Free The Outcasts by John Flanagan Page B

a person looks upward, they had allowed their mouths to gape open.
    “Stop gawking at me like hungry seagulls and someone go fetch the Oberjarl,” he yelled. Obediently, most of the mouths closed and one of the sailors headed off at a run for the Oberjarl’s hall.
    “What is she, Klaud?” called one of the sailors.
    The mate shrugged. “Some strange kind of ship. She has a weird-looking pointy sail,” he added.
    That set them all talking. None of them had ever heard of such a sail. They weren’t even sure what he meant.
    “You want us to sound the alarm?” another called and he shook his head.
    “She’s only small. No more than half a dozen men on board. But keep your axes handy just in case.” He touched the hilt of his knife, reassuring himself that it was riding on his hip in its scabbard. No sense in facing strangers without a weapon of some sort.
    He turned his attention back to the ship. She was closer now. He pursed his lips in surprise as he realized how quickly she was closing the distance to the harbor. And she was arrowing for the narrow harbor entrance. His skilled eyes gauged angles, distances and leeway for a few seconds, projecting her path over the intervening distance. He realized that if she held her current course, she would slide straight through the middle of the narrow harbor mouth. He nodded his approval of the unknown helmsman.
    “Knows what he’s doing,” he remarked to the lookout, who glanced at him, uncomprehending. Klaud realized that the young man had no appreciation of the skill that was being displayed. He shook his head wearily.
    “Forget it,” he said.
     
    On board Heron, Hal had just made the same mental projection of course and angles. He smiled to himself, satisfied with his ship and his own judgment. Stig had rejoined him on the steering platform once the sail was reset on the new tack.
    “You’re not taking her back to the creek?” he asked, although it was obvious that Hal had no intention of doing so.
    “I think we’ve earned the right to show off a little, don’t you?” Hal said.
    Stig raised his eyebrows. “I don’t see the rest of us showing off too much. But then, you seem to be doing enough for everyone.” He leaned across Hal to look past the bow toward the harbor. “I guess we’d better get the oars ready.”
    But Hal shook his head. “No oars. I’m sailing her in.”
    That definitely caught Stig’s attention. He looked back at his friend.
    “Talk about showing off,” he said.
    “I think I’ve earned the right,” Hal told him and Stig shook his head.
    “Well, I’d better get the fenders rigged for when you sail headlong into the wharf. Try not to hit the Oberjarl’s ship. You do know she’s moored directly opposite the harbor mouth, don’t you? Or is that another of those ‘small details’ you sometimes overlook?”
    “Of course I know that,” Hal replied. In fact, he had overlooked that small but rather important fact. “Don’t worry. I won’t be hitting anything,” he muttered. Then, realizing that his friend might have a point, and that the harbor was a rather restricted space, he called to Ulf and Wulf.
    “Let the sail out a little, boys.”
    “I’ll do it,” Ulf said. Or perhaps it was Wulf.
    “Get out of the way. I’ll do it,” his brother, Wulf (or Ulf), snapped. They glared at each other.
    “JUST DO IT!” Hal yelled and they both jumped to the ropes, letting the sail out so that their speed reduced. As the wind pressure eased, Hal felt the bow of the ship come a little to the right. He adjusted the tiller to compensate.
    He wished he had the nerve to sail full speed into the harbor but Stig was right. If he misjudged, it could be very embarrassing. For a moment, he had a ghastly mental picture of Heron with her bow buried deep into the splintered flank of the Oberjarl’s wolfship and he shuddered at the thought. Wolfwind was Erak’s pride and joy. Once, when a visiting wolfship had accidentally scraped her