Mr. Kinchler and the Devil
If you believe the legends, the devil has left his mark all over Newfoundland. His hoof prints are stamped in the rocks of Keels and you’ll find them in Flat Islands, too, he may even be trapped in a rock in Renews, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. There are many stories.
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I recently came across a similar story set in Red Island, Placentia Bay it doesn’t involve a rock but there are many similar elements. You can read it in Lannon and McCarthy’s Fables, Fairies, Folklore of Newfoundland.
One of my favourites is set in Fortune Harbour, Notre Dame Bay. It tells the story of a man named Kinchler who so infuriated the devil that he left his mark on a rock. It is not a wholly unique story. Similar stories are told in a lot of places.
The following is my version of the tale.
Mr. Kinchler and the Devil
The Story of Kinchler’s Rock
A long time ago, when today’s tallest trees were only saplings or maybe even before, a man named Kinchler live in Fortune Harbour.
Joseph Kinchler didn’t like to do any more work than he had to. The people of the harbour called him a layabout. His yard was untidy, his fence needed to be painted and, whenever people passed by his potato garden, they clicked their tongues and shook their heads at the state of weeds. Joseph heard their judgements but it didn’t bother him, he was content to do nothing but sip tea and shuffle his deck of cards.
Klincher carried his cards everywhere. It was a beautiful deck with gilt-edges that shone in the lamp light. Nothing made Joseph happier than dealing them out and playing a hand. The game didn’t even matter as long as cards were in play.
It had become a habit; as soon as the sun slipped below the treetops, and the supper dishes of Fortune Harbour were washed and dried, Joseph set out.
Fortune Harbour, NL
He played cards with anyone he could find. Kitchen table to kitchen table around the town he went, his beautiful gilt-edged cards in his pocket.
And he was good too.
At first, people wanted to try their luck. The Gillespie, Hayes and Shea boys bet if he could beat all three, they’d paint his fence. Kinchler, never one to back down, agreed. But one-by-one they fell and, by the next evening, his gilt-cards had given him a fresh white fence.
Some people quietly wondered if Kinchler was cheating. Nobody, they said, let alone a layabout like Joseph Kinchler, could win every hand and before long the people of Fortune Harbour didn’t want to play cards with him any more.
Joseph grew despondent.
He leaned back on his chair, shuffled his cards and sighed. Just then, an idea occurred to him - there were other coves and kitchen tables nearby! After all,
How difficult could it be to walk to Webber’s Bight? It was only a two-and-half miles away.
So, as the sun set in the October sky and the stars slowly revealed themselves above the evergreen trees Joseph set out on the road to Webber’s Bight.
It was a narrow route, more a path than a road, winding along the rocky coast, between scraggly spruce and over steep hills. Kinchler patted the deck of cards in his breast pocket. Stepping lively, he walked onward, up the last hill and around the bend until the houses of Webber’s Bight came into view.
He approached a fence, opened the gate and soon found himself invited to the kitchen table, where he began dealing cards and winning hands. Word spread and soon the kitchen was crowded with people wanting to challenge the luck of the Fortune Harbour marvel, but
“We’ve never seen the likes of you,” said one old fellow, “You’d chance with your soul, if the devil had a deck of cards in his hand.”
“Yes,” laughed Kinchler, “and that, I might. My soul if he wins… and”, Kinchler winked, “he can weed my garden, if he loses.”
It was almost midnight when the cards were put away. The moon was hanging low over the trees when the crowd spilled out into the night.
Kinchler was no more than half-way home when, out of the darkness, he spotted a gentleman walking down the road toward him. Despite coming from Fortune Harbour, the man was a stranger — an unusual happenstance on such a remote road, all the more so, in the middle of the night.
Kinchler was curious.
“Good evening,” he said, “ what brings you out this fine night?”
“Same as you,” said the stranger.
“Out for a game of cards then, are you?” jested Kinchler, as he held out his deck.
“Well,” chuckled the stranger as he produced a pack of his own, “I never turn one down.“
Kinchler surveyed the surroundings. In the bright moonlight, close beside them, he could see a large flat rock.
“We can play here,” Kinchler motioned.
The stranger began dealing.
Card after card seemed to favour the stranger. In the moonlight Kinchler could make out a satisfied smile.
Then it was Kinchler’s turn to deal. Immediately the tide seemed to turn. The gilt-edged cards shone angrily in the stranger’s dark eyes as Kinchler evened the score.
Back and forth it went, the stranger dealing, pulling ahead and Kinchler coming close behind. Until the last hand - Kinchler’s deal.
Immediately the gilt cards favoured Joseph’s and, before he knew it, the game was tied.
Kinchler looked at the cards in his hand: a win was inevitable.
The stranger glanced at his own hand and anger streaked across the his face. He knew he was about to lose. His nostrils flared and a dark look settled in his eyes. Then in the moonlight — it seemed impossible — Kinchler caught glimpse of what had to be a tail. It belonged to the stranger and was twitching restlessly.
Suddenly Kinchler knew who he’d been playing.
“Play your cards,” commanded The Devil.
Joseph, calm as he’d ever been, dropped his card, the gilt-edge glinting against the rock. The game was over. He’d won.
The Devil roared a fearsome roar, raised his hand high in the air and slammed it down on the rock, scattering cards everywhere.
“How?” roared The Devil, “How could a loathsome layabout like you, Joseph Kinchler, best me?!?”
In a rage, the Devil, who no longer resembled a benign stranger, turned from Joseph and shot straight into the sky, rising higher and higher until he indistinguishable from the last of the night’s fading stars.
Joseph was stunned. Who would… who could believe this? He began picking up his scattered cards. On the rock, just where the devil had struck, was a hand print — the devil’s handprint. Kinchler had some proof; he had something to back up his story.
And because what is set in stone, stays in stone, the proof remain. To this very day, you may find the devil’s handprint upon Kinchler’s Rock on the trail from Fortune Harbour to Webber’s Bight.
And what’s more, if you ask the right person in Fortune Harbour, they can still show you a small piece of earth, about the size of a potato garden, where the weeds never grow.
Visiting Kinchler’s Rock
My interest in the folktale was strong enough to prompt a road trip to Fortune Harbour last summer. I was glad I did. It’s a scenic area.
Sadly, time —and a lack of specific info on how to find the site — didn’t permit a trip to Kinchler’s Rock. I gather Gillespie House in Fortune Harbour can arrange a guided hike — I may take them up on it next summer.
An Appeal
As I mentioned earlier, there are rock formations in Keels that are called the Devil’s Footprints. In folklore I’ve always heard it said they were left behind when the devil danced over Keels. I’ve asked friends from Keels and surrounding area if there is more to the story than that but no one has been able to elaborate.
Why was the devil dancing in Keels? If you’ve heard a fuller version of the legend, I’d love to hear it.
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Fortune Harbour, Wikipedia
Fables, Fairies & Folklore of Newfoundland, Lannon & McCarthy, Jespersen
