We were thus passing rapidly through the straits without experiencing any accident worthy of notice, when I inquired of our captain, one evening, how soon he expected to make the Island of Akpatok.  He replied, “To-morrow morning about nine o’clock.”  We retired to rest about ten, P.M., and I had not yet fallen asleep, when I heard an unusual bustle on deck, and one of the men rushing down to the captain’s room to call him up.  I instantly dressed and went on deck, where I soon learned the cause;—­a dark object, scarcely distinguishable through the fog and gloom of night, was pointed out to me on our lee beam, two cable-lengths distant, on which we had been rushing, propelled by wind and current, at the rate of thirteen knots an hour, when it was observed.  A few moments more, and we had been launched into eternity.  Had the vigilance of the look-out been relaxed for a minute, or had the slightest accident occurred to prevent the vessel from wearing at the very instant, our doom was certain.

The western extremity of the Island of Akpatok, terminating in a high promontory seemingly cut down perpendicular to the water’s edge, formed the danger we had so providentially escaped.  Next day we saw the dismal spot in all its horrors.  The island was still partially covered with snow, and no traces of vegetation were discernible; but a fresh breeze springing up we soon lost sight of this desolate spot, and made the mouth of the Ungava, or South River, about an hour after sunset.  The captain was a perfect stranger on the coast, and had but a very imperfect chart to guide him; he nevertheless stood boldly in for the land, and fortunately discovered the mouth of the river, which we entered as darkness closed in upon us.

By this time the breeze, that had carried us on so rapidly, increased to a gale, so that if we had not entered the river so opportunely, the consequences might have been serious.  We were utterly unacquainted with the coast, which presented a thousand dangers in the shape of rocks and breakers, that were observable in every direction, as far as the eye could reach to seaward; we therefore congratulated ourselves on our fancied security—­for it was only fancied, as will presently appear.  We kept firing as we approached the land, with the view of apprizing the people of the post, who were directed to await us at the mouth of the river.  No sound was heard in reply until we had advanced a few miles up the river, when we were gratified with hearing the report of muskets, and presently several torches were visible blazing a little ahead.

The night was uncommonly dark, the banks of the river being scarcely perceptible; and although it appeared to me we were much nearer then than prudence would warrant, we still drew nearer, when our progress was suddenly arrested.  The vessel struck violently on a sunken rock, and heeled over so much that she was nearly thrown on her beam-ends.  Swinging round, however, with the force of the current, she soon got off again; and our captain, taking the hint, instantly dropped anchor.  Soon after a couple of Esquimaux came alongside in their canoes, who gave us to understand by signs that they were sent to pilot us to the post.