CHApTer Six

here was a small swell running and Heron lifted to the first of the waves as they emerged from the mouth of the creek. Hal rode the movement easily, his feet set apart for balance. To their right, he could see the town of Hallasholm a tidy sprawl of pine-log buildings and thatched roofs. Smoke rose from chimneys and he could smell the fresh scent of pine smoke overlaid on the salt breeze. The mole, a protective rock wall that ran round the harbour, shielding the boats from heavy weather and winter storms, blocked the sight of the two or three dozen wolfships and smaller craft that were moored there. But Hal could see the small forest of bare poles formed by their masts. Hal nudged the steering oar gently and swung onto a diagonal course away from the coast, heading to the left, away from the town. Heron rose and fell smoothly under his feet as the swell rolled under her keel. The other boys
Copyright John Flanagan 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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had settled into a smooth rowing rhythm one they could maintain for hours if necessary and he exulted in the feeling of being under way, at the helm of his own ship. Stig glanced up at him from his rowing bench. How does she handle? he asked. Hal grinned back at him. Like a bird. Gradually, the town dropped behind them, until it was little more than a blur on the horizon, appearing when the ship rose on the crest of a wave, then disappearing as she dipped into the trough. Far enough, Hal thought. He was eager to see how she handled under sail. Stig, Ingvar, he said quietly. Stand by to raise the left-hand sail. The boys had been awaiting the order for the past five minutes. They ran their oars inboard, stowed them along the centre line, and moved forward to the short, heavy mast. Hal checked the telltale, the long pennant streaming from the high sternpost that told him the winds direction. It was coming from ahead, over their right-hand side at an angle of about sixty degrees. He hesitated. This was the moment when he would discover if his idea worked. For a second or two, he was filled with uncertainty. What if the sail simply shivered in the wind and the boat wallowed without any driving force? He knew his friends wouldnt laugh at him if this were the case. But word would get out and others would. Then his lips formed a grim line. It would work, he told himself. The idea was sound. Haul away, he ordered.
Copyright John Flanagan 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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Stig and Ingvar heaved on the ropes that sent the slim yardarm rising smoothly up the mast, taking the sail with it. Instantly, the sail billowed out, flapping in the wind. Ulf and Wulf, trim the sail. The sail hardened into a smooth swelling curve. As the wind pressed into the taut sail, Herons bow began to swing to the left, under the pressure. Now was the moment, Hal thought. He heaved on the steering oar, forcing the bow to the right, back towards the wind. Obediently, the boat responded, swinging back until they were heading across the wind, then up into it. Then further upwind still. Hal felt a huge surge of relief. Vaguely, he could hear the other boys cheering. They had never seen a ship sail at such an angle to the wind before. Hal estimated that they were heading at about forty-five degrees into the wind. He shook his head in delight. A well-built wolfship couldnt manage much more than fifteen degrees. He heaved the steering oar further over and Heron responded, moving closer still to the wind. Eventually, as the angle became too steep, the big, triangular sail began to flutter and lose shape. He eased the rudder and, as the bow swung back, the wind hardened the sail and began to power the boat once more. Shes flying! He hadnt noticed Stigs approach. He looked now into his friends delighted face and a huge smile broke over his own. No small details overlooked, he said and Stig pounded his shoulder with delight.
Copyright John Flanagan 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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None indeed! Shes fantastic! Shell sail rings around the best wolfship! Hal looked down at the other boys. They were staring up in wonder at the sail, realising they were seeing something new. Something exciting. Something unique. They had known that Hal had designed a new sail, but they had never really queried the details, nor realised how much more efficient it would be. At forty degrees to the wind, Heron flew. The deck vibrated under Hals feet. It was one of the most exciting moments of his life. The wood felt alive. He eased the steering oar, letting the bow drop off once more so the wind was blowing more from their beam. Haul in, he said and Stig and Ulf jumped to the ropes. As they hauled in on the sail, tightening it, the boat accelerated. She also began to lean under the pressure of the wind, so that water ran in over the downwind rail. No sense in swamping her, Hal thought. Ease off, he ordered. They loosened the ropes a little and the boat came more upright. He let go a long whoop of delight and the other boys, startled for a moment, joined in. He couldnt wait to tell Thorn about this. Couldnt wait to show it to him. His only regret was, with brotherband training about to start, he would have little time to experiment and practise with the new boat. He glanced ahead. Heron swooped down a wave and sliced into the trough, sending silver spray feathering back on either side of the bow, cascading over them. They barely noticed. He could see a long headland in the distance, jutting out from the coast and barring their
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path. Theyd have to go about to clear it. He decided they might as well do it now, while they had plenty of time and sea room in hand. Get ready to go about, he said, pointing to his right the starboard side. Stig looked at him, saw the determined set to his jaw. Youre going to tack her? Hal nodded. Why not? Well drop the port sail when she comes up into the eye of the wind, then raise the starboard one as she comes round. Itll be easy. Stig looked doubtful. Tacking meant turning the ship into the wind, until the sail came around and filled on the opposite side of the ship. It was a manoeuvre that wolfship captains avoided whenever possible. Tacking a square sail put immense pressure on the mast, yard and rigging, and ships had been driven astern and even dismasted in the manoeuvre. It made more sense to wear the ship to sail it round through three-quarters of a circle, with the wind behind it, until it was facing the opposite tack. But Hals triangular fore and aft rig would come through the the eye of the wind much more easily. And at no time would it present a huge square mass of sail, with all the potential risk that it entailed, to the headwind. Come on, Hal told Stig, nodding towards the still distant headland. That lump of rock isnt getting any further away, you know. As it turned out, the tack went smoothly and uneventfully. Hal let the ship gather speed for a few minutes, then swung her up into the wind. As the wind came dead ahead, the sail flapped and lost its shape. But the Herons
Copyright John Flanagan 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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momentum kept her turning. On Hals command, Stig and Ingvar began to haul down the left-hand sail. It was linked by a pulley arrangement to its partner, so as it came down, the right-hand sail slid smoothly up the mast. By the time Herons bow had crossed through the wind, the new sail had filled and the ship was powering along on its new course. Hal grinned as Stig rejoined him. The ship had swung through a ninety-degree angle to the right and was now surging along, slicing through successive waves. She would clear the headland easily, he saw. He realised that hed been tensed up during the tacking manoeuvre and he forced himself to relax, loosening the iron grip he had kept on the steering oar. He twitched it experimentally, watching the ship respond. Behind them, the wake described a series of sudden curves. Shes beautiful, he breathed. And she was. Fast, agile and responsive, she was everything he had hoped she might be. His grin widened even further. Now lets see how fast we can take her back to Hallasholm.

Copyright John Flanagan 2011. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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