BUFFALO BILL IN A WRECK.
The Great Lakes of the United States--yes, and even some of the smaller
ones--are often the scenes of storms as terrible as those which occur
on the broad bosom of any ocean on the face of the globe.
But there was never a worse storm on any of them than that which raged
one night, soon after Buffalo Bill’s return to Fort McPherson, on the
dark waters of a large lake on the edge of the great plains.
Driving before the squall which had come down with awful suddenness was
a schooner containing the surveying party that had been sent out from
Fort McPherson to make surveys and take soundings of the lake.
The party was under the command of our friend Captain Meinhold, and
with him on the _Enterprise_ was his old and trusted friend, Buffalo
Bill, who had been requested, at the last moment, to accompany him.
There were several surveyors in the party, and their assistants,
besides the sailors of the vessel and a few soldiers from Captain
Meinhold’s company, who acted as an escort.
Terrified almost out of their wits by the violence of the wind and the
fearful height to which the waves ran, tossing the craft up and down as
if it were a mere cockleshell, were also three women, wives of three of
the surveyors.
Suddenly, when the storm was at its height, a wave swept over the
quarter of the schooner, washing away a deck house and carrying five
men with it.
To save them was impossible. Even if the skipper could have worn
schooner, instead of merely driving helplessly before the wind, they
could not have been found and picked up on such a stormy night in such
a raging sea.
A few minutes later the mainmast went by the board, killing two more
men and leaving the vessel a helpless wreck.
The skipper was one of the two men killed by the fall of the mast. His
mate had been washed overboard. There was no one left who was competent
to navigate the vessel, even if she had been navigable.
The well had been sounded a little while before, and it had been found
that the craft was leaking badly.
Captain Meinhold ordered one of the seamen to find out if the water was
gaining. The man did so, and returned with the terrible news that it
was simply pouring in and the schooner was fast settling down.
“She’s nothing but a sieve now,” said the man. “The fall of the
mainmast just racked her to pieces and opened the seams.”
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.
“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.
Again and again large volumes of water poured over the sides and had to
be bailed out.
It seemed as though the night would never wear through, but at last
it ended, and with the first rosy streaks of dawn the sea moderated
somewhat.
The welcome sun revived the sinking spirits of the worn-out men in the
boats, and they looked around eagerly for signs of land, but they could
see none.
They had little or no knowledge of their location. They had been
somewhere near the center of the lake when they were wrecked, but
the only men who could have given them any exact idea of their
bearings--the captain and the mate--were both dead.
Buffalo Bill, who had been looking around constantly, in accordance
with his usual habit, suddenly exclaimed:
“Hello, what’s the matter with that boat? She’s going over, by thunder!
Bad management there! See!”
There was no need to call attention to the foundering craft. Yells from
a dozen voices in it did that. It was the biggest boat of the lot, and
carried the greatest number of men.
Then the oval bottom of the boat was seen, with several men clinging to
it for dear life, while others were struggling in the water, upborne by
life preservers and floating like corks on the billows.
The capsized boat was perhaps about thirty or forty yards from the one
in which Buffalo Bill was sitting, and the other was not much farther
off.
Both came to her relief as speedily as possible, not without increased
peril to themselves. This was still more augmented when some of the
struggling swimmers came clinging to the sides of the boats and begging
to be taken in.
These appeals, of course, could not be disregarded, and the sufferers
were hauled in as fast as they came.
Some of them, however, being strong and brave men, and seeing that
their comrades were making an attempt to right the boat, swam back
to aid in it, for the danger of overloading the two other craft was
apparent to all.
Captain Meinhold called for volunteers to follow him into the water and
help to right the boat, and Buffalo Bill was the first to respond.
Luckily the sea had now gone down still farther, though it was still
running high, and thus making the task one of extreme difficulty.
All of the men in the water were buoyed up by life preservers, but
unfortunately two soldiers who had not worn any had sunk when the boat
first went over.
For a time the violence of the sea defeated all the efforts of the men
to right the boat, but at last they got it over on its keel again and
with infinite labor bailed it free of the water.
Its crew got back, and the other men swam to their boats and were
hauled in.
The men were so thoroughly worn out by their labors that Captain
Meinhold realized that it was hopeless to try to head for land at
present.
He advised them not to still further exhaust their strength by any
attempt at making progress while the sea still continued rough, but
merely to keep the heads of the boats straight with the waves and
avoid being caught broadside on.
“No matter which way we go or how far or how little,” he said, “let
your aim be only to keep from filling and upsetting. After it becomes
calmer it will be time enough to try to make progress. A few miles more
or less now can make little difference. These waves cannot always roll
like this. The sea seems to be going down all the time.”
The advice was followed. The utmost vigilance was observed by all, and
every attention was given to “trimming ship” by changing positions at
critical moments.
Now and then, when nothing else apparently would have saved the boats,
some of the boldest of the men would spring overboard on the elevated
side and by clinging to it restore the equilibrium.
Thus the day wore on until afternoon. No one but Buffalo Bill continued
to be hopeful, for they seemed to have been saved so long only by a
series of miracles--and miracles could not go on like that forever.
Had it not been for the border king’s cheery voice and manner some of
the men would have thrown down their oars in blank despair; but his
heroic helpfulness inspired new life and courage in many a sinking
heart.
Fortunately there was as yet no lack of provisions. The schooner’s
larder had been well provisioned for the surveying trip, and some of
the food had been brought up and distributed before the boats left the
sinking craft. The passengers and sailors carried their rations as
best they could in their pockets or in the loose bosoms of their rough
shirts.
