Authors: John Flanagan
Tags: #Fantasy, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #General
The Outcasts (41 page)
At once, she started to slide, the sand and pebbles grinding under her keel as she moved. And as more of her length was supported by the water, she slid more easily. Judging that he was no longer needed to keep her moving, Hal scrambled up over the bulwark and ran to the steering platform in the stern. He glanced across at the
Porpoise
. She too was afloat. His team came scrambling over the bulwarks and threw themselves onto the benches. Free now of the grip of the sand,
Heron
was swinging gently under the breeze, her stern drifting round to parallel the beach.
Porpoise
. She too was afloat. His team came scrambling over the bulwarks and threw themselves onto the benches. Free now of the grip of the sand,
Heron
was swinging gently under the breeze, her stern drifting round to parallel the beach.
“Oars!” Hal yelled, grabbing the tiller. The oars rattled and clattered into the oarlocks, sliding out to poise over the water’s surface, ready for the first stroke.
“Hal!” Edvin shouted, pointing back to the beach.
Hal turned and swore as he saw Gort, standing ankle deep, grinning at them. They had forgotten to let the instructor board. He looked across at
Porpoise
and saw Tursgud had made the same mistake. Jarst, their instructor, was on the beach as well.
Porpoise
and saw Tursgud had made the same mistake. Jarst, their instructor, was on the beach as well.
“Back port!” he yelled and the port-side rowers backed their oars, swinging the stern around so that it came back to the beach. Hal leaned over the stern bulwark and yelled at the grinning instructor.
“If you’re coming, get aboard!”
Hal’s command signaled a subtle change in their relationship. Gort might be their instructor, but once on board
Heron
, Hal was the skirl and he had the authority to give orders to anyone. In addition, Gort could hardly complain about Hal’s brusque manner. He was committing a cardinal sin in the Skandians’ unwritten rules—he was delaying a ship’s sailing.
Heron
, Hal was the skirl and he had the authority to give orders to anyone. In addition, Gort could hardly complain about Hal’s brusque manner. He was committing a cardinal sin in the Skandians’ unwritten rules—he was delaying a ship’s sailing.
Grinning still, he splashed forward till he was thigh deep, then leapt up and seized the bulwark to clamber aboard in a shower of seawater. Hal didn’t spare him another glance.
“Back port oars, forward starboard oars!” he yelled and the ship pivoted neatly, turning her bow toward the harbor entrance.
“Thought you’d forgotten me,” Gort said mildly.
Hal said nothing, simply glared at him. “All oars ahead together!” he ordered and the craft shot forward.
But, fast as she was,
Porpoise
was faster still, with eight oars pulling to their six. And she was closer to the harbor entrance. For a few minutes, the two ran side by side. But
Heron
was slowly falling behind. Tursgud swung
Porpoise
’s bow to starboard, cutting across their path.
Porpoise
was faster still, with eight oars pulling to their six. And she was closer to the harbor entrance. For a few minutes, the two ran side by side. But
Heron
was slowly falling behind. Tursgud swung
Porpoise
’s bow to starboard, cutting across their path.
“Oars!” Hal called angrily. It was that or risk running into the other ship as she turned across them.
As the rowers paused, the smaller ship’s way was checked and the Sharks surged ahead of them toward the entrance. In the grand scheme of a race that would take six or seven hours to complete, it was a small enough thing. But it was a moral victory, and Hal and his teammates begrudged it bitterly.
“Pull together!” he ordered once the other ship was clear. Again,
Heron
surged forward, arrowing down the white water of
Porpoise
’s wake.
Heron
surged forward, arrowing down the white water of
Porpoise
’s wake.
They shot out of the harbor entrance into the open sea. Instantly, he felt the deck surge to one of the big rollers sweeping in. He rode the movement easily, looking up to the telltale. The pennant was streaming dead astern. The wind was right in their teeth.
He considered setting the sail. But with only a kilometer to cover, he judged they would reach the starting point faster by rowing in a straight line, rather than the zigzag course they would have to follow under sail. He looked at
Porpoise,
now lying slightly off their port bow. She had increased her lead and her oars kicked up white spray as they bit into the sea and heaved her forward. He begrudged the Sharks their two extra rowers, but he had a little extra oar power up his sleeve.
Porpoise,
now lying slightly off their port bow. She had increased her lead and her oars kicked up white spray as they bit into the sea and heaved her forward. He begrudged the Sharks their two extra rowers, but he had a little extra oar power up his sleeve.
“Edvin! Take an oar!” He glanced to where Ingvar was seated in the second bench port side and added: “Starboard side!”
