Read Online Mattie Mitchell by Gary Collins - Free Book Online Page B

do you know of this, Matthieu?” Howley asked
incredulously. “You could not possibly have read it!”
    Despite Howley’s obvious excitement, Mattie paused before
answering, as was his way. When he spoke again his voice was
calm and matter-of-fact. “Dere is ol’ tale tol’ by my people of ver’
pale-skinned captain man. Dey talk dis man ver’ long time ago.
Dis man ’ave no ’air on ’is face. ’E come ’ere in great ship wit’
t’ree spars. One time his man flee to our lan’. When captain man
fin’ him ’e cut ’is ear off wit’ long knife an’ t’row in salt sea.”
    Howley was speechless for a long time, something that was
unusual for him. When he spoke again he had resumed his calm
demeanour. “Matthieu, I sometimes doubt the words of your oral
history. Yet I wonder about the volumes that will forever remain
hidden.”
    They talked then of the long wilderness that lay ahead of them,
of rivers and lakes they would have to cross. And again Howley
wondered how it was that Mattie could know such an immense
area so intimately. He asked Mattie if all of his people were as
adept and knowledgeable with wilderness lore as he. Mattie
stirred the fire with a long, blackened stick before answering.
Flankers rose on invisible heat waves and the fire flared up,
casting shimmering yellow streaks out over the limpid water.
    â€œVer’ many my people good trapper. Some not so good. One
man live east on Akilasiye’wa’kik Quospem. The white man call
dis place Gander Lake. ’Is name Soulis Joe. We meet sometime
on long trail. Talk trail talk. ’E ver’ good man. Trap alone like
me. Tall like me, too. Good as me, too—almos’.” Mattie finished
with a grin.
    They left Miawpupek in the grey dawning of the next morning
and crossed the southeast arm of the bay in a borrowed canoe.
Mattie led the way, on familiar ground, to where Bay d’Espoir
reached farthest inland. They walked northeast, skirting the
southern banks of the many-angled Jeddore Lake, and camped
by the water the Mi’kmaq called Ahwachanjeesh Pond.
    Late one evening, from atop Mount Gabriel, Mattie pointed
out the Annieopsquotch Mountains away to the west, a name
his people used for “Terrible Rocks.” He showed Howley the
direction they would follow in the morning toward the high
Ebbegunbaeg Hill. It was a landmark his people had followed
across the land for years.
    That night they camped in the shadow of Ebbegunbaeg, beside
a stream that ran merrily along while the two weary travellers
slept. They left in the morning with Ebbegunbaeg to their backs
and walked west to Meelpaeg Lake, where they explored its
eastern banks for two days.
    Resuming their journey, they rounded the north end of
Meelpaeg Lake and left the waters to continue their southerly
flow behind them. From there they set out north and then east
and followed the waterway to Noel Paul’s Brook—named after
another Mi’kmaq trapper—into Newfoundland’s mightiest of
rivers, the Exploits.

    JAMES HOWLEY HAD COME BY SCHOONER to the Bay of
Exploits in 1875, when he met with Mattie where the mighty
Exploits River runs into the salt sea at Sandy Point.
    Across the remotest parts of the island, Howley followed the
Indian where few white men had ever walked before. It was the
longest and most rewarding trek of his geological career. And
when they walked out to the coast on the other side of the island,
the two men were friends.
    The two men set out in the heat of the summer midday on
July 3. With Mattie leading the way and with Howley sketching
and scribing his maps, they travelled north and west and finally
south.
    They walked along the Exploits waterway, where the Red
Indians came no more. They rafted rivers and ponds and camped
in the short summer nights to rest. On one such night they
were sitting on a wide beach next to a bright campfire on