property of the miraculous frank frazetta, not me.
Seriously, it seems like every time Conan is on a ship in one of Howard's rip-roaring, capitally adventur-rific and lusty outdoorsman stories full of wily maidens and magical sabertooth cats, he's got to go up and down the poop of the ship about 47 1/2 times before anything can happen.
That said, it's probably some of the best fiction ever written. Take that, Nathaniel Hawthorne, you limp-wristed girl's blouse!
