The Beothuk Saga Page 23

  The portage from the large bay at the beginning of the crossing home to Hare Bay took less than two suns. The men arrived fresh and alert, not at all tired from their long voyage. Their wives welcomed them with open arms and raised dingiams. Most of the men fulfilled their husbandly duties, despite the celebrations that had taken place on the north shore.

  Shéashit immediately sent runners to each of the Beothuk villages to inform them that the attack against the colonists at Notre Dame Bay was scheduled. The date was fixed for the moon of falling leaves. It was to be a strong attack; the future of the nation depended on it.

  For the next several days there was much coming and going between the villages. The village on Hare Bay was abandoned and the women and children were sent to visit their families and friends in other villages. The three other large, permanent villages thus received many visitors. But since all the men of combat age from these same villages had left to gather at the Bay of Exploits, no village had more people than it could feed and shelter. The village of the Gashu-Uwith clan on Red Ochre Lake contained many women and children, but there were few men left to protect them.

  The village of the Otter Clan on the River of Gulls on the west coast was also deserted by the men, and there was an air of reunion among the women and children gathered there. In the village of Appawet the Seal, there were many meetings among the chiefs, the warriors, the young recruits who were about to engage an enemy for the first time, and the elders who already had much experience in fending off the invaders. The experienced men explained how things would happen during a battle. The young men listened, eager to learn and to take part in their first war.

  Shéashit said clearly that it was not necessary to kill many people during this battle. The important thing was to attack from many places at the same time, so that the English would see that the island did not belong to them, that it was inhabited and defended by the Beothuk, and that permission to remain on the island must be sought from the Beothuk. They had to frighten the English and thereby gain their respect. It was especially important not to kill randomly. Since the English never used women in their battles, the Beothuk women would not be asked to participate in this one. As for children, they were not responsible for the actions of their parents. As long as they were unarmed, children would not be killed. During the battle it was permitted to take all the metal tools they could find. They could also steal fishing nets and ships’ sails, and cut the ropes of the boats. One of the young warriors asked Shéashit a question:

  “If we cut the ropes of their boats, how will they be able to leave our island? We’ll have to put up with them for a long time.”

  Everyone laughed at this, but Shéashit was not perturbed. “You are right,” he said. “We must not cut the ropes if we want them to leave the island.”

  The assembly broke into laughter again. And thus the war against the English began in joy.

  42

  The Sho-Undamung warriors were at Gander Bay at the time of the new moon of the season of falling leaves. There were one hundred and four of them, and they arrived in twenty-five canoes. They brought with them ten firesticks, with powder and shot. They were also well supplied with spears and bows and arrows. Their bodies were painted many bright colours for this special occasion.

  The Beothuk of the Rabbit Clan were already there, and were soon joined by those of the Seal Clan. The men from the Otter and Bear clans arrived the next day. In all, there were two hundred and twenty Beothuk ready to go into battle. There were no women among the warriors, which was unusual among the Beothuk.

  It was decided that the Sho-Undamung would attack the islands while the Beothuk occupied themselves with the dwellings on the mainland of the New Found Land itself. They would rendezvous the next morning at sunrise, and the Beothuk would set out on foot for Notre Dame Bay. The Sho-Undamung would wait until evening, and then paddle out to the islands in the bay.

  The Beothuk warriors left the moment the sun cleared the horizon. They were divided into small groups. Since the dwellings of the colonists were distant from one another, the groups of warriors set off in many different directions. The bay was very large, and most of the islands were occupied by the English colonists. Many of the groups had left during the night, so as to be ready when the sun arrived.

  The warriors were still travelling when they heard the first shots coming from the islands. The Sho-Undamung were attacking too early. Shéashit and five warriors hurried towards Fortune, while twenty others paddled in tapatooks to Twillingate. The first dwelling in Fortune was made of squared timber, the home of a fisherman. There were three fishing boats pulled up on the beach. Shéashit advanced upon the dwelling slowly, convinced that all the inhabitants inside were asleep. Suddenly, he gave a loud war cry to frighten those inside the dwelling, and at the same time a puff of smoke rose from the house and Shéashit received a shot in his chest that cut his war cry off short. His five companions charged the house, but more shots rang out and all five fell back, mortally wounded. After a moment’s silence, a man, a woman, and three boys came out of the house, each carrying an English musket.

  No one knows how or by whom, but the English colonists had been warned of the massive attack being prepared for them by the Beothuk, and they were ready for it. Men, women, and all children old enough to fire a musket had been on the alert and waiting for the Red Men, or Red Indians, as they were called from then on.

  At Fortune, at Twillingate, and on the Island of Exploits, the same scene repeated itself. The Sho-Undamung and the Beothuk received many shots. The Red Men had intended to sow fear, but what they reaped was death. More than a hundred and sixty-eight Beothuk warriors were killed that sun, which from then on was called the Morning of Death. The Innu fared slightly better, losing only thirty warriors and eight wounded. They had been able to retreat to Gander Bay when the shooting started.

