The Outcasts (37 page)

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Authors: John Flanagan

Tags: #Fantasy, #Juvenile Fiction, #Fantasy & Magic, #Action & Adventure, #General

BOOK: The Outcasts
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Hal swung round in time to see the big square sail on the other ship crumple, then topple to starboard as the mast snapped.
“What happened?” he asked Edvin. The boy was shaking his head in horror.
“They tried to follow us through the tack,” he said. “Rollond must have wanted to make up time.”
Hal stared back over his shoulder at the stricken ship. Tacking a square-sailed ship was a dangerous maneuver. Compared with
Heron
, the
Lynx
had farther to turn across the wind, and she presented that huge square sail area to the wind through the entire maneuver. Without enough momentum to carry her through the turn, she’d stalled halfway, so that the wind pressed fully back against her sail. The mast wasn’t designed to stand that sort of pressure from straight ahead and it had fractured.
Worse, the mast, sail and cross yard, with all their attached, tangled cordage, had crashed over the starboard side, smashing the bulwark and dragging the ship over in a list. Water would be pouring in despite her crew’s desperate attempts to bail her out. Not that there were too many of the crew visible, Hal thought. Some of them must have been injured or trapped by the falling mast and sail.
Porpoise
was rounding the second mark now. Her oars came in and her sail was rising up the mast. She seemed oblivious to the other ship’s fate as she gathered speed down the third leg. Hal felt the deck planks vibrate beneath his feet as Stig joined him on the steering platform.
“What’s happened?” his friend said.
Hal gestured to the stricken ship behind them.
“
Lynx
is sinking,” he said. “Stand by. We’re going back to help her.”
chapter
thirty-three
T
hey came about and headed for the stricken
Lynx
. The
Porpoise,
sail now set and drawing well, maintained her course. The two ships flew toward each other. Thirty meters separated them as they passed. At the helm of the
Porpoise,
Tursgud stared resolutely ahead, ignoring the shouts and gestures of the
Heron
’s crew.
“He’s leaving her to sink!” Stig said incredulously.
Hal shrugged. He’d expected no more of Tursgud.
“He wants to win,” he said briefly. Once more, his eyes were slits as he measured speed and angles. As they came closer to
Lynx,
he could see more detail. The mast, cross yard and sail were dragging alongside, holding the ship over in a steep list. The tangled cordage held the shattered timbers firmly in place. He could see that the starboard side bulwark was smashed for a length of two meters, and water was pouring through the break. Four boys were bailing frantically while Rollond and another three of his crew hacked at the ropes holding the wreckage alongside. There was no sign of the other two crew members.
The
Heron
shot past the stricken ship, and Hal swung her in a rapid one-hundred-and-eighty-degree turn.
“Down sail!” he ordered and the sail and yard slid down into the boat. He judged the turn almost perfectly, washing off speed as they came back alongside the
Lynx
. Stig, ready in the bow, threw a grapnel at the other ship’s stern rail. The three-pronged iron hook caught, and he and Ingvar hauled the two ships together, bow to stern.
Ingvar might be nearly blind, Hal thought, but he was a godsend when sheer strength and brute force was required. The other crew members didn’t need directions. They were poised in the bows behind Stig and Ingvar. As the two ships came together, they poured over the rail onto the
Lynx,
running to the aid of her crew. Ulf, Wulf and Jesper joined the men bailing. Stig, Edvin and Stefan drew their saxes and went to help Rollond cut loose the wreckage. Ingvar remained in
Heron
’s bow, holding the two ships together. With his poor eyesight, he’d be more hindrance than help on board a strange ship. Hal tied off the steering oar and ran forward.
“Keep them close, Ingvar!” he said as he clambered over
Heron
’s bow onto the other ship. Ingvar nodded, saying nothing. His teeth were gritted as he held fast to the rope binding the two ships together. Hal didn’t want to tie the rope off. If the
Lynx
went down, he wanted Ingvar ready to cast it loose immediately.
As Hal ran forward, the ship lurched and came a little upright. He could see that Rollond and the others had finally managed to get rid of the shattered yardarm. It drifted astern. Axes and saxe knives rose and fell around the rest of the wreckage. There was no room for Hal to join in so he looked around for something useful to do. An arm was protruding from under the untidy mass of the sail. He cleared the heavy oiled cloth away and revealed the unconscious form of one of the Wolves. He carefully dragged the boy clear of the tangled sail and rope, lying him on the stern deck, out of harm’s way—but close to
Heron
in case they needed to abandon the damaged ship. He went back and tossed folds of the sail aside to find the other missing crew member. It was Bjorn, the wrestler. He was conscious, but struggling and trapped in a tangle of rope. Quickly, Hal drew his saxe and cut him free. Bjorn nodded his thanks, went to rise and cried out in pain, reaching for his right shoulder. He grimaced as he met Hal’s concerned gaze.
