Chapter Four: Pearl Harvesting

On the coast of Heqing Town, where Li Sanjian lived, dozens of pearl-diving boats were anchored within a sheltered bay. On the shore stood a large altar, upon which rested candlesticks, incense burners, fruits, vegetables, meats, and other offerings. Over a hundred pearl divers were burning incense and praying, beseeching the heavens and the sea god for their protection and a safe expedition.

“Mazu, protect us and grant us smooth sailing.”
“Offerings to the heavens—may evil waves and sea spirits keep their distance.”
All the pearl divers bowed in reverence toward the pearl beds.

These pearl divers, known as Dan people, made the boats their homes and the sea their livelihood. Aside from a few family members who lived on shore, most spent their years on the water, fishing, diving for pearls, gathering clams, and the like.

The authorities had registered them as households, appointed local leaders, and placed them under the jurisdiction of the River Patrol Office. They paid annual fishing taxes and poll taxes, and were known as “Dan households.”

Yet, because Qiongtai was the southernmost part of Song territory and inhabited by both Han and Li peoples, the government’s grip here was loose.

Pearl divers in Qiongtai would journey to the pearl beds, and after collecting pearls, they could trade them with merchants for essentials such as grain, cloth, wine, and salt.

Now, as over a hundred Dan men finished their prayers, they prepared to set out for the pearl beds. Among them were Fu Gui, Li Sanjian’s maternal grandfather, and Li’s two uncles, Fu Ding and Fu Lin.

“Old Fu, the ceremony is over. Should we head to the beds?” an elder diver asked once the prayers had ended.

Fu Gui frowned, gazed out at the distant sea, and waved his hand. “Let’s go.”

Fu Gui’s family were all Dan, and he himself had spent decades collecting pearls. His vast experience and deep familiarity with the sea’s moods made him the leader among the divers; all were willing to follow his guidance.

With shouts and calls, the Dan men raised sail and steered their boats out to sea.

Pearl-diving boats differed from ordinary fishing vessels. While fishing boats had pointed prows, pearl-diving boats were rounded, broader, almost like massive oval wooden basins. Inside these boats were ropes, clay jars, straw mats, wooden buckets and basins, and pearl knives—tools of their trade.

Fu Gui’s boat was the largest among them all.

“What? Jian’er, why are you here?”
No sooner had Fu Gui, Fu Ding, and Fu Lin sailed out than Li Sanjian popped his head out of the cabin, peering curiously about.

His sudden appearance startled the Fu men. What was he doing here? A pearl-diving trip was as dangerous as climbing a mountain of swords or plunging into fire—fraught with peril. The three could not fathom why this simple-minded boy had chosen to sneak aboard, when he was usually terrified of even setting foot on a boat.

“Grandfather, Second Uncle, Third Uncle,” Li Sanjian said sheepishly, “I was bored at home and wanted to see what it’s like out here.”

“Nonsense, utter nonsense!” Fu Gui scolded. “Don’t you know how perilous the sea is? If anything happens to you, how am I to explain it to your mother? Does she even know?”

His daughter’s life was full of misfortune—married to Li Qing, she bore three sons, only to lose her husband and two eldest boys in succession. The grief nearly broke her. Now, Li Sanjian was her only hope in this world. If anything befell him, how could his daughter possibly survive?

“Mother went to the market, Grandfather. I’ll be fine,” Li Sanjian replied, clutching the side of the boat. “Mother… she doesn’t know.”

In truth, Li Sanjian had little interest in going to sea. But every day, he saw his mother, Fu Erniang, combing the beach for snails and clams to trade at the market for meager amounts of grain and salt. Her hardship pained him. He could not bear it and resolved to follow his grandfather and uncles to sea, hoping to find some means of livelihood and share the burden of their difficult days.

“You’re being reckless,” Fu Gui fumed. “You sneaked aboard, and when your mother finds out, she’ll surely blame me.”

“Father, let Jian’er stay. He won’t be diving; there’s no danger,” Fu Ding quickly interjected, seeing Fu Gui’s anger rise.

Fu Gui looked at Li Sanjian, sighed, and turned to Fu Lin. “Lin, keep an eye on Jian’er. Be careful; don’t let him fall overboard.”

