This was their first major seagoing assessment. It was a test of their seamanship, shiphandling and ability to work as a crew. They would race the other two brotherbands around a four-sided, diamond-shaped course. Fifty meters away lay
Porpoise,
with Tursgud at the helm. Beyond her was
Lynx,
Rollond’s ship. Like
Heron,
they were stationary, with a few oars out to maintain their position short of the line.
Unlike
Heron,
which carried a total of eight oars, the other ships were pierced for six oars a side. In addition, each was equipped with a big square sail. They were former fast coastal traders that had been co-opted as training ships for the brotherband program. There had been a third ship, intended for the Herons. But Hal had sought, and gained, permission to compete in the
Heron
. As a result, the third ship had been returned to its owners and was currently trading down the coast.
“I don’t know,” Erak had said doubtfully as he studied the little ship. “She still looks a bit on the flimsy side to me.” But eventually, he gave way, adding cryptically, “It’s your bad luck if things go wrong.”
Nothing’s going to go wrong, Hal thought as he studied the
Porpoise
. Her lines were similar to a wolfship’s, although she was much smaller and wider in the beam. But, like all Skandian ships, even though her primary purpose was trading, she was built so that, in an emergency, she could be used to augment the wolfship fleet as a fighting vessel.
Lynx,
farther away, was virtually identical to
Porpoise.
They would be quite fast, Hal judged, particularly with a stern wind. Although to his biased eye, they didn’t look as fast as the
Heron
.
“Back water, oars,” he called softly. They had drifted too close to the start line for his liking. If they crossed it before the signal, they would have to turn round, sail back and cross it again—all of which would cost them time. The oarsmen gave one reverse thrust on their oars to check the ship’s movement.
He glanced up at the wind telltale, a long pennant that streamed from the stern post, showing the wind’s direction. The wind would be coming from over their starboard quarter until they reached the first turning point.
The judges were in a small fishing smack, bobbing up and down in the middle of the course. They were positioned so that they could see if any of the three racers crossed the line early.
Hal glanced forward. The port side yardarm and sail were laid out, ready to hoist. He saw Jarst, in the fishing boat, raise a horn to his lips and heard the mournful tone booming across the water.
“Thirty-second warning!” he called. “Start counting, Edvin.”
“One jolly goblin. Two jolly goblins. Three jolly goblins …” Edvin counted off the seconds in a flat monotone, using his own formula to time the gaps.
Hal’s eyes darted everywhere, taking in the ship’s position, the position of the other two ships, the start line and his own crew. Stig and Ingvar were forward, ready to haul the sail and its yard up the mast.
“… sixteen jolly goblins … ,” Edvin intoned.
Hal glanced quickly left and right. “Ulf and Wulf. Get ready to haul the sail tight. Jesper, Stefan, back water two strokes.”
“… twenty jolly goblins. Twenty-one jolly goblins …”
“In oars!”
The two oars were drawn in and stowed with the usual clatter of wood on wood. Stefan and Jesper moved to stand ready to help the twins trim the sail once it was hoisted.
“… twenty-six jolly goblins …”
“Haul away!” Hal yelled and Ingvar and Stig bent to the halyards, sending the yardarm soaring up the stumpy mast, taking the sail with it. The wind caught the sail and set it flapping. Hal saw Ulf and Wulf reaching for the ropes controlling the sail.
“Wait!” he called. If they hauled in too soon, the ship might gather way and cross the line early.
“… thirty jolly goblins. Thirty-one jolly goblins …”
The signal should have sounded by now, he thought. Edvin must have been counting too fast. Or perhaps the judges’ timer was faulty. Either way, they had drifted perilously close to the start line and still there had been no signal to start. In a few more seconds they would be across the line. For a moment, Hal considered ordering the crew back to the oars. But if he did that and the signal sounded while they were moving, the result would be utter confusion. Still …
“Thirty-four jolly goblins”—Edvin’s voice was tight with the strain—“thirty-five … oh, thank Lorgan for that!”
The last few words were torn from Edvin as the signal horn blared once more.
“Heave in!” Hal yelled and the Herons heaved on the ropes, swinging the long curving yard to the most efficient position to catch the wind, then bringing the sail up taut to form that beautiful curve.
Heron
leapt ahead as the harnessed power of the wind hit her sail. She leaned with the wind, the water rushing past beneath her rail, the usual trail of bubbles forming at one of her planks, just below the waterline. She was leaning too far, Hal thought.
“Ease the sail a little!” he ordered. He saw Stig directing the others, letting the sail out so that the ship rode more upright. That allowed her hull to bite more firmly against the water beneath her and reduced her downwind drift. Hal heaved the steering oar to the left and brought her bow slightly upwind. She sliced into a stray wave and sheets of spray flew back over the steering platform.
“Edvin!” he called. Edvin was detailed to watch the other ships and report any significant changes in their position.
“They’ve both hoisted sails,” he replied. “
Porpoise
was first and she gained a little. But now
Lynx
is matching her.” He paused, leaning forward and peering under his hand to see more clearly. “They’re dropping downwind,” he reported.
Hal nodded in satisfaction. The big square sails of the other two ships would drive them downwind faster than
Heron
’s more efficient triangular sail. That meant that the other ships would have to cover a greater distance to reach the first turning point. He flexed his hands on the steering oar, feeling a surge of pleasure at his ship’s superior performance. Too flimsy, Erak, he thought. I’ll show you flimsy!
Hal glanced around to see where the other two ships lay. They were well downwind of him, although both of them were moving fast. He looked to the right side—the starboard side—and saw that the judges’ boat had moved up the course to observe them rounding the marker, making sure nobody fell short.
