The Hindu boy checked to be sure his knives were at hand, then took over from Scotty, who laid out extra clips and got ready to fire.
Zircon had extra clips for his pistol 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.