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.