The
Heron
would need to turn to the right to round the marker, and as they did so, the wind would shift from just off their stern, till it was coming over their starboard bow. The second marker would then be almost directly upwind. They couldn’t head straight for it. They’d have to sail upwind at an angle to the second marker, then judge the right moment to turn to a new course that would take them round it.
The first marker buoy was plunging toward them now, almost upon them. Hal watched it fly past his shoulder, then yelled his orders.
“Haul in! Haul in!” He leaned back against the steering oar, dragging the ship’s head around to the right in a turn that left a flurry of white water in their wake. Stig and the others hauled on the ropes controlling the sail and the yardarm.
Heron
was pointing far closer to the wind than either of the other ships could manage. Hal glanced over his shoulder to see what they were up to.
He saw
Porpoise
’s big square sail come sliding down the mast, then caught a flicker of movement on either side of her hull.
They’ve run out the oars, he thought, just as the sunlight gleamed off the oars swinging forward. Then they dipped and dragged backward into the sea. There was another flash of sunlight on white wood as they rose and swung forward again to take another bite at the ocean.
“
Porpoise
is rowing!” Edvin reported. “She’s heading directly upwind!”
Interesting, thought Hal. Tursgud could row directly into the teeth of the wind, covering a much shorter distance than
Heron
would on her dogleg course. Initially, with all her rowers fresh,
Porpoise
might well move faster than the
Heron.
But how long could they keep that up? The rowers would tire, while the wind driving
Heron
would remain constant.
“What’s
Lynx
up to?” he demanded. He couldn’t keep looking the wrong way and besides, he had Edvin to keep him informed.
“Still under sail,” Edvin told him. “But she’s falling way behind.”
She would. She couldn’t match
Heron
’s performance sailing up into the wind.
“
Porpoise
is gaining on us!” Edvin called. His voice cracked with excitement. Hal glared at him.
“Calm down. They’re still fresh,” he said. But he glanced at the Sharks’ craft and measured angles and distances with his eye. She was definitely catching them, he thought. He heaved the tiller to the left, trying to head farther upwind. He heard Stig’s warning shout.
“We’re luffing!”
That meant the sail was fluttering, losing power as she came too close to the wind. Instantly, Hal let her fall off a little until the sail came taut again. They’d just have to hope that Tursgud’s men would tire before they reached the mark. This was the leg of the race where
Heron
should have an advantage. It was her best chance to gain distance on the other ships. But Tursgud’s tactic of going to the oars might well nullify that. For a moment, Hal felt a tingle of doubt up his spine. Then he set his jaw in a determined line. He’d just have to play it out and see what happened, he thought.
Heron
sliced into another wave and spray sheeted high on either side of the bow, drenching the sail handlers crouched by the bulwarks. Hal nodded to himself. The waves were getting steeper. That would slow the
Porpoise
down, he thought. The crew would tire more quickly as they hauled the heavy boat into the wind and the waves.
“She’s dropping behind!” Edvin yelled triumphantly. He’d been measuring the
Porpoise
’s position relative to their own ship with one eye closed, and using the backstay rope as a reference point. After holding that viewpoint for some twenty seconds, he could see that the other boat was gradually losing ground.
“Where’s
Lynx
?” Hal asked.
Edvin pointed to port. “She’s dropped farther downwind. She’s traveling fast, but she’s making too much leeway.”
The wind was blowing the Wolves’ ship farther and farther off course. They might be moving fast through the water, but they were heading away from the turning point.
Hal narrowed his eyes in concentration as he watched the flag that marked the next turning point. It was some distance away and from time to time it was lost from sight as the buoy dipped into the trough of a wave. They wouldn’t turn at the buoy this time. He had to judge the moment when to bring the
Heron
onto a new course that would take her to the left of the flag.
He hesitated, estimating angles, drift and distance. Any minute now, he thought.
“Stand by to tack!” he yelled. Ingvar and Stig scuttled forward, the first mate holding Ingvar’s arm and leading him over the clutter of oars, ropes and sail. The other boys crouched by the ropes, ready to let go on his command.
“Let go!” Hal yelled and, as the ropes were cast loose and the sail flapped wildly, “Down port. Up starboard!”
Ingvar and Stig heaved on the port yard’s halyards until the spar came free from the stirrup holding it at the masthead. Then as the sail and yard slid down the mast, they hauled the starboard sail up to the masthead. At the same time, Hal swung the tiller to the left, dragging the boat’s bow to the right, into the wind, then across it as the boat cut round in a neat curve.
The port side sail came down. The starboard sail slid up into place. For a moment, it flapped wildly as the wind took it. Then Stig and the others heaved on the controlling ropes, and the sail shaped itself into that beautiful swelling curve again and the ship accelerated through the water.
“Haul in!” he heard Stig yelling and the sail handlers fastened the ropes, whipping rapid coils round the belaying pins set along the bulwarks.
He glanced over his shoulder and laughed aloud as he saw they were cutting across
Porpoise
’s path—and leaving her behind. Her oars weren’t moving quite as evenly now as some of the rowers tired and lost their rhythm. By contrast,
Heron
was flying, gaining distance on her rival with every second.
She cleared the turning point with twenty meters to spare. Hal heaved on the tiller, bringing the bow farther to starboard.
Again, Stig and the crew hauled on the ropes to tighten the sail until they were flying down the third leg of the course. By the time the other ships reached the turning point, he’d be more than halfway along this leg. They’d made up the distance …
“
Lynx
is in trouble!” Edvin called.