The fruit is then measured and thrown into a loft above the pulper in a heap. It should be submitted to the first process of machinery, the pulper, within twenty-four hours after, if not immediately; but it not unfrequently happens that the manager is unable to pulp his coffee for two and sometimes three days, by which time fermentation ensues, and it becomes impossible after pulping to wash off the mucilage, which rather adheres to the outer envelope of the berry, and gives the produce what is termed a "red" or "blanketty" appearance when spread out on the barbacues. The produce is let down by means of a small hole cut into the floor of the loft, or a floating box, into the hopper of the pulper, and by means of a grater forcing the fruit against the chops, the berries are dislodged from the pulp and fall upon a sieve, which being shaken by the machinery, lets the berries fall into the cistern, whilst the grater catches the pulp and carries it backwards at each evolution of the roller, around which it is encircled.
The fruit which might have passed through without being more than half squeezed, and having only ejected one berry, is then returned (after being shaken off by the sieve) into the hopper, to undergo the process a second time. The pulped coffee is then permitted to remain in the cistern for a day and a night, during which period it undergoes a process of fermentation; it is then washed out in two or three waters, and the whole of the mucilaginous stuff which had risen from the berry by the fermentation is entirely washed off, and the coffee presents a beautiful white appearance. From this the produce is turned out to drain on a barbacue, sloped so as to throw all the water to the centre, where a drain is placed to carry it all off.
In an hour or so after, the coffee may be removed to the barbacues for curing; it is there spread out thinly and exposed to the sun, which, if shining strong, will in eight or nine hours absorb all the water, and the coffee be fit for housing that day. I say fit for housing, because I have repeatedly seen coffee washed out early in the morning and put up the same evening. I cannot say I approve of the system, though in fine weather it has been attended with success. From the time the coffee is first exposed to the sun till the silver skin starts, is the stage, in my opinion, during which the produce suffers most injury. In the first instance, it should be kept constantly turned, in order to get the water absorbed as early as possible; and after it has been housed, the greatest precaution should be taken to prevent its heating: and it is for this reason that I disapprove of early housing, for if wet weather should intervene, and the coffee cannot be turned out, it is sure to get heated. From this neglect I have seen a perfect steam issuing from the house in the morning when the doors have been opened; and I have known, as a natural consequence, the adhesion of the silver skin to the berry so firm, that it could not be removed by a sharp penknife without slicing the berry.
In a succession of wet weather the produce has remained on the barbacues for several weeks, without the slightest advance in curing; and, unless it be frequently turned while in this wet state, it is sure to germinate; the berries first swell, then a thin white spire issues from the seam, and on opening the berry the young leaves will be actually seen formed inside, so rapid is the course of vegetation.
I am of opinion that coffee should not be housed till the silver skin begins to start, when no danger can ensue; for if a few wet days should intervene, by turning the coffee over in the house, and allowing a current of air to pass through it, it will keep for weeks. It is at this stage that the parchment skin begins to show itself, for at first it adheres to the inner kernel, but the heat of the sun starts it from its hold and it separates; thus, on shaking a handful of the produce it will be heard to rattle, a sure indication that the silver skin has risen from the bean, without even threshing it to ascertain the fact. The bean is perfectly white till the silver skin starts; it then begins gradually to assume the dark, or what is called the half-cured appearance. A good day's strong sun will then half cure it, and by subsequent exposure the produce takes another stage, and gradually loses the half-cured, and assumes a blue colour; and when the produce is properly cured and fit for the mill, not the slightest dark spot will be perceptible in the bean, but it will exhibit a horny blue colour.
It is within my observation that coffee has been gathered from the field on the Monday, and prepared for market on the Saturday, in a spell of dry weather; but I have known it also to lie on the barbacues for as many weeks in contrary weather, before it had gone through the same ordeal. With good weather and smooth terraces whereon to cure, nothing but gross ignorance and unpardonable carelessness can produce a bad quality of coffee. The difficulty arises in wet weather, when one's skill and assiduity is called into action to save the produce from being spoiled. After coffee has been half-cured, the putting it up hot at an early period of the day has the effect of curing it all night. I have noticed produce housed in this manner, and requiring another day's exposure to fit it for the mill, found perfectly cured next morning.
The barbacues should be kept in good order—all ruts and holes neatly patched every crop, for to them and other roughnesses is to be attributed the peeling of the berries, their being scratched, and various injuries which the produce sustains. And while on the subject of "Works," I cannot help noticing the extreme carelessness and inattention which, on visiting properties, the works and buildings present to our view. It is utterly impossible to manufacture good produce unless the machinery and buildings are kept in good order; and the parsimony which is thus displayed in this necessary outlay is fallacious, when one thinks of the result of one or two shillings per 100 lbs. lost on a crop through this neglect.
When the coffee is perfectly cured—which is generally ascertained by threshing out a few berries in one's hands, and seeing if it has attained its horny blue colour—it is then fit for milling, which is the second process of machinery which it has to undergo. Here the parchment and silver skins are dislodged from the berry, by means of the friction of a large roller passing over the produce in a wooden trough. It is then taken out of the trough, and submitted to the fanner or winnowing machine, when the trash is all blown away, and the coffee, passing through two or three sieves, comes away perfectly clean and partially sized. From this it is again sieved in order to size it properly, hand-picked, put into bags, and sent on mules' backs to the wharf. It is then put into tierces and sold in the Kingston market, or shipped to Britain.
A variety of circumstances tend to injure the quality of the coffee, which it is beyond human agency to control. Dry weather intervening at the particular period when the berry is getting full, subjects it to be stinted and shrivelled; and strong dry breezes happening at the same period, will cause an adhesion of the silver skin which the ordinary process of curing and manufacture will not remove. Late discoveries in the latter have, however, shown the possibility of divesting the produce of that silvery appearance, when brought about under the foregoing circumstances. It is almost, unnecessary to state that this improvement in manufacture refers to the inventions of Messrs. Myers and Meacock, whose respective merits have already undergone public revision. In reference to Mr. Myers' plan of immersing coffee in warm water, I may be allowed to state that it has come under my own observation, that produce which had previously been heated through some carelessness in the curing, subsequently was exposed to a slight sprinkling of rain, and when ground out and fanned, was found to have lost its silvery appearance.
To the invention of Mr. Meacock, a preference has, however, been given, in consequence of the impression that the produce thus immersed in water will absorb a portion of the liquid, which will deteriorate its quality in its passage across the Atlantic. Several gentlemen have shipped coffee submitted to this process to England, but I have not learnt the result.