6th.—Midnight. Last evening I persevered to the N. until every hope of progress in that direction vanished. To the W. the pack appeared tolerably loose; the wind was fresh at E.S.E., so I determined once more to push into it, and endeavor to battle our way through; I hoped it would prove to be merely a belt of 30 or 40 miles in width. We found the ice to lie for the most part in streams at right angles to the wind, and therefore much more open than it had appeared: there was seldom any difficulty in winding through it from one water space to another. The wind greatly increased, bringing much rain, but fortunately no fog;—the dread of this hung over me like a nightmare,—our progress depended upon the vigilance of the look-out kept in the crow's-nest. By noon we had made good 60 miles. Throughout the day the wind has gradually moderated: the rain gave place to snow, which in its turn was succeeded by mist. The evening was fine eventually and clear; but still we find the ice is all around. Just before midnight the termination of our lead was discovered, whilst the ice through which we had passed was closing together, and a dense fog came rolling down. Under these circumstances the ship was made fast as near to the nip as safety permitted, to await some favorable change.
10th.—All the 7th we remained in our small basin, there being no outlet from it, and but little water anywhere visible. To pass away the dull hours and get rid of unwelcome reflections upon the similarity of our present position and that in August last, I commenced an attack upon all the feathered denizens of the pack—they seemed so provokingly contented with it—but they soon became wary, and deserted our vicinity, so I shot only a dozen fulmar petrels, three ivory gulls, two looms,[13] and a Lestris parasiticus; some of them were useful as specimens, and such as were not destined for our table were given to the dogs. Although Cobourg Island was 45 miles distant from us, its lofty rounded outlines were very distinct, and much covered with snow. On the 8th we squeezed through nips for 4 or 5 miles, and on the 9th, reaching a large space of water, steamed towards Cobourg Island until again stopped by the pack at an early hour this morning, when within 5 or 6 leagues of it.
STRUGGLING TO THE WESTWARD.
This evening we are endeavoring to steam in towards the West-land, and fancy we can trace with the crow's-nest telescope a practicable route through the intervening ice-mazes to a faint streak of water along the shore. This sort of navigation is not only anxious, but wearying. To me it seems as if several months instead of only eight days had elapsed since we left Cape York. We are constantly wondering what our whaling friends are about, and where they are?
14th.—The faint streak of water seen on the night of the 10th proved to be an extensive sheet to leeward of Cobourg Island. We reached it next morning. Jones' Sound appeared open, and a slight swell reached us from it, but all along the shore there was close pack. Although but little water was visible to the southward, we persevered in that direction, and, as the ice was rapidly moving off-shore under the combined influence of wind and tide, we were only occasionally detained.
Two hundred and forty-two years ago—to a day, I believe—William Baffin sailed without hindrance along this coast and discovered Lancaster Sound. What a very different season he must have experienced!
VISIT OF NATIVES.
Passing near Cape Horsburgh we approached De Ros Islet at midnight. The air being very calm, and still, the shouting of some natives was heard, although we could scarcely distinguish them upon the land-ice. The ship was made fast, and the shouting party, consisting of three men, three women, and two children, eagerly came on board. Only four individuals remained on shore.
OFF LANCASTER SOUND.
The old chief Kal-lek is remarkable amongst Esquimaux for having a bald head. He inquired by name for his friend Captain Inglefield. These three families have spent the last two years upon this coast, between Cape Horsburgh and Croker Bay. Their knowledge does not extend further in either direction. They are natives of more southern lands, and crossed the ice in Lancaster Sound with dog-sledges. Since the visit of the 'Phœnix' in '54 they have seen no ships, nor have any wrecks drifted upon their shores. They seemed very fat and healthy, but complained that all the reindeer had gone away, and asked if we could tell where they went to? Our presents of wood, knives, and needles were eagerly received. They assured us that Lancaster Sound was still frozen over, and that all the sea was covered with pack. After half an hour's delay we steamed onward, and on reaching a larger space of water our hopes (somewhat depressed by the native intelligence) began to revive. But we soon found that our clear water terminated near Cape Warrender. Lancaster Sound, although not frozen over, was crammed full of floes and icebergs. The wind increased to a strong gale from the east, and pressed in more ice. At length the ship was with difficulty made fast to a strip of land-ice a few miles westward of Point Osborn. Gradually the gale subsided, but not until the pack was close in against the land. The tides kept sweeping it to and fro, to our great discomfort. The land is composed of gneiss, and the gravelly shore is low. A few ducks only have been shot, and traces of reindeer and hares seen. Our Melville Bay friends, the rotchies, are very rare visitors upon this side of Baffin's Bay.