It was not necessary, indeed, to sound the well; for it was obvious to the veriest landsman that the schooner was sinking, and must soon disappear beneath the raging billows.
“We must take to the boats at once,” said Captain Meinhold to Buffalo Bill, who was standing calmly by his side, as fearless on sea as on land.
“There is no other course,” the scout agreed. “The schooner is evidently doomed.”
Having anticipated the order which was now given to them, the sailors who survived had already commenced to cut loose the boats, ready for launching.
“I will run down below and get my weapons,” Cody said to Meinhold. “I would not lose them for a trifle.”
He turned to execute this purpose, and as he got to the head of the companionway a tall negro came rushing up the stairs and butted into him. He was Joe Congo, the steward of the vessel, and one of the best specimens of the African race to be met with anywhere.
“No time to go below, Massa Cody,” the black cried to him. “De ole ship go down plumb quick now.”
Buffalo Bill would have gone, nevertheless; but at that moment another wave came sweeping over the vessel, carrying Joe Congo off his feet.
The border king, who was gripping a rail on the companion, caught hold of the man with an iron grip, just in time to prevent him from being swept overboard.