When Peter woke up he was in a hut, covered in furs near an open fire. His hands were heavily bandaged but all he could feel was an intense burning, a side effect of freezing to death. But Peter was alive. He heard voices outside the tent speaking a different language. He couldn't make out what they were saying, he had a hard time thinking and fell back to sleep. Peter slept for 2 more days before he was able to meet his rescuers. When he first stood up, he almost fell over. His body was incredibly sore and his hands were still heavily bandaged. He walked toward the voices and exited the hut. There he was greeted by 4 members of the Mi'kmaq Nation. The direction Peter chose to row was north. He blindly made the 600 mile voyage from the North Shore of Massachusetts to Nova Scotia, Canada. Two of the men were Mi'kmaq fisherman who spotted Peter hunched over in his boat floating aimlessly. They thought he was dead until they saw his breath in the cold air. They brought Peter back to their village and had to chisel him off the frozen dingy. Peter's determination to row himself out of danger led him to never taking his hands off of the oars. They were now frozen to them. Frostbite had set in so badly on his fingers that they were fused together with the wood of the oars. The Mi'kmaq had no choice. They chopped off all 8 of Peter's fingers leaving just his thumbs to detach him from the oars. The Mi'kmaq saved Peter's life, nursed him back to health and now politely stared at his bandages waiting for Peter to see for himself. When Peter saw the shape of his hands for the first time, he didn't weep or even feel sad. He was filled with immense gratitude to the Mi'kmaq for saving his life when he was so close to death. While recuperating, Peter didn't like feeling like a burden. He began helping out around camp, especially with the fishermen. He wouldn't let his hands prevent him from working. He'd reel in pots, carry heavy loads and find new ways to grip things. The Mi'kmaq called him the White Lobster because his hands worked more like claws now but after only a few days, the Mi'kmaq fishing fleet came to value Peter's knowledge of the sea like the fleet back in Gloucester. When Peter was healthy enough to return to Massachusetts it was a genuine farewell. He shook claws with the people who saved his life and boarded a ferry south. Peter was reminded of his friends everyday and made an annual pilgrimage north to visit his lobster family.
THE END