The Mark of the Golden Dragon Read Online Free PDF

there.
    "Missy Memsahib is very good at many things," he says, looking at the fallen nuts.
    "Well, I have been around," I say by way of explanation as I hit the ground. "Here, let's see how you've done at the clamming."
    He has been doing quite well, it seems. A pile of the creatures is heaped upon the sand, squirting out their juices in their clammy way.
    "Here, Ravi, sit, and let us eat." I sink down and sit cross-legged and reach for the big clam that lies on top of the pile.
    I slip the blade of my shiv into the shell and pull it around the edge, making the resident therein give up the fight, as well as the ghost, I suppose. I scrape along the bottom, and then the top of the shell, and lift up the whole thing to let its contents slide into my open mouth.
    Ravi looks on aghast.
    I chew lightly on the clam, but hard enough to rip open its fat belly and taste the sea, and then let it slip down my throat. Not bad—not as good as the oysters we used to get back in Boston, but, hey—not bad at all.
    I open up the next clam.
    "Here, Ravi. Your turn."
    He blanches and his dusky face turns several shades paler than usual. He gulps, then says, "Eating living thing, Missy, not good."
    "They are not living, you little fool, not since I cut them open."
    He is not convinced.
    "That unfortunate creature there is wiggling," he says, pointing at a still-moving part of the clam I hold out to him.
    "There," I say, stabbing at the throbbing part with the point of my shiv till it stops its quivering. "Satisfied? Now eat it. You cannot be of use to me if you are half-starved. So do your duty. Remember, I am the President of Faber Shipping Worldwide and you are but a mere lowly employee, Seaman No-class Ravi."
    "I am not a slave? I thought I was slave to you."
    "No, you are not. I am completely against slavery in all its forms. However, I am ordering you to eat that clam, because I am bigger than you."
    "As you wish, Memsahib. Ravi will risk his karma for you," he mumbles, tipping the clam shell up and his head back in imitation of me. He manages to get the clam down his throat without gagging.
    "Um. Not too bad, Missy. Very slimy. Very salty."
    "Yes, I know. We shall have some sweet water next, but here, have another."
    He gets another one down and says, "Maybe now Ravi will come back as tiny clam in next life for eating of these poor creatures."
    "Well, I am sure you would come back as a very pretty little clam, Ravi—lovely blue stripes on your shell and all. There are worse things, you know—you could come back as a British seaman."
    He nods and we continue eating. Soon there is a pile of glistening empty shells. There are, however, a good number of uneaten clams, and those I wrap up in a small square of canvas for later eating, should we not find more on our trek north. I put a bit of soggy seaweed in with them and soak the whole thing down with seawater; they should keep. I shove them into Ravi's pack.
    Then I turn to the coconuts. I sit down and take one of the green nuts into my lap. With my shiv, I begin hacking away at the husk at the top of the nut. It takes a while, but soon enough I've exposed one of the eyes of the hard inner shell. I poke in that soft eye with the point of my shiv and then lift the coconut up over Ravi's wondering head.
    "Open up," I order. He does as I tip the nut and a stream of coconut milk comes pouring out of the punctured eye and into his open mouth.
    He swallows and then gulps again. Doesn't take the picky little heathen long to appreciate
that
fine draft.
    "Oh, Missy, that is so good!" he says, as the milk goes down his throat and the excess spills over his cheeks.
    I then direct the stream into my own mouth.
    Ummmm ... yes, that is so, so good.
    After we have gorged on the milk of three coconuts, we sling our packs onto our backs and continue our trek north. We could've set up a permanent camp back where we washed ashore, but ain't nobody gonna be comin' to look for us. In the eyes of those onboard my