August 17th.—In the morning, we were opposite a deep inlet, called Prince of Wales’s Sound, on the southern shore of the Straits, which has never been explored. All this coast, as well as the northern shore, is fringed with islands; the principal of which are called King George, Prince of Wales, Maiden’s Paps, and Mannil’s Islands; and they doubtless afford shelter to many fine harbours.
August 18th.—We did not grapple during the night, but hove to, for about two hours, whilst it continued dark; and at day-light we again bore up, and continued running through loose ice. Towards noon it fell nearly calm: we observed seven large seals, basking on a piece of ice; but as soon as we approached them in a boat, they rolled into the water, and disappeared. We were visited by two Esquimaux in the afternoon: they had nothing remarkable about them, except that their mustachios were rather more bushy than those we had seen before. In the evening it fell quite calm, and we grappled.
August 19th.—During the night, the other ships had fallen considerably to the eastward; but the wind coming round to the south-west, we ungrappled, and waited for their coming up. Queen Anne’s Foreland, a high cape on the north shore, bore E. N. E. nine leagues; and although at so great distance, we were visited by three canoes of Esquimaux, bringing their usual commodities for traffic. Our latitude this day was observed to be 63°. 38′. N.; longitude, 72°. 45′. W. We grappled again in the evening, and lay so until—
August 21st.—At 2 A.M. was presented one of those awful appearances which are so common in these hyperborean regions. The water, for some distance around the ship, had, for a time, been partially cleared of the ice; when, on a sudden, a noise was heard like very distant thunder, and the crackling of falling beams in some immense conflagration. The loose ice, which had appeared so distant before, now approached on all sides with an unusual rapidity; the pieces driving one over another in their course, and seeming to menace the destruction of our ship. In ten minutes we were completely hemmed in, on all sides; and a person might travel for miles over a space which had just before been an expanse of water. The ice must have been forced together by some extraordinary meeting of the currents, as there was but a slight breeze at the moment.
At noon, the wind became fair: we ungrappled, and steered through loose weighty ice until 8 P.M. when a thick fog came on, and we again grappled for the night. About 10 P.M. the deep darkness of the sky was suddenly changed to a bright twilight; and having continued so for about five minutes, it again relapsed into its former gloom. This singular appearance was occasioned by a streamer of the aurora borealis bursting through the thick fog which surrounded us.—Thermometer 29°.
During our stay in Hudson’s Bay, and upon our voyage home from thence, our nights were constantly illuminated by the most vivid and brilliant coruscations of the aurora borealis. Its appearance was very different from that which I have seen in more southern latitudes; resembling continual jets of meteoric fire from the northern part of the horizon, which, after darting upwards in long streamers towards the zenith, suddenly collapsed, and receded; falling back, in zig-zag, serpentine lines, with diminished splendour; and ultimately dying away, and vanishing from the sight; being succeeded by other jets, as beautiful as the first. The Cree Indians inhabiting Hudson’s Bay, and indeed the European traders there, maintain, that, in the serene stillness of their severe winters, a soft rushing noise constantly accompanies these coruscations, like that which is occasioned by the quick waving of a fan, or of a winnow. The same remarkable circumstance is mentioned by Hearne, who bears positive testimony to the fact. “I can positively affirm,” says he[21], “that in still nights I have frequently heard the northern lights make a rustling and crackling noise, like the waving of a large flag in a fresh gale of wind. This is not peculiar to the place of which I am now writing (the Athapusco Lake), as I have heard the same noise very plain at Churchill River: and, in all probability, it is only for want of attention that it has not been heard in every part of the northern hemisphere, where these lights have been known to shine with any considerable degree of lustre.”
August 22d.—Early in the morning we again ungrappled. The reader of this Journal may easily conceive that, by this time, our impatience was at its height, as we had now been nearly a month incessantly occupied in endeavouring to push our ship through the never-ending drifts of ice in Hudson’s Straits. I shall not, therefore, attempt to describe the joy of every person on board, when at 8 A.M. we emerged into an open sea, and, the wind blowing tolerably fresh, at ten we passed by Charles’ Island. At noon, we had lost sight of both land and ice; and we now sailed forwards at a great rate, with both our ships in company. Towards night-fall, we passed by a low level island, called Salisbury Island, which lies at the entrance of Hudson’s Bay.
August 23d.—In the morning, passed to the southward of Nottingham, a long rocky island, lying north of Cape Diggs. I know not if Salisbury and Nottingham Islands are inhabited by the Esquimaux; but it is natural to suppose that this people visit them occasionally, during their periodical voyages. At 8 A.M. we were off Cape Walsingham, which is only remarkable for its being the north-west promontory of Labrador, and having a string of small islands running from it towards the sea.
In the afternoon, the Eddystone parted company; as that ship was bound for Moose Factory, at the southernmost extremity of the bay; whilst we intended to proceed with the Prince of Wales to York Factory, on the western side. And now, having brought the ship safely through these formidable Straits, and conducted her into the immense gulf of Hudson’s Bay, we will leave her for a while to pursue her voyage, and take an excursion round the Bay, in order to give some short description of its factories, inhabitants, &c.
Amongst the many adventurous naval enterprises which reflect such lustre upon the last years of Queen Elizabeth, and the beginning of the reign of James the First, none, perhaps, can surpass, in intrepidity and perseverance, the voyages of Henry Hudson; undertaken for the express purpose of effecting a north-west passage to the Pacific Ocean. All that I have been able to collect respecting this brave but unfortunate man is, that he sailed in the year 1610, and discovered the Straits which now bear his name. He boldly pushed his way through them; and finding that, after a length of six hundred miles, he emerged into an open sea, his heart beat high with exultation on having, as he doubtless imagined, succeeded in discovering that famous passage for which so many had sought in vain[22]. Sailing forward, therefore, four hundred miles towards the west, his disappointment was great, at finding himself suddenly stopped, in the midst of his career, by an unknown coast, extending (as has since been ascertained) from 51° to 63° N. latitude. However, the spirit of Hudson was not easily checked; and, astonishing as it may appear, he determined on remaining the whole winter on this dreary coast, so that he might be able to prosecute his voyage early in the ensuing spring. After suffering innumerable hardships, this daring adventurer sailed, early in the next year, towards the north, in search of the much-wished-for outlet to the Pacific; but his crew, not feeling the same enthusiasm which animated their leader, and greatly fearing lest his ardent thirst for discovery might expose them to the horrors of another winter, or, what was still worse, to the chance of perishing amidst the terrific mountains of ice with which they saw themselves to be surrounded, they accordingly proceeded from murmurs to open mutiny; and having turned the heroic Hudson adrift in a small boat, together with the few who adhered to his fortune, they basely left their leader to perish, and sailed away for England, where they arrived in safety. As for the unhappy Captain, I grieve to add, that he was never afterwards heard of: neither have we the poor consolation of knowing that his murderers met with the punishment due to their inhuman crime. There can be no doubt that Hudson’s Bay would have remained much longer unexplored, had it not so happened that the winter preceding the year in which the discovery was made must have been remarkably mild; consequently, Hudson could not have met with many obstacles in passing through the Straits;—no seaman would have endeavoured to penetrate farther, if he had found them so completely blocked up with ice as to impede a ship’s progress, even with the advantage of a favourable wind attending her;—and that this was the case with us, will appear evident, from a perusal of the preceding part of this Journal.