(1) CEARA RUBBER TREE IN CEYLON.Page 64(2) PARA RUBBER TREES, 27 MONTHS OLD, CEYLON.Page 65From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
(1) CEARA RUBBER TREE IN CEYLON.Page 64(2) PARA RUBBER TREES, 27 MONTHS OLD, CEYLON.Page 65
(1) CEARA RUBBER TREE IN CEYLON.Page 64
(2) PARA RUBBER TREES, 27 MONTHS OLD, CEYLON.Page 65
From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
There are differences of opinion as to the career of the seedlings which went to Singapore. It is known that as early as 1880, some Hevea trees were in flower at Perak, a mid-region of the Malay Peninsula, and that in 1881 some of those in the Botanic Gardens at Singapore, in the south of the Peninsula, bore fruit. These trees may have been reared from Kew seedlings; or they may have been grown from cuttings of the young trees at Peradeniya, sent over to Singapore in 1877; or, again, they may have been transplanted one-year-olds from Ceylon. In any case, Heveas in the Malay Peninsula were yielding seed as early as their near relatives in Ceylon. And it is the seed supply of these two countries that has brought into existence the numerous and vast rubber plantations that now occupy a very large area of the Eastern Tropics.
For quite a long time rubber-growing was generally looked upon as a new hobby for botanists, and anyone who prophesied a commercial future for plantation rubber was dubbed a crank. Meanwhile, enthusiasts on the staff of the Botanic Gardens in Ceylon and Malaya continued to ride their hobby-horse, in that they devoted earnest attention to the new specimens that had been placed under their care. As soon as possible they began to take cuttings from the Hevea trees, and in 1878 no less than five hundred rooted plants were sent from Ceylon to British Burma and Madras. Then came the time when the trees began to furnish a good supply of seeds. By 1886, both Ceylon and Malaya were in a position to begin distributing seeds among other countries that wanted toexperiment in rubber cultivation, and in the course of the next few years supplies were sent to Queensland, Java, Fiji, Borneo, East Africa, and Jamaica. But in most cases the packages went to botanists—with an odd exception or two, planters and business men in general would have nothing to do with rubber cultivation.
Presently, the planters in the Malay Peninsula found themselves in a very desperate position. They had been growing coffee, and doing splendidly with the crop, but conditions now conspired to cut down their profits to such an extent that their only chance of not being utterly ruined was to give up competing in the coffee market. In despair they began to plant Hevea. This change only took place as recently as 1895. And still the planters of Ceylon could afford to laugh at the idea of anyone trying to make money out of rubber-growing—they were doing well with their tea.
The pioneers in Malaya had a very hard struggle to keep their heads above water whilst their rubber-trees were growing. They had to wait five years before they could begin tapping, and few indeed were the people with sufficient faith in what the harvest would be to advance them any money for working expenses.
Came the day when motor-cars got so far beyond being a fashionable craze that people began to realize they would soon be a necessary means of locomotion in this age when everyone is in such a hurry. Rubber tyres were going to be so much used in the near future, said someone to somebody else, that it looked as if we should want more rubber than was being supplied from the forests. The idea spread, and by 1898 a few more people had become enthusiastic about rubbercultivation—larger areas were put under Hevea in Malaya, and rubber planting was begun in Ceylon, even though tea-growing was paying so well. By 1899 it had been proved that Hevea trees would yield marketable rubber; in this year the first cultivated Para rubber, prepared from the trees planted in Perak, was sold in the London market at 3s. 10d. per pound.
But it was not until about 1905 that money was at all freely forthcoming for rubber cultivation. Hitherto the planter who had wanted to turn his estate into a company, because he lacked means for its upkeep and development, could only hope for support from private friends. Now that there was an actual output of plantation rubber from the East, the great financiers who had looked upon any prophecy of such a supply as a fairy tale began to think that it was worth while to risk money in an enterprise which gave such sound promise of yielding extraordinarily large profits. The amount of money that was now available for rubber-growing gave scope for a considerable development of the industry. The acreage under Hevea was increased on the existing estates in Malaya, and jungle was cleared for the opening up of new estates; in Ceylon, Hevea was planted on a large scale among the flourishing tea-bushes, and rubber-planting was seriously undertaken in the commercial spirit in other parts of the Eastern Tropics, also in tropical lands of the West.
