A half-hour's sail and a two mile walk, in an unbearably fierce sun, brought us to El Kori, a small police post on the Anglo-French border. What a barren spot! One small police hut and the gurgi[6] of an old man employed to pack water on his donkey for the police here, and the men on the island. There is a Somal burial ground, and the graves are well cared for. Some are ringed round with stones, on which are laid sea shells and the mounds made of red, blue, black, and white coloured stones. The graveyard is the cheeriest spot at El Kori. [6] Somal wigwam, a shelter of mats. By three o'clock I had finished my business, the camels were saddled, and we were soon wending our way home along a good hard track. Three miles outside Zeila we stopped at Tokusha, where are the wells that supply the town with water. Here are several native gardens, the best one being owned by an ex-Pathan soldier, who, after taking his discharge in India, returned to Zeila where lived his Somal wife, whom he had married whilst serving in her country. His garden of lime and orange trees, flowering shrubs and vegetables, irrigated from the wells, is a beautiful little spot, which the old man loves with heart and soul. 'Tis a pity there are not more of his kind in Somaliland. Home from the wells to find the boat has returned hours ago. Syyed is waiting with a beautiful old Arab box, the like of which I have been hunting after for years, and, when it changes owners at a reasonable price, I feel that I have spent a perfect day. The waters of the Somaliland coast literally team with fish. At one spot in particular it would be possible to load a ship with crabs. I once saw His Majesty's Commissioner send two servants with a bucket each to bring crabs from this place. He might have been ordering them to bring sand from the seashore, so certain he seemed they would find crabs. Within three-quarters of an hour the men were back with both buckets brim full. For such a splendid supply surely there must be a market somewhere in the world. But I think I have written enough about fish for one day. CHAPTER XV PEARLS Pearl dhows and finance--Methods and materials--"God alone knows"--Pearl divers--A pearl story--Juma Bana, pearl merchant. Pearling dhows look romantic enough in all conscience--from a distance--but at close quarters the smell--ugh! They are of all sizes, and the ordinary Zeila pearler may ship a crew of anything from five up to twelve men, under a nachoda or native captain. The equipment required is simple. A small canoe or boat, a paraffin-tin cut in half, with a pane of glass soldered in the bottom, a few pieces of bent iron wire to close the divers' nostrils when they dive. Such comprises the outfit. A very primitive one indeed.