In Search Of The Precious Stone

Albert Ramsay (Albert Ramsay & Co, 1925) writes:

As the sun, like a glowing disc of molten copper, sank into the western sea, one involuntarily awaited the hissing steam which accompanies the immersion of hot metal in water. The afterglow, touching the detached fragments of cloud, transformed them into bits of opal floating against an iridescent background of pink, orange, and blue, marvelously blended. After ten days spend amid these pleasant surroundings we steamed up the Menam River to Bangkok, the capital of Siam.

Bangkok presented a singular yet imposing appearance. Here were balconied minarets, slender and delicately modeled, ornate in lacquer and gilt which refracted the rays of the tropical sun with dazzling brilliancy; here were pagodas, many storeyed and taping to needle-like points, with eaves whose corners curled up as does the toe of a Turkish slipper; here were houses with tiled roofs of brilliant colors. Over all was an air of mystic antiquity, unalloyed through contact with occidental progressiveness.

From Bangkok I took a coasting steamer to Chantabun, one hundred and twenty five miles to the southeastward. The sapphire mines in the Pailin district are three days journey through the jungle from Chantabun. This trip, made on horseback, indelibly impressed itself upon my memory. The native guides, their ugliness increased by their teeth, blackened through incessant chewing of the eternal betel nut of the Orient, led me along a path which would have been indiscernible to one unfamiliar with its existence. The arched branches of the trees were festooned with vines and sinuous creepers which necessitated lying flat along the horses’ backs if any progress was to be made. At times the members of the party were concealed from one another by this screen of hanging vegetation. No refreshing breeze penetrated the matted foliage to dissipate the unwholesome emanations of the damp ground, untouched by the purging beams of the sun; the atmosphere was heavy with humidity and the temperatures ranged above one hundred degrees, day and night. Eight hours of riding, ducking and dodging, brought us to a dak bungalow or rest house, where we were to spend the night. This bungalow was a bamboo shelter built upon a platform elevated about six feet above the ground to discourage any undue familiarity upon the parts of cobras, wild pigs, tigers or other rapacious beasts which roamed through the Siamese jungle in great numbers. The dak bungalow was in the middle of a small clearing upon all sides of which the forest was sending forth new growth, just as an army gradually closes in upon a besieged city. Resplendently-plumed birds flitted in and out among the lush bamboo and pendant vines; daintily-tinted orchids vied with gaudy flowers for the favor of the great butterflies which floated from one to the other like animated gems. The tout ensemble formed a never-to-be-forgotten picture of tropical luxuriance. It seemed a crime that the appreciation which such beauty merited should have been withheld owning to the oppressive and enervating heat. The intentness with which we scanned the bordering thickets and the care with which we clung to our rifles were in no way abated through the recollection of a tomb we passed in which were interred the remains of a miner who had been killed upon the spot by a tiger. Finally, hot, tired and thirsty we reached a waterhole. After thoroughly satisfying our thirst we filled the deerskin water bags and bathed our heads and hands in the ice cold water. Revived in body and spirit we proceeded and fifteen miles from the dark bungalow we arrived at a river across which we were ferried in sampans while the guides swam the stream with our horses. On the evening of the third day we reached the mines.

The following morning I inspected the sapphires and then began the strangest bargaining session to which I have ever been a party. Many of the miners are Burmese immigrants and it had been necessary for me to thoroughly acquaint myself with their methods in order to trade with them. Buyer and seller clasp hands. The miner throws his panung or waist cloth over the hands, thus concealing them from any witness who may be present. The bargaining is conducted in absolute silence, prices being indicated by pressure upon the joints of the fore and middle fingers in accordance with a code which I had previously learned in preparation. In this way the bystanders are prevented from knowing whether or not a deal has been consummated. The transfer of stones and cash takes place later.

For five days I squeezed the hand of a Burmese miner and had my own pressed by him in return. We were playing for high stakes and it was with a feeling of satisfaction that I ultimately felt the pressure which indicated that I had won. As a result I acquired in return for $200,000 in note currency, one of the finest collections that ever left the mines. Included in it was the sapphire par excellence of the Siamese mines. It had been given to the man from whom I bought it, fifteen years previous by his partner, upon the latter’s deathbed, to be held in trust for his son. Through a stroke of good fortune I had been able to save the life of the trustee’s grandson by the aid of my medical kit and as a token of appreciation he sold me the stone for $10000. The following day the old man died and although the superstitious natives interpreted his demise as a retributory punishment for having violated his trust I have often wondered if, in my eagerness, I had not worked his joints too strenuously.

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