100 grains and over. Returning visitors from Tahiti, with views magnified doubtless in proportion to the distance of the objects of their description, credited Queen Pomaré with the possession of some sufficiently large to be used for billiard-balls. Sixty years ago superb pearls could be obtained from the natives for a few gallons of rum or a small number of pieces of cheap calico, and several shrewd traders made great profits in the business. But as trade at the islands was open to vessels of all nationalities, the competition increased, with the result that the natives gradually learned the high estimation in which pearls are held, and in recent years it has not been unusual for one of medium grade to sell higher in Oceanica than it would in Europe.

It is difficult to form a reliable estimate of the value of the pearling industry of the South Sea Islands. The Tuamotu group, with 4000 fishermen, yields, in an average season, about 450 tons of mother-of-pearl, worth about £65,000 in London, where most of it is marketed. The yield at the remaining French islands is less than that of the Tuamotus. Probably the total yield of mother-of-pearl in all the South Sea Islands is not far from 900 tons, worth about $700,000.

No statistics whatever are available regarding the yield of pearls, and the estimates sent from the islands are small compared with those made by London and Paris firms who import the pearls. A large number of persons living in Papeiti and many traders visiting the islands depend very largely on pearl-dealing for a livelihood. From the yield of pearl shell and estimates made by dealers, we are inclined to put the value of the pearls secured in an average season from all the South Sea Islands at about $125,000, only a small portion of which goes to the fishermen themselves, the greater part representing profits of the traders.

PEARL FISHERIES OF AUSTRALIA

Ocean’s gem, the purest

Of nature’s works! What days of weary journeyings,

What sleepless nights, what toils on land and sea,