TERRIBLE EXPERIENCE AT SEA.
Captain Godfrey arrived safely at Passmaquaddy and was warmly welcomed.
He was supplied with sails, rigging and a general outfit for his family,
and he was sent back to the mouth of the St. John in a much larger and
more convenient boat, bringing the smaller boat in tow. He was absent
twelve days.
The day previous to the Captain's return Paul Guidon had visited the
sloop, but Margaret could only prevail upon him to remain for a few
minutes. He said something wanted him back at the wigwam. He appeared to
be impressed by some invisible and irresistible power to return at once
to the sad camping ground.
"Me: Paul!" he said to Margaret, "cannot stay long away from camp and my
mother's grave." "Happy mother must be in the woods near wigwam."
As far as Mrs. Godfrey could learn from the lone Indian his thoughts
were something like the following:--
All the birds that used to sing so sweetly around the little birchen
home and gaily fluttered from branch to branch, seemed to sit quietly
and pour out their songs in mornful strains, and all about the spot the
wind appeared to whistle a requiem for the departed squaw. And in the
long and quiet hours of the darkness, he felt certain that old Mag's
spirit left the woods, and in never ceasing motion kept watch about the
camp, and at regular intervals would pass within and kiss him when
asleep.
The Indian from his habits of life, skimming in his canoe over the
lonely and wooded river, or skipping from rock to rock on the lonely
mountain side; in tracing the border of the roaring cataract, in
pitching his tent along the edge of the flowing river or the sleeping
lake; out on the prairie or in the midst of the dense forest; among the
trees on the ocean shore, is most deeply impressed with the belief that
the Great Chief is watching his actions from behind trees, out of the
surface of the waters, from the tops of the mountains, and out of the
bosom of the prairie. He thinks that the lightning is His spear, and the
thunder His voice. He feels that a terrible something is all around him,
and when death calls any of his tribe away supreme superstition takes
firm hold of his very existence.
"Lo, the poor Indian! whose untutored mind
Sees God in clouds, or hears him in the wind."
The poet, and the highly imaginative person, the wise and the good, seek
the hills and the valleys, the dashing cataract, the forest and stream,
the mountain range, the rocky coast and roaring ocean, and there drink
in the grandeur of creation in those sublime scenes. In such places they
feel a nearness to the Creator, and view His power and handiwork in a
measure not always attainable in the ordinary scenes of everyday life.
Such persons admire with reverential awe the greatness of God and feel
His love.
The Indian, in superstitious dread, lives in ignorance of His greatness,
His ways and His love.
Paul Guidon visited the sloop the next morning, and Captain Godfrey
welcomed him on board and invited him to remain during the day and
assist in refitting the vessel. The Indian did not refuse in words to do
so, but his looks and movements plainly indicated his disinclination to
remain.
Margaret approached him and said, "Paul, you will stay with me and help
us get the vessel all ready to sail away, won't you?" He took her hand,
pressed it tightly, and then let it fall at her side. She knew she had
won him, and was well aware that she could lead him as a child.
He remained, and all were soon at work. The children picked over the
oakum, the Captain fitted the rigging, and the Indian and Mrs. Godfrey
tried their hands at making a mainsail.
At the setting of the sun Paul returned to his lonely home. The next
morning, before the sun had risen, he was once more on board the sloop.
The day was a lovely one, and similar work to that of the previous day
occupied the attention of all The following day the vessel was hauled to
high water mark on the island, there to be overhauled and caulked.
Captain Godfrey had brought a supply of necessary tools for the work
from Passmaquaddy. The Indian came down each morning from his wigwam and
assisted until the sloop was ready for sea, (The repairing of the little
vessel _La Tour_ was probably the pioneer work of refitting and
repairing which a century later assumed such gigantic proportions on
both sides of the mouth of the St. John.) Mrs. Godfrey named the vessel
_La Tour_, because, she said, that was the original name of the fort
that sheltered herself and her children during Captain Godfrey's absence
at Annapolis Royal.
