The boat didn't budge. This worried Tui, since he was pulling with all his qi-enhanced strength. It was finally ready to sail, and he couldn't get it to the water. He hauled on the rope again, his feet sinking deeply into the sand.

The issue was that he had no leverage, nothing to brace himself upon, and it was a heavy boat. This wasn't going to work. He needed to rethink his approach.

He had built the proa where the log had fallen. It was a good spot. There was shade, and it was far enough from the water that he needn't worry about the tide taking it away, but close enough that it should be easy to launch. Except the boat was so damn heavy.

Tui took a break for lunch. He husked a green coconut and drank the refreshing liquid inside. Then cracked it open and scraped out the tender meat, enjoying the delicate flavor.

Then he got up and started making some rollers. He should have done this ages ago, but cutting poles was such a pain with a hand axe, and they took a long time to drop by burning. But there was nothing else to do. He clearly wasn't going to move the boat without them.

He started six little fires at the bases of trees with the correct diameter. Then ran around like a headless chicken keeping the flames from burning too high or going out altogether. Moxie thought it was a great game and scampered alongside him, sometimes underneath and getting stepped upon.

The trees came down one after the other. He trimmed the branches and cut the logs to size. By the time he'd finished, it was the end of the day.

Progress was slow on the proa. Work would go so much faster if he had metal axes and saws! Instead, he was stuck using stone tools. How was he supposed to get things done in a timely manner with rocks?

Tui took a deep breath of clean air, then breathed out the negative emotions. He'd come a long way and built it all from nothing. The boat was finally ready to sail, and he had done the work using the stone tools that his people had used for thousands of years.

The vessel brought back childhood memories of sailing with his Pappa. It was a strange-looking craft if viewed with Imperial eyes. It was asymmetrical and spindly compared to large hulled junks, and his crabclaw sail looked strange if you were only familiar with huge ribbed sails. But proas could sail much faster in the same wind, and they handled well even in heavy seas.

A sailing platform perched several feet above the long, narrow hull. The platform hung out over the water on one side of the hull and spread over to the outrigger on the other. A small shelter was built on the platform above the outrigger, leaving the area over the hull clear for work.

He hoped it sailed as nicely as it looked. Tomorrow he would launch.

***

The next morning found him lifting the proa with a long lever and slipping a roller under the hull. A tricky operation for one man to perform, and it took a while to accomplish, but in the end, he had three rollers under the boat.

He spaced the rest of the rollers before the boat and got ready to move it. He concentrated for a moment to bring fire into his blood. The weeks of cultivation practice were finally beginning to pay off.

With his feet planted firmly, Tui heaved on the woven rope. The proa resisted at first, then moved forward, slipping and rolling on the logs beneath.

He hauled again, and it rolled forward onto the next log. He ran to grab the roller left behind and leapfrogged it to the front of the line. When he reached the inclined beach, the boat began accelerating down the slope on its own. It rolled off the logs faster than he could replace them, and the vessel slid to a halt a few feet from the water.

So close.

He spent another half hour levering it up and placing the rollers to move it the last small distance. With one last push, the proa was launched, gliding lightly over the water. Tui scrambled aboard and pushed it out with a pole. He switched to a paddle, propelling himself forward with long sweeps. It glided like a dancer over the waves, wonderfully responsive to every stroke.

He was finally on the water! A giddy feeling of excitement rushed through him. He had a way to escape his imprisonment on the island. He would find people again, and civilization! He might not have the option to return to the Empire, but the rest of the world was opening in front of his eyes.

Tui had never sailed a boat by himself before. He'd watched his father sail many times as a boy, and he knew how it was supposed to work, but it was all theory, no practice.

He stepped the mast into the socket at the front of the hull, resting the sail against the platform over the hull. A spar was used to lift the mast into the wind, and the proa began to move! The boat pointed itself into the wind and stalled, sail luffing, flapping in the breeze.

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Tui rushed to the stern and slipped the long rudder paddle into position, plunging deeply into the water. He should have done this before raising the mast.

He trimmed the sail to grab some wind and felt the boat respond, leaning slightly before the breeze. It began moving forward again, slowly, sail still slightly luffing.

Pointing the proa slightly away from the wind granted a burst of power, and the proa leaped forward. The outrigger on the lee side of the proa kept the boat from heeling over in the wind, allowing the sail to work effectively. It was an exhilarating rush to feel his boat moving through the water, seeing the spray as he sliced through the sea. He laughed out loud in pure joy.

It was a delight to sail this craft. It moved so responsively, like he was flying over the water! He twisted the rudder, exploring how well it performed at different points of the wind, adjusting the sail as he turned. He zig-zagged out into the bay. This was marvelous!

