Chapter 50

Another yell of approbation answered him, as the half-starved blacks scurried to do his bidding. The sail bellied as the wind swept over the waves with renewed force, and the white crests danced along the sweep of the wind. Conan planted his feet to the heave of the deck, breathed deep and spread his mighty arms. King of Aquilonia he might no longer be; king of the blue ocean he was still. 16 Black-Walled Khemi The _Venturer_ swept southward like a living thing, her oars pulled now by free and willing hands. She ha…