Buffalo Bill continued to talk a great deal, whatever else he might
chance to be doing, and listeners were not wanting; for the sound of a
cheerful voice without a tremor in it was very welcome amid a babel of
wails and groans and stifled shrieks--welcome even to those who, having
lost their nerve, contributed most to the dismal chorus.
The king of the scouts took his turn regularly at rowing and at
bailing, for he never shirked a duty--but whether he was doing these
things, or taking a brief rest, or clambering with others over the
highest gunwale of the boat to avoid a threatened upsetting, he talked
incessantly, loudly cheering, sometimes even jokingly.
Many a pallid face in all three boats looked wonderingly into his and
caught his infectious hope.
Captain Meinhold acknowledged his valuable services in this way again
and again, and at one time said to him, pointing the compliment with an
expressive look:
“I begin to think we shall get through safely after all, old fellow. We
certainly ‘carry Cæsar.’”
“I don’t know about that,” was the quick response. “Perhaps you carry
Jonah.”
It was right that such a man, who had long sustained the despairing
hearts of his fellow voyagers, should be the first to discover for them
the signs of a well-grounded hope of safety.
About noon the clouds which had been obscuring the sky began to break
away, and the sun came out in all its glory, lighting a pathway through
the distant haze.
“Land ahead!” shouted Buffalo Bill, in stentorian tones.
“Land ahead!” came back in wild response from the other boats, while
cheer after cheer rose again and again, until the glad voices failed
from exhaustion.
The land was miles distant, and they had only the vaguest idea of what
sort of place it might be.
In all probability it was a wilderness inhabited by savage Indians,
who, although nominally at peace with the white man, would yet not
hesitate to take their scalps when they saw their weak, if not utterly
hopeless, condition.
Buffalo Bill wished now that Congo had not prevented him from dashing
down below and getting his weapons. They were likely to be badly needed
when that land was reached.
But the rest of the company recked little of the dangers which might
confront them ashore. The main fact in their minds was that there in
front of them was the solid earth--grass-covered, tree-crowned, and
beautiful. Could they but reach it and feel sure that a watery grave no
longer yawned for them they felt that their happiness would be complete.
The greatest care was still needed, for there was danger that the
excitement of this joy might produce some indiscretion which would
result in wrecking them on the shore.
They were no longer content to remain stationary, and the boats were
urged forward with moderate speed, instead of being simply kept head-on
to the waves. But as every man was now hopeful and vigilant, and ready
to plunge into the water, if necessary, in order to prevent a disaster,
the peril rapidly diminished.
Their new hope did not deceive them. There began to be more appreciable
abatement in the violence of the waves and the wind--slight, yet
plainly perceptible.
After an hour and a half of laborious rowing they drew near the shore.
Long before the keels grated on the pebbly beach some of the men jumped
overboard in their excitement and swam to the shore. They were eager
to set their feet firmly on it and make sure that it was no mirage--no
mocking dream.
The place where they had landed was utterly unknown even to Buffalo
Bill, for he had not hitherto explored the coasts of the lake. For all
that he knew they might be a hundred miles from any human habitation,
except, perhaps, those of men whom it would be dangerous to meet--the
redskins.
While most of the men rested and ate their rations the border king set
out with Captain Meinhold on an exploring trip.
The news which they had to bring back when they returned to their party
toward evening was not encouraging.
They had discovered that they had landed on an island--and one of no
great dimensions, either.
They had seen no signs of human habitations--not even a track or so
much as a broken twig to show that the place was visited by men from
the mainland.
This was not strange, for it was evident to the two explorers that the
island could not support life for any length of time, certainly not for
such a large party as theirs.
The men ate their supper gloomily when they heard these tidings. They
had had enough of the boats and never wanted to enter them again, but
it was evident that they must.
“Let us wait here for to-night, at all events,” said a young fellow
named Hare, who was one of the surveyors, and was now having his first
taste of Western life, having been born and bred in the East, where
he had left his wife and his people when he got his appointment as
surveyor in the government service.
Buffalo Bill agreed that this was a good idea, and all of the party
made themselves as comfortable as they could for the night. They were
too tired to talk, and soon after dark nearly all of them were fast
asleep.
The border king and Captain Meinhold did not think it was necessary to
set a watch during the night, for they had satisfied themselves that
the island was absolutely uninhabited.
Besides, all the men were too tired to do sentry duty, unless their
lives certainly and surely depended upon it. Even then it was doubtful
if they would have been able to keep awake.
In the morning they were all feeling better for their long and
refreshing sleep, but a new difficulty presented itself. Their stock
of provisions was running perilously low, and the island afforded
apparently no chance of replenishing it.
This naturally hastened the departure from the island, and the men
rowed lustily for the mainland, still out of sight. The bad weather had
abated, though the sea was still by no means smooth. The work was hard,
but not by any means so exhausting as on the previous day.
“It looks as if we shall get through our troubles after all,” said
Captain Meinhold to Cody.
“I’m sure I hope so,” said the king of the scouts. “When we hit the
land we must try to find out where we are, and then make a bee line
for Fort McPherson. It won’t be an easy journey, I’m afraid, in the
wretched condition we are in. Why, we haven’t even got a rifle with
which to shoot game.”
Needless to say, Cody did not let the men overhear this last rather
gloomy view of the case. He whispered it to Captain Meinhold. To them
he kept a face as smiling and a manner as cheery as ever.
All day the men rowed, but when darkness fell they were still out of
sight of land.
During the night another violent squall sprang up on the treacherous
surface of the lake, and again they had to battle desperately for their
lives against wind and wave.
When the dawn broke one of the boats was missing. It was the one that
had overturned and been righted. After looking vainly for it for some
time Meinhold and Cody came to the conclusion that it had been sunk in
the squall.
A few hours after dawn, in splendid weather, the shipwrecked party
sighted the mainland.