other's word for nearly everything about us and such words as "good,"
"bad," "wind" and so on; and in a few days we were able to make each
other understand in a general way, with our mixed English and Eskimo.

The northeast wind and low-hanging clouds of the morning carried into
execution their threat, and all Sunday afternoon and all day Monday
the snowstorm raged with fury. I took pity on the Eskimos and on
Sunday night invited all of them to sleep in our tent, but only
Potokomik came, and on Monday morning, when I went out at break of
day, I found the other two sleeping under a snowdrift, for the lean-to
made of the boat sail had not protected them much. After that they
accepted my invitation and joined us in the tent.

It did not clear until Tuesday morning, and then we hoisted sail and
started forward out of the river and into the broad, treacherous
waters of Hudson Straits, working with the oars to keep warm and
accelerate progress, for the wind was against us at first until we
turned out of the river, and we had long tacks to make.

At the Post, as was stated, there is a rise and fall of tide of forty
feet. In Ungava Bay and the straits it has a record of sixty-two feet
rise at flood, with the spring or high tides, and this makes
navigation precarious where hidden reefs and rocks are everywhere; and
there are long stretches of coast with no friendly bay or harbor or
lee shore where one can run for cover when unheralded gales and sudden
squalls catch one in the open. The Atlantic coast of Labrador is
dangerous indeed, but there Nature has providentially distributed
innumerable safe harbor retreats, and the tide is insignificant
compared with that of Ungava Bay. "Nature exhausted her supply of
harbors," some one has said, "before she rounded Cape Chidley, or she