Before he knew it, he was nearly upon the barrier reef, more than a league from shore. He turned the proa away from the rapidly approaching shoal.

He barely had time to realize his mistake as he watched the outrigger lift out of the water, then rotate over his head as the proa capsized.

He had turned the boat so that the outrigger was on the windward side, leaving nothing to counteract the force of the wind on the sail.

Tui was pitched into the water. He felt a rising panic, horrified at the thought that he'd wrecked the boat he had worked on for so long.

It lay on its side with the outrigger pointed into the air, the sail sinking as the boat slowly rolled over. He had to prevent it from rolling completely over, or it might never get back up.

He scrambled back onto the hull and grasped the outrigger with outstretched arms, throwing his weight back in an attempt to reverse the rotation.

There was a long moment before it became clear that the boat was rolling back in the right direction. Ponderously, the mast approached the surface. It broke free of the water and rose back into the air, lowering Tui and the outrigger into the sea.

No sooner had the outrigger touched down when another gust hit the raised sail, rolling the boat over once more!

Tui considered the situation, his mind racing as he tried to find a way to save his boat. Without the outrigger in a position to stabilize, the proa would flip as soon as the wind hit the raised sail.

Tue swam to the halyard keeping the sail aloft, untying it. Then scrambled back to the outrigger and repeated the righting maneuver. As the proa flipped upright, the sail fell in a soggy heap, and the boat did not try to capsize again.

The wind blew the proa slowly toward the shoal. The coral was sharp and hungry, waiting to tear the bottom out of his boat. Tuik kept his weight over the outrigger and partially raised the sail. The wind tried to flip him again, but his weight kept the vessel upright. He worked the rudder and slowly turned the proa until the outrigger was back on the lee side of the hull.

Then he unstepped the mast and ran it to the stern of the vessel, re-stepping it at the socket on that side.

A proa sailed equally well in both directions. Instead of tacking like an imperial boat, it shunted backward and forwards, changing direction while keeping the outrigger to the lee side.

Tui relocated the rudder to the new stern.

The reef was approaching quickly, but Tui finally had things in control once more. He pulled on the halyard, raising the sail all the way into the wind. He felt the proa lean into the outrigger as it gathered power and surged back the way he'd come.

The wind dried the water from his body as he sailed back to the island. He found a smile back on his face as he felt the beautiful boat pick up speed.

He had been careless and had nearly lost his boat, something he had spent more than two months building from scratch. He had made a thoughtless move and had escaped without consequences. Luck wouldn't always be on his side, and he shouldn't count on it. He should let this be a lesson for him.

He opened a hatch to gauge how much water had entered during the capsize and was pleased to see that it was mostly dry. He scooped out as much as he could with his hands, making a mental note to include a bucket or something on his next run.

The proa shunted back and forth up the wind until arriving at the beach nearest his hut. He turned it into the wind and watched the speed fall away, the sail luffing gently. Scrambling forward and opening a hatch, he pulled out a large stone tied to a rope. He dropped it over the side and watched it sink through the crystal-clear water, coming to a rest on the ocean floor. A second anchor was dropped from the stern. Then he started looking for his fishing gear.

***

Tui left the proa anchored out and swam to shore holding a string of freshly caught fish. It was better to leave the boat anchored offshore than to try beaching it. Beaching left it vulnerable to the pounding waves and hidden rocks. Not to mention the risk of being left high and dry by the tide when he wanted to head out.

He walked back to the hut in a great mood. It was mid-afternoon, and his goals were accomplished for the day.

There was still work to be done. He needed a store of food and water to bring aboard. A course needed plotting, though he didn't have a map, which made it a little more difficult. Maybe Uncle Ari would be able to help.

As he walked around the bend, the hut came into view. Its presence had greatly improved his quality of life. He didn't know if he would ever find out what happened to the original occupant, but he felt grateful to whoever it was.

He hung the fish inside the doorway, and let his eyes adjust to the dim interior light. There was a panicked scrambling in the corner of the hut. Moxie leaped off his bed, then walked toward the corner, looking away from him. As if he hadn't even noticed Tui walking in.

"Moxie! What were you doing on my bed! You know that's off limits."

The pig glanced up at him, wide-eyed. An innocent expression on his face.

"Yes, you! I saw you on there!"

With a wounded air of unfair treatment, Moxie squeezed past him through the doorway and walked casually out of sight around the corner. Tui heard the pig crashing through the woods as he bolted away, out of sight.

Tui shook his head and smiled at the antics. He stoked the fire and placed the pot on to boil. It had been a good day!