As we approached the north side of the bay, which was named after Nicholas Garry, Esq., of the Hudson's Bay Company, there were so many islands that I was much at a loss what direction to take. Under these circumstances we encamped at 6 A.M. on a high island, about two miles in diameter, from which a good view could be obtained. Garry Bay is the most strangely shaped, and the most irregular in its outline, of any we had yet seen. It presented three long, narrow, and high points of land, and had four inlets. The largest and most southerly of these points was called after Lieut. Halkett, R.N., and the most northerly of the inlets received the name of Black Inlet. As no fuel could be obtained here, we were reduced to the necessity of using some more of our alcohol, of which but a small quantity now remained. The men were soon asleep under our single blanket, (for this was all the covering we had for the party,) whilst I remained awake for the purpose of obtaining an observation of the sun at noon. This gave latitude 68° 59' 15" N., variation of the compass 88° 26' W., our longitude by account being 84° 48' W.
All the way between Lefroy and Garry Bays there is a range of hills, from 500 to 800 feet high, about five miles from the coast, which was distinguished by the name of His Royal Highness Prince Albert, consort of our beloved Sovereign.
The weather was beautiful all day, and was equally fine when we commenced our march at half-past nine at night. Our route lay somewhat to the west of north, between two lofty islands, the smaller of which received the name of Gladman, and the larger and most northerly I designated Honeyman, after a brother. Seven miles from our encampment we passed a bluff and precipitous point, the northern extremity of Garry Bay, to which the name of Cape Arrowsmith was given, in honour of John Arrowsmith, Esq., the talented hydrographer to Her Majesty.
The land was now completely serrated with narrow points and inlets, along which we were able to make nearly a straight course, as the force of the ice from the westward had been much broken by ridges of rocks that lay outside of us. To four of these inlets I gave the names of M'Kenzie, Whiffen, Bunn, and Hopkins, after much esteemed friends.
Towards the end of our night's journey the coast turned nearly due north, and when we had advanced seven leagues we encamped on Cape Miles,—so named after Robert Miles, Esq., Chief Factor,—at 7 A.M. on the 27th. As the morning was exceedingly fine, we thought there was no necessity for building a snow-house, an omission which we regretted in the afternoon, when a heavy fall of snow took place.
By a good meridian observation of the sun, the latitude 69° 19' 39" N., and the variation of the compass 92° 20' west, were obtained, the longitude by account being 85° 4' W. The latter is evidently erroneous, as I had neither chronometer nor watch that I could place dependence upon, and the compasses were much affected by local attraction.
Our provisions being now nearly all used, I could advance only half a night's journey further to the northward, and return the following morning to our present quarters. Leaving one of the men, I set out with the other at half-past 9 P.M., the snow falling fast; and although we had little or nothing to carry, the travelling was very fatiguing as we crossed Baker Bay—so named in memory of a much valued friend—at the north side of which we arrived after a walk of four miles. It now snowed so thick that we could not see farther than fifty yards round us, and we were consequently obliged to follow the windings of the shore, which, when we had traced it six miles beyond Baker Bay, turned sharp to the eastward; but the weather continuing thick, I could not see how far it preserved this trending. After waiting here nearly an hour, the sky cleared up for a few minutes at 4 A.M., which enabled me to discover that we were on the south shore of a considerable bay, and I could also obtain a distinct view of the coast line for nearly twelve miles beyond it.
To the most distant visible point (latitude 69° 42' N., longitude 85° 8' W.,) I gave the name of Cape Ellice, after Edward Ellice, Esq. M.P., one of the Directors of the Company; the bay to the northward, and the headland on which we stood, were respectively named after the distinguished navigators Sir Edward Parry and Captain Crozier.
Finding it hopeless to attempt reaching the strait of the Fury and Hecla, from which Cape Ellice could not be more than ten miles distant, we took possession of our discoveries with the usual formalities, and retraced our steps, arriving at our encampment of the previous day at half-past 8 A.M. Here we found that Matheson, the man left behind, had built a snow-house after a fashion of his own, the walls being like those of a stone building, and the roof covered in the same way with slabs of snow placed on the opposite walls in a slanting position, so as to rest on one another in the centre. Seven hours had been spent in building this edifice, which was not a very handsome one; but being sufficiently wide, and, when our legs were doubled up a little, long enough for us all when lying down, we found it pretty comfortable.
During the remaining four hours of our absence, he had been engaged in an attempt to coax a little wet moss into a sufficient blaze to boil some chocolate; but, notwithstanding his most persevering exertions, by the time his fuel was expended, the chocolate was little more than lukewarm, although our cook pro tempore, who was of a sanguine temperament, firmly believed that it was just about to reach the boiling point. We finished the process with a little of our remaining stock of alcohol, and enjoyed an excellent though rather scanty supper.