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 design had its own peculiarities.
Slowly, as the day wore on, the two boys learned the Moro craft's ways until they could handle it fairly well. There were paddles, in case the wind failed, and Rick thought they might end up using the paddles, anyway.
As they tied up after the last practice run Zircon called them to eat, then instructed them to get some sleep. None of the four had slept more than an hour at a time since the previous morning, but the big scientist and Scotty had decided to handle the MTB themselves on the way to the pirate island, so Rick and Chahda could be fresh for the night's adventure.
After a meal of hot soup and crackers, the two boys climbed into their bunks and drifted off to sleep. Zircon and Scotty had already started the run toward Shan.