Stolen Away (18 page)

Stunned, Samuel pointed to the rocks behind him. “And the church? And the graveyard over there with the wooden crosses?”

De Chaste shrugged. “All I see here is a mound of rocks, nothing more. By the savages, I see the sticks that look something like crosses. But in reality, it is nothing.”

Samuel's cheeks flushed red in exasperation. “Coincidence? Nothing? Sir, I know what this is! This was an Irish settlement! I would stake my reputation as a mapmaker on it!”

De Chaste's eyes narrowed into daggers. “Would you stake your life on it?”

Samuel gasped. “Excuse me, sir?”

De Chaste inched closer. “Why are we here, Samuel? Why did we travel thousands of miles away from our homes and our loved ones? We are here to claim this land for the King of France, to map its boundaries and to begin the process of colonization. This land will become New France, a glorious extension of our homeland. It will also allow our fellow countrymen a chance to immigrate to a land of plenty in which they can begin new and challenging lives.

“Now what do you think would happen if you returned home with these outrageous stories of ancient Celtic habitations that perhaps existed hundreds of years ago? Do you think France would still have the legal right to colonize this land? Are you willing to jeopardize our future claim because you have let your imagination run wild while looking at a pile of sticks and rocks?”

De Chaste lowered his voice to a growl. “The King himself has given me strict orders to ensure that the claiming and mapping of this land for France goes smoothly and as planned. Do not force me to mention your wild fairy tales of an Irish settlement to His Majesty when we return. I understand he will execute anyone he feels represents a threat to his plans of expansion.”

De Chaste put a hand on Samuel's shoulder, his voice now becoming more fatherly.

“Samuel, look around at this sight with new eyes. This is nothing more than, at most, a native burial ground. You do see that now, don't you?”

De Chaste bent down and picked up the disturbed vines. He used them once again to conceal the wooden cross. Samuel stood and watched his commander, still dumbfounded by what he had just heard. De Chaste straightened and looked Samuel right in the eye.

“I didn't hear you. What do you now see when you look around?”

Samuel swallowed as he surveyed the area. “I…I see piles of rocks and sticks. It's nothing more than a native burial site.”

De Chaste patted him on the back. “Good for you. You have a bright future, Samuel de Champlain. Don't throw it all away on several mounds of dirt.”

“Yes, sir.”

“When we arrive at the ship,” De Chaste continued, “I want you to find a dozen of the thickest clods in the crew. It's a full moon this evening. Return here tonight by skiff with some pick-axes and shovels. Do a little rearranging of the stones and dirt mounds so that no one else comes to the same silly conclusion that you somehow arrived at. Understood?”

“Yes, sir,” said Samuel, defeat permeating his voice.

De Chaste marched back to the warriors, leaving Samuel standing alone beside the cross. The warriors, hearing the approach of the commander, stood up and followed him down the path. Samuel crouched down and removed the vines one last time, gazing at the ancient beauty of its design. He knew that by the end of the night, the cross would remain only in his memory. Sweeping his hand along the cross, he suddenly noticed under the wood a small, rectangular stone with a crude inscription. Amazingly, it was a rounded headstone with a Celtic inscription.

“Here Lies Kiera, Devoted Wife and Loving Mother.”

Unable to decipher the entire inscription, he managed to sound out the name at the top.

“Kiera.”

Samuel de Champlain allowed his fingers to retrace the etching of the name before he bowed his head in shame.

“Forgive me, Kiera, for what I am about to do.”

I
n
Stolen Away
, I have attempted to bring to life the story of a people whose blood stains one of the darkest chapters of Canadian history. Genocide was committed against the Beothuck nation by English settlers throughout the eighteenth century. When the English arrived in Newfoundland, they built their first encampments within the handful of sheltered bays that contained an abundance of fish and wild game. Of course, those same bays were also the summer residences of the Beothuck people. The Beothuck were a generous nation and they were willing to share the resources of their island with the newcomers. Unfortunately, the British were not as hospitable to the Beothuck.

The clash between two very different cultures became the flashpoint for one of the most gruesome episodes in North American history. The British, with superior weapons, forced the Beothuck out of their vital summer hunting, fishing and egg gathering sites. Retreating inland, the starving Beothuck were left with only two choices: suffer from malnutrition in the resource-poor interior, or steal from the newcomers. Soon, the British discovered that their drying meat, sealskins and fishing nets were being stolen from the villages in the dead of night.

The British retaliated with sickening coldness. Hunting down the Beothuck summer camps one by one, armed British thugs executed entire villages, first by shooting Beothuck men and women in cold blood, then rounding up the remaining terrified children and slitting all of their throats. Finally, the native camps were looted of their food and pelts, leaving the torched mamateeks to burn to the ground. There are even stories of skilled French and Mi'kmaq bounty hunters being brought to Newfoundland to hunt down the Beothuck, with the reward of twenty pounds for each Beothuck killed, regardless of age. By 1827, the last of the Beothuck, a captured young woman who had been taken to St. John's, died of tuberculosis. Her name was Shananditti (this young woman should not be confused with Shawnadit, the young female character from my story who had a similarly tragic life).

Before her death, Shananditti gave us a glimpse of Beothuck culture. Although she was not able to learn the English language, she willingly drew pictures of her beliefs and how her family of seventy-two members, when she was first born, managed to live off the land. She also illustrated the cold-blooded murders, by local English hunters, of her aunts, uncles, cousins, mother and father. Her entire family was destroyed within the short twenty-seven years of her life.

It is hard to believe that such a crucial part of Canadian history has been successfully erased from our school textbooks. Who were the Beothuck? They did not have a written language, so their extensive oral history has been lost forever. Did they have contact with the Vikings? There is archeological evidence proving that the Beothuck mastered iron forging technology well before the arrival of Columbus, the only First Nation in the Americas to do so. Did the Vikings pass this technology onto the Beothuck?

Were ancient Irish mariners also successful at crossing the North Atlantic, and did they have contact with the Beothuck? Shananditti explained in her drawings how the Beothuck feared a devillike entity, making the Beothuck one of the few First Nations to have such a Christian-like concept of good and evil. Due to the brutality of the early European settlers, we will never know the full story of the Beothuck nation. Lost forever is the knowledge and wisdom of a First Nation that existed at the crucial cultural crossroad between Europe and North America.

Christopher Dinsdale was born in Toronto. He grew up in Dundas, Ontario and spent his high school years in Ottawa. Throughout his life, Christopher has enjoyed working with children.

Employed as a teacher in southern Ontario, he enjoys writing novels for both children and adults during his summer breaks.
Broken Circle
was his first published novel for young readers and was chosen as a Great Book for 2006 by the Canadian Toy Testing Council.

Christopher lives in Newmarket, Ontario, with his wife and three daughters.

Angry at missing a week of summer video game entertainment, Jesse, a twelve-year-old boy of Native descent, grudgingly follows through with his deceased father's request that he join his Uncle Matthew and cousin Jason at Georgian Bay for a special camping trip. Uncle Matthew explains that Jesse's father wanted Jason's vision quest to be his introduction to their culture. During their first night around the campfire, it is Jesse who has a vision, and the adventure begins.

ISBN 1-894917-15-4 / Ages 9 and up / Softcover 104 pages / Cdn. $8.95, U.S. $7.95

“This may be the novel to give to that teacher's bane, the reluctant boy reader. The author has created a solid first novel
.”                            -Canadian Materials

Named a Great Book by the Canadian Toy Testing Council