ding
oneself of this nuisance, and I have known travellers who preferred
staying on board during coaling time rather than face a small army of
pestering gem vendors on shore.
On
one of my periodical visits to the island I went ashore in company with
several shipmates, and as usual the gem gang was there in full force to
meet the passengers as they emerged from the ferry stage. In the
twinkling of an eye, I and my friends were surrounded by a host of
gesticulating, shouting natives, each more eager than the rest to
introduce us to the amenities of the locality. As a side line these
tourist guides all carried a supply of semiprecious stones, neatly
done up in small paper packages, and—as of old—these they thrust
impetuously into our faces with invitations to inspect and buy.
This
was all in good accord with certain deep-laid plans I had made while
still aboard ship. After a moment, I exclaimed, raising my voice to be
heard by first half a dozen and then by them all: "Look here, you
fellows, if my friends and I really wanted to buy from you, you
wouldn't let us! You won't let us budge. We can scarcely breathe. And
as for looking at anything when a hundred of you show us your goods at
once, what a hope you've got! That's not the way to do business."
This
was not the talk they were accustomed to. After gaping at us for a
moment they began to hustle us again, but a bit doubtfully this time.
Then I said: "If you want us to inspect your goods, sit round in a
circle, and we will take each of you in turn."
And they did it. After some scuffling and heated words, they actually formed themselves into a rough circle around
