They crouched low, slowly paddled to the buoy anchorage, and tied up to it. Hopefully anyone looking their way would just detect another lumpy shadow in the dark among the other skiffs. They could hear the sounds of a wild party going on farther inland which was good, but the ambient light from a huge bonfire threw a yellow glow over the beach—which was bad.
When Cheech slipped over the side, he discovered that the water was only about five feet deep. He crouched, keeping his head just above water, and waded in holding one of the .45s at high port. He lay in the shadow of a beached skiff for a few moments watching for a patrolling sentry, but the only thing they saw was a drunken pirate who walked over to a nearby palm tree to relieve himself. He never even glanced at the water, and when