“I’ve wrenched it again,” he said, between his teeth. Hal helped him to his feet. Of course, he remembered, Bjorn’s arm had been injured in his bout with Tursgud. “Just got it back in shape,” the boy said, his teeth still gritted. “Now it’s gone out again.”
Hal helped him move to the stern of the ship, then turned back to see how the others were progressing.
With extra hands at work, the wreckage was almost completely cleared. As Hal watched, Stig heaved a huge, knotted tangle of rope over the side. Rollond, Stefan and Jesper managed to cut loose the shattered mast. The others joined in and shoved it clear, using oars to keep the heavy spar from smashing into the ship’s side as it drifted away.
Lynx
lurched back to an almost even keel. But water was still pouring through the break in her bulwarks. Hal looked around for something to plug the gap.
“Use the sail!” he called.
Rollond looked up at him as he gestured toward the hole in the ship’s side. Then understanding dawned in his eyes. Together, they bundled up a part of the heavy sail and shoved it into the gap, cutting off the excess with their razor-sharp saxe knives. Stig, seeing what they were doing, grabbed an oar and jammed it against the folds of sailcloth to hold it in position. The flood of water slowed to a trickle and they straightened up, grinning in relief. Several of the
Lynx
’s crew slumped wearily onto the rowing benches. It had been an exhausting ten minutes. Rollond looked around, however, searching for the two crew members who had been caught under the collapsing sail.
“Where are …?”
Hal put a reassuring hand on his arm. “They’re aft,” he said. “One’s unconscious, but he’s alive. Bjorn has hurt his shoulder again.”
Rollond looked in the direction Hal was pointing and saw his two missing crew members. His shoulders sagged with relief.
“I thought they might have gone overboard,” he said. “Thanks for your help. I don’t think we would have made it without you.”
Hal shrugged. “Anyone would do the same thing.”
Rollond smiled bitterly. “Some wouldn’t,” he said. Involuntarily, they both turned to gaze toward the finish line. They could see the
Porpoise
’s sail as she crossed.
“I guess he wanted the points,” Hal said. Rollond snorted in disgust.
“He’s welcome to them,” he said. “I don’t mind competing hard, but leaving your opponent to drown is another matter entirely. That’s not the way Skandians do things.”
“Maybe he didn’t see how bad the damage was,” Hal suggested, although he wondered why he was trying to make excuses for Tursgud.
Rollond shook his head. “He was closer than you,” he said. He glanced over Hal’s shoulder and grinned. “Speaking of which, look who’s arrived in the nick of time.”
Hal turned. The small boat with the judges on board was laboring up toward them. The four instructors had manned the oars and it had been a hard pull against the wind and waves to reach them. As they approached, they rested gratefully, slumping over their oars. Sigurd stood and hailed them.
“Do you need any help?” he yelled.
Rollond crossed to the railing and cupped his hands around his mouth to reply.
“Already got all we need!” he called back. “We’re fine. We’ve got two men slightly injured but we’ll make it back to harbor all right.”
“We’ll escort them in to make sure,” Hal added.
Sigurd looked at him for a few seconds before he replied.
“That was well done, Hal Mikkelson. And all the rest of you Herons,” he called. Then he and his companions set about the task of raising the small boat’s mast and sail. After a few minutes, they were heading away toward the harbor.
“Is everything all right, Hal?” It was Ingvar, and Hal turned toward the big boy. He’d forgotten about him in all the excitement.
“Everything’s fine now, Ingvar,” he said.
“Then can I tie this rope off? I’m getting pretty tired here.”
“Just hold on for a few minutes more, Ingvar,” Hal said. He looked at Rollond. “Can you manage now?”
The Wolves’ skirl nodded. “We’ll be fine. We can row back in. Although if you could lend us a couple of men, it’d be easier. I’ve got two of my crew out of action.”
Hal looked down the length of the damaged ship. Stig was the best oarsman, but if he was going to be shorthanded, he wanted him aboard
Heron.
“Ulf and Wulf!” he called. The twins looked up at him curiously. “Stay on board and help Rollond and his men row home. The rest of you, back aboard the
Heron.
”
As Stig and the others filed aft and climbed back aboard their own ship, the twins moved toward the rowing benches. Ulf went to climb down onto one of the starboard side seats.
“Where are you going?” Wulf demanded angrily.
His brother looked at him, frowning. “I always row on this side.”
Wulf nodded several times, still annoyed. “Did it occur to you that I might like to row that side for a change?” he asked.
Ulf flushed angrily. “No. It didn’t. Because you always row on the other side,” he retorted.
Hal raised his eyebrows at Rollond.
“I’ll leave you to sort that out,” he said, grinning.
Rollond watched the bickering twins with a puzzled frown.
“Are they always like this?” he asked.
Hal shrugged. “Pretty much.”