As Edvin took his place, Hal waited till he was ready, then called out to Ingvar.
“All right, Ingvar, pull as if Hulde herself was on your heels!”
Hulde was the goddess of the dead, and definitely not someone you would ever want close behind you. Hal noticed that Gort surreptitiously touched a protective charm he wore round his neck at the mention of her name. Ingvar merely grinned, however, and heaved mightily on his oar. Despite the fact that there was an extra rower on the other side, Hal was startled to feel the
Heron
’s bow veer slightly to starboard under Ingvar’s powerful stroke.
Heron
’s bow veer slightly to starboard under Ingvar’s powerful stroke.
Gort raised his eyebrows, noting the slight swing and Hal’s compensating adjustment of the tiller.
“What does that boy eat?” he asked.
Hal glanced quickly in his direction. “Anything he wants to,” he said briefly.
Even with Ingvar’s extra power, and Edvin lending his weight to the rowing, the
Porpoise
continued to gain on them. She was two hundred meters away when Hal saw the oars stop their constant beat and she gradually came to a halt, rising and falling on the swell.
Porpoise
continued to gain on them. She was two hundred meters away when Hal saw the oars stop their constant beat and she gradually came to a halt, rising and falling on the swell.
“She’s reached the one-kilometer mark,” he said.
Gort nodded, then looked around, judging the angles to two prominent headlands behind them.
“Keep going,” he said. “I’ll tell you when you’re there.”
Hal drummed his fingers on the steering oar in a fever of impatience.
“Don’t suppose you’d care to take an oar?” he suggested to Gort.
The instructor looked at him, pityingly. “No. I don’t suppose I would,” he replied.
“Would you care to steer while I row?” Hal said in his most persuasive tones.
“I don’t think I’ll even answer that,” Gort told him.
Hal shrugged. “Ah, well, it was worth a try.”
But Gort remained unmoved. “No. It wasn’t.” Then, barely a few seconds later, he squinted astern, checking the relative positions of his reference points, and announced, “All right. We’re there.”
“Oars!” Hal yelled immediately and the exhausted crew stopped rowing and slumped over the oak shafts. Normally, they could row for hours on end. But that would be at a steady, measured pace. Instead, they had been rowing at top speed for the time it took them to reach the one-kilometer mark.
Gradually, the ship came to a halt. The chuckling sound of ripples along her waterline died away, and she rose and fell on the swell.
Hal took the rolled scroll from under his jacket and looked inquiringly at Gort as he went to break the seal. The instructor nodded permission. As Hal broke the seal on the sailing instructions, Stig and Edvin joined him on the steering platform. Before he studied the parchment, Hal glanced across to where the
Porpoise
had been stopped. His heart sank as he saw that she was under way again, oars pulling rhythmically. Her stern was toward them, her hull visible only when she rose on the crest of a roller.
Porpoise
had been stopped. His heart sank as he saw that she was under way again, oars pulling rhythmically. Her stern was toward them, her hull visible only when she rose on the crest of a roller.
“What does it say?” Stig urged.
Hal forced himself to forget about Tursgud and his ship and unrolled the parchment.
Stig and Edvin leaned in on either side of him, peering over his shoulders.
“It’s a poem,” he said, his voice betraying his surprise. He frowned at Gort. “Is it always a poem?” he asked. But the instructor, infuriatingly, merely shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. No help from that quarter, Hal thought. Then he read the short six-line verse aloud:
“If to win this contest you do wish, Nor’east to where the Liar finds a fish then east-southeast two leagues you are required to see a fireplace without a fire.
Put it to your back, plus two points nor’
Until a V of trees are seen onshore.”
He looked at his companions. Edvin’s face was creased with concentration. Stig looked up at Hal, a look of total incomprehension on his face.
“Well, I must say, that’s a big help,” he said.
chapter
thirty-eight
thirty-eight
H
al studied the poem again, looking for the meaning behind the words.
al studied the poem again, looking for the meaning behind the words.
“Where does a Liar find a fish?” he asked. Stig pursed his lips thoughtfully. “All fishermen are liars.”
Hal glared at him. “I don’t think that gets us very far.”
Stig looked offended. “I’m only trying to be helpful,” he said.
“Well, you’re not succeeding,” Hal told him.
Edvin shook his head, annoyed at his teammates. “If you’d stop squabbling, we might solve this,” he said, a little sourly. Hal and Stig both had the grace to look contrite.
“All right,” Hal said, “who’s a liar?”
“Not me,” Stig muttered, thinking Hal was criticizing him again.
