We did not reach the Cary Islands so soon as we expected, in consequence of experiencing a strong S.E. current that had not been anticipated. A sudden rise of temperature of the surface water naturally led us to suppose that it must be due to the absence of ice, which, raising our spirits, made us regard with displeasure any hindrance to our progress.
Arriving off the Cary group early on the morning of the 27th, we were detained for a few hours landing a boat with a large depôt of provisions, sufficient to sustain 60 men for two months, or 120 men for one month. The depôt was placed on the easternmost island, and a large cairn was erected on the highest and most prominent point. Here also were deposited the last home letters which our friends were destined to receive until after our own arrival in England.
The depôt was established as a safeguard for us to fall back upon in case of any accident happening to our vessels in Smith Sound. From this position it was expected that a party duly provisioned would have little difficulty in reaching the northern Greenland settlements, or at any rate the simple but hospitable natives of Cape York, who would, it was anticipated, afford us protection and assistance. This duty having been accomplished, and having been rejoined by our consort, the northward course was resumed.[1]
Crossing over to the eastward we steamed along on that beautifully clear sunny morning within a short distance of the western shores of Greenland. With the exception of icebergs, not a speck of ice was to be seen to disturb the smooth glassy surface of the sea. Passing the mouth of Whale Sound we made rapid progress northwards, steering between Northumberland and Hakluyt Islands, almost under their steep, precipitous, and in some places overhanging cliffs; on past Murchison Sound with the Crystal Palace glacier ahead, whilst on our port bow was easily discernible the opposite coast of Ellesmere Land, with the Prince of Wales Mountains, covered with snow or ice, rising above the western horizon.
It was indeed a glorious sight as we passed close to this little known land, opening out, as we proceeded, its many and large glaciers glittering white and radiant in the sunshine, growing, as it were, out of the clouds and rolling down grandly towards the sea, until the opaque masses plunged sullenly and silently into the deep blue water.
Animal life, so far as the feathered tribes were concerned, appeared in abundance. The lively little rotges or little auks (Alca alle) were seen in frequent clusters diving quickly under water as the ship approached. Looms (Uria Brunnichii), dovekies (Uria grylle), and king-ducks (Somateria spectabilis), alarmed at our appearance, rose in long flights, and circled around us uttering their discordant cries. The glaucous gull and the pretty kittiwake (Larus tridactylus) soared above our heads, whilst occasionally a graceful ivory gull (Larus eburneus) flapped its way leisurely along, its snowy wings contrasting with the background of clear blue sky. Here and there, on small fragments of floating ice, were seen huge walruses basking in the golden sunshine. Amid such scenes, which to be realized must be seen, the two vessels wended their way towards the entrance of Smith Sound, all elated with the fair prospect that was before them and hopeful for the future.
At half-past seven on the morning of the 28th of July both ships came to an anchor in Hartstene Bay, more commonly known as Port Foulke, the harbour in which Dr. Hayes wintered in 1860.
[1] The Cary Islands consist of a group of eight islands, besides small rocks or islets, and are situated in Baffin Bay, in lat. 76° 45′ N. They vary in size from two and a half miles in diameter downwards. They are composed of syenitic and porphyritic granite, overlaid in places with gneiss. They rise to a height of about 400 feet above the level of the sea, and possess a luxuriant vegetation, at least for these regions. They are much frequented as breeding places by the eider-ducks and looms.