tol close at hand. He was watching the
vintas through the long glass.

Rick put on his arm guard and finger protectors. Since the vintas were
still out of bowshot he took a moment to beeswax his string. Then he
took a small broadhead arrow from the quiver, nocked it, and drew a few
times to unlimber his muscles, being careful not to let the string snap
out of his fingers.

"What now?" he asked.

"We'll go straight ahead," Zircon answered. "Chahda, use nearly full
speed on one engine. Have the second engine idling, but don't use it
unless we get into serious trouble. Notice that the vintas ahead of us
are running before the wind? If we can get through the line we'll have
the weather gauge of them. In other words, they'll have to tack with the
wind against them. We'll be able to get free easily on one engine."

Scotty pointed to a gap between a vinta with a solid purple sail and one
with blue-and-white stripes. "There's a hole to go through, Chahda."

Rick saw that the vintas ahead were closing in. The Moro craft would be
two deep by the time the MTB reached them. He loosened his quiver and
made sure the arrows were free. He might have to shoot pretty fast.

His senses were unnaturally alert. The water was bluer than blue and the
small patches of fair-weather clouds seemed brilliantly white. The sails
on the Moro craft were gaudy, their crews properly fierce and
picturesque. He was detached from the reality of the scene, as though
this were some movie he was watching.

Zircon brought him back to reality with a jolt. "Pick off the helmsmen
first!"

Rick could hear yells now, as the Moros saw that the _Swift Arrow_ was
almost within reach. He ran to the foredeck and knelt on one knee, arrow
nocked and ready. Scotty climbed to the top of the pilothouse and lay
prone, rifle thrust out.

The pirate yells were louder now, and some Moros brandished barongs or
krises while others waved rifles. Rick suppressed a shudder. If the
pirates got on board with those knives ...

The pirate fleet opened fire. A slug whined off a ventilator cowl a foot
from Rick's head, but he forced himself to wait. It was still a little
far for bow shooting. It was not too far for Scotty, however. Rick heard
the sharp crack of his pal's rifle, and saw a Moro helmsman slump over
in the nearest vinta. The craft sheered off. Another Moro jumped to take
the helmsman's place and Scotty's second shot splintered the rudder
handle in his hands.

A v