At length everything was ready, and the morning to weigh anchor came. A
stiff breeze blowing up the harbour caused a delay in sailing. The
morning was so wet, and the wind blew so hard, that Paul Guidon did not
venture out in his canoe, but he came down by land, and quite early in
the day stood upon the shore opposite where the sloop lay.
Margaret was first to notice him. She thought that she never saw him
look so handsome as when he stood on the right bank of the harbour that
morning. She called her husband, and pointing toward the shore said:
"Look at that noble form at the water's edge. It looks like a statue
standing on a line between the water and the woods!"
Captain Godfrey rowed to the shore and took Paul off to the sloop. He
remained on board but an hour, promising as he left to return in the
morning if the storm abated.
Captain Godfrey had decided to sail for Halifax via Passmaquaddy. The
morning was fine and the wind fair. Paul was on hand bright and early.
Margaret said to him, "Paul, in an hour we shall sail away from here,
and perhaps I shall never see you again on earth." These words seemed to
almost paralyze the Indian, and for a while he appeared unconscious of
everything that passed. His canoe was tied alongside the sloop. Captain
Godfrey hauled up the anchor. Margaret asked the Indian if he would go
with them as far as Passmaquaddy. He made no reply. He sat down on the
deck and covered his face with his hands. Captain Godfrey said to him
rather sternly, "Paul, we are now on our passage, if you are going to
leave take your canoe and go." He made no reply to the Captain. The
sloop was slipping down the harbour and had passed the lower island
before the Indian seemed to recognize his situation. He looked wildly
first at the shore, then on the other side at the great waters, and
burst into a flood of tears.
Margaret stepped to his side and said, "Paul, do you feel ill?"
He shook his head, and with his hand pointed at the vast waters of the
bay.
Margaret proceeded to get dinner, and the red man was left alone. Paul
was asked to the lunch, but replied not.
The sloop ran leisurely along the shore all day, the wind being light
and the water quite smooth. All were compelled to rest on deck during
the night, which was bright, and the moon made it almost like day,--the
little cabin was besieged with mosquitoes. About midnight the Indian,
who had not spoken since leaving the St. John, suddenly sprang to his
feet and peered over the moon-lit water in the direction of the shore.
Captain Godfrey, who was at the helm, seeing him, thought he was about
to make a plunge overboard, and called to his wife who was asleep. She
sprang up, asking what was the matter. At this moment Paul sang out,
"Indians coming." Margaret went to the cabin, got the musket and pointed
toward the canoes, three in number, and fired. The canoes soon after
disappeared in the direction of the shore. Paul sank back into his
former position, and in a short time all were asleep except the Captain
and the Indian. Nothing unusual occurred during the remainder of the
night, and in the morning, the wind growing stronger, the little ship
made greater headway. The day was a beautiful one, and Paul was as quiet
as usual. He ate nothing. Night again came on, and the breeze holding
through the moon-lit hours, the Captain ran the sloop into Passmaquaddy
early in the morning.
As the sun was rising in all his splendour, throwing his brightening
rays over land and water, the little vessel was headed into her port of
destination. As she was running in, Paul, quick as a flash, jumped up,
as though some attendant spirit had suddenly opened to him a vision of
the future. He fixed his eyes intently on the shore. In an instant he
crouched down on the deck with his head and shoulders partly over the
rail. His attitude and manner were those of a wild beast about to spring
upon its prey. The Captain thought Paul saw something strange on the
shore. In a few minutes the Indian sat down again, and for sometime
remained perfectly quiet. The anchor was let go, and the little craft
rested in Passmaquaddy harbour. The Captain ran in for the purpose of
getting some one to pilot the sloop to Halifax, but to his great
disappointment could find no one willing to go. He had neither money nor
goods to offer in payment for the service of a pilot.
The day following he set sail for Machias, ten leagues distant, in the
hope of securing some person at that place willing to assist him in the
passage to Halifax. Paul Guidon had consented to go as far as Machias,
and there land and make his way back to the St. John.
After leaving Passmaquaddy, Captain Godfrey concluded to put into Head
harbour and try his luck at that place in securing a pilot, but being
unacquainted with the locality he ran the sloop on a ledge of rocks.
However, the tide coming in she floated off unharmed.
