HOOKS OF PEARL

In this neighbourhood the making of pearl-shell fishhooks is one of the lost arts.  The old men may tell how they used to be made, but are not able to afford any satisfactory practical demonstration.  Therefore, to obtain absolutely authentic examples, it was necessary to indulge in the unwonted pastime of antiquarian research.  During an unsystematic, unmethodical overhauling of the shell heap of an extensive kitchen midden—­to apply a very dignified title to a long deserted camp—­ interesting testimony to the diligence and patience of the deceased occupants was obtained.  It was evident that the sea had been largely drawn upon for supplies, if only on account of the many abortive and abandoned attempts at fishhooks in more or less advanced stages of completion.  The brittleness of the fabric and the crudeness of the tools employed had evidently put the patience of the makers to severe task, who for one satisfactory hook must have contemplated many disappointments.  The art must be judged as critically by the exhibition of its failures as by its perfections, as Beau Nash did the tying of his cravats.  “Those are our failures,” the spirits of the departed, brooding over the site of the camp, might have sighed, as we sorted out crude and unfashioned fragments.  Presently the discovery of a small specimen established the standard of perfection—­a crescent of pearl, which alone was ample recompense for the afternoon’s research.  Smaller than the average hook, it represented an excellent object-lesson in patience and skill.  Many other examples, some complete, have since been found, and have been arranged for illustration to exhibit the process of construction in several stages.  Do they not confirm the opinion that the maker of shell fish-hooks suffered many mishaps and disappointments, and that he had high courage in discarding any that evidenced a fault?

The method of manufacture was to reduce by chipping with a sharp-edged piece of quartz a portion of a black-lip mother-of-pearl shell to a disc.  A central hole was then chipped—­not bored or drilled—­with another tool of quartz.  The hole was gradually enlarged by the use of a terminal of one of the staghorn corals (MADEPORA LAXA) until a ring had been formed.  Then a segment was cut away, leaving a rough crescent, which was ground down with coral files, and the ends sharpened by rubbing on smooth slate.

Discs were also cut out of gold-lip mother-of-pearl shell, but by what means there is no evidence to tell.  When such a prize as a gold-lip shell was found, it was used to the last possible fragment.  Most frequently the black-lip mother-of-pearl was the material whence the hooks were fashioned, and, when none other was available, the hammer oyster.  In one case an unsuccessful endeavour had been made to fashion a hook from a piece of plate-glass, obtained, no doubt, from the wreck of some long-forgotten ship.  The fractured disc lying among other relics of the handicraft spoke for itself.