BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

Star (Christchurch), Issue 5227, 6 April 1895, Page 2

BIRDS OF PASSAGE.

(Maomillan's Magazine)

It is eleven o'clock in the morning and ■ the end of the hot weather ; the latter end of May when the last blade of grass has • been scorched off the roadside, and the air atrikeß Jike fire on the face as you driva along the street j when each night is hotter than the last and the future io bounded by the rains. It is no day for workj rather a day for darkened zooms, scanty dress and sobbing' punkahs ; but work' there is and plenty of it, for a *' coolie steamer" leaves to-morrow morning and the passenger broker has notified a fall cargo of coolies. . i The " cargo " ia waiting for me, eind ; I realise the size of it as I turn into the narrow lane leading to the office. Since dawn the cargo has been gathering, and now, having long filled the office yard, it has overflowed into the lane where it squats fojir deep over the open drains, clustering thickest about the gates; a throng ot' patient coolies guarding heavily -roped boxes and Bhspelesa dirty bundles. The servants are waiting to ole&r a way for me through the crush, and as 1 step out of my ponycarb the sweltering crowd of naked black humanity rises with a murmur of " Sahib," to press a Untie nearer the foot of tho atairwty which rune up the wall to the booking-office. This stairway is already ; PACKED TO SUFFOCATION by the earliest; arrivals, deapito the terrible heat, which ia doubled by the glare from the walls. At the bottom of the main stairs whioh lead to the general office stand four sturdy Punjaubi watchmen, armed with heavy sticks to keep the coolies out. These have • their work cut out for them after I have passed, as a score of bolder spirits, thinking to beard the sahib in his den, try to carry tb.B entrance by storm, whereby como thwacke, howls and language. " No, no coolie ! This way is not for coolies ! Go back, baok, back! Go, go! Oh, sou j of a pig, come back ! " to aa agile skeleton who has slipped by and is scuttling upstairs, to be hustled down again amid the laughter of his friends. It is a relief to reach tho comparative cool of the office, whore the heavy Venetian blinda shut out heat and light together; and I sit down, coatleas, under the flapping punkah to- sec that thinga are j in working order before giving the word to admit the cargo. On my left a doorway opens on the "coolie room," which native passengers approach and leave by' the wooden stairway up the outer wall. A broad and strong teak counter runs across taia doorway, and beside ifc wait Cassim, . the broker, and his assistants. On tho floor lieu A HSAP OS KtJPEE-TRATS ' —stout, shallow boxes with three sidas, constructed to hold exactly a thousand rupees, in ten rows of five piloa of twenties— and a couple of heavy stonea ueed for breaking bad coins. On my table stands an orderly array of lithographed tickets in stacks awaiting signature | a big stack f or Coconads, another Calingapatam, and smaller ones for Madras and other places of less importance from the traffic point of view. The JBurmaa will not work unless he is compelled to, and to his philosophic mind cash presents no argument. . The enormous amount of labour required by the public works in Burmah on roads, railways and reservoira, not to mention the great mills in the rice-portß, is therefore supplied by the Malabar coast. Every year sees thousands of lank coolies cross the bay to earn the high wages paid in Barman. They remain here for a couple of yearsorsoandthenreturnhomo. Time after time the same men come over. What they , do at home I know not; on oiir side of the ' bay, as every one knows, they do as little da' they can for as much as they can get, and none leave without considerable layings in hard cash. The amount of aoney thus taken out of the province in a

