“A paradise of vaulted bowers
Lit by downward gazing flowers,
And watery paths that wind between
Wildernesses calm and green,
Peopled by shapes too bright to see
And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee
Which walk upon the sea, and chaunt melodiously.”
We cannot understand this fascination in which opium holds its devotee to its full extent; and yet, in some sort, the lover of tobacco, deprived of his pipe or quid, can in some sort understand it better than any other Englishman, the opiophagi excepted. Let the admirer of his weed be placed in circumstances wherein he cannot indulge in that luxury, and the inward longings for his cherished companion are akin to those of the smoker of opium without his drug. Some inveterate smokers of tobacco have been known to declare that they would rather forego their accustomed meal than their whiff; this they will sometimes profess, but this the opium devotee often accomplishes. Instances are far from rare of opium-smokers dying of starvation, having denied their bodies the sustenance they required, to procure their much loved chandu. Martyrs to their love of opium.
As opium is generally indulged in by the lower classes, in establishments called Opium Shops, otherwise Papan Mera, a word or two belongs to them. In Singapore, these shops are limited by the regulations to forty-five in town and six in the country. Each has a red board, which the vendor ought to hang up outside his shop, with the number thereon, as received from the opium farmer. Hence the name of Papan Mera, or “red board,” and the shops are known by that name by all classes of natives. They are scattered in all directions over the island; and wherever a number of Chinese are congregated, there you have one or more. The farmer is most interested in the sale of opium, and the extension of shops, and of the trade. A man goes to him generally, either previously known or recommended, and says he wishes to open a Papan Mera; of course, the opium farmer wishes that he may do so, and be successful, and vend plenty of opium, all the opium being purchased of the opium farmer, no one else being allowed to sell opium in the island, and for which privilege he contracts annually with the Government in a handsome sum. The man gets the red board, for which he pays two shillings. If the limited number of forty-five is completed he does not require a board, but he is not refused the privilege of opening a shop. In this case, he hangs a mat in the place of the door, by which an opium shop is known to all, while the fact is announced by a Chinese inscription. Nothing is paid for a licence, no securities are entered into, but the new man purchases of the farmer a certain quantity of chandu, or prepared opium, and according to his facilities for selling it so is the price. If the shop is to be opened in town, where there are more customers, and if near to where Chinese artificers abound, then he pays about eight shillings a tael (1⅓ oz.), or at the rate of six shillings an ounce. If at a little distance, about five shillings and sixpence an ounce. Still further from town, five shillings, then four shillings and sixpence. Nay, it even descends to a fraction beyond three shillings an ounce. The last is the sum paid by the Nacodah of a Chinese junk, who takes a large quantity at a time, as two-thirds of his crew are generally consumers, and the facility for illicit consumption is great. The proprietors of the Papan Mera are expected to retail it to their customers at a little above the price at which they have purchased it. If in town, where they pay tenpence a cheen or six shillings an ounce, then they charge elevenpence a cheen or scarcely seven shillings an ounce, to those who come to buy or use it on the premises. The opium farmer receives nothing from the owner of the shop, except the money for his opium; the owner receives nothing from the farmer but the opium for his money, and sometimes a discount of eight per cent. Nor do the opium-smokers pay more at the shops for their opium than if they purchased it direct from the farmer. How, then, does the owner of the “red board” manage to live? How does he pay rent, sometimes to the extent of £2 or £3 per month? How can he keep his wife, and the little “red boards,” and one or two coolies? Ecce! He does all this on the refuse of the chandu, the Tye or Tinco, sold to the poor.
On the Tinco and Samshing, the owners of many of the opium shops almost entirely depend for their living. By their sale the rent is paid, the family supported, and the servants kept. If a man sells three taels, or three ounces and three-quarters of chandu a day, there will be about half that quantity of Tinco, or one ounce and three-quarters, this is the unconsumed refuse left in the pipe after smoking, and which is the property of the owner of the Papan Mera, and from the consumption of this he gets a further refuse of little more than three-quarters of an ounce, which is called Samshing. If he sells his Chandu for twenty-five shillings, by his Tinco and Samshing he will realize nearly twelve shillings and sixpence a day, and this is his income. Few, however, sell so much, and fewer still receive as much.