Captain, starting at the report, remarked, “perhaps that Indian (Paul) has been watching and following.”  Here the Captain’s words were cut short by a loud cry from one of the children and the sound of a splash.  Little Jack, the fourth child, had tripped against the forward rail and gone overboard.  His mother, almost as quickly as the flash of a gun, threw herself overboard at the stern of the sloop, holding on to the rail with her hands and calling to the little fellow to catch hold of her dress, as the tide carried him toward her.  He was too far out to reach her skirt, and the running water carried him by her.  She immediately let go both hands and floated from the vessel, and made a desperate effort to reach her boy.  The Captain, almost beside himself, put the helm hard down, and was in the act of plunging in.  Meantime his wife and son were drifting farther away.  Just then, making a second desperate effort, she succeeded in grasping her child.  At this moment a canoe shot like an arrow past the sloop, in it was Paul Guidon, paddling with might and main, making straight for the drowning mother and her boy.  In another minute he had the child grasped firmly in his long sinewy arms, and laying his breast and head over the stern of the canoe, he called to the mother to grasp at once his long hair as its ends fell into the water.  He managed to get the child safely into his canoe, but he experienced great difficulty in saving its mother.  She drifted fully one hundred yards, but all the distance holding stoutly to the Indian’s locks.  With all the strength of Paul Guidon he was not able to get Mrs. Godfrey into the canoe.  Once he nearly succeeded, but almost upset his little bark.  He told her to cling tightly to his hair, as he shoved the paddle over her head, and at last he got the canoe to move slowly ahead, and in a few minutes time he was at the side of the sloop, and the mother and child were rescued from a watery grave.  The Indian would not go on board, and as soon as he saw that the mother and child were likely to recover, he pulled away to the shore.

The child soon recovered, but the mother lay upon the deck for some time in a half unconscious state.  At times a quiet happiness seemed singing in her soul, that often broke into words of praise as the vessel drifted along in the stillness.  On the right and left slept the country with its wooded hills and dales.  As Margaret Godfrey recovered she said, “Charles, we appear to be sleeping on to our destination.”  “Yes,” he said; “but perhaps that Indian has been watching and following us, hiding among the trees along the shore; and as we have been going slowly all day, he could with ease keep way with us.  He may now consider us far enough away from the fort to decoy and murder us, seize our vessel and goods, and no suspicion rest upon him as the murderer and robber.”

“It may be that he has accomplices on our track; a band of savages to quietly dispose of us and seize our possessions.”  As he spoke these words he appeared much more agitated than on the previous evening.  Margaret replied, “God’s will be done!  We must anchor at some point to-night—­Why not anchor here?  At the earnest solicitation of his wife, Captain Godfrey consented to run the sloop toward the shore and anchor.