earth,
and we recollect hearing of a surveyor going out some months ago to
survey a block of land purchased at the Colombo Kachcheri, and
experiencing the utmost difficulty in bringing the theodolite to bear
on a point owing to the fluctuation of the needle, which was dancing a
kind of jig in the box. The instrument had to be shifted and fixed over
and over again before it could be turned to any use. Sure enough he
shortly afterwards discovered plumbago at the spot, not a valuable
mine, but enough to influence the needle.
As
a rule, if a native finds a plumbago mine (while, perhaps, sinking a
well or digging a hole), he invites the wealthiest to join him in work
ing it. If it happens to be Crown land, application is made to the
Government Agenffor a lease of one acre, which is granted after the
usual disgustingly tedious forms are gone through. If the place is
reported to be good, rival applicants start up, and all the
applications are referred to the Mudaliyar of the Korale, who of course
exercise a potent influence in the disposal of them. Generally I he
Agent gives it to the right man, that is to say, the first applicant.
The lease having been executed at the Kachcheri, as soon as the dry
weather sets in, operations commence, which is generally in January.
After consulting the wiseacres of the village for the usual lucky hour,
the first clod of earth is removed with as much ceremony as attends the
laying of the foundation stone of any public building. Then the digging
commences in right good earnest. The usual pla» is for the proprietor
or Government lessee to invite the villagers to quarry. If the
prospects are cheering, the ground owner gets one-fourth of the yield
of each pit; if otherwise, his usual share is one-fifth. It often
happens that a digger, after much toil, is lucky enough to light upon a
vein of plumbago; he goes on pumping out the water, and quarrying as
fast as his unwieldy instruments would permit him. He fancies he had
made a fortune, and speculates on the glorious future before him. His
hopes, however, are often short-lived; to his utter dismay he finds
either that the vein runs into his neighbour's pit, or that the
plumbago is exhausted. We can give an. instance of "ill luck," as he
called it, which attended a well-to-do native of Rygam Korale in
quarrying for plumbago. He leased out a piece of land from the
Government Agent somewhere in Odoowere, and went on working for many
years, spending nearly 200/. on the speculation. Occasionally he was
buoyed up with hopes of ultimate success by the discovery of small
veins of the mineral. He persevered in quarrying and quarrying, and
quarrying, until he spent his last shilling, and eventually gave up
the task from sheer inability to carry it on for want of funds. Shortly
after the land was surveyed and sold by Government to a wealthy native
of Moratuwa, who in less than one year realised a fortune.
It
is difficult to fancy how soon the vast dreary jungle is transformed
into a smiling village when plumbago operations are carried on on a
large scale. Cooly lines rise here, there, and everywhere, an
enterprising boutique-keeper sets up a shop with a large stock of rice,
umblakade (dried Maldive fish) and salt, and arrack is also smuggled in
from the adjoining tavern and sold in large quantities. We can imagine
the labourers looking jolly after striking work, and on pay-day, at the
end of the week, making a "Saturday night" of it.
The
merchants who buy and export such large quantities of the mineral will
not grudge giving the miners a reasonable value for their plumbago, if
they only know the difficulties which exist in the excavation of the mineral.
Using the rude implements with which they are familiar, they often sink
from pure exhaustion, what with the hot burning sun over them, the
thermometer at 80 deg. or 83 deg., and the coolies have to carry
basket-loads of earth over a flight of slippery steps some forty to
fifty feet in single file. If one man slips, as he often does, down
come the others like so many ninepins
