“Golly, massa!” said Congo, as soon as he could recover his breath and speak. “Dat was a near t’ing! I owe you a life. Maybe I pay it some day.”
“All right, Congo. Don’t worry about that. I must go below for my guns.”
As he was about to do so a voice sang out in stentorian tones that sounded clearly above the roaring of the storm:
“All for the boats! We can’t wait any longer.”
“Leave de guns, massa,” said Congo. “T’ink ob your life.”
Buffalo Bill concluded that this was good advice to follow under the circumstances. Helping Congo along, he hurried across the slippery deck to the side where one of the boats was even then being launched.
He helped the three women into it, and then motioned to Congo to enter, following himself.
The other boats were being got away at the same time, and in a few moments all the crew and passengers who survived had left the doomed vessel, which sank below the waves with a heavy lurch after they had got a little distance away from it.
The danger of their position was understood by all, and it is probable that not a soul in the company expected to set foot on dry land again.
All through the long night, however, the men battled manfully at the oars trying to keep the head of the boats to the waves and avoid being capsized.