"Flung from the rock, on ocean's foam, to sail
Where'er the surge may sweep, the tempest's breath prevail."
The wind suddenly veered round and blew off shore quite fresh. The
vessel stood well off during the night, and the Captain hoped to make
the harbour sometime the next morning, but toward daylight a fog began
to settle down fast and thick. Captain Godfrey fully realized the
perilous position of all on board, but having been early trained in
seamanship, he had full confidence in his ability to manage the sloop.
In the morning land could not be seen. The fog continued for three days,
during which time (to use the Captain's words) "the situation was dismal
enough, and every moment I was expecting to see the craft drawn on the
rocks and all on board perish." The fourth day the fog was less dense,
and those on board could see for some distance, but the sun was
invisible, and the war of the elements was raging with increasing fury.
In the afternoon the wind had shifted to north-west and increased to a
partial gale. The sloop was running under a bit of mainsail; it seemed
at times as if the following seas would founder the little vessel as
they towered over the low rail. Nothing was to be seen but the wide
expanse of water. Not even a solitary gull. The Captain remarked to his
wife, "It is a curious fact that, excepting the petrels, sea birds keep
near to the land in bad weather." Captain Godfrey feared the night, and
as it came on the wind grew in strength. A terrible sea was running, and
all were fastened below excepting Paul and the Captain. The Indian would
not leave the deck, although more than once he was nearly washed
overboard. At length darkness covered the face of the ocean, and the
wind howled in all its fury. The seas were like mountains, tossing the
sloop about like a cork. Mrs. Godfrey would remain below no longer. She
told her children, who were tumbling like nine-pins about the cabin
floor, not to cry, as she would soon return to them. As she put her head
out of the companion way, the Captain ordered her back. She said, "Where
is Paul?" Her husband answered, "I have called to him time and time
again to get below." She called to Paul, who was holding fast to the
anchor chain with his legs stuck under the windlass. He did not answer.
She started to creep forward. Her husband could not see her. At this
moment the sloop took a dreadful plunge. A heavy sea swept over her from
stern to bow, completely submerging her. The Captain, who had taken the
precaution to lash himself to the deck, in a half-drowned state, held
steadily to the tiller. As soon as possible he called to his wife, but
no answer came back. He called to Paul, and he too was silent. Was she
lost? Had she, in whom all his hopes were placed, been carried into the
sea and for ever lost to him on earth? These thoughts bewildered him
while he was trying to steer his vessel. He dare not leave the helm to
look after his wife and children. He hoped the sea had not broken into
the cabin and drowned all that were left to him on earth. He had often
been called to drink the cup of bitterness, had he been called to drink
it to its dregs? Had his sorrow at last reached its destined depths. He
burst into tears, almost stupified, and calling upon Him who is able to
guide the storm in its course and hush it to a calm; to Him whose
charities have distilled like the dews of Heaven; who had fed the hungry
and clothed the naked; who had opened a way of escape in the wilderness;
to Him he cried for succor. And at last in utter despair he earnestly
prayed for morning or death. Now and again a huge sea would break over
the little ship, but she rode the waves as beautifully as an ocean
liner. Terribly the night wore away. With the dawn of the morning the
gale began to abate. The Captain lashed the tiller and crept to the
companion way. He opened it, went down, found his children, bruised,
bleeding and terrified. He kissed them, feeling they were now dearer
than ever to him. They asked him where their mother was. He came on deck
and shut them in the cabin without replying. As Captain Godfrey crawled
to his position at the helm, he said to himself, my dear children have
escaped the arrow and tomahawk, the flames at Grimross, the thunder,
lightning and tempest, and even yet they are safe. If it were not for my
children I would prefer to sleep here in death rather than live
elsewhere. I would be near my wife to share a part with her in the
resurrection.
