The Captain had on board the sloop an old axe, which he at once got and commenced to cut the windlass from its fastenings.  A piece of the wood flew and struck his wife on the leg, he thought he the saw the limb, which was partially bare, tremble.  He then threw his whole strength into his work, and in a few minutes had the satisfaction of seeing one end of the windlass loosened.  He took hold of the unfastened end and with a sudden jerk wrenched the other end from its socket.  He then rubbed his wife’s limb with his open palm, and soon felt it growing warm.  In a few minutes she breathed quickly, and appeared to grasp her swarthy companion more tightly.  She moaned, and then opened her eyes and stared vacantly at her husband, who almost fainted with joy.  He turned his wife over, and pulled the shreds of clothing towards her feet.  He then went to the cabin and got a bottle containing brandy, presented to him during his first visit to Passmaquaddy.  He poured out a spoonful, and forced it down his wife’s throat.  Soon after she spoke, and asked her husband to raise her up.  As he did so she said, “give some brandy to Paul, he cannot be dead, if I am alive.”  Paul all this time had never stirred.  He lay like a fallen statue, brown and stiff.  Margaret brushed the coarse black hair from off his face.  Captain Godfrey opened the Indian’s jaws and put a spoonful of brandy into his mouth.  His muscles began to quiver, he trembled, he breathed, he moaned, and again relapsed into perfect quietness.  Margaret sat beside Paul while the Captain went to jibe the mainsail and port the helm.  She thrust her hand beneath his torn shirt and laid it over his heart.  She felt its weak pulsations.  She then ran her hand around and over his swarthy skin; she felt it growing warm.  He moaned and moved.  She continued the application of her hand, his eyelids opened, he trembled all over, and looked up at Margaret in a sort of amazed stare.  At length the Indian completely recovered his senses, and by this time Margaret Godfrey again became exhausted.  She was carried to the dingy little cabin by her husband and her son Charlie.  Paul was so weak that he could not raise himself from the deck.  The Captain moved him a few feet and lashed him to the mast.  Neither Margaret nor the Indian were able to move from their resting places till late in the afternoon.

Captain Godfrey judged the sloop to be well across the Bay of Fundy, and he determined to make all speed possible for the town of Halifax.  The wind was fair, and all the reefs in the sails were shaken out.  For the next two days the weather was fine and the wind fair, and Margaret and Paul were regaining their strength.  Nothing of an unusual character occurred on board.  Since the jam under the windlass, Paul Guidon appeared more lively and conversed more freely.  About four o’clock in the afternoon of the second day after the storm, while the Indian was sitting at the bow of the sloop, a school of porpoises was seen approaching in as regular order as a company of British soldiers to a charge.  When the fish had approached to within a hundred yard’s of the sloop, the Indian threw up his hands and uttered a most mournful wail, and staggered backward.  Captain Godfrey rushed forward and caught Paul as he was falling overboard.  Both fell athwart the rail and all but into the sea.