Though at a great distance, and scattered over a considerable extent of country, Haven and Drachart were especially anxious to visit them in their own houses:  this they seized every opportunity of doing, searching them out, and under every difficulty wandering after them.  But they were gratified by the reception they generally met with; for when they informed them that they intended next year to come and live among them, the answer uniformly was—­“Come and build a house with us, and live with us; but do not bring Kablunat with you, bring only Innuit—­men as we are, and you are; and Jensingoak shall help us to build boats, and to repair them; and Drachart shall teach us to read and write, and we shall live together as friends:  then our flints[E] and harpoons shall no more be used against each other, but against the seals and rein deer.”

A dreadful storm of wind and rain occurred on the 12th September, which gave rise to some interesting incidents, and appears materially to have furthered the object of the missionaries, by shewing the Esquimaux their fearless intrepidity and unsuspecting confidence, which strongly affected the savages, and greatly increased the affection and respect in which they before held them.  The missionaries, when attempting to get on board their vessel, were prevented by the violence of the tempest.  Their shallop was driven on shore and grounded on the rocks.  In vain they endeavoured, with the assistance of the Esquimaux, to get her off:  eight of them waded into the water breast-deep and toiled for upwards of an hour, but could not move her; meanwhile the vessel went away, and they were left alone with the natives.  Hill and the ship’s surgeon endeavoured to follow the vessel in a small boat, in order to attempt some arrangement; but just as they had reached her, they were dashed by the waves against the ship’s side and overset, and narrowly escaped with their lives.  Drachart and Haven now betook themselves to the stranded shallop, but they were destitute of provisions, and the rain fell in torrents.  The Esquimaux, who perceived their wretched situation, came and represented to them that the boat could not