Shortly before dawn, almost every morning of the year, the Ming River casts off from the pier at Peng Chau and steers south. The double-decker, 280-tonne kai-to is one of a slowly diminishing fleet of small neighbourhood ferries which link Hong Kong’s more remote islands, a role that’s gradually being assumed by lofty suspension bridges and MTR tunnels.

Ming River is a happy ship, though she falls short of the nautical neatness of statelier vessels. She looks older than her 20 years. Rust pokes out of her paintwork, her toilets would make a TripAdvisor contributor shudder and the 1970s-style tangerine plastic seats can at best be described as functional. Her ragtag decks are piled with trolleys, bikes and rattan baskets loaded with fresh produce, and her bulkheads are plastered with counsel and proscriptions in a gallimaufry of fonts and typefaces: ‘No gambling’, ‘While the ferry is berthing please don’t leave your seat’, ‘This area is not suitable for letting dogs lay down or placing anything!’