As yet, however, the public had not awakened to the money-making possibilities of rubber cultivation. At last, in the spring of 1910, they suddenly “discovered” plantation rubber. Some of the companies owning Eastern estates which had been planted up with Hevea in 1905, or earlier, had paid to their shareholdersin 1909 interest amounting to 80, 165, even 300 per cent., and tongues will very quickly wag into fame an industry that yields such enormous profits. Also, the price of rubber was going up, and people began to talk about the large number of new uses to which the material was being put. It was now widely believed that there would be such a shortage of rubber in the near future that the supply would fetch famine prices, and consequently the value of rubber shares would rise by leaps and bounds. The fact that some people thought they stood to make money by a judicious purchase of shares in certain estates, about the working of which they had some knowledge, was now quite sufficient to persuade people who had never given a moment’s serious attention either to the industry in particular or to speculation in general that they could quickly make a fortune by investing in any so-called Rubber Company. Whilst these ideas were spreading like wildfire, the price of rubber was going up and up, until at last, in the spring of 1910, the moment came when a feverishly excited public made that historic run on rubber shares which is known as the “Rubber Boom.”
The boom was a very big gamble, in which men and women of all classes and nationalities took part. The great game was to buy shares, which is to say, partnerships, in companies that went in for rubber-growing, and to sell them within a few hours, or days, at aprofit. The game was played with great success by many people for several weeks. Two or three examples will show you in plain figures how fortune-making was possible.
At the beginning of the boom, the value of shares in a certain rubber company was 19s. each; during the boom the great demand for these shares forced their exchange price up to 70s. each. Suppose, therefore, someone had bought 4,000 of them at the 19s. price; if he was lucky enough, or smart enough, to sell them when they were fetching 70s. each, he would clear, roughly, about £10,000, after paying commission to a member of the Stock Exchange whom he had to employ to carry out the deal for him. Again, on a certain night shares in another company were selling at 27s. each. The next morning some favourable remarks about this company’s rubber plantations appeared in the newspapers, and so anxious were people to get shares in the concern that they at once offered 35s. apiece for them. Therefore, people who had bought these shares during the previous afternoon had the chance of selling them at a profit of 8s. apiece within a few hours.
Under ordinary conditions, people buy shares with a view to holding them, and receiving a proportion of the profits made by the enterprise in which they have taken a partnership. During the Rubber Boom, no one bought shares with this idea. The game, as I have told you, was to buy at to-day’s price, utterly regardless of whether it was a fancy figure, and trust to luck that very soon there would be some other people so anxious to get the shares that they would be willing to give a much bigger price for them.
The Boom provided a fine opportunity for cheating, of which some people took advantage. The public were invited to buy so-called rubber plantations, that were mere tracts of jungle. And genuine plantations were offered to them for a sum much above their value. No one made any inquiries as to what he was buying—all that anyone wanted at the moment was a piece of paper which set forth that he was the owner of some rubber shares, so that he could sell his rights to someone else at a profit. But on the whole, seeing how big was the chance for cheating, the public were not made victims by many unscrupulous folk. They were their own worst enemies during the boom, for by their mad eagerness to gamble in rubber shares, they forced up the price of shares in the many thoroughly genuine plantations to a value that was out of proportion to the profits which could be made on the rubber produced—at any rate, for some time to come.
Of course, the day came at last when the public began to feel they were playing a reckless game. Newspapers were warning them of the risks they were running; rumours were abroad that certain shares were not worth a penny, since they represented partnership rights in land which had not been cleared of jungle, let alone planted up with a single rubber-tree; hints were going round that the rubber-trees on some of the genuine plantations were being overtapped in order that for the moment big profits should be made at any cost, to compare well with the present high price of shares. People saw themselves losing heavily, sooner or later, if their shares were left on their hands. Now everyone was feverishly anxious to sell, and hardly anyone wanted to buy. Prices which had risenso rapidly went down with a slump even more rapidly. More fortunes were lost in that Slump than were made during the Boom, and some of the folk who were most badly hit in the end were people who had won large sums at the beginning of the game, and had thus been tempted to go on playing more and more recklessly.
Among the few who profited in the long-run were men who had pinned their faith to plantation rubber long before the Boom. Some of them had brought the rubber plantations into existence, had worked hard at clearing jungle and planting rubber-trees, had struggled to pay their way whilst they brought up those trees to producing stage, in the days when the public would not have risked a penny on any such hazardous venture as rubber-growing, even if they had been wide awake enough to know that a few enthusiasts and a few hard-up planters were trying to establish this new branch of agriculture. When these men had been obliged to get a few friends to help them turn their property into a partnership concern, because they wanted ready money to go on with, they had taken some of the purchase price of their property in the form of shares, so that they themselves could be partners. Fortunes were also cleared by outsiders who had had enough faith in plantation rubber to buy shares when the earliest planted estates were turned into companies, for all the people who had taken over or bought shares for a small sum were able to sell their partnership rights at a big profit in the early days of Boom. Many of them bought back shares when prices fell, and bargain after bargain was picked up during the Slump by people who knew which companies possessed the best plantations.
