It was undoubtedly an invention of the Chinese, and long anterior to the appearance of the English at Canton in its origin, as may be proved by the admixture of Portuguese and Indian words still to be found in it, the latter having probably been originally made known by those primary visitors from the western world viâ India. The English came more than a hundred years after; words from their language were then gradually incorporated, and increased with the disappearance of the Portuguese, who confined themselves to their own growing colony of Macao, until, finally, the former became the principal traders, and thus this language became known as Pigeon-English.
The word 'pigeon' is simply a corruption of 'business' and with its companion means business-English. Of Portuguese origin we have the most undoubted proof in such words as mandarin, from mandar, to order; compradore, from compra, to buy; joss, from Deös; pa-te-le, from padre; maskei, from masqué, never mind; la-le-loon, from ladraŏ, a thief; grand, from grande, the chief, as, for instance, 'grand chop;' junk, from the Portuguese sound of Chuĕng in the dialect of the East Coast, where they first traded. Of Indian words we have bazaar, a market; Shroff, money-dealer; chunam, lime; tiffin, luncheon; go-down, from kā-dang; lac, one hundred thousand; cooly, a labourer; chit, a note or letter; bungalow, a cottage; kāārle, curry, and others.
Some peculiarities of expression and application of two words constantly used in Pigeon-English may be mentioned. The language was by no means confined to those of foreign, but it contained quite a vocabulary of words of Chinese origin; it was, in fact, a very mixed tongue. 'Chop,' for instance, is of perpetual occurrence. It is the same as 'chŏ,' which signifies literally any 'document.' A shopkeeper's bill is a 'chop,' so is an Imperial edict or a Mandarin's proclamation; a cargo-boat is a chop-boat; it does duty also for a promissory note, a receipt, a stamp or seal, a license for shipping off or to land cargo, a mark for goods, or a permit. 'First quality' is expressed by 'first chop,' and an inferior according to quality is No. 6, 8, or 10 'chop,' the worst of all. When a cooly is sent on an errand requiring haste, he is told to go 'chop-chop.' A 'first chop' man speaks for itself, so does 'bad chop man.'
The variety of uses to which the compound word 'chow-chow' is put is almost endless, and in some cases have a directly opposite meaning. For instance, a 'No. 1 chow-chow' thing signifies 'utterly worthless' but when applied to a breakfast or dinner it means 'unexceptionally good.' A 'chow-chow' cargo is an assorted cargo; a general shop is a 'chow-chow' shop; provisions of all kinds are classed under the general head of 'chow-chow;' and, as may have been remarked in the list of the Factories, one was called the 'Chow-chow' from its being inhabited by divers Parsees, Moormen, or other natives of India.
Although by the Chinese all foreigners were called 'Fan Kwaes,' or 'Foreign Devils,' still a distinction of the drollest and most characteristic kind was made between them. The English became 'Red-haired devils;' the Parsees, from the custom of shaving their heads, were 'White-head devils;' Moormen were simply 'molo devils.' The Dutch became 'Ho-lan,' the French 'Fat-lan-sy,' and the Americans 'Flowery-flag devils.' The Swedes were 'Suy' and the Danes 'Yellow-flag devils.' The Portuguese have never ceased to be 'Se-yang kwae,' thus retaining the name first applied to them on their arrival from the 'Western Ocean' (which the words signify), while their descendants, natives of Macao, are 'Omun kwae,' or 'Macao devils' from the Chinese name of the town.
In the Canton book-shops near the Factories was sold a small pamphlet, called 'Devils' Talk.' On the cover was a drawing of a foreigner in the dress of the middle of the last century—three-cornered hat, coat with wide skirts, breeches, and long stockings, shoes with buckles, lace sleeves, and in his hand a cane. I have now one of these pamphlets before me. It commences thus, 'Yun,' and under it is its 'barbarian' definition, expressed in another Chinese word whose sound is 'man.' After many examples of this kind come words of two syllables—thus, 'kum-yat' with their foreign meaning expressed by two other Chinese characters pronounced 'to-teay' to-day—and so on to sentences, for which the construction of the language is peculiarly adapted. This pamphlet, costing a penny or two, was continually in the hands of servants, coolies, and shopkeepers. The author was a Chinaman, whose ingenuity should immortalise him. I have often wondered who the man was who first reduced the 'outlandish tongue' to a current language. Red candles should be burnt on altars erected to his memory, and oblations of tea poured out before his image, placed among the wooden gods which in temples surround the shrine of a deified man of letters.
Although during the south-west monsoon little general business went on, transactions in Opium were very active. It was the period when the new drug arrived. Sales were made to brokers for cash (only) against orders on the receiving ships. The orders would be sent down by 'smug boats,'[35] which carried the Opium to its several destinations. These boats, of a peculiar build, were of great length and beam, the latter increasing rather disproportionately abaft to give quarters to brokers' agents who always went with them. The crews numbered from sixty to seventy men, who, like all Chinese boatmen, were singularly good sailors, intelligent and very active. They plied the oars sitting on low benches ranged on both sides of the deck, while additional propelling power was provided in an enormous mainsail and a foresail made of mats, bamboos, and rattans. The armament was one large gun in the bows, swivels, spears, and flint-lock muskets purchased from foreign vessels. The 'smug boats' differed from Government cruisers in a less powerful armament, smaller crew, and in the hull being bright varnished instead of painted 'black and red,' which are the colours of the latter.
On delivery of the opium, the receiving ships were paid five dollars per chest,[36] which was called 'cumsha' (literally 'gold sand'), and two dollars for 'demurrage' if the order was not presented within seven days. It was always repacked, before being taken from the ship, in mat bags, then marked with the owner's private sign and the weight. At times as many as one hundred chests, in bulk, would form a single cargo, whose market value was from $150,000 to $200,000. The Canton agent received five, afterwards reduced to three, per cent. commission on sales. The time occupied in unpacking, weighing, and repacking would occupy but a few hours. The crews of the receiving ships were mostly Manila men and some Lascars, while the shroffs, carpenters, and boats' crews, cooks and servants were Chinese.
It is needless to say the opium trade was prohibited by Imperial edicts as well as by proclamations of the Canton authorities. The Chinese who dealt in 'foreign mud'[37] were threatened even with capital punishment, but so perfect a system of bribery existed (with which foreigners had nothing whatever to do) that the business was carried on with ease and regularity. Temporary interruptions occurred, as, for instance, on the installation of newly-arrived magistrates. Then the question of fees arose, but was soon settled unless the new-comer was exorbitant in his demands, or, as a broker would express it, 'too muchee foolo'—i.e. 'the man is crazy.' In good time, however, all would be arranged satisfactorily, the brokers reappeared with beaming faces, and 'peace' and immunity reigned in the land.