 

Back in Hallasholm, there was an inquiry into the accident and its aftermath. Tursgud, of course, claimed that he had no idea how badly the
Lynx
had been damaged.
“But you saw the
Heron
turn back to help us!” Rollond said, disbelief evident in his tone. Tursgud, however, merely shrugged.
“I had no idea why they did that,” he said. “That was their choice. We were in a race. I chose to continue. If I made a mistake, I’m sorry.”
Since nobody could prove anything to the contrary, no action was taken against him, although Hal sensed a distinct air of disapproval from their instructors—and several townspeople who happened to be standing nearby. Reluctantly, Sigurd awarded the points for the race to the Sharks, although it was noticeable that they showed a certain amount of restraint in their celebration of the win. Hal had the feeling that several of Tursgud’s own crew disapproved of his actions.
By contrast, as he and his crew walked back to their quarters after stowing
Heron
’s yards and sails, he found that townspeople were approaching him, slapping him on the back and wishing him well. Word had quickly gone around the town about
Lynx
’s dismasting and the way the Heron brotherband had given up a winning lead to go back and help.
They were halfway back to their camp when they passed a ragged figure sitting on a low wall. Thorn, proudly brandishing his new wooden hook, nodded approvingly at them. Hal left the group and walked over to speak to him.
“Your father would be proud of you today,” Thorn said simply and Hal felt a prickle of tears behind his eyes.
“We lost the race,” he pointed out. Thorn shook his head.
“Maybe. But you won a lot of friends.” He slapped the boy on the shoulder. Thankfully, Hal thought, he used his left hand and not the hook. “You can always win points,” he said. “Winning people’s respect is a lot more important. Now get back to your camp.”
chapter
thirty-four
E
rak stood watching as the
Raven
slid her prow smoothly onto the shingle of the beach. As her crew set about stowing her gear and setting an anchor firmly into the sand, Zavac dropped over the bulwarks at the bow and strode to where the Oberjarl was waiting.
“Good afternoon, Oberjarl,” he said smoothly. “Did you want to talk to me, or are you just taking the air?”

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