The accounts given by Captain Middleton of the latitude of the western entrance of the Frozen Strait are so confused, and even contradictory, that the present appearance of the land perplexed me extremely in deciding whether or not we had arrived at the opposite end of the opening to which he had given that name. That immediately before us to the westward, though it agreed in latitude within five or six miles with the southernmost parallel he has assigned to it, appeared much too narrow to answer his description of the passage we were in search of. Upon the whole, however, I thought it most probable that this was the strait in question; and as, at all events, the opening between Southampton Island and the land to the northward of it, in whatever latitude it might be found, and whether wide or narrow, was the passage through which it was our present object to penetrate into Repulse Bay, I decided on using our utmost exertions to push through the narrow strait now before us.
On the morning of the 13th we observed something very like smoke rising from about Cape Welsford, which, being confined to one spot, was thought likely to be occasioned by the fires of natives. Nothing could exceed the fineness of the weather about this time; the climate was, indeed, altogether so different from that to which we had before been accustomed in the icy seas, as to be a matter of constant remark. The days were temperate and clear, and the nights not cold, though a very thin plate of ice was usually formed upon the surface of the sea in sheltered places, and in the pools of water upon the floes. After sunset we descried land, appearing very distant, through the middle of the strait, which we considered to be that on the American side of the Welcome. At this time, also, we observed some ice in the centre of the strait heavier than that which covered the rest of the sea, and apparently aground in shoal water, as afterward proved to be the case.
On the 15th we were within a league of a remarkable headland on Southampton Island, which I named CAPE BYLOT, as being probably the westernmost land seen by that navigator in 1615. In the mean time, the Hecla, still continuing very closely beset, had, in spite of every exertion, drifted back with the ice several miles to the northward and eastward, so that in the course of the evening we lost sight of her altogether. This latter circumstance was, however, owing in great measure to the extraordinary refraction upon the horizon, making terrestrial objects at the distance of six or seven miles appear flattened down or depressed, as well as otherwise much deformed.
At six P.M., having beat up within five or six miles of the entrance of the strait, and being anxious to sound the channel, which appeared narrow, but without any ice in it to offer us obstruction, I left the ship in the gig, accompanied by Mr. Ross, for this purpose.
The part of Southampton Island on which we landed is about a thousand feet high, and composed of gneiss. Every here and there along the shore, between the projecting points of rocks, is a small cove or bay, having a beach composed of small pieces of limestone, which make the water almost as white as milk. Landing in one of these coves, we carried the boat above high-water mark; and making a tent of her sail, lay very comfortably during the night. When the boat first touched the beach, we observed an innumerable quantity of the little fish called sillocks swimming about, several of which were killed by the boat-hooks or taken in the hand. A great number of white whales, seals, and narwhals were also playing about near the beach during the night. The white whales were the most numerous; the noise these animals made resembled a hoarse, low-toned barking more than any other to which I can compare it; and we remarked that their colour was whiter than any we had before seen.
As soon as it was daylight Mr. Ross and myself ascended the hill above our sleeping-place, from whence we could perceive land stretching round to the westward and northward, so as apparently to leave no opening in that quarter. We were much surprised at the low and yellowish appearance of this land, both of which circumstances we were at a loss to reconcile with Captain Middleton's description of the bold shore of the American Continent, on the western side of the Welcome, about this latitude. It was pleasing, however, to observe a large expanse of sea, wholly unencumbered with ice, in the direction we were now about to pursue; and we therefore hastened to the beach to continue the survey of the strait, that no time might be lost in taking advantage of this favourable circumstance.
After completing our observations and examination of the channel, we reached the ship by eight A.M., the Fury having, with great attention, been kept close off the entrance of the strait during the night. The Hecla had at this time just hove in sight, under a press of sail, to the eastward, having at length, with much difficulty, succeeded in getting into clear water.
At half past nine on the 17th we got under way, and stood under all sail to the N.N.E., where alone, as on the preceding evening, there appeared the smallest chance of finding any outlet.
Having determined the continuity of land all round this magnificent bay, possessing so many advantages that would render it invaluable in a more temperate climate, the officers honoured it with the name of the DUKE OF YORK'S BAY, in consequence of the expedition having first entered it on the birthday of his royal highness.
It being now evident that the inlet into which, in the course of our endeavours to penetrate to the westward, we had unavoidably been led, would afford us no passage in that direction, I gave orders for weighing at the turn of tide, being determined at once to run back through the narrow channel by which we had entered, and to push to the northward without delay, in search of some more favourable opening.