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  Brian told no one about his dream. The images he had seen in the night were so powerful they stayed with him all day.

  Then it happened again. That night was a repeat performance of the night before. It was exact in every detail: Mattie in his glass coffin, his wide-open eyes, the green river, the golden valley—Brian crying like a child for his grandfather to return. This happened for several more nights.

  The strangest thing of all was that Brian did not want to dream about Mattie after the first night. He wanted the dreams to go away. Yet in his dreams he always cried for Mattie to return when the glass coffin sailed down the green river.

  Brian was afraid of the nights. He hated the thought of going to bed. He even tried staying away from his room as long as he could, hoping a late hour would give him a much-needed dreamless sleep. Nothing helped. The dreams kept coming, but still he told no one.

  He was driving home one evening and for some reason had driven a different way. He was passing the cemetery road when an idea came to him. He would visit his great-grandfather’s gravesite and ask him to stay away from his nights. Walking along the grassy pathway to the place where Mattie Mitchell rested, he wondered what he was doing here. After all, who had such weird, recurring dreams, and who in his right mind would come to where the dead lay, with such a strange request?

  The evening was late. The sun was down below the hills, and everything was quiet and still. When Brian reached Mattie’s gravestone, he bent down and noticed the fresh flowers his mother had placed there. Brian looked all around to see if anyone was near. He wondered if he should talk to Mattie aloud or simply think his thoughts.

  He decided to speak aloud. When he began to talk to his great-grandfather, a wonderful peace stole over him and he didn’t feel strange at all. He suddenly realized he was crying. For some reason it felt just fine to talk to the old hunter. Brian simply asked Mattie—he didn’t say great-grandfather—to please stay out of his dreams.

  “I am proud to be a part of your bloodline. I love you, Mattie.”

  Still sobbing, Brian straightened up from the grave and turned away. Just before he reached his car, he heard a sound behind him. Brian was sure it was the cry of an owl. He looked back and thought he saw a small shadow flit over Mattie’s grave. He waited for a few more minutes, but he neither heard or saw anything more.

  That night, Brian Sparkes slept in peace. The next day, he remembered the date. The day he had asked his great-grandfather to stay out of his dreams had been the eighty-fourth anniversary of Mattie Mitchell’s death.

  And the image of Brian’s great-grandfather came to him no more.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  DURING THE COURSE OF MY RESEARCH to write what I soon discovered to be the incredible story of Mattie Mitchell, I read extensively from many works written by the early European explorers. Many of them recorded their investigations in great detail. Some of them were great authors and wrote with a wonderful flowing hand.

  Considering the attention they paid to some details, the omissions I found in many of their writings bewildered me.

  Leaving the port of St. John’s and usually travelling at government expense, they always named the ship they sailed on, its captain, and sometimes even some of the crew members. After arriving at one of the major outports like Twillingate, for example, they would record the schooner names and their skippers who took them farther into the bays.

  Often they required smaller vessels to take them to the mouths of rivers or deeper into the dangerous bays as needed. And again, they almost always named the men who carried them forth. But, when taken by the Mi’kmaq Indians up the unknown rivers and deep into the mysterious wilderness beyond the white man’s frontier, they simply referred to them as their “Micmac Indians” or “my native guide” or “my Indian.” The Mi’kmaq guides, who led them to shorelines that few white men knew about, remained nameless.

  There are, of course, a few pleasant exceptions, such as James Howley and Alexander Murray, who were undoubtedly Newfoundland’s greatest non-Indian explorers. I acknowledge, as well, Hugh Cole for his vivid, daily accounts of the 400-mile-long reindeer trek. To these men I give full credit.

  Throughout my research I found that the contributions made by the Mi’kmaq people to the exploration of insular Newfoundland are exemplary. They were called upon extensively as guides. And by far the one who was requested most frequently was Mattie Mitchell.

  In 1891 he played a major role in leading the Reid surveyors to the right areas to allow access for the first Newfoundland railway. He guided them along the west coast as well as much of the central part of the route.

  Mattie led the first mapping expedition of the Northern Peninsula, the first major geological survey of practically all of central and western Newfoundland.

  He guided European explorers through the hidden valleys and over the top of the Annieopsquotch Mountains, which admirably lives up to its name in the Mi’kmaq language, meaning “Terrible Rocks.”

  It should also be noted that Mattie took his son Lawrence with him on many of his excursions. The American sportsman-clergyman Worcester recorded fourteen-year-old Lawrence with his father on at least two occasions. In 1904 the A. N. D. Company hired Mattie and Lawrence to find timber and other resources, however, Lawrence is not recorded as part of the group that discovered the Buchans ore body in 1905.

  Alfred Charles William Harmsworth, 1st Viscount Northcliffe, born just outside of Dublin, Ireland, would have no other guide than Mattie Mitchell. Harmsworth especially loved fly fishing for Atlantic salmon. He was a newspaper publishing magnate in England, who added the pulp and paper mill in Grand Falls to his list of assets in 1905. In that same year he was added to the British peerage as Baron Northcliffe.

