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Robert E. Howard is best known today for his sword-and-sorcery stories. But in the early 1930s, he was a legend in boxing circles for his humorously over-the-top adventure stories starring the sailor Steve Costigan, champ of the Sea Girl – the toughest trading vessel on the Seven Seas. Steve is an A.B. mariner and amateur boxer, with a heart of gold – and a head of solid wood.
In these 21 tales, he blows around the waterfronts of various Far East ports with his white bulldog Mike, getting swindled by clever dames, pummeling the occasional underworld criminal, and getting into epic fistic battles with anyone who can take a good punch – in or out of the ring.
Here’s a taste – the first four paragraphs of Circus Fists
ME AND THE Old Man had a most violent row whilst the Sea Girl was tied up at the docks of a small seaport on the West Coast. Somebody put a pole-cat in the Old Man’s bunk, and he accused me of doing it. I denied it indignantly, and asked him where he reckoned I would get a pole-cat, and he said well, it was a cinch somebody had got a pole-cat, because there it was, and it was his opinion that I was the only man of the crew which was low-down enough to do a trick like that.
This irritated me, and I told him he oughta know it wasn’t me, because I had the reputation of being kind to animals, and I wouldn’t put a decent skunk where it would have to associate with a critter like the Old Man.
This made him so mad that he busted a bottle of good rye whiskey over my head. Annoyed at such wanton waste of good licker, I grabbed the old walrus and soused him in a horse-trough-us being on the docks at the time.
The Old Man ariz like Neptune from the deep, and, with whiskers dripping, he shook his fists at me and yelled, Don’t never darken my decks again, Steve Costigan. If you ever try to come aboard the Sea Girl, I’ll fill you fulla buckshot, you mutineerin’ pirate!
Go set on a marlin-spike, I sneered. I wouldn’t sail with you again for ten bucks a watch and plum duff every mess. I’m through with the sea, anyhow. You gimme a bad taste for the whole business. A landman’s life is the life for me, by golly. Me and Mike is goin’ to fare forth and win fame and fortune ashore.
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Robert E. Howard is best known today for his sword-and-sorcery stories. But in the early 1930s, he was a legend in boxing circles for his humorously over-the-top adventure stories starring the sailor Steve Costigan, champ of the Sea Girl – the toughest trading vessel on the Seven Seas. Steve is an A.B. mariner and amateur boxer, with a heart of gold – and a head of solid wood.
In these 21 tales, he blows around the waterfronts of various Far East ports with his white bulldog Mike, getting swindled by clever dames, pummeling the occasional underworld criminal, and getting into epic fistic battles with anyone who can take a good punch – in or out of the ring.
Here’s a taste – the first four paragraphs of Circus Fists
ME AND THE Old Man had a most violent row whilst the Sea Girl was tied up at the docks of a small seaport on the West Coast. Somebody put a pole-cat in the Old Man’s bunk, and he accused me of doing it. I denied it indignantly, and asked him where he reckoned I would get a pole-cat, and he said well, it was a cinch somebody had got a pole-cat, because there it was, and it was his opinion that I was the only man of the crew which was low-down enough to do a trick like that.
This irritated me, and I told him he oughta know it wasn’t me, because I had the reputation of being kind to animals, and I wouldn’t put a decent skunk where it would have to associate with a critter like the Old Man.
This made him so mad that he busted a bottle of good rye whiskey over my head. Annoyed at such wanton waste of good licker, I grabbed the old walrus and soused him in a horse-trough-us being on the docks at the time.
The Old Man ariz like Neptune from the deep, and, with whiskers dripping, he shook his fists at me and yelled, Don’t never darken my decks again, Steve Costigan. If you ever try to come aboard the Sea Girl, I’ll fill you fulla buckshot, you mutineerin’ pirate!
Go set on a marlin-spike, I sneered. I wouldn’t sail with you again for ten bucks a watch and plum duff every mess. I’m through with the sea, anyhow. You gimme a bad taste for the whole business. A landman’s life is the life for me, by golly. Me and Mike is goin’ to fare forth and win fame and fortune ashore.