The four watched as the land mass slowly took shape. "It's a mountain, all right," Zircon said, excitement in his booming voice. "Looks like a volcanic cone. Can you see it clearly, Scotty?"
"It's a cone, and not much land under it, either. Hey! Vintas ahead! Must be a hundred of them!"
Rick felt excitement surge through him. That was too many vintas for a simple fishing community on an island of small size!
"They're forming a line between us and the island!" Scotty called down a moment later.
Rick could make out the tips of sails, and as the Swift Arrow forged ahead, the entire fleet slowly came into view. Scotty was right. The vintas were in a line—like a planned defense!
The island was almost entirely visible, now. A volcanic cone, perhaps five hundred feet high, formed most of the island. From the base of the cone, flat land spread out toward the oncoming MTB, ending in a white beach.
"Get within gunshot of the vintas," Zircon directed grimly. "Let's see if they're really hostile. If they are, we'll know we've found something. And forget the crippled engine disguise. It's served its purpose."
Rick figured his course carefully. He would take the MTB on a gradually sweeping curve that would place them within gunshot, but in a position to beat a fast retreat. In a few minutes, now, they would be in position. He kept his fingers crossed. Things looked promising. If this were only the end of the search.
He throttled back a little, in order to keep a good amount of speed in reserve, and kept the MTB on the course he had planned, sweeping toward one end of the vinta line. He saw the outrigger craft back their sails as they turned to intercept him. Then, as the long curve brought him within rifle range he put the helm hard over, running broadside to the line of bright sails.
Scotty called, "Watch it! Heads down!" The boy was flat on the top of the pilothouse now, his own rifle within reach.