Upon coming closer to the pier, the spectators saw that the vessel was slightly smaller than a Skandian Wolfship, but could still fit around a dozen men give or take. The vessel looked like it was about to sail in, but the helmsman probably noticed Erak holding his axe so they immediately unfurled the sails and started rowing backward to slow down the momentum.
The crowd let out a sigh of relief. "Tch," said Erak,"Lucky boy."
Thorn also felt relieved that Hal had not damaged the Wolfwind, or else even he could not save the fate that was about to befall upon the young boy. The smaller ship rowed towards the beach and ran her prow up onto the sand.
The crowd on the wharf had made their way to the beach to inspect this strange new craft and to see who had been sailing her. Many of them were seamen and they had all admired the skill shown by her helmsman and crew as she shot into the harbor, rounded too neatly and came to a stop.
The more skilled among them had also noted how the ship had made her approach to the narrow harbor mouth with virtually no corrections in course. Her skipper had set course from half a kilometer out to sea and held onto it, bringing the ship straight in on one tack through the narrow harbor entrance. That required either enormous luck or the sort of instinctive ability to judge angles and distances that could never be taught.
As the crowd streamed along the beach to inspect the Heron at close quarters, surprised exclamations could be heard as they identified the crew.
The first one to get down was a boy who was just at the transitional age for turning into a young man. He had a lean build with little to no muscles. He displayed a youthful vigor in his steps. His hair, the color of burnished copper, and his eyes, a natural brown color carried a hint of boyish charm "It's Hal Mikkelson—the Araluen boy," he heard someone say. Unbeknownst to everyone, Hal sighed quietly.
Other voices added their surprised comments.
The next boy stood at a massive towering build of six feet. He was built like a bear and had hazel-colored hair.
"There's that Ingvar boy. My, but he's a big one."
"But clumsy," another added as Ingvar tried to vault lightly over the side, caught his foot on the rail, and ended up sprawling on the wet sand at the water's edge.
"There are those awful twins, too. I wonder what they're fighting about now."
Ulf and Wulf, true to their nature, were shoving and mouthing insults at each other as each tried to be first ashore. They were infamous in Hallasholm due to them bickering since day one. Even their mom could not tell them apart.
The last one to get down was more appetizing to the Skandian eyes. He was a brown haired man with a healthy pale complexion. He had a good amount of muscle, like a typical Skandian.
"And look, it's Stig Olafson. They're all just boys."
"So who was at the helm?"
Hal secured the steering oar with a looped cord and went forward, dropping over the side onto the beach.
The crowd parted as the Oberjarl thrust his way through. Erak looked around the group of five boys, standing close together. Like some of the others, he had half expected to see an older person among them.
"Who's the skirl?" he asked, although, after Thorn's earlier comments, he already had a good idea. His eyes lit on Hal and the boy looked down, scuffing his feet in the sand. Suddenly, in spite of his fierce desire to be accepted, he felt reluctant to admit to it. It seemed excessively boastful.
He felt a hand drop on his shoulder and looked up to see Stig beside him, grinning at Erak.
"It was Hal, Oberjarl. He's a master helmsman."
Stig had no qualms about claiming credit for Hal. Hal had earned their respect, and Stig was going to see he got it.
Erak studied Hal closely. Over the years, he'd kept a watchful eye on the boy and his mother. Hal's father had been a crewman on board Wolfwind, and a good skirl had an obligation to look after his crew and their families.
"So it was you. It was very pretty. Are you as skillful as your friend says? Or are you lucky?"
Hal met his gaze. He remembered the heart-stopping terror he'd felt when he'd seen the battleax in Erak's hand.
"A bit of both, I think, Oberjarl," he said. And Erak nodded, recognizing the truth in the statement.
"Nothing wrong with being lucky. What's this crazy sail plan you've got there?"
He was walking down to the ship now. Someone had placed a boarding ramp against the rail and he climbed up, studying the twin yardarms and the bundled-up sails. Hal and Stig joined him. Others clustered around the bow of the beached ship, straining to see.
