Excerpt from The Black Parrot: A Tale of the Golden Chersonese E had come up from that necklace of islands that H trails its emeralds over the Pacific, which is to say, he stepped out of Nowhere. Perhaps he was a planter. Or a trader. Or a shell hunter. Or an agent from one of those brazen ports where white men turn brown like bricks in a kiln. Certainly he was not a tourist. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.

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