You must not imagine that the crash put an end to rubber-growing. True, the faith of the public in this industry had been roughly shaken at the critical time when that faith was just beginning to bud; but the industry was sufficiently well-established to withstand this check, and go on fighting to attain its main object—to become more popular than Wild Rubber with the manufacturer.
The Eastern Tropics are the chief seat of rubber-growing, and the countries in which the principal plantations are situated are British Malaya (Federated Malay States and Straits Settlements), Ceylon, Java, Sumatra, and Borneo. Plantations have also been established in Brazil, Central America, Mexico, the West Indies, British Guiana, and West Africa. The bulk of the cultivated trees are of theHevea brasiliensisvariety, yielding what is known as Para rubber.
At present the only plantation rubber which wild rubber has to fear is the Para that comes from the Eastern plantations. You remember how recently the first rubber plantations were established in the East. Here are a few facts which will give you a rough idea of the enormous developments that have been brought about in a few years.
WEEDING YOUNG RUBBER IN MALAYA.Page 76LOADING RUBBER IN MALAYA.Page 80Both illustrations reproduced by kind permission of the Malay States Information Agency
WEEDING YOUNG RUBBER IN MALAYA.Page 76
LOADING RUBBER IN MALAYA.Page 80Both illustrations reproduced by kind permission of the Malay States Information Agency
LOADING RUBBER IN MALAYA.Page 80
Both illustrations reproduced by kind permission of the Malay States Information Agency
In the Malay Peninsula, upwards of 1,000,000 acres of land are planted up with Hevea. Malaya has become the biggest rubber-producing country in the world, its output having increased from 130 tons in 1905 to 140,000 tons in 1918, and being still on the up grade.
Among British rubber-producing countries, Ceylon holds second place of honour for quantity of output, the quality of which is equal to that of the Malaya product. Ceylon’s total output of raw rubber was nearly 13,000 tons for the period January to March, 1919, or about one-quarter of the total output of Malaya for the same period.
Among the world’s rubber-producing countries, Brazil now comes second on the list for quantity of output; but as regards quality, the best Brazilian rubber still commands a slightly higher price than the best grade plantation competitor.
In connection with the quantity test for order of precedence, it is interesting to note that the Dutch East Indies, notably Java and Sumatra, are running Brazil close for second place in the world’s list of rubber producers; further, the quality of Dutch East Indian plantation rubber is very good, so Brazil must look to her laurels if she is to avoid being beaten by yet another competitor besides the all-conquering Malaya.
To get a wide appreciation of the revolution that has taken place, we must glance at a few more figures: In 1900, the world’s total production of rubber was 53,890 tons, to which the Amazon Valley forests contributed 26,750 tons, the rest of the world’s forests 27,136 tons, and the plantations the insignificant amount of 4 tons. By 1913 (the last year of normal pre-war conditions), the world’s total production had risen to 108,440 tons, to which the Amazon Valley forests contributed 39,370 tons, other forests 21,452 tons, and the plantations the then astounding amountof 47,618 tons; note that in the short period of thirteen years the total from the plantations had grown bigger than that from the Amazon Valley, and nearly as big as the sum total of wild rubber from all sources of supply. By 1918, the world’s rubber output had leapt up to 241,579 tons, to which Brazil contributed 30,700 tons, and the rest of the world’s forests 9,929 tons, against 200,950 tons from the plantations—over 140,000 tons of the plantation supply came from Malaya. The estimated output for 1919 is 382,000 tons, of which it is calculated that 339,000 tons will come from the plantations; the extent of Malaya’s contribution to the plantation total may be judged from the fact that her output for the first six months of that year already totalled upwards of 128,000 tons.
You find these figures dull? Look at them again for a minute, then pause and give your imagination rein. In 1900 a mere patch of the British Empire is planted up experimentally with rubber trees, raised from seed originally brought from the Amazon Valley under adventure-story conditions; the total output is a mere 4 tons of rubber. In 1918, much less than a quarter of a century later, rubber plantations are occupying nearly three million acres of land, mostly within our Empire, whilst the annual yield is up to 241,579 tons, and is still rapidly increasing.
