Chapter 1330 - The Shell Gatherer

Early morning, with the sky just barely light, the lamps of Bopu Fortress still burned brightly. The night-shift sentries yawned, watching the duty clock on the gun platform, willing the hour of their relief to arrive.

Two li away on the beach, several men with baskets on their backs had already arrived at the sand, guided through the darkness by those distant lights.

Though dawn had not yet broken, the beach already had quite a few early-rising fishermen, divided into groups stationed several hundred meters apart. Seeing the newcomers arrive, they regarded them with unfriendly expressions. Were it not for the Council's severe penalties for disturbing the public order, blows would likely already have been exchanged.

"Old Dai, which spot?" some of them asked anxiously, seeing people everywhere. The tides rose and fell in different directions; choosing wrong meant not just extra walking but, more critically, less money from sales.

A man around forty stepped forward. He wore crude cloth short clothes, gray with grime, and wooden-soled cloth shoes from the Lingao Shoe Factory on his feet. He squinted at the sea surface that had already begun to churn, calculated the date, then said quietly: "Come."

The group circled around those who had already staked out positions and took their stand at a stretch of beach with a slight inward curve.

By now the tide had begun its rapid retreat. The beach instantly came alive as the early-morning seafood gatherers sprang into action.

After the water withdrew, the exposed sand was covered with seaweed and kelp. Live shrimp and crabs scurried about in a panic.

"Old Dai's got real skill—look at all this! Quick, everyone grab them!" The group exclaimed with pleased surprise.

Smiling at his somewhat panicked companions, the man called Old Dai—Dai Dehou—remained unhurried. He first removed his shoes and tucked them into his waistband, then began to work. But his targets weren't the conspicuous shrimp and crabs.

His attention was entirely on the shellfish lying quietly in the wet sand. Avoiding the large, hard-shelled conches, he picked up oysters, mussels, and clams at the fastest speed, rinsing off mud and sand in the seawater before tossing them into his bamboo basket.

These children of the great sea were gifts bestowed by the leaders!

In no time, his basket was overflowing. Dai Dehou casually helped two companions whose baskets weren't yet full to complete theirs.

"Let's go!" someone called out urgently, and the group was already hurrying away. Most of the shell gatherers on the beach were still bent over, busily working.

Carrying the dripping, heavy baskets on their backs, Dai Dehou walked with especially light steps. Thinking that they would soon exchange these for money, even the fatigue of staying up all night faded considerably.

In the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, they had arrived at the Bopu port area. The innermost docks couldn't be entered freely, but on the port area's commercial street stood a retail outlet belonging to the leaders' seafood processing plant—a place that both purchased and sold goods. Very cheap seafood was sold here every morning; some time ago, they had suddenly begun purchasing shrimp, crabs, shellfish, and the like.

The retail outlet's large courtyard had several gates, all open around the clock. Dai Dehou and his group entered through a side gate. The space inside was generous—immediately upon entering was a big courtyard with seven or eight unhitched four-wheeled carts parked within. Stacked against the wall were piles upon piles of wooden trays and bamboo baskets used for transporting fish. The air was permeated with the strong, pungent smell of seafood. The ground still bore large puddles of water and refuse—fish scales, fish bones, and the like.

Dai Dehou approached the purchasing station in front of the retail outlet. The gas lamps had already been extinguished. The yawning purchasing clerk rubbed his hands and beckoned Dai Dehou and his companions over to weigh their goods.

Behind the clerk, the seafood processing plant was dimly visible. That cluster of buildings connected to the fishing harbor docks at the back. Fishing boats seemed to be constantly returning and unloading—basket after basket of catch was continuously sent to the workshops via rail carts. After processing, a portion would be sent to the retail outlet for sale.

"Hmm..." The purchasing clerk consulted the manual in his hand, carefully examined the shellfish in the baskets, then sniffed with his nose before finally nodding. "All soft-shell. Freshness grade two. Pour them onto the scale. Thirty large jin, correct? Good, take this."

He rapidly wrote a few lines on the clipboard, ripped off a sheet, and handed it over.

What "freshness" meant, Dai Dehou didn't understand, but he was used to scales. These grade-two soft shells at thirty large jin could be exchanged for fifteen yuan in currency—he counted very clearly. Smiling, he accepted the purchasing receipt and traded it at the exchange counter for three yellow paper notes. He tucked them carefully against his chest.

Gathering shells was hard work, especially this first shift of the morning tide. The leaders had many strict and elaborate rules: morning and afternoon prices differed, and from the moment something was taken from the sea, the price dropped with each cup of tea that passed. After one hour, they wouldn't take it at all. Hard, large conches fetched poor prices. Shrimp and crabs fetched higher prices since they were still alive, but if broken or damaged, they weren't worth much. Actually, these small soft shells were the most cost-effective. Moreover, only three hundred large jin per day were accepted, so every morning several groups competed.

Still, this first catch of morning did pay quite well—this hour of work was better than casual labor. Unfortunately, there was no fixed schedule for the morning tide, so he could only do this occasionally.

His several companions were all from Danzhou. They had met while gathering shells—fellow countrymen looking after each other. Dai Dehou had previously worked as a fish trader and was very familiar with the tides along the Danzhou-Chengmai line, so among the group, he served as the unofficial leader.

