While on this subject, I cannot help expressing my surprise at the manner Mr. Dease’s name is mentioned in the published narrative of the expedition, where he is represented as being employed merely as purveyor.  It might have been said with equal propriety that Mr. Simpson was employed merely as astronomer.  The fact is, the services of both gentlemen were equally necessary; and to the prudence, judgment, and experience of Mr. Dease, the successful issue of the enterprise may undoubtedly be ascribed, no less than to the astronomical science of Mr. Simpson.

Having finished my correspondence, I embarked for Fort Chimo, on board a brig that had been recently built for the trade of this district and that of Esquimaux Bay.  Our passage afforded no adventure worthy of notice; icebergs we saw in abundance, whose dimensions astonished us, but having no desire to form a close acquaintance with them, we kept at a respectful distance; and finally entered the Ungava River, on the 24th of August, at so early an hour of the day, that we expected to reach the post ere night-fall.

We were doomed to disappointment.  As we ascended the river, the breeze fell, and darkness set in upon us; yet we still pressed on.  Presently, however, so dense a fog arose, that nothing could be seen a yard off.  In this dilemma our safest course would have been to anchor, but unfortunately that part of the river was the most unfavourable possible for our purpose, from the extraordinary strength of the current, and the rocky nature of the bottom.  Our skipper seemed quite at a loss, but accident decided.  The vessel struck, altered her course a little, struck again, put about, and struck again and again.  The anchor was dropped as the only chance of escaping the dangers in which we were involved.  The anchor dragged a short time, and finally caught apparently in a cleft of the rocks.

Soon after the tide began to flow, and we fancied our dangers over; but the crisis was not yet come.  The ebb-tide returned, rushing down with the current of the river with such overwhelming velocity, that we expected the vessel would be torn from her moorings.  Two men were placed at the helm to keep her steady, but, in spite of their utmost exertions, she was dashed from side to side like a feather, while the current pitched into her till the water entered the hawse-holes.  Pitching, and swinging, and dashed about in this fearful manner for some time, the anchor was at length disengaged, and dragged along the bottom with a grating noise, which, with the roaring of the rapid, and the whistling of the wind through the rigging, formed a combination of sounds that would have appalled the most resolute.  The fog having cleared away, we discovered a point projecting far into the river, some two hundred yards below, towards which we were drifting broadside, and rapidly nearing.  The boats were got ready, to escape, if possible, the impending catastrophe, when the vessel was suddenly brought to with a tremendous jerk, and instantly swung round to the tide.  By this time, however, its strength was considerably abated, and daylight soon appearing, I sent on an Esquimaux who had come on board, with a note to the post, requesting that a pilot should be sent us with the utmost despatch.