While the Captain was thus mournfully musing, a faint light began to
creep around the eastern horizon. He was so absorbed in thought and in
watching every movement of the sloop that he did not notice the
increasing light. There were rifts in the dark clouds, and the air was
growing moist. The morning light brought with it rain. The sea gradually
grew less and less troubled, and the little vessel rolled and pitched
more easily. The Captain was suddenly startled from his reverie by the
increasing rays of the rising sun, who was now beginning to show his
golden circle above the horizon. He made fast the tiller and went
forward to see what damage had been done through the night. The jib had
been snugly furled before darkness set in. As he stepped forward of the
mainsail, to his great surprise he saw two human forms wedged in under
the windlass and locked in each other's arms. They were tightly wedged
to their knees, between the windlass and the deck. Mrs. Godfrey's
clothes were torn in shreds. She lay with her head across the Indian's
shoulders, her arms were tightly locked around his neck and flowing
black hair.
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.
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
previous night, when the weather fortunately was fine and the sea quite
peaceful.
At about ten o'clock, a.m., Paul sighted something in the distance. He
called to Mrs. Godfrey to look in the direction of his hand, which he
was pointing over the port bow. She could see nothing, but she headed
the sloop in the direction that Paul gave, and in an hour's time had the
satisfaction of seeing what she supposed to be the outline of rocks or
land. She kept the vessel headed in toward what she supposed to be land,
and at three o'clock called her husband on deck. The Captain judged his
vessel to be on the east coast of Nova Scotia.
Margaret called her children around her, and asked Paul to sit down with
them. She opened the old service book and read a portion of scripture.
The deck was made an altar of the living God. From the deck fervent
prayer mingled with the voice of the ocean and with the sighing wind
ascended on high. Margaret said to Paul: "You and I were rescued at the
gate of death. When our frail bark was tossing and labouring hard for
life in her lone path over the surging billows and through the blackness
of the night, a kind hand overshadowed us and kept us, and now not one
of the ship's company is lost."
Full of bright hope, she turned to her husband and said: "I now am
satisfied we shall safely reach port, and once again we and our dear
ones shall see our native lands. English civilization and English
justice will do rightly by us in our misfortunes. We, who have lost all
our possessions,--in an hour stripped of all that we owned,--and have
been compelled to endure hardships and face death itself in an English
colony, may in confidence look to the old land for succor."
The next two days the wind continued favourable, and the little vessel
ran along in sight of the coast.
The following day an adverse wind blew and a storm seemed brewing, but
the wind only freshened a bit, and all day the vessel beat about in
sight of land. Paul, who had now sufficiently recovered, appeared to
take a great interest in everything about the sloop; the sun shone
brightly and the clouds were lifted high in the heavens. All around was
perfect peace.
The Indian remarked to Captain Godfrey: "This not so good as canoe on
stream, or roaming hunting ground. Wide, big, great sea, would make
splendid hunting ground if only covered with grass and trees."
Early the next morning a King's schooner was sighted. The wind shifting,
Captain Godfrey ran the sloop into Petite Passage and anchored. The
King's schooner came to an anchor about the same time--a league distant.
Captain Spry, (Captain and pilot) of the King's schooner, sent a
messenger on board the sloop, who inquired where they had come from and
whither they were bound. After the messenger had returned to the King's
schooner, Lieutenant Knight of the Royal Navy, commander of the
schooner, sent a boat to the sloop with three men to assist Captain
Godfrey to Halifax, also some tea, chocolate, coffee, sugar, wine and
rum, bread, pork and flour. Captain Spry took the sloop under convoy.
The vessels put into several harbours; and the night before they arrived
at Halifax Captain Spry's schooner was lost sight of in a thick fog. The
fog lifted during the night, when they were able to see Halifax lights,
but on entering the harbour the sloop ran foul of a ledge of rocks
called "Two Sisters." The sea was running very high. Destruction seemed
on every hand. Fortunately a passage was perceived between the rocks. At
last they succeeded in getting through the passage, and came to anchor
before morning opposite the town of Halifax. Captain Godfrey and his
wife, after a long and eventful passage from Fort Frederick, found
themselves once again at Halifax, worn out and almost disheartened. The
new men on board the sloop appeared to admire Paul Guidon, and Paul took
kindly to them.
Shortly after their arrival at Halifax Captain Godfrey admitted to
Lieutenant Knight, that during the terrible storm in the mouth of the
Bay of Fundy, he expected every moment to see the sloop founder and all
on board perish in the ocean.