Does not the romance behind these figures begin to grip you? Never in the whole world’s commercial history has so great a triumph been achieved in so short a time and in the face of such difficulties as the development of the plantation rubber industry. Here, indeed, is a triumph that should make you proud of your countrymen, for the motive power behind that developmentwas British; for years the British pioneers who paved the way to success were derided for their faith in the new enterprise, and they almost had to pawn their shirts to meet expenses whilst they were bringing the first plantations to bearing stage. To those pioneers we owe Britain’s control of the rubber industry, a weapon which went far towards helping the Allies win the war against rubber-starved Germany.
(1) PARA RUBBER SEEDS AND PODS(2) TAMIL COOLIE PLANTING RUBBER.Page 72From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
(1) PARA RUBBER SEEDS AND PODS(2) TAMIL COOLIE PLANTING RUBBER.Page 72
(1) PARA RUBBER SEEDS AND PODS
(2) TAMIL COOLIE PLANTING RUBBER.Page 72
From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
From photographs in the Ceylon Section of the Imperial Institute, by permission
You know, of course, some of the ways in which rubber was of priceless value for the manufacture of munitions of war—tyres for motor lorries, motor cars, and motor ambulances; aeroplane parts, waterproof boots, ground sheets and macintoshes for the fighting men, surgical appliances for the wounded. And despite the big demand for raw rubber, the supplies on which we could draw were so abundant that the price of the material fell, instead of soaring up and up, as was the case with practically every other raw product under war conditions.
We have seen how the plantation rubber industry was developed through a sound belief that the world’s demand for rubber would exceed forest supplies. So great has been the development, that to-day some people are prophesying all manner of catastrophes on the ground that the supply will soon be exceeding the demand. On the other hand, there are the optimists, who are well in the majority; they have their reasons for looking on the bright side, and from what we know of the rubber industry we find ourselves strongly in sympathy with their arguments. They believe that under the renewal of peace conditions the world’s demand for rubber will increase by even bigger proportions than it did under war conditions. Theyadmit that the call on rubber for active service was only a temporary stimulus to the industry, but point out that this artificial spur checked the natural growth of the industry by interrupting the adoption of rubber in civil life. Before the war, rubber was gaining ground with striking rapidity as the popular material for a wide variety of necessities and luxuries; now that the war is over, rubber has an opportunity of continuing its civil career with phenomenal success, serving as an indispensable material for reconstruction activities and for the business and pleasure facilities of a progressive civilization. Motor traffic is bound to increase, particularly in our less-developed and enterprising colonies, where the making of roads suitable for motor transport is recognized as a primary essential to the development of natural wealth, such as agricultural possibilities and mineral deposits; up will go the demand for tyres, and this is but one of the many ways in which already known uses for rubber should make a bigger draw on the output of the raw material. It is well within the bounds of possibilities that uses which have already successfully passed the experimental stage may pass into the sphere of practical life—for instance, rubber roadways and rubber tennis-courts. And it is more than likely that many new uses for rubber will be discovered.
Certainly, the outlook reveals chances of catastrophes—the price of raw rubber has fallen perilously near to the lowest margin at which Brazil can compete with the plantation product, but Brazil is making some strenuous efforts to reduce the cost price of obtaining forest supplies; on the other hand, disease is threatening the trees on the Eastern plantations, but it has been scientifically treated from the outset ofits appearance, and no trouble and expense are being spared to combat it. Still, whilst we do not shut our eyes to the possibilities of disaster, we seem to see bright prospects predominating, and to such an extent that we should not be surprised to find ourselves, at no very distant date, experiencing another though milder Rubber Boom.
We have come out to the East, to see for ourselves how rubber is cultivated. And we have chosen to spend most of our little remaining time together in the Malay Peninsula, since this is the country where the largest area of land has been given over to rubber-trees, where many of the finest plantations are situated, and where advanced methods of cultivation and manufacture are most generally practised.