"Old Dai, come have a drink?" his companions invited warmly after they too had finished weighing in.

"Not going—need to go back and sleep early. Still have the night shift." Dai Dehou smilingly declined. Staying up all night was too exhausting.

After parting with his companions, Dai Dehou went around to the retail outlet's front entrance, where the morning's catch from returning boats was already on display.

Though still early, quite a few people had already come to buy discounted fish. Some had even come from the county seat—the train made coming and going convenient nowadays.

Unlike the usual fish peddlers and small shops in the area, the seafood processing plant's retail outlet here was much larger than even the direct sales store at East Gate Market. It had originally only done wholesale; after the railroad came through, it had started retail sales. It was like a market specifically for selling fish. Not only did county residents like to buy here, but it was said that merchants from Guangzhou came to stock up too—rare fish unavailable elsewhere could be purchased here, and prices were cheaper than in Guangzhou proper. Moreover, they offered ice-packing services; wooden crates stuffed with ice chunks and filled with seafood could be loaded onto Dabbo Shipping's express passenger ships. Delivered to Guangzhou, they were even fresher than fish caught locally at Huangpu.

The retail outlet was divided into several sections. The dried goods section carried all kinds of seafood products: kelp, laver, fish slices, dried fish, fish sauce, oyster sauce, shrimp paste, fish balls, fish sausage—everything one could want—all packaged in coarse paper, small bamboo baskets, or straw bundles and stacked on shelves. The fresh goods section was the largest: large yellow croaker, grouper, blue spinefoot, Spanish mackerel, yellowfin bream, prawns, flower crabs—all manner of common and uncommon fish, even those with no name one could give them—were alive and jumping in little pools. On the ceiling, a thick iron shaft constantly rotated, using belts to drive water wheels in the various pools and continuously churn the water. Most novel was the chilled section: the leaders had inexhaustible ice year-round. Fish were arranged in bamboo baskets and wooden trays, covered with ice slush. Though dead, if bought and taken home to eat, they were just as fresh and delicious. The key was that chilled fish sold for only half the price of live fish; with morning and evening discounts, there were even special prices of two or three-tenths off.

This wasn't Dai Dehou's first visit, yet though he had dealt with fish for half his life, he still found the place somewhat dazzling.

The leaders really have great abilities, he marveled to himself. Some fish here, though common, were very rare at this season. Take that hairtail—in winter it liked to hide deep in the sea; ordinary nets couldn't bring it up. Even fishing with long-line poles, you'd catch only a few after a busy day. Yet these bamboo baskets before him held several dozen. And he had never seen this retail outlet run out of any kind of fish.

But one thing puzzled him—why, when the leaders could catch so many fish and shrimp, did they still open a market to purchase live shrimp and shellfish? Couldn't they catch enough themselves?

Nowadays, Lingao's fish and seafood were so cheap that many nearby fishermen had lost their livelihood. Most had no choice but to join the leaders' organizations: those with some savings and big boats joined the Fisheries Cooperative Association; those without money and with small boats could only work as fishing laborers for the Lingao Fisheries Company. Independent operators were fewer and fewer. Dai Dehou naturally didn't know this was deliberate on the Fisheries Company's part, aimed at maximizing utilization of the special human resource that was fishermen. Besides, these bulk-caught chilled fish from distant waters didn't cost much anyway.

Thinking that he was going to see his daughter at school this afternoon, Dai Dehou gritted his teeth and went to the fresh section. Prices here were double those in the outer areas; usually only wealthy county households and restaurant businesses bought here.

After entering, Dai Dehou saw price tags on all the pools. He was literate and examined each one in turn. Many fish had names different from what he was used to—for example, what the leaders called "large yellow croaker" was what he knew as "daxian." Most of the fish here could actually be found in the chilled section outside. But these were much bigger, and all were lively and jumping.

After another circuit, looking at the prices of many unfamiliar-named fish, Dai Dehou felt his heart racing with alarm. He hurried back to the entrance and had a shop assistant help him select a smaller large yellow croaker, weigh it, and put it in a wooden bucket with a ladle of water. Only then did he reluctantly pull out two yellow notes—this money was enough to feed his whole family for more than a day. Then he went to the dried goods section and used the change to buy a small bag of fish slices—his daughter liked these—along with a bag of fish balls and a jar of shrimp paste.

These fish balls were the most cost-effective, priced only slightly higher than rice—much cheaper than even discounted miscellaneous fish. He naturally didn't know that this stuff was made from sweet potato starch and fish paste from various rejected-grade fish, produced semi-mechanically in large batches with minimal labor cost.

Carrying the bucket in one hand and fish slices, fish balls, and shrimp paste in his back basket, Dai Dehou walked briskly to Bopu Train Station and produced his monthly pass for the gatehouse attendant to check.

His work was over at Majiao. This train monthly pass was really convenient. Without it, he'd have to walk several hours round trip, and he wouldn't have been able to earn these fifteen yuan.

Entering the platform, a train soon arrived. The morning crowd wasn't too heavy. Dai Dehou got on the last car, found a spot to set the wooden bucket on the floor, then sat down hugging it. The train soon started. He fought his drowsiness and looked out the window.

Not far away was the main road from Bopu to East Gate Market—or in the leaders' terminology, the highway.

(End of Chapter)