The boat was now far from shore; sending Li Sanjian back was impossible—and even if they could, it might anger the sea god, whose wrath was not to be trifled with.

“Don’t worry, Father. Leave Jian’er to me,” Fu Lin grinned at Li Sanjian. “Hold on tight, Jian’er.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Li Sanjian said, gripping the side with a smile. “The scenery here is worth the trip…”

He hadn’t finished his sentence when a wave crashed against the boat, nearly sweeping him into the sea. Luckily, Fu Lin caught him just in time. Even so, Li Sanjian swallowed several mouthfuls of seawater and was soaked to the bone, his face pale, coughing and speechless, looking at the others in terror and embarrassment.

Fu Lin couldn’t help but laugh. “Ha! Jian’er, look at you! Here, hold onto your third uncle.”

Fu Lin, at nineteen, was only six years older than Li Sanjian, newly come of age. Yet years at sea had made him strong and hardy, his skin darkened by sun and salt, his figure as sturdy as an iron tower.

Even if a wave dragged Li Sanjian overboard, Fu Lin was confident he could haul him back up in an instant.

Helpless, Li Sanjian gripped the rail with one hand and Fu Lin’s belt with the other.
This felt much safer.

Fu Gui glanced at him, shook his head, and continued steering toward the pearl beds.

Soon, the fleet reached their destination and dropped anchor.

The divers split into two groups—one to dive for pearl oysters, the other to man the boats and stand ready.

Those who dove were always young, strong, and skilled in the water, stripping down and arming themselves with sharp knives and baskets as wide as their bellies. Before entering, they took deep breaths, then plunged into the depths, eyes wide as they searched the seabed and crevices for oysters.

Each diver had a rope tied to his waist, the other end held by an experienced man on the boat, who watched the rope’s surface for any sign of trouble. At the slightest disturbance, they would haul up the diver with all their strength.

Fu Gui gripped the rope tied to Fu Lin, his eyes never leaving it for an instant.

He also kept a vigilant watch on the water—should any trace of blood appear, it meant danger had struck below, perhaps even death.

Despite all precautions, pearl diving remained perilous. If a diver misjudged his breath, or the boatmen were slow to pull, he could suffocate below, bleeding from every orifice—a gruesome death.

Beyond drowning, there were other dangers: sharks, monstrous fish, venomous sea snakes, and jellyfish. A diver attacked below might leave no remains at all. Li Sanjian’s eldest uncle had perished this way, his body never recovered.

There was also the cold; even in summer, the depths chilled the flesh, and in winter, divers could freeze to death below.

Pearl divers truly risked their lives for these treasures.

So this is how pearls are gathered, Li Sanjian thought, sitting in the cabin and clutching the ropes, peering at the sea. Surely, pearls won at such risk must fetch a fine price—enough, perhaps, to keep a family for a whole year.

“There’s movement!” While Li Sanjian speculated, Fu Ding shouted.

“Pull!” Fu Gui commanded. All hands took up the rope, even Li Sanjian straining with all his might.

On neighboring boats, others were hauling as well.

Moments later, Fu Lin was pulled to the surface.

“We’ve got some! We’ve got some!” he shouted, holding his basket aloft.

“Quick, bring him aboard,” Fu Gui ordered.

Once on deck, Fu Lin shouted a few times to expel stale air from his chest, then fainted from holding his breath too long—a dangerous state that, for some, could be fatal.

With practiced hands, Fu Gui wrapped him in a blanket heated over boiling water, warding off the chill.

Fu Lin was strong and soon came around, grinning as he pointed at the basket. “Father, quite a haul—and look, a big one! I’ve never seen one so large.”

“Save your breath,” Fu Gui said with a smile. “I wonder how the others have fared?”

“I heard cheers from the other boats too,” Fu Ding replied.

“Black pearl! A black pearl!” suddenly cried a diver prying open an oyster.

“What?” Fu Gui hurried over, tears in his eyes as he held a black pearl the size of a walnut. “Heaven has sent us a sign, a wondrous omen!”

Legend held that black pearls were the tears of the mother oyster, formed over countless years—exceedingly rare.

Fu Gui had spent a lifetime seeking pearls, yet never had he seen a black pearl until now.

He glanced at Li Sanjian.

Could it be that he had brought them such fortune? the old man wondered silently.