■ 1 perennial source of regret to the local I authorities. It ia due, they say, to 1 THE IKCORBiatBLB LAZINESS OF THE BURMESE, i who might equally well do the work find keep the money in fcho country. But why, on the other hand, Bhould the Barman mabo his back acho in tbe sun for rupees when he his enough to buy cheroots and bstol-nut without tronble ? Tho kindly, earth produceß bo generously that the owners of tbe sail can well afford to pay Btrangers to get in tho crops. But it ia no time to consider {he economic aspecb of the native labour question, for tiio murmur in the yard below ia rising to a roar, and thero in a full day's work before US. "AU ready, Caneim? Lot them in then." A rusty key screeches, a chain rattlsß, and tho double door at the top of the otajrway bursts open before a cataract of coolieg, whilo the broker's man dives under the counter back into the office. In fife seconds the room ia crammed, and a forest of black arms U thrust out, each hand full of rupees. "Back, back!" 'bawls Cas-dra, thrashing the counter with a little cane. For the cooliea labour under the delusion that ••whoever gets most of hia body over the counter and shouts his requirements loudest will be served first. How Caaaim manages to understand them is a mystery, for every man in the room is roaring the name of his port at tho top of hia voice, and I cannot diatinguiah an intelligible, •word. TJse is everything, however, and beginning at one end of the counter tho broker accepts handful after handful of the ■■.■'■■■• HOT, GREASY SILVER, and asks for ticketß ia a shrill monotone perfectly audible through the verbal cyclone at ito loudoat. "Two, Masulipafcani." The clerk snapa a couple of tickoto from tie appropriate stack and slips them under my pen. Initialled they are whisked away, blotted and passe.! to Caseim who is already counting a f reeh lot of rupees. The cooliea don't spare each other, but vigorous as tho huatlin^ is there is no quarrelling. It is a tedious business; many spurious rupees are in.cirj culation, so like genuine coins that a very eharp watch has to be kept. Casßim is wonderfully clever at this;- he poura ft stream of rupees from one hand to ,the "other, and if there is a doubtful one j. among them his' delicate oar discovers it at ! once. Down goes the suapeob to the mnn i who equata at his feet, and if the cement | floor return a verdict of guilty, that i rupee's career is ended. Deaf to the j owner's protests, Cassim breskj it; in two, i and returns the battered fragments in | A SPIRIT OP BAROASTIO INDULGENCE. j Ten minutes -for a hagty meal in the } office luncheon room, and back again to j work. A glance at the cash tells me how I far on we are. Seven traya are full and j ,one about half-full ; seven thousand five ! hundred rupee?, representing at fifteen ; rupees per head five hundred mon ; a pood •; morning's work, but the steamer carries J nearly nine hundred, and we must pugh | on. The doors are thrown open, the j coolies flurge forward, the uproar bsgina i again. , • MEASURED FOB COOLIES. The afternoon wears on; the crowd is smaller now, bat th 9 fijjht to get to tho j counter grows more desperate with every j ticket sold. The coolies lenow that the ! 'steamer's capacity is limited, and that. | when the full complement has been booked not another man will be taken. Every steamer trading round the coasts of India and those of the Bay is "measured for coolies;" that ia to cay, the superficial area of her between and upper decks is ascertained, and a. Government certificate granted declaring the number of native passengers she may carry afi nine square feet per odulfc. In the stormy monsoon Bsason, rigidly defined by datso, each vessel's quota ia reduced in accordance -with her build and the degree of shelter her bulwarks, &c, afford. Tho coolies are •well aware of theoe limitations, and the eagerness to got tickets increases steadily ; thero is less shouting, bub tho eenffliag of feet and the breathless panting aro eloquent. A HARD DAT. The snn is low enoiigh now to 166k in atthe window. The crowd of paseengera has melted away at last, and the sweeper is douching the coolie-rcom "with water and carbolic acid to dispel the odour which clings to its betel-stained walls. There are still a few tickets left unsold, and there are sure to be some stragglers to buy them, bo we will not shut; the office yet. Oasaim and Moung Pho report the cash correct, and the messengers stagger away to the bank under small sacks of rupees. The waterman replaces Caaeitn at the counter. Ho is paid to pull stroke-oar in the office-gig and to run messages ; but he is always willing, nay, anxious, to help in the booking operations, and vrben Cassim wishes to leave office early, as he does this evening, the Chibtagonian takes his placo. Presently thera is a pattering and chattering on the stairs without;, and half-a-dozen cooliea tumble into the echoing room. I have work enough and to spare, co I sign the passes demanded and pay no further attention. Butpresentlylamrousedbyeager whispering at tbe counter. The coolies are quarrelling over the ticket, and they must be got rid of before we can close the office. "Who came first?" I demanded, going to the counter. Both came first. I have no time to ba bothered with the dispute; there is probably equal right on either side. Beeovericg the ticket from the holder I call the men to attention. " Dekko, toBB keriga P (Look hore, ■will you tost*)?" They agree to "make tosa" with the readiness of Whiteohapel boya. "Very good. Tou, b g coolie, head $ you, little coolis, flower ; " showiDg each hia aide of a rupee. The coin spins and jingles on the counter; as it .settles the pair knocks their heads together over it, and the big man grunts. The winner dutches tha ticket and departs, all Biniles and salaams ; the other lingers. { "Now, my man, ifc'a no good crying $ 1 1 \ can't give even ona more pass-ehittie to- j ' day. Go away, and come earlier next j 1 weak." He is not more than fortty year i 1 old and only six feet high; bu I feels i i quite sotry for him as he goes down the i stairs, step by step, sobbing. • ,