Our surroundings are very Oriental, yet there are many signs that Western civilization is playing an important part in the life of this country. When our ship dropped anchor in the harbour at Singapore, we imagined that by some mistake we had been brought to a Chinese port, instead of to our proper destination in the British Straits Settlements. The quay was packed with Chinamen, or “boys,” as they are all called when they belong to the working class, no matter whether their age is six or sixty. When our luggage had been seized by as many of the pig-tailed brigade as could manage to secure any one of our belongings, when we and our traps had been taken possession of by Chinese rickshaw coolies, and at last we were on themove again each of us being jog-trotted along in a sort of invalid chair with a picturesque, yellow-skinned ragamuffin in the shafts, we were even more sure that we were in China, and the impression became stronger still as we passed through street after street thronged with Chinese men, women, and children, and lined with shops displaying Chinese wares, Chinese signs over and around the doors, and Chinese lanterns for every-night illuminations. Presently, as we emerged into a broad thoroughfare, we found ourselves in totally different surroundings. The fine public buildings, houses, shops, and hotels looked distinctly Western; several times a minute trams and motors threatened to run down our rickshaws; we saw many English faces, heard English being spoken freely, and noticed that shops and hoardings gave us a great deal of information in the English language. But now we were thoroughly puzzled as to the nationality of Singapore. The crowd in the streets was cosmopolitan, Western and Eastern in about equal proportions, but whilst undoubtedly the West was represented mostly by English people, it was difficult to make up our minds whether there were more Malays or Chinese among the Eastern population.
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala LumpurCARRYING LATEX TO FACTORY, IN MALAYA.Page 81
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala LumpurCARRYING LATEX TO FACTORY, IN MALAYA.Page 81
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala Lumpur
CARRYING LATEX TO FACTORY, IN MALAYA.Page 81
Now that we have come up-country in the Malay Peninsula, it is more difficult than ever to tell from our surroundings who is the ruling power in the land. We see a few Europeans among a host of Orientals, all of whom are called “natives,” although they represent many races. We are in the midst of a highly cultivated district, which is entirely devoted to rubber-growing; through its midst runs a railway, and the interior is served by excellent roads. Yet everywhere in the backgroundrises a wall of jungle. We are right when we jump to the conclusion that the rubber lands were once jungle too, and when we tell ourselves that, in spite of the fact that the bulk of the population of this Peninsula is Oriental, the plantations, roads, and railways owe their origin to Western enterprise and a Western scheme of development.
The Malay Peninsula consists of the Straits Settlements—Singapore, Malacca, Province Wellesley, the Dindings, and Penang, which are British—and of a number of Native States. But British influence is quickly becoming as active in the Native States as in those parts of the country which are British possessions. Indeed, four of the native divisions—Negri Sembilan, Selangor, Perak, and Pahang—are united as the Federated Malay States, and administered on up-to-date progressive British lines by a Federal Council. The Governor of the Straits Settlements, who is High Commissioner of the Federated Malay States, presides over the Council, and its membership consists further of the Sultans of the four States in question, the British Resident of each, and four unofficial members, three of whom are British and one Chinese. Three other States have a British adviser, and the Sultan of Johore has availed himself of the aid of a similar official to help him develop his territory, particularly with a view to furthering the interests of rubber-growing.
The principal rubber lands in Malaya are situated in the Straits Settlements, the Federated Malay States, and Johore. We have come to a rubber estate in the heart of the Federated Malay States, where the plantation area is about to be enlarged. Another tract of jungle is to be cleared and planted with Hevea.
For days we watch the clearing being made. First the undergrowth is cut, then the trees are felled. When these preparations are complete, a light is put to the great mass of unwanted vegetation. A big bonfire is soon raging, and when this has burnt itself out, the jungle tract has given place to a clearing that is strewn with charred stumps and a wreckage of trunks. When the clearing has had time to cool, a central road is made, and the land is divided into blocks by side-paths.
Little Heveas are now brought from an open-air nursery and planted in rows, between the stump and trunk ghosts of the dead jungle. These little Heveas have been grown from seed on a very much smaller piece of ground than that over which they are now distributed. They do not want very much room until they are about a year old, and by the method of putting treelings, instead of seeds, in a clearing, the plantation is brought to bearing-stage in about four years instead of five.
There is a great difference of opinion as to what distance apart the young plants should be put in the ground when they are transferred to their permanent home in the clearing. Some planters put in three or four hundred to the acre, and obtain quite good results; others maintain that the trees are overcrowded, and cannot possibly grow to their full size, if more than fifty occupy one acre of land. Generally speaking, from one hundred to two hundred trees are planted per acre at the present time.
Jungle clearing is always done in the way we have seen up to the bonfire stage of the proceedings. But in some cases, further preparations are made beforeplanting begins. Stumps are uprooted, and removed with all the wreckage left by the fire, so that the land to be planted is quite clean. This more thorough method is followed by growers who prefer not to run any risk of their rubber-trees becoming infected by possible disease among the trees that formerly occupied the ground; but complete clearing is a long and costly business.
Grassland is sometimes used for rubber-growing. Paths are cleared and the rubber is planted in rows, between strips of grass; or the whole of a given area is completely cleared before planting is begun. The most common grass, calledlalang, is the worst pest with which many of the planters have to contend. It is difficult to uproot, and any that may be left in the ground spreads very rapidly.
