a fresh breeze springing up we soon lost sight of this desolate spot,
and made the mouth of the Ungava, or South River, about an hour after
sunset. The captain was a perfect stranger on the coast, and had but a
very imperfect chart to guide him; he nevertheless stood boldly in for
the land, and fortunately discovered the mouth of the river, which we
entered as darkness closed in upon us.

By this time the breeze, that had carried us on so rapidly, increased
to a gale, so that if we had not entered the river so opportunely,
the consequences might have been serious. We were utterly unacquainted
with the coast, which presented a thousand dangers in the shape of
rocks and breakers, that were observable in every direction, as far as
the eye could reach to seaward; we therefore congratulated ourselves
on our fancied security--for it was only fancied, as will presently
appear. We kept firing as we approached the land, with the view of
apprizing the people of the post, who were directed to await us at the
mouth of the river. No sound was heard in reply until we had advanced
a few miles up the river, when we were gratified with hearing the
report of muskets, and presently several torches were visible blazing
a little ahead.

The night was uncommonly dark, the banks of the river being scarcely
perceptible; and although it appeared to me we were much nearer then
than prudence would warrant, we still drew nearer, when our progress
was suddenly arrested. The vessel struck violently on a sunken rock,
and heeled over so much that she was nearly thrown on her beam-ends.
Swinging round, however, with the force of the current, she soon got
off again; and our captain, taking the hint, instantly dropped anchor.
Soon after a couple of Esquimaux came alongside in their canoes, who
gave us to understand by signs that they were sent to pilot us to the