Until he met Priscilla Doel, Hector Ruiz (not his real name) spent his days in a dingy, rundown house deep in the woods near Stratton, Maine, nursing the stub that used to be his left index finger and wondering how he would find his way back to a productive life.     Injured in a forestry accident, Ruiz was not receiving proper medical care when Doel, a professor of Spanish and Portuguese, met his lawyer and learned of Ruiz's situation, in 1997. Shocked that the man was simply being ignored, Doel drove Ruiz and another forestry worker who had suffered a broken neck to the Maine Employers Mutual offices in Portland. There, Doel translated for the two men while they told their stories and eventually won them payment for medical care as well as retroactive benefits they should have been receiving under their company's insurance plan.     What began as a simple gesture of kindness has evolved into a kind of crusade for Doel, who has organized a statewide network to assist migrant, seasonal and guest worker populations in Maine under the aegis of a new non-profit organization, Maine Service Advocates in Foreign Languages and English (S.A.F.E.) It's a safety net for persons, mostly Hispanic, whose fates typically were decided by people who didn't speak their language.     "These guys who come up to work in the woods, they don't have anybody to look out for them if something goes wrong," Doel said. "It's not just the language barrier [that's a problem], it's that they don't know our systems. They need somebody to show them how the system works."     Doel says forestry companies now contract with businesses that recruit workers from central American countries and send the men north with little education on U.S. customs or culture. "They're bringing in crews who speak no English, who have no idea what's going on in this country," Doel said.     Doel's first involvement with migrant workers was two years ago when she learned about a Spanish-speaking prisoner in the Skowhegan jail. The man, a forestry worker from Honduras, had been accused of sexual assault and was assigned a public defender who had difficulty communicating with his client. Doel says her offer to translate for the prisoner was well received by jail personnel and marked the beginning of what is now a strong relationship with law enforcement officers in the state. It also began a lengthy correspondence with and an advocacy for the prisoner, currently serving a three-year term in a Maine prison following his conviction. Doel, who still is not convinced the man was guilty of anything more than poor judgment, spent a year seeking a lawyer to represent him and is sorry she didn't become involved sooner. "There was information left out that was favorable to him, but of course he had no way of communicating any of this. He was sort of at the mercy of the system," she said.     She's been like a mother to Spanish-speaking workers who get in a bind. Injured, in trouble with the law, or just in need of a friend, they find a confidant and an advocate in Doel. The fingers of her statewide support network reach into Honduras, Mexico and Guatemala. She stays in touch with her "clients" even after they've left Maine for other jobs in the South, and occasionally gets cards or letters with updates about their experiences.     "When I first got involved in this I thought I was living some of the novels and short stories that I've taught in my classes," says Doel. "It has been like an extension of my teaching about language, literature and culture."     She's heartened by the willingness of state officials to ease the transition of migrant workers in Maine. "I'm finding that there are a lot of wonderful people who want to help," she said.     Her language facility and cross-cultural awareness equips her to serve as a resource person for migrant workers, Doel says. "Knowing what I know, I would be doing a disservice if I didn't help," she said.     Her latest effort includes developing official tri-lingual workers compensation posters, used to inform employees of their rights. Maine is the only state in the country to have posters printed in three languages. "Language can be very empowering, but it also can be used to subjugate people. I see this dichotomy constantly, and I think that's what drives me. I have this ability to communicate in more than one language and can serve as an intermediary," she said.     "If you can communicate clearly you can resolve a lot of problems. Language can hurt, but language can also heal. I want to help find solutions.