In Malaya the work of clearing is nearly all done by Sakai and Malays.
The Sakai are the aborigines of the country, who live in the jungle. They are very skilful woodcutters.
The Malays, it is believed, are descended from natives of Southern India, who emigrated to Sumatra. In 1360 some of the emigrants made the short journey over to the mainland, and settled in the country which we call the Malay Peninsula. They increased and multiplied, and became more and more powerful, although first the Portuguese, and then the Dutch, tried very hard to get the upper hand of them. When the British succeeded the Dutch as the chief European power in the Peninsula, the Malays were at first left in undisputed possession of the interior of the country. But they quarrelled and fought so much amongst themselves that the interior was always in a state ofturmoil; when they began to hamper our trade still further, by raiding our territory in the Peninsula, steps had to be taken to bring them under control. Gradually, by means of force and diplomacy, order was established, British influence was widely extended, and the Native States entered into that close political relationship with Britain which I have already summed up for you.
Generally speaking, the Malays are very different from the Sakai. The jungle-men are savages. The Malays are a civilized people; they have a national style of dress, their conversation is witty and is frequently carried on in poetic language, they have produced some literature, and they are most artistic metal-workers.
But the Malays and the Sakai are alike in that they both want but little here below except time to loaf in the sun. Regular work they heartily dislike, and will not do. But, as a rule, they are quite pleased to make a clearing for the planter. That is a job which will come to an end some day not so very long after it is begun, and it will bring in enough money to carry them through another lengthy spell of leisure.
During the time the trees are growing big enough to be tapped, the principal work on a rubber plantation consists of weeding, manuring, and pruning.
The staff consists of a manager, generally spoken of as the planter, two, three, or half a dozen assistants,according to the size of the estate, and a number of natives, called “coolies.” The planter, a white man, has his own bungalow. On the big estates such bungalows are large, well-built, convenient residences, of country-seat rank. If the planter is married, his wife probably lives with him. His business may have brought him to a lonely spot, where at present there may be only a poor sort of bungalow to serve as the manager’s quarters, but his wife has chosen to rough it with him, rather than say “Good-bye.” And there may be some little English girls and boys to welcome Daddy Planter when he comes in from his work of looking after many things and many people; for, as a rule, white children thrive in the tropics until they are seven or eight years old, and then, when the sad time of parting does come, they are sent “home” to England not only for the sake of their health, but in order that they may have the advantage of going to a good school. The assistants on a plantation are usually white men; in Malaya and Ceylon, almost all of them are English. They chum together in a bungalow. The labourers are coloured men, women, and children, in all shades of yellow and brown; their quarters are called “coolie lines,” and are long buildings of the bungalow type, which are partitioned off into family residences.
Many of the rubber estates, especially here in Malaya, seem to be so isolated that we are tempted to compare them with a seringal in their loneliness. In reality, no plantation, even though it be in the heart of the Bush, is isolated in the strict sense of the word. Somewhere, not very far away, there is a good road leading to some centre of civilization that can be reached in a few hours, maybe an hour or two by motor. Manyof the planters keep a car, and “What’s mine is yours” is the popular way of looking upon possessions. Both in Ceylon and Malaya there are many little towns scattered throughout the rubber districts, and in most of them an English Club is an important feature of the place. In both countries, too, any planter can get to a railway station without much difficulty or loss of time; and there are good day and night trains to take him to the capital, or to one of the few big towns.
With regard to the cultivation side of plantation work, the chief matter on which the planters differ is the business of weeding. Some of them are certain in their own minds that rubber-trees grow best when the ground is quite clear of weeds. Some maintain that perfectly clean weeding is a waste of time and money; they believe in having a clean circle of ground round each tree, and keeping the weeds down on the rest of the land by putting in some variety of dwarf spreading plant. Those who favour this latter plan talk of the manuring properties of such plants, and of the good they do by harbouring moisture. Planters in favour of clean weeding say such plants keep light and air from the ground, and that they are not good food for the soil. At the various Botanic Gardens, especially in Ceylon, Malaya, and Java, many scientists are devoting much time to the study of rubber cultivation and preparation, and this question as to the best method of weeding is receiving a great deal of attention.
