Free The Outcasts by John Flanagan

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.
    “She’s flying!”
    He hadn’t noticed Stig’s approach. He looked now into his friend’s delighted face and a huge smile broke over his own.
    “No small details overlooked,” he said and Stig pounded his shoulder with delight.
    “None indeed! She’s fantastic! She’ll sail rings around the best wolfship!”
    Hal looked down at the other boys. They were staring up in wonder at the sail, realizing 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 realized how much more efficient it would be.
    At forty degrees to the wind, Heron flew. The deck vibrated under Hal’s 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 couldn’t wait to tell Thorn about this. Couldn’t wait to show it to him. His only regret was, with brotherband training about to start, he would have little time to experiment and practice 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 path. They’d 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. “You’re going to tack her?”
    Hal nodded. “Why not? We’ll drop the port sail when she comes up into the eye of the wind, then raise the starboard one as she comes round. It’ll 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 maneuver 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 maneuver.
    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 Hal’s triangular fore-and-aft rig would come through 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 toward the still distant headland. “That lump of rock isn’t getting any farther 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 Heron ’s momentum kept her turning. On Hal’s 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 Heron ’s 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