Report of Mr. W. E. Cormack's journey in search of the Red Indians in Newfoundland

In Short

This book serves as the formal 1828 report of an expedition led by W. E. Cormack to find the Beothuk, or "Red Indians," of Newfoundland. Traversing the island's interior, the party discovers abandoned villages, ceremonial burial sites, and elaborate deer fences, but no living members of the tribe. The narrative captures a pivotal moment of realization: the Beothuk have been driven to the brink of extinction by systemic violence and neglect. It remains an essential, haunting historical record of an Indigenous culture systematically erased by colonial expansion.

The Story

The expedition begins in late October 1827. Cormack, seeking to initiate peaceful contact and record the history of a people who have long been "the terror of the Europeans," recruits a small, diverse party of Indigenous guides from the Abenakie, Mountaineer, and Micmac nations. Their intended route is thwarted by weather, forcing them into a grueling, month-long traverse of the island’s rugged, mountainous interior. The journey is marked by the discovery of abandoned seasonal encampments, where the party finds remnants of wigwams, vapor baths, and the distinct red-ochre-stained tools of the Beothuk.

As the team progresses, their initial hope is tempered by the silence of the wilderness. They reach the "Red Indians’ Lake," a legendary site of Beothuk culture, only to find it entirely deserted. Here, the expedition’s tone shifts from exploration to archeological mourning. They survey the ruins of a once-vibrant society—villages now reclaimed by the forest and deer fences spanning miles, which speak to a highly organized, communal way of life. The most profound discovery is a cemetery containing the bodies of the deceased and their possessions, including the grave of a woman known as "Mary March." Through this site, Cormack pieces together the tragic history of her abduction by English furriers and the subsequent, fatal conflicts that shattered the tribe's unity.

Cormack’s team ultimately realizes that the Beothuk have been pushed into total retreat. Every sign—from the abandoned deer fences to the long-ruined homes—reveals a people who had been "tormented" into near-total disappearance over the preceding thirteen years. The party descends the River Exploits on rafts, finding no recent evidence of life along the banks. Upon returning to St. John’s, the report is presented to the Boeothick Institution. While the mission fails to find living Beothuk, it succeeds in documenting the last remnants of their material culture. The report concludes with a desperate, belated call for the protection of Shawnawdithit, the last known survivor of the tribe, whose eventual presence in St. John’s serves as the final, fragile link to a people the author admits have been "barbarously treated."

How It Unfolds

The gathering of intelligence The Boeothick Institution convenes to formalize an expedition into the largely unexplored Newfoundland interior. Cormack outlines the necessity of documenting a culture that is rapidly vanishing due to unchecked colonial aggression.

The traverse begins The party sets out from the River Exploits, pushing through dense forests and hilly terrain. They discover signs of recent activity—canoe-rests and bark-peeling—that briefly rekindle hope for a successful meeting.

The discovery of the lake The group reaches the Red Indians’ Lake, a site of immense significance that no European had previously seen in an unfrozen state. They find only ruins, confirming that the site has been abandoned for years.

The cemetery and the past The team uncovers burial sites, including the grave of Mary March, providing a grim physical history of the violence inflicted upon the tribe. These findings underscore the "melancholy" reality of a community destroyed by external pressure.

The return and final assessment Completing a 200-mile circuit, the party reaches the coast to report their findings. The narrative concludes with the resolution to provide for the surviving Shawnawdithit and to publish the gathered linguistic and cultural data.

The People

W. E. Cormack serves as the expedition’s leader and the primary voice of the report. He is driven by a mix of scientific inquiry and a late-blooming, remorseful desire to protect the Beothuk. He acts as a bridge between the colonial institutions of St. John’s and the Indigenous guides who provide the expertise necessary to navigate the harsh terrain.

The three Indigenous guides—an Abenakie man, an elderly Mountaineer, and a young Micmac—are the tactical backbone of the journey. Their expertise in tracking and survival allows the party to traverse the interior, yet they share a profound, palpable unease as they enter the territory of the Beothuk, whom they view with a mixture of reverence and fear.

Shawnawdithit, the final Beothuk woman, looms over the narrative as a figure of tragic importance. Though she does not accompany the expedition, her history and eventual arrival at the institution provide the context for understanding the graves the men encounter. She is the living embodiment of the "unhappy race" the institution seeks to study, and her presence highlights the inadequacy of the protection offered by the colonial government. Finally, the "English families" settled in the interior represent the antagonist force—the "ruthless destroyers" whose unchecked, violent behavior toward the Beothuk made the expedition’s search for peace an impossible task.

In Its Own Voice

"The traces left by the Red Indians are so peculiar, that we were confident those we saw here were made by them."

The author notes the distinctiveness of the material culture found at a portage near Badger Bay.

"It was melancholy to contemplate the gigantic, yet feeble efforts of a whole primitive nation, in their anxiety to provide subsistence, forsaken and going to decay."

Cormack reflects on the extensive, abandoned deer fences along the River Exploits.

"But it is to be lamented that now, when we have taken up the cause of a barbarously treated people, so few should remain to reap the benefit of our plans for their civilization."

The author acknowledges the irony and tragedy of the institution's mission, begun only after the near-total destruction of the tribe.

What It's Really About

At its core, this report is a document of colonial guilt and the futility of late-stage intervention. It grapples with the tension between the desire to document an "authentic history" and the reality of an unfolding genocide. The text asks whether knowledge can ever truly "protect" a people if that knowledge arrives only after their institutional and physical eradication. Beyond the travel narrative, the book explores the moral bankruptcy of settler-colonialism, explicitly identifying the "ruthless" actions of private settlers as the direct cause of the Beothuk’s demise. It is a stark study of how a culture’s material existence—their language, tools, and burial practices—serves as the final, fragile evidence of their humanity in the face of absolute extinction.

Why Read It Today

This book is essential for readers interested in the intersection of exploration, ethnography, and colonial history. Reading it feels like walking through an empty house; there is a haunting, immediate quality to the author’s descriptions of abandoned wigwams and burial sites that makes the loss of the Beothuk feel visceral and intimate.

However, readers should be prepared for the period-specific attitudes that permeate the text. Cormack writes with the paternalistic language of his time, and the "civilization" he speaks of is viewed through a rigid, 19th-century European lens. The report does not shy away from the technical aspects of the journey—the grueling nature of portages, the construction of rafts, and the geography of the interior—but it is also a difficult read because it forces a confrontation with the reality of an irreversible tragedy. You will not find a heroic adventure here; instead, you find a somber, precise record of a "forsaken" people. It is a brief but deeply affecting text that stays with you, serving as a reminder of the human cost of empire and the limitations of historical record-keeping. The inclusion of the institutional resolutions adds a layer of bureaucratic reality to the narrative, grounding the reader in the exact historical moment when the Beothuk were officially recognized as a lost cause.