This was the most serious of many provocations inflicted by foreigners upon the authorities. We treated their 'chops,' their prohibitions, warnings, and threats, as a rule, very cavalierly. We often spoke of their forbearance and wondered at the aid and protection they extended to us; in fact, they considered us more as unruly children, people who had never had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with 'Taou-Le,' or 'reason.'
When the Imperial Government took the unlooked-for measure of seizing the English-owned opium and punishing the native dealers, the day seemed to have arrived when the trade in it would really cease. The Canton houses had been forcibly deprived of their stocks; the supply on the East Coast, under the control of very few of them, was diminishing, with no fresh supplies to look forward to. Quantities which were on their way from India were being landed at Singapore or sent over to Manila, while further shipments from the former country were entirely suspended. On all sides a complete darkness existed as to what would be the result. Holders were offering to sell at Singapore for next to nothing; the article was in reality a drug indeed. Even as low as $150 to $200 per chest became its nominal value in the Straits. This was the condition of the 'opium question' which quickly followed the confiscation. The foreign community, with the exception of the Americans, had all left Canton, and at first took up their quarters on board of ships at 'Kow-Lung;' but having been bombarded out of that anchorage by the mandarins, 'Toon-Koo,' at the mouth of the 'Capshuymun,' became the general rendezvous. One day a clipper schooner got under way and stood seaward, and some time elapsed before she was heard from again. She had taken on board a few chests of opium that had arrived since the seizure. At the moment of sailing a letter was handed to the captain, directing him to open one of two others enclosed, after he should have got clear of the land. On doing so he found that he was ordered to make the best of his way to Singapore, to land the opium he had on board, and deliver the unopened letter to his consignee there, by whose instructions he would be subsequently governed. The schooner consequently proceeded on her voyage, the captain not having the slightest intimation of the object of it. Simply, he was directed to reply to any enquiries on arrival that he had brought down opium. The twenty chests were landed at a moment of the day when the Bund was crowded with Moormen, Jews, Parsees, and Chinese, all opium holders or brokers. No letters had of course been received by them, but at the unprecedented sight of twenty chests being landed they concluded that now indeed 'God was great and Mohammed was his prophet,' and that China had at last resolved to permit no more poisonous drug to be landed on its shores. Before twenty-four hours had passed, so adroitly had the agent made his plans, that, aided by clever brokers, he secured nearly 700 chests, quietly, here a little and there a little, at prices 'dirt cheap.' Opium had been unsalable at Singapore, many of the holders were unable to hold, and some were under orders to sell for whatever they could get, and 'have done with it;' the average of the purchase in question was $250 per chest. The twenty chests were re-shipped to the schooner, the newly purchased were taken on board, and after a very short detention she sailed, whither no one knew. She was bounding up the China Sea. Her destination was the East Coast, and there her cargo was readily disposed of at an average of $2,500 per chest.