  Mattie Mitchell was also recognized by the British royalty. After guiding members of the royal family on a very successful hunting and fishing expedition, he was verbally given the sole rights to hunt and fish the King George IV Lake area in central Newfoundland forever. Although Mattie never exercised this right, it would have been interesting to see what would have happened if that royal “decree” had been put in writing.

  There is another, much more serious event recorded in the private memoirs of Marie Sparkes. It involves Mattie’s discovery of the ore body on Sandy River. She records that Mattie was receiving a guiding fee of $18 per month at the time. The barrel of flour he received as a bonus, valued in 1905 at $2.50, has been universally scoffed at. It has also been considered by others as fair. After all, Mattie was in the company’s employ, for which he was getting paid. When he was asked what he would like for his discovery, Mattie promptly said, “A barrel of flour fer me family’s winter bread.”

  But Marie has carefully recorded a much more sinister account.

  A. N. D. Company officials came to her grandfather’s door while he was away from home for an extended period. The officials wanted a paper signed and, in the absence of Mattie Mitchell, obtained a signature from a visiting relative of the man. The relative of Mattie didn’t have a chance—or was probably unable—to read the document that he signed. Sadly, the family have not been able to find any evidence of such a document. It was the belief of Marie Sparkes that it would prove little more than the signed agreement of the Mitchell family to forgo forever any benefits from their grandfather’s historic find.

  Elwood Worcester, the American sportsman who came to Newfoundland to experience caribou and black bear hunting, as well as salmon and trout fishing unequalled anywhere, spent many years on the island with Mattie Mitchell. The man kept coming back for more than the hunting and the fishing. He came for the experience of living in a wilderness with a man who, when he walked away from the confines of the smallest of habitations, was truly a part of the natural whole. Worcester recorded and left behind a detailed description of his time spent with Mattie Mitchell. I acknowledge his contribution to my effort.

  I have gathered much of the information in this book from the handwritten lines of a remarkable
woman, Marie Mitchell Sparkes. After my second reading, I sensed between the fluid lines of her work a hidden personal yearning to have her grandfather’s life known. Hers was a quiet voice that hoped to be heard, and her steadfast resolve was quieted only by her death, which came far too soon.

  Within the pages of Marie’s beautifully written work I found a woman with a desperate need to have her history revealed. I also witnessed the early days of a child whose history was cruelly denied. Along Mattie Mitchell’s “paths to pages” I have felt the burning need in Marie Sparkes to shout her ancestry.

  I have merely whispered it.

  There is within me a great fear that I have failed, after reading the personal feelings of a woman who clearly longed for the exploits of her grandfather to be heard by everyone.

  Marie’s dedication to making her remarkable ancestry known has thankfully been handed down to another equally enthusiastic advocate of the Mi’kmaq culture. To her son, Brian Sparkes, I am forever grateful. Brian entrusted to me—which I reluctantly accepted—a satchel filled with rare photos, memorabilia, and documents written by his mother, Marie, about Mattie Mitchell. Until then, no one outside of their immediate family had seen them.

  Like his mother, Brian never met Mattie Mitchell. Brian grew up in an entirely different era than did his great-grandfather, and even a different one than his mother. However, their Mi’kmaq ancestry has finally been accepted.

  It has been a slow road.

  In 1998, the government of Newfoundland and Labrador recognized Mattie Mitchell’s contribution to the growth and prosperity of the province by opening the Mattie Mitchell Prospectors Resource Room, under the Department of Natural Resources. The facility is located in the department’s Geological Survey on Elizabeth Avenue, St. John’s. Its mission statement on the provincial government’s website says it “is designed to support prospectors by providing them with mentoring, technical support, and promotional assistance, thereby assisting in the creation of wealth and jobs through sustainable mineral development.”

  In 2001, the Historic Sites and Monuments Board of Canada recognized Mattie Mitchell as a person of national historic significance. A renowned Mi’kmaq hunter, guide, and prospector, Mattie Mitchell contributed to the exploration and mapping of the Northern Peninsula, and to the development of the new Newfoundland economy and mining of the twentieth century.

  In 2005, a plaque in Mattie Mitchell’s honour was placed at the Deer Arm site on the main highway within Gros Morne National Park.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I would like to thank the following people for their respective contributions to the creation of this book: Brian Sparkes; Ray Nielson; Valda Bowe-McGuire; Gerald C. Squires; Sean Rumboldt; David McDonald; Tony Huxter; Faron Knott; Allan Keats; and Peter Oram.

  To my wonderful friend and wife, Rose: you are my confidence.

  I respectfully acknowledge Garry Cranford for his idea of having me write about Mattie Mitchell. His dedication to the constant recording of Newfoundland and Labrador history is to be commended. I hope I have exceeded his expectation.