"It's my design, Oberjarl. It's based on a bird's wing," Hal said. Hal had devised a new and revolutionary sail plan for his boat. The traditional worship had a tall mast. The cross yard, a wooden spar that supported the large square sail, was set at right angles. When the wind was directly astern of the ship, the square sail provided a great deal of power. Even with the wind from the side, it could still drive the ship along, although at a reduced pace.
But the square sail's weakness came when the ship was facing the wind. A wolfship could only tack, or sail into the wind, at a very shallow angle. Past that, the unsupported sides of the sails fluttered and lost shape and power.
Hal had noticed how seabirds, particularly the graceful heron, could glide forward into the wind, and he designed a triangular sail shaped like a bird's wing. Instead of a cross yard, he designed a long, flexible yardarm fastened at the bow of the ship. When this yardarm was hauled up, the front end remained fastened to the deck, so that the yard swiveled up at an angle to the ship's hull. The wind would fill the triangular sail to form a powerful, smooth curve of the canvas. A system of ropes could tauten or loosen the sail and the yardarm that supported it, moving them in or out depending on the strength and direction of the wind, so harnessing its power to drive the ship along.
What made the design even more revolutionary was that he fitted the boat with not one but two sails and yards, one on either side of the mast. If the wind blew from the right-hand side, he would raise the left-hand sail. If the wind was from the left, he would raise the right-hand sail. If the wind was from the stern—the rear of the boat—he could raise both sails at once and let them right out so that they formed a giant letter M.
The two sails could also be connected by a pulley system so that as one was lowered, it helped raise the other. In a tribute to the seabird that had inspired his radical sail design, Hal named his ship the Heron.
Erak frowned. He shoved one of the yardarms with his toe. "Why? What's the point? I mean, it's pretty, but why do you want a sail like a bird's wing?"
"She'll point higher into the wind than a square sail," Hal said.
Erak looked doubtful. "So you say."
"She'll point three times as high as a wolfship," Stig interjected indignantly. "She'll sail rings around a wolfship!"
Erak turned slowly to regard him. There was a long silence and Stig's face began to redden.
"Who are you? His lawyer?" Erak asked.
Stig cleared his throat nervously. The Oberjarl was not a man to annoy. But still, he had no right to denigrate Heron's performance. He hadn't seen what Stig and the others had seen.
"I'm his first mate," he said firmly. From the crowd below, they heard a cackle of laughter. "Good for you, boy! A first mate should always stick up for his skirl!"
"Shut up, Svengal," Erak said, without looking back.
The Oberjarl measured Stig carefully. He liked what he saw. The boy was tall, well-built and ready to meet the Oberjarl's eye, even if he was tending to go a little red in the face as he did so. Svengal was right, he thought. A good first mate should stand by his skirl. And if this boy was ready to stand by the half-Araluen boy, that fact spoke well of Hal. This pair would merit watching, he thought, making a mental note to make sure they were assigned to the same brotherband the following week.
Still, there was one point he was not prepared to let pass. He gestured at the bundled sail once more.
"You say she'll sail rings around a wolfship?"
Stig nodded determinedly. "That's right."
"Do you include my wolfship in that assessment?" Erak asked.
Stig hesitated. He glanced sidelong at Hal and saw the minuscule shake of his head, the warning look in his eye.
"Ah … of course not, Oberjarl."
Erak nodded, satisfied. "Thought as much." He nudged the yardarm with his toe again.
"Looks flimsy," he said, then turned and stepped easily down the boarding ramp, moving nimbly in spite of his bulk. Svengal followed behind his former captain.
"That boy's a genius, isn't he," said Svengal," Look how despite being an outcast, he managed to gather a crew of misfits who most people thought would amount to nothing."
"You know who would fit in with Hal and his crew," said Erak.
Svengal widened his eyes," Are you thinking~"
"Yes, I'll get Nathaniel in young Hal's crew," said Erak, with a glint in his eye.