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.

The Indian, who had not recovered sufficient strength to endure much
excitement or hardship, was in a high state of feverish bewilderment.
The Captain said: "Paul, what gave you such a fright?" He replied, "that
when he first saw the fish approaching, he thought that they were a lot
of canoes paddled by evil spirits from the dark, dismal hunting grounds
of thieving and murderous Indians, and that they were after him to carry
him away over the great waters to live in misery among them, because he
had left the wigwam and forsaken his mother's grave before two moons
were gone."

Early next morning Mrs. Godfrey relieved her husband at the helm;
Charlie assisting her. The Captain went below to rest, asking to be
called if anything out of the ordinary occurred. He had hardly closed
his eyes during the voyage, but fell asleep at his post during the