Having finished my correspondence, I embarked for Fort Chimo, on board
a brig that had been recently built for the trade of this district
and that of Esquimaux Bay. Our passage afforded no adventure worthy of
notice; icebergs we saw in abundance, whose dimensions astonished us,
but having no desire to form a close acquaintance with them, we kept
at a respectful distance; and finally entered the Ungava River, on the
24th of August, at so early an hour of the day, that we expected to
reach the post ere night-fall.

We were doomed to disappointment. As we ascended the river, the breeze
fell, and darkness set in upon us; yet we still pressed on. Presently,
however, so dense a fog arose, that nothing could be seen a yard
off. In this dilemma our safest course would have been to anchor,
but unfortunately that part of the river was the most unfavourable
possible for our purpose, from the extraordinary strength of the
current, and the rocky nature of the bottom. Our skipper seemed quite
at a loss, but accident decided. The vessel struck, altered her course
a little, struck again, put about, and struck again and again. The
anchor was dropped as the only chance of escaping the dangers in which
we were involved. The anchor dragged a short time, and finally caught
apparently in a cleft of the rocks.

Soon after the tide began to flow, and we fancied our dangers over;
but the crisis was not yet come. The ebb-tide returned, rushing down
with the current of the river with such overwhelming velocity, that
we expected the vessel would be torn from her moorings. Two men were
placed at the helm to keep her steady, but, in spite of their utmost
exertions, she was dashed from side to side like a feather, while
the current pitched into her till the water entered the hawse-holes.