Newfoundland Stories Read Online Free PDF Page B

wishfully, that his brother might have made it all up. He knew in his heart, however, that that was not the case. It was all true. A tension that had never existed before now separated them. For the first time in their lives, they were uncomfortable in each other’s presence. John was glad to see his brother go.
    John continued to do his work each day, albeit without the energy and enthusiasm that had previously marked his working hours. He was preoccupied with his brother’s wanton slaying of the Beothuk. He couldn’t reconcile Tom’s actions with the carefree sibling he’d grown up with and had looked after for much of his life. He wondered when and why Tom had changed so much. He could understand him killing in self-defence, as perhaps might be argued in the slaying of the first man, but certainly not the rest. That was murder, pure and simple. John was aware that the killing of Beothuk had been legislated in the early 1800s to be a criminal act punishable by the full force of the law. If found out, he knew that his brother might indeed have to forfeit his own life.
    About three weeks after Tom left, John was jolted out of his usual early morning sluggishness when he emerged from the tilt to discover that the same three Beothuk, the two men and the boy, had reappeared. They were waist-deep in the weir spearing up salmon. They looked his way but did not pause in their activity. For a fleeting moment, John contemplated firing at them. Then he remembered that they had spared his life when they so easily could have killed him, as well as his open invitation to them to help themselves to his salmon. So he quickly dismissed the notion. Shortly thereafter the Beothuk, having taken all they wanted, left.
    By the end of August, John had stockpiled as much salted salmon as he could transport to the fish merchant in Exploits, 3 some forty miles away. Still, he hesitated to go and postponed his departure as long as possible because he had not heard from Tom since his last visit, and was worried. Finally, knowing that if he delayed much longer he ran the risk of losing his summer’s catch in the hot weather, he set out. Closely following the coastline all the way lest he run into foul weather or some other peril in his small boat, he eventually made his way to Exploits without incident.
    He remained there for almost a month, disposing of his catch and making plans with Mary for their future. Then, in late September, he set out once again for Hall’s Bay to work on the tilt to get it ready for Mary. She had agreed to come back there with him the following spring.
    His return journey by boat landed him in Hall’s Bay two days later. The uneventful trip and calm weather, and his time spent with Mary, had restored his sense of contentment and purpose, and as he pulled his boat upon the bank at the mouth of the river, he felt energized and ready for the work ahead. His peace of mind, however, was about to be shattered.
    As soon as he set foot ashore, he knew something was wrong. His instincts told him that something dreadful was about to happen. It was a sensation unlike anything he had ever experienced before. And then he saw it, not more than twenty feet from the tilt. There, impaled on a stake, was his brother’s head, its sightless milky eyes staring vacantly into the distance. Close by, Tom’s headless body rested on the ground. The bloated corpse still showed the mutilation that had been inflicted upon it at the time of death. The younger Rousell had clearly experienced the most horrific death imaginable.
    John Rousell had difficulty fathoming the gruesome scene. Vomit welled up in his mouth and spewed onto the ground at the sight of his brother’s decapitated body. His own body heaved uncontrollably and bitter bile burned his throat. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground. He was filled with disbelief, revulsion, and rage, and for one of the few times in his life he felt utterly