  The question the Beothuk had asked themselves was clear: Could they continue to live as they had before? And now they knew what the answer was: No, they could not.

  The retreat was painful, since they had to travel deep inland, as far as Red Ochre Lake. There were not even enough members of the Rabbit Clan left to return to their bay. The death of so many men in a single battle once again gave the women a huge majority within the Beothuk Nation. Winter was approaching, and there seemed to be nothing but misery ahead. And once again, the Beothuk had to choose a new chief.

  During this time, Wapistan and his warriors were portaging to the large bay at the crossing to the north shore, on the northwest coast of the island’s northern peninsula. They collected the bundles of furs left by Shéashit’s men, put them and their wounded in the canoes of the Innu who had been killed in battle, and returned to their land without complaint. Their Beothuk friends had not wanted to disappear without a fight, and they had tried to help them, but they had been defeated by a superior force. And by a people who had been well prepared to defend themselves, obviously warned of the imminent attack.

  The people of the Seal Clan on the east coast had to take down their mamateeks and transport the poles and coverings inland to Red Ochre Lake. The people of the Rabbit Clan helped them, while the people of the Bear Clan returned to their homeland. The few men left in the Otter Clan helped the Bear Clan complete their return as far as the lake, since it was on the way to their own village on the west coast.

  The retreat was like a long funeral procession. It lasted eleven suns. The people were beaten, and those who had lost a loved one in the battle cried. The Beothuk men, who ordinarily did not cry, were inconsolable. They saw their entire lives, their culture, their way of living, die along with their loved ones, never to return. Everything was lost, family, friends, companions in arms, hunting and fishing partners.

  The path that followed the river of two falls was worn more than usual during the eleven days of the long migration to the island’s interior. The Beothuk were people of the sea, but they were now forced to become people of the land. No more enjoying the sea’s
abundance, no more collecting shellfish and sea cucumbers. No more simple life. Only misery, and the forest’s innumerable blackflies. The Red Men could not maintain their territory, which was apparently coveted by others. They had lost their paradise, their garden, as they called it. From now on, they would have to share the fruits of the earth with strangers, with the Bouguishamesh. And such sharing would never be carried out in a spirit of equality. This sharing would have to be won dearly.

  The English had become masters of the island. The English king now owned it. How would he treat its original inhabitants? Kobshuneesamut alone knew, or the god of the Englishmen, if not their king. The area surrounding Red Ochre Lake could not sustain so large a population. The children quickly learned to fend for themselves. The women once again were obliged to share their husbands. And the range of choices was much smaller than it had been before.

  The national council met for five suns without arriving at a unanimous choice for the new chief. No one seemed to have the courage it would take to renew the nation. Never in the nation’s memory had the Beothuk been so beaten as following the defeat on the Morning of Death.

  However, among the survivors, one young man, almost still a child, named Dosomite the Pine, began speaking to the people. He found it inconceivable that the Beothuk had succumbed so easily to despair.

  “How can you even dare to call yourselves Beothuk,” he harangued them, “if you walk around looking like the living dead? You have no right to give in so easily. You must either go on beating yourselves slowly to death, or else have the courage to kill yourselves, all of you, without exception, right now. When you no longer have the strength to live, you must at least have the courage to die. It’s the only dignity that we have left. As for me, I’ve decided to go on living. If there are those among you who no longer desire to see the sky, the rivers, and the trees, let them withdraw from my sight. I only want to be near people who want to live. The others can go and throw themselves before the English muskets. That’s all they’re good for…”

  This is another speech related by the Living Memories. The youngest chief of the nation had suddenly appeared among the Red Men. There had been no need to give him a name. He had been raised by himself, by the strength of his word. This did not proceed according to the tradition; he had just created his own precedent. A chief raised by himself, say the Living Memories, having lost his father in the final battle of the Beothuk. It was a rare beginning in those former times. It is still rare in modern times. Dosomite, the son of Shéashit, had a great deal of spirit. He was a great-grandson of Ooish and Wobee, and he would never spend his life moaning about the past. We must begin again, he said, and he had the courage to do it. But he refused to take on the necessary courage for others who did not have it. He made sure of that by rejecting all those who wallowed in despair. It was cruel, but he also knew it was essential.

  The young man made friends in a few suns. All those who wished to live came to speak with him. The others did not dare. One day he said to a group of young people:

  “As long as I can see how beautiful are the flowers of this tree, as long as I can see them change colour before falling, I will want to live. When this tree seems ugly to me, I will know I am ready to die.”

  Slowly, day by day, life began to return to the nation. There was no more talk of clans. Everyone belonged to the new nation of the Beothuk. The Otter Clan joined with the clans of the seal and the bear, and the most recent clan, the Rabbit, disappeared altogether. There were no more clans, there were only Beothuk. All the clans had been established before the need for survival. Only rarely was the name Addaboutik mentioned; the Beothuk most often referred to themselves as the Red Men or the Red-Ochre people.

