06 March 1795

Guangdong

I woke up in time to see the moon set before visiting the well in the harbour. We had to preserve as much of the water as we could for the voyage. Once in the galley, I set about preparing hangover stew for the crew, knowing how much they needed it. As the contents of the pot bubbled, I heard leather-booted footsteps tread the wooden floors.

"Morning, captain," I ladled out a bowl and set it before him.

"Thanks," he cast a wary eye at it but nonetheless drank anyway. I knew that the odour wasn't appealing but it was effective. "About that Shih Yang..."

"Yes?" I had a look of concern mask the ecstasy I felt- my plan was coming together.

"You're young and you just signed a contract to be in my service for 5 years," Zheng Yi put down the bowl. "The bawd will only distract you from your goal. Make enough money to provide an escape for her from the brothel and then pursue her."

"What a genius devise," I laid on the praise thickly, knowing that the honeyed bread would appeal to him even more now.

"That's a good lad," he clapped my shoulder and set about his duties.

My life on the seas was easier than those of the rest of the crew. I took on other duties only when the tempests rolled in, threatening to pull us under. Once the storms were over, I'd resume gazing at the heavens from my hammock. This was how I communicated with Caishen, letting him know that the Princeling was okay.

I stayed on board, armed with weapons in the event of attack, while the crew explored the islands, looking for goods to sell. If the pantry needed to be replenished, I accompanied them, pointing out which plants and mushrooms were to be gathered or avoided. When they saw me shoot down wild animals skilfully, with the eye pierced so that the pelts could be sold in winter, they realised that they had underestimated my lithe, slim build. The crew then came to respect me and started asking for tips on how they could improve their skills. I came to teach them on our leisure days and I soon became counsel for the captain. The time on the ship didn't feel like a mission but another chance to acquire a family. Pirates didn't put up with arbitrary abuse and were reasonably democratic.

During my first month on board the junk, many landlubber myths were dispelled. Walking the plank was mostly fiction: those who attempted taking our ship were just thrown overboard. Firing a broadside of cannons allowed a pirate vessel to attack a ship from a distance but we often wanted to take over the vessel or sell it for profit. Filling a junk with holes was hardly a wise move. Our targets were almost always unarmed or lightly-armed vessels, and our most effective weapon was the all-red flag flapping in the breeze.

"Why do we skirt past the Portuguese navy?" I asked the captain once, curious.

"Look at them," his hand moved vaguely in the direction of the crew, going about their cleaning duties in the most scallywag way possible, if they hadn't shirked their work. "Very few pirate vessels can match the lowest-ranked vessel in terms of either firepower or the skills needed for sustained and accurate cannon fire."

My gaze turned to our cannons, capable of firing 8- or 12-pound iron balls, resting on their wheeled platforms, allowing us to change the trajectory at free will. It took up to 10 minutes to reload a cannon, 10 minutes that could make or break a voyage. Bearing in mind that the target also moved, the element of surprise as well as making sure the first shot counted, were the keys to success.

Cannons were not precision instruments; variations in ball size, elevation, distance to the target, movement of the ships and the varying strength of gunpowder made firing them accurately an elusive challenge. For this reason, we usually waited until we were 150 metres or closer to an enemy vessel before firing the broadside. We never aimed for the hull as this would lose the target as well as the cargo. Instead, we shot across the bow of the vessel. Next to each cannon was a coil of slow match, lengths of rope that were chemically treated to burn slowly.

"I am trying to avoid the Portuguese devils whenever I can but their reach is extending. When we dock, I am considering buying hollow cannon balls, balls that can be heated, grapeshot and chain shots. The navy has swivel cannons that can be moved from one side of the deck to another, which can be used in small boats."

My preferred weapon was the cutlass, with a sharpened point and a sharp single edge of the blade. These swords were designed to quickly slash and cut an opponent, a rather different experience from my dithering about with intricate swordplay. The cutlass had a slightly curved blade, and my hand was well protected by the cage, a half-circle guard.

The blade was almost a metre in length and as it was thick and heavy, I used it for other useful tasks. My cutlass helped me not only in battle, but also in cutting rigging during an emergency, felling trees, and breaking open coconuts. We were better off than most pirates, who could only afford belaying pins, pikes, axes, spears, machetes, throwing knives and long knives.

The crew were practical fighters, using any weapon at all to help us take over a vessel with as little fuss as possible. Pikes were thrown at short distances while axes were used to cut down doors and hatches. The belaying pins that secured the rigging could be used as clubs while the tomahawk chiselled out parts of the junk that were on fire. Boarding hooks grappled onto ships.

I only understood what Zheng Yi meant when I saw the canisters full of small metal pieces cut down rigging and maim men, while iron bars ripped apart the rigging and broke a few spars of a rival vessel. We defended ourselves using small, curved shields known as bucklers, which could also strike an opponent. Once we were in range, the crew filled glass bottles with gunpowder and lead shot, sticking a slow match into the necks of the bottles. Once hurled onto a deck, these would smash and catch flame, exploding.

Bai Ling told me of similar grenades, filled with sulphur and called "stinkpots". We chose not to use our muskets as the air was humid. Some of the crew were foolish enough to fight us and our highly ornate, prestigious pistols had their blood blossoming on the docks like poppies in the sun. The rest surrendered and were subsumed into our crew.

I had expected to come across a cat as they were favoured by the Ancient Egyptians, Vikings and most of the crews we attacked. Cats were the subject of adoration as they were a form of pest control and supposedly brought luck to vessels. While I was inspecting the galley, I came across the most pathetic sight I had seen in a while: a parrot in a formerly-gilded cage. He dejectedly squawked out "Verde", which according to my fledgling interest in the language of our enemies, meant "green".

"I'd advise putting him out of his misery with a quick wring of the neck but I can see you want to keep him as a pet," the first mate correctly guessed. Nodding, I removed the cage and brought it to our junk.

His beak had turned green from the water bowl, which was infested with algae. His beak was also overgrown and his tail feathers were missing. Verde had an old fracture that hadn't healed properly so while the others weren't looking, my fangs bit into his body and I healed that wound. The bird hung on the bars of the cage and licked them obsessively. While he healed and remained in the cage, I sewed a flight suit for him so that the poopdeck would be poop-free. I fed him peanuts and starfruit as a treat.

His wings were never cut and he was fed whole grain and water. I took him out at night to keep him safe from the sun. I painted his cage myself while he perched on the table in the galley, uncertain of what would happen next. Verde would lift the door of his cage and venture out sometimes. The bird could fly but he would imitate the crewmates walking.

I would call out and he would answer with my voice. As a treat for him, I would fry ladyfingers, a British novelty from the bakery that supplied our biscuit. When it got cold, I would cover his cage with a swaddling cloth made of wool. Verde would indicate that he was no longer hungry by flipping his bowl upside down. I was grateful for the companion who had many antics, always chirping and full of life.