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala LumpurTAKING LATEX TO THE FACTORY BY BULLOCK-CART, IN MALAYA
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala LumpurTAKING LATEX TO THE FACTORY BY BULLOCK-CART, IN MALAYA
M. S. Nakajima, Kuala Lumpur
TAKING LATEX TO THE FACTORY BY BULLOCK-CART, IN MALAYA
Whilst we have been talking, we have been making our way to one of the oldest and finest rubber estates in the East. It is known as “Linggi Plantations”; and is situated in the Federated Malay States, in the neighbourhood of Kuala Lumpur, the chiefup-country town of Malaya, and close to Port Swettenham, the busy, up-country port which, during the last few years, has been raised by the rubber industry to a position of great importance on the Suez-Far East trading route.
“Linggi” consists of so many large plantations and up-to-date workshops that in a whole day we can only get the merest peep at the estate. We begin sight-seeing about six in the morning, just as the sun is rising, by going into one block of one plantation to see the tappers at work. We are in the midst of a carefully cultivated wood of Heveas; all around us stand a dignified army of straight, tall trunks; high overhead stretches a thick canopy of leaves. For a few moments, the landscape strikes us as being a rather sombre picture in browns and greens, and we cannot see a single human being anywhere in the scene. Presently the dawnbeams discover numerous chinks in the canopy, and come streaming through the leaves, here, there, and everywhere; the ground is bronzed, the trunks are gilded, the treetops are illuminated with quaintly shaped patches of rosy light. Then, suddenly the scene becomes a blaze of colour; strolling leisurely across the horizon come a crowd of figures, all of whom are undoubtedly wearing some bit of clothing that is bright red, green, blue, or yellow.
These people are a gang of tappers, who are going to make their daily round of certain trees from which it is their duty to collect milk. They disperse in various directions, some making straight for trees that are close by where we are standing. As we get a nearer view of the labourers, we are better able to study their picturesque attire. Some of the men are wearingnothing but a cloth round their loins, and a handkerchief, knotted into a turban, on their heads. Many of the male folk look like women; they have long hair, which is twisted at the neck into a “bun,” and their nether garment is a piece of cotton material which is hung round the waist skirt-fashion. The women’s costumes are evidently made as they dress themselves. They are clad in draperies, which hang in graceful folds. Very large earrings, nose-rings, numbers of bangles that reach half-way up the arms, and bangles round the ankles are striking features of their attire.
Most of these labourers are Tamils from India. A large proportion of the coolies employed on the rubber estates of Ceylon and Malaya consists of Tamils. In Ceylon, some of the labourers are Cingalese; in Malaya, the rubber estate coolies include a few Malays, some Javanese, and a number of Chinese. In both countries it is very difficult for the planters to get as much labour as they require, in spite of the large immigrant population, and in order to make an estate pay, the man at the head of affairs, and all his assistants, must be so skilful at managing the natives that this particular estate is never the one to be short of hands.
Following a tapper on his round in a plantation is a very easy expedition compared with that journey we took with a seringueiro to see him get his morning’s milk. The plantation tapper is surrounded by rubber-trees, they are never very far apart, and even when, for some reason or other, he has to pass one by without operating on it, the distance from his last stopping-place to his next is quite short. As a rule, only trees that measure at least 18 inches round at 3 feet from the ground are tapped, but some trees, even thoughthey belong to the grown-ups, have to be missed out for a time because they are doing a rest cure. Most of the trees in a grown-up section are, however, tapped daily, or on alternate days, for the greater part of the year, but the circumference of the trunk is so portioned off for operations that no part is retapped until old wounds have completely healed. Yet it is seldom that a tree is tapped at a higher distance than can be conveniently reached from the ground. The amount of milk yielded by a tree depends partly on its age, and partly on the state of its health. If a tree gives enough milk to make about 3/4 pound of rubber the first year it is tapped, it is considered a good specimen. As it grows older, the yield should steadily increase. During 1909, one of the finest old Hevea trees in Ceylon, aged thirty-three, gave 15 gallons of milk, which contained 76 pounds of rubber.
At random we choose which coolie we will accompany on his round, and as we dog his footsteps we see a great deal of the outdoor life on a rubber plantation. At first, all our attention is taken up by watching how the one tapper does his work. The trees he visits already bear a herringbone, or half herringbone, design on the lower part of the trunk; but it consists of alternate strips of almost bared wood and of bark, slanting down into the central line. With a tool something like a chisel, the coolie takes a shaving off each strip of bark, whereupon milk oozes out from the cuts, makes for the central channel, and trickles down into an enamel cup that awaits it at the base of the trunk.
