Pirates & Privateers: Frederick Samuel's Books

This is not a biography. It is the hush between waves – and what rises when you listen.

Thus begins Samuel’s story of Shek Ying (also known as Zheng Yi Sao). This is not a normal rendering of historical fiction. It is lyrical. With well-chosen words and phrases, Samuel instills in readers a sense of place – of China, of sea, of Asian piracy instead of Western. He captures the essence of the woman and the formidable confederation she devises. At its core is the Code.

Shek Ying does not begin life as a pirate. She pleasures men, one of whom is a successful captain of sea bandits. Zheng Yi wants her join him. She agrees because she will longer walk in someone’s shadow. She will be his equal.

Each band has its own leader, but they sometimes work in consort. Zheng Yi commands the Red Fleet. Shek Ying sees potential, and devises principles that, if followed, will bring them success far greater than they have alone. It will also protect them from those who would destroy them. Although all the captains sign, they do not pledge loyalty to her or the Code. They merely watch and wait.

High-ranking and low-ranking sea bandits test her. She offers those on land a way to live rather than subsist or starve. In return, she receives loyalty that is shown by the vital information they share. Through blood, ink, and salt (a form of currency), Shek Ying “becomes the tide they follow.”

The more powerful they become, the more others feel threatened. The British, the Dutch, and the Triads seek illicit trade alliances involving guns and opium. Such partnerships will absorb the sea bandits until they disappear. Shek Ying understands this and acts to preserve the confederation and her fellow sea bandits. When gifts do not bring forth the desired alliances, their enemies find alternatives to gain objectives. Spies, saboteurs, forgers, and traitors work from within, and Zheng Yi vanishes during a storm. His loss is grievous, but Shek Ying is determined to cut out the rot that threatens to destroy them.

On occasion, I do not explicitly understand what transpires, but the significance is always clear. Chapter 55 seems to be a fitting end to the story, but subsequent chapters are a mix of past and present, and cover a wide span of years. In response to my question about this, Samuel responds:

Once the fleet surrenders, the book moves away from a purely chronological progression and becomes something more reflective – a way of exploring meaning, memory, and legacy rather than simply recounting events in order.

I chose this structure because it echoes the way memory actually works: not as a straight line, but as a series of the most resonant memories. By placing scenes out of order – for example, showing the surrender before the betrayals that led to it – the story highlights the hidden personal struggles behind the official history. And through these time jumps, we get to see Shek Ying in her fullness: not just as a leader at a single point in time, but as a woman defined by her choices, her sacrifices, and ultimately the legend she becomes.

In essence, the narrative shifts from a straightforward historical account into a more poetic reflection on what remains after everything is over – how we remember, and what truly endures.

As a result, readers become immersed in a story in which fact and fiction are interwoven with a weaver’s expertise. Although predominately from Shek Ying’s perspective, the story occasionally unfolds from other points of view – a Qing governor, a pirate captain, a pirate archivist, a foster son, and a silent watcher -- to provide a broader picture of the confederation’s birth, rise, downfall, and legacy. Key components that flesh out the story are endurance, greed, and power. What Samuel deftly shows is that no matter how often the authorities attempt to erase Shek Ying from history, she remains as powerful a figure as she was in the early 19th century. He writes in present tense and the imagery he wields is vivid. Some action is subtle; some is not. This is a pirate tale, just not the one readers expect. Instead, this passage sums up the reading experience: “No sirens. No panic. Only the steady rise of the Pearl River, slipping under doorways, over thresholds, until streets carry water like veins carry blood.”

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