hes. Professor, you and Scotty not good
size for Moro. You too big, and Scotty has too wide shoulders. Rick is
maybe a little tall, but not so wide. He can maybe stoop a little. Me, I
perfect for Moro. Even same color."

"You're right," Zircon agreed. "No question of it. So curb your
impatience, Scotty. Your turn will come and so will mine. Chahda, you
take the lead in figuring out disguises for you and Rick. Scotty, you
and I will take over the watch and get underway."

* * * * *

By morning the _Swift Arrow_, with the vinta in tow, was in Indonesian
waters far from shipping lanes or fishing grounds. Zircon figured their
position as 120 degrees 29 minutes longitude, and 4 degrees 21 seconds
latitude. They had seen no sails for hours.

The MTB was allowed to drift while the group went about the business of
making ready. Chahda had created a Moro cap for Rick from a piece of
upholstery he had cut from a seat bottom. Rick had cut the seams in a
pair of white duck trousers and laced them with twine from the rope
locker until they fitted as tightly as Moro pants. One of his own
shirts, dirtied up a little and left open at the collar, would complete
his outfit.

Chahda cut one of his extra turbans in half and made sashes for both of
them, and modified the wrapping of his own turban so that it was more
like the flat Moro variety.

The only real problem was Rick's color. In spite of his deep tan he
couldn't possibly pass for a Moro. He and Chahda searched the boat for
something that would serve as a stain, then finally took their problem
to the others.

Scotty had the answer. With a broad grin he went to his suitcase and
drew out a can of brown shoe polish. "Neatness pays," he proclaimed. He
passed it to Chahda with a flourish. "Don't give him too high a gloss
when you polish him."

"How about shoes?" Zircon asked. "The polish reminded me. The pirates
don't wear any."

"This pirate does," Rick declared. "I'll rub the shine off, but I can't
go barefoot."

"Also," Chahda agreed. "Foots too tender. We could not run or fight in
barefoots."

When everything was in readiness except for the application of polish,
Rick and Chahda took time to eat, then got into the vinta and began
practicing.

The craft was filthy, from years of accumulated dirt and no cleaning,
and it offended Rick's nose. But more than that, it was hard to handle.
He could sail in conventional craft, but the outrigger