  To Margo Cranford, whom, with my very first book, stood by my side and assured me I was deserving, and whom has kept my guard through many public appearances, the sincerest of thank yous.

  I also recognize the effort made by my editor, Jerry Cranford, in the production of this book. For a non-outdoors city boy to edit the life of Newfoundland’s greatest frontiersman could not have been easy for him. Thanks, Jerry.

  BIBLIOGRAPHY

  Anger, Dorothy. Noywa’mkisk (Where the Sand Blows . . .): Vignettes of Bay St. George Micmacs. Port au Port East, NL: Bay St. George Regional Indian Band Council, 1988.

  Assiniwi, Bernard. The Beothuk Saga. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 2001.

  Barnes, Michael. More Than Free Gold: Mineral Exploration in Canada Since WWII. Renfrew, ON: General Store Publishing House, 2008.

  Coish, Calvin. Stories of the Mi’kmaq. Grand Falls, NL: College of the North Atlantic, 2000.

  Encyclopedia of Newfoundland and Labrador. 5 vols. St. John’s: Newfoundland Book Publishers, 1981–84; St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1991–94.

  Higgins, Jenny. “Pre-Contact Mi’kmaq Land Use.” Newfoundland and Labrador Heritage. http://www.heritage.nf.ca/aboriginal/mikmaq_land_use.html.

  Jackson, Doug. On the Country: The Micmac of Newfoundland. St. John’s: Harry Cuff Publications, 1993.

  Johnson, Arthur, ed. Hugh Cole’s Reindeer Trek down the Northern Peninsula of Newfoundland: 1908, March 4 to April 30. St. John’s, 1962.

  MacLeod, Pat. Gros Morne: A Living Landscape. St. John’s: Breakwater Books, 1988.

  Marshall, Ingeborg C. L., ed. Reports and Letters by George Christopher Pulling Relating to the Beothuk Indians of Newfoundland. St. John’s: Breakwater Books, 1989.

  Martin, Wendy. Once Upon a Mine: Story of Pre-Confederation Mines on the Island of Newfoundland. Montreal: Canadian Institute of Mining and Metallurgy, 1983.

  Murray, Alexander, and James P. Howley, Geological Survey of Newfoundland. London: Edward Standford, 1881.

  ———. Geological Survey of Newfoundland Reports, 1881– 1909. St. John’s: Robinson and Company Limited Press, 1918.

  Penney, Arthur E. Nestled between the Hills: A History of Cannings Cove. St. John’s: Jesperson Press, 1991.

  Peters, H. R. The History of Mining in Newfoundland, 1857– 1949. N.p., n.d.

  Speck, Frank G. Beothuk and Micmac. Vol. 22, Indian Notes and Monographs, edited by F. W. Hodge. New York: Museum of the American Indian, Heye Foundation, 1922.

  Tompkins, Edward. Ktaqmkukewaq Mi’kmaq: Wlqatmuti / The Mi’kmaw People of Newfoundland: A Celebration. Corner Brook, NL: Federation of Newfoundland Indians, 2004.

  Whitby, Barbara. The Last of the Beothuk: A Canadian Tragedy. Canmore, AB: Altitude Publishing Canada, 2005.

  Whitehead, Ruth Holmes. The Old Man Told Us: Excerptsfrom Mi’kmaw History, 1500–1950. Halifax: Nimbus, 1991.

  GARY COLLINS was born in a small, two-storey house by the sea in the town of Hare Bay, Bonavista North. He finished school at Brown Memorial High in the same town. He spent forty years in the logging and sawmilling business with his father, Theophilus, and son Clint. Gary was once Newfoundland’s youngest fisheries guardian. He managed log drives down spring rivers for years, spent seven seasons driving tractor-trailers over ice roads and the Beaufort Sea of Canada’s Western Arctic, and has been involved in the crab, lobster, and cod commercial fisheries.

  His writing career began when he was asked to write eulogies for deceased friends and family. He spent a full summer employed as a prospector before he wrote Soulis Joe’s Lost Mine; he liked the work so much, he went back to school to earn his prospecting certificate. A critically acclaimed author, he has written a total of six books, including Cabot Island, The Last Farewell, Soulis Joe’s Lost Mine, Where Eagles Lie Fallen, and the children’s illustrated book What Colour is the Ocean?, which he co-wrote with his granddaughter, Maggie Rose Parsons. The latter won an Atlantic Book Award: The Lillian Shepherd Memorial Award for Excellence in Illustration.

  Gary Collins is Newfoundland and Labrador’s favourite storyteller, and today he is known all over the province as “The Story Man.” His favourite pastimes are reading and writing, and playing guitar at his log cabin. He lives in Hare Bay, Newfoundland, with his wife, the former Rose Gill. They have three children and three grandchildren.

  Gary Collins can be reached by email at [email protected].

  The official Gary Collins website is www.garycollins.ca.

 

 

 
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