Presently we are joined by another onlooker. Although he looks very much like a coolie, he is far and away the superior of the working-class mass. Heis a “kangany,” an enterprising native who serves the planter in the double rôle of recruiting-sergeant and overseer. He makes periodical journeys to India to arrange for new batches of Tamils to emigrate to the rubber-growing districts; he brings his recruits to the particular district which is his headquarters, and sees them settled on this estate or that; and until he is again wanted to go off recruiting, he joins the staff of some plantation, and takes up the duties of teaching the new hands their work, and of seeing that a certain gang of the old ones are kept up to the mark.
Evidently the kangany overseers cannot be wholly relied on as teachers. For the one over yonder, who is showing a little Tamil girl how to tap a rubber-tree, has a white man standing by his side and superintending the lesson.
By about eleven o’clock most of the trees are ceasing for this day to yield milk. The coolies now make their rounds again for the purpose of collecting the day’s supply. The contents of the little cups are poured into pails and cans, which, as they are filled, are taken to the factory. Some of the carriers balance their load on their head, others hang a vessel at either end of a pole, scale-fashion, and balance the burden on one shoulder.
It is time for us, too, to leave the plantation, since we want to see the milk made into rubber. A short walk brings us to one of the Linggi factories, which is the rubber-making centre for a neighbouring portionof the estate. Remembering that I promised to bring you to one of the finest rubber factories in the East, you are disappointed when you see only a medium-sized, one-story building, with a corrugated iron roof. In your mind’s eye you immediately compare this building with some of the enormous factory piles you have seen in connection with other industries, and you think what a poor show it makes. Even when you go inside, there are no striking sights which immediately tempt you to alter your opinion.
C. H. Kerr & Co., Kandy, CeylonTAMIL WOMAN TAPPING RUBBER-TREE UNDER SUPERVISION OF A KANGANY, ON A CEYLON ESTATE.Page 80
C. H. Kerr & Co., Kandy, CeylonTAMIL WOMAN TAPPING RUBBER-TREE UNDER SUPERVISION OF A KANGANY, ON A CEYLON ESTATE.Page 80
C. H. Kerr & Co., Kandy, Ceylon
TAMIL WOMAN TAPPING RUBBER-TREE UNDER SUPERVISION OF A KANGANY, ON A CEYLON ESTATE.Page 80
“Seems to me,” you say to yourselves, “there’s nothing much to be seen here except dairy-pans and mangles. What a curious mixture!”
The explanation of your simple surroundings is that the process of manufacturing rubber is extremely simple, making no demands for huge machines such as a sugar-mill, for instance. I can assure you that in this factory you are going to see the process being carried out by the most scientific of present-day methods, with the assistance of the most up-to-date machinery. But in order that you may fully appreciate advanced methods of manufacture, let me first tell you how plantation rubber was generally made not so very long ago.
The milk was poured into small, round, shallow pans. To each panful a little acetic acid was added, to help the milk curdle, and the mixture was then stirred by fingers until it became a thick dough. Each little bit of dough was taken out of its pan, laid on a board, and a rolling-pin was passed over it to squeeze the water out. The result was a thin, round little “biscuit” of rubber. These biscuits were hung over a line, and when they were dry they were sent to market. Rubberbiscuits are still made on some plantations, where the supply of milk is too small, for the time being, to warrant the expense of putting up a factory and buying machinery. But the bulk of plantation rubber is now turned out in the form of crêpe or sheets such as we are now going to see made.
You notice that some of the milk which is brought into the factory is poured into those big pans which reminded you of a dairy, and some into oblong trays of enamel ware. In the pans, the milk is coagulated in bulk—that is to say, into big lumps—by the addition of acetic acid. The milk in each tray has to have a separate dose of the acid, so that each trayful will coagulate into a slab. To-day the machines are working on yesterday’s milk-supply; the milk which has been brought in to-day will not be sufficiently coagulated for them to work on until to-morrow.
From some of the pans we see coolies lifting big lumps of a white substance that looks like very heavy dough. These are put into a machine which tears them into small pieces. A second machine, which has rollers covered with a diamond pattern, kneads the pieces together, and turns out a long strip of material which looks like tripe. When this has been passed two or three times through a third machine, which has smooth-faced rollers, a strip of “crêpe” rubber is ready to be taken to the drying-room or to the smoking-room.
The slabs taken out of the trays are passed through a machine which has smooth, copper rollers. The compact, oblong pieces of rubber which are the result of this method of preparation are called “sheets.” Some factories send smooth-surfaced sheets to market,others stamp their sheets top and bottom with a deep diamond pattern, to provide for ventilation when they are packed. Here we see the sheets, after they leave the smooth rollers, passed through a machine that has a diamond pattern deeply indented on its rollers.