  The people adopted a way of thinking: the Beothuk were eternal, they would never die because there were too many things to learn, too many beauties to contemplate, too much love to share. The English put their events on paper. They would need a lot of paper if they tried to write down all the things the Beothuk were unable to make them understand.

  Dosomite the Pine continued to lead the nation without officially becoming a chief. The national council gradually ceased to exist. The elders, the Living Memories, the medicine men, were often consulted. They were the Living Memories of the people, the seers, the wise ones who had experienced life.

  But the Beothuk, despite the example and courage of Dosomite, continued to live in desolation.

  III

  GENOCIDE

  The eighteenth and nineteenth centuries

  43

  Almost all the bays along the rising-sun coast of the Red Men’s island were now occupied by English colonists and fishermen who had come to settle the New Found Land. The Beothuk had left the coasts to seek refuge in the interior, in order to avoid attacks by the colonists and fur trappers. The failed attack against the inhabitants of Notre Dame Bay had made the English bold. They spoke of the great adventure that had ended with the deaths of nearly two hundred Savages, some of whom had come by canoe, others by foot. The word was spread around: “They are easily killed. They do not know the power of our weapons. They expose themselves to musket fire like children, and Bang! Like shooting ducks on a pond. What’s more, they shout a warning before they attack. They are incredibly stupid.”

  I am Wonaoktaé, the Living Memory of the Beothuk people on the island of the Red Men, of the Addaboutik descended from the hero Anin. I was designated the bearer of historical tradition, the first female to have been conferred this honour. I am the younger sister of Tom June, who was said to have been Anin reincarnated. He lived in the eighteenth century, according to the English reckoning. I will tell you his story a little later. First, let me recount, in order of occurrence, what happened after the death of the last storyteller, the one who has already told you our history as it unfolded. As I said, I am Wonaoktaé of the Beothuk, but my true name is Demasduit, which means the flower that grows by the lakes. Here is the rest of our story.

  What I said before introducing myself is true. The English considered us to be animals, inferior to them in every way. News of their victory over our people spread quickly to England. More colonists signed up, drawn by the possibility of earning large sums of money in the fur trade, the natives were so naive. The English who were already here wrote to them saying they could get furs from us for nothing and sell them for high prices on the British market, and they believed this. The island became more and more populated.

  But the Beothuk never really left Notre Dame Bay. They continued to haunt the fringes of the settled areas. Fishermen would find their nets and lines stolen, settlers would lose their metal tools, and axes and knives would disappear as if by magic whenever they were left unattended, even on the doorsteps of their houses. Among the Beothuk who still lived near the coast, the word was passed around. Our elder often warned them that the English left their tools lying about specifically to lure the Beothuk into taking them: “Whenever one of us lets himself be tempted by a tool, the English have an excuse to come after us. We must always be on our guard. Remember Ebenezer Triton,” said the elder. “In one summer he killed eight of us himself. Scalped them all. He was an evil brute who killed for the sheer pleasure of killing. Our young men were foolhardy. As far as the English were concerned, we were stupid because we never fought back. This Ebenezer Triton thought of us as rabbits. All we were good for was running away, zigzagging to avoid his musket fire. Our young men made fine moving targets for anyone who cared to fire at them. They could run fast, but not faster than lead balls, or the buckshot with which the English loaded their muskets. Our young men are condemned to die if they do not learn this.”

  One day the Ashwans attacked Twillingate and three settlers were killed. The Beothuk were blamed because no one in Twillingate could tell the difference between a large Beothuk and a small Ashwan. To the English, all Savages looked the same and had the same physical stature. It was impossible to tell one from another, especially if they were all the same sex.

 
During this time, at Red Ochre Lake, which the English call Red Indian Lake, the sickness was sweeping through the people. The winter after our retreat to the interior, more than two hundred died of the fever that changed the colour of our faces. More than half of those were children under ten years of age. It was a devastating blow to our families. The whole life of the Beothuk is based on the family, the continuation of our spirit through our children. The death of a child is a terrible punishment. Every adult is affected by the loss. Mothers were reluctant to have more children for fear of being forced to watch them die of hunger or disease. Food became more and more scarce. A diet based exclusively on game from the interior was all that was available to us. Before, our people ate mostly fish and other foods from the sea, shellfish and crustaceans, not so much meat. Now we had to develop new ways to hunt, we had to kill as many caribou as possible. The English call these animals reindeer, although there are no deer on the island you call Newfoundland.

  The winter following the failed attack at Notre Dame Bay was deadly for the Beothuk. Almost every adult was sick and unable to hunt. There was much famine, and worse. Mothers were too badly nourished to make milk for their babies, the babies became sick with the fever and were too weak to resist it. If the Beothuk believed in mass suicide, they would have given themselves willingly to death.