“Loki is a liar,” Edvin said. Loki was the Skandian god of deceit and trickery.
Stig amended Edvin’s statement. “Loki is
the
liar.”
the
liar.”
Hal checked the sheet again, excitedly.
“The word
Liar
begins with a capital!” he said. “That must be it. Now where does Loki catch a fish?”
Liar
begins with a capital!” he said. “That must be it. Now where does Loki catch a fish?”
The answer hit them all simultaneously.
“Loki’s Bank,” they chorused. It was a popular cod-fishing site off the coast, where the sea shallowed over a large bank of sand. Many a sailor had, in years past, been deceived by the sudden change in depth—hence the name.
“It’s southwest of here!” Hal cried, picturing one of the many charts he had memorized during navigation classes. He glanced at the telltale. The wind was steady from the northwest, streaming the narrow pennant out in a straight line.
“Hands to make sail!” he yelled to the crew. “Raise the port sail!”
They were well practiced now and the yard slid quickly up the mast.
Heron
came alive in the water again, speeding southwest, with the wind from their starboard side, at right angles to their course. They’d be making leeway, with the wind forcing them to the left, Hal realized, and he adjusted the tiller, bringing her course more to the right.
Heron
came alive in the water again, speeding southwest, with the wind from their starboard side, at right angles to their course. They’d be making leeway, with the wind forcing them to the left, Hal realized, and he adjusted the tiller, bringing her course more to the right.
She plunged on, occasionally carving through a wave and sending sheets of spray cascading back over the crew. But they barely noticed it. The sensation of speed was exhilarating. It was possibly
Heron
’s best point of sailing and the entire hull vibrated under Hal’s feet, setting up a deep, almost inaudible hum. He grinned at Stig, who was standing beside him.
Heron
’s best point of sailing and the entire hull vibrated under Hal’s feet, setting up a deep, almost inaudible hum. He grinned at Stig, who was standing beside him.
“Can you hear her? She’s singing.”
Stig grinned back, his long hair streaming in the wind.
Stefan had the sharpest eyes in the crew. He scrambled up the starboard shrouds to the lookout position at the top of the mast. Forty minutes later, they heard his hail.
“We’re coming up on the bank now!”
From his vantage point, he could see where the sea changed from deep blue to a lighter green as the sand bottom of the bank rose up out of the depths. They flew past several fishing boats, trudging slowly along with their nets over the side. Then they were over the bank itself and the waves became shorter and choppier as the shallow water broke up the deep-sea motion of the rollers.
Heron
plunged like a nervous horse.
Heron
plunged like a nervous horse.
“Ease the sail,” Hal ordered and Stig went forward to organize the rope handlers. As they eased the pressure on the sail, the ship slowed a little and her motion became easier. Hal checked the poem again.
“…
then east-southeast two leagues
… ,” he quoted. He’d need a way to measure distance traveled, he realized. He turned to Edvin. “Get the reel ready to cast.”
then east-southeast two leagues
… ,” he quoted. He’d need a way to measure distance traveled, he realized. He turned to Edvin. “Get the reel ready to cast.”
Their new course would mean turning more than ninety degrees to port. Hal gave the order to come about. Stig and the crew carried out the maneuver smoothly, sending the starboard sail up to replace the port-side one. Gort, who had been silent for some time, nodded approval.
“You’ve got them well trained,” he said.
Hal barely had time to acknowledge the compliment.
“Thanks,” he said briefly, consulting his sun compass for the correct bearing. Then, as he settled the ship on her new course, with the wind now over their port rear quarter, he nodded to Edvin. “Let her go!”
Edvin was standing behind him, at the very stern. As Hal gave the order, he tossed a wooden X overboard. A thin cord ran through the crosspiece of the X, connected to a large reel that Edvin now held clear of the sternpost. As the X dragged in the water behind them, the cord began to unreel and Edvin started counting.
“One jolly goblin, two jolly goblins …”
There were knots tied at measured intervals along the cord, every fifth one marked with a colored strip of cloth. As Edvin reached “thirty jolly goblins,” he stopped the cord and checked how many knots had run out.
“A little over six, Hal,” he reported.
Hal nodded as Edvin began to reel in the cord and the wooden X. He did a quick calculation. Unless the wind changed, it should take them just over an hour and a half to reach the spot designated in the instructions.
“Settle down, everyone,” he said. “We’ve got almost two hours. So take it easy while you can.” He reached to the hourglass mounted on the bulwark and tipped it over to start the sand running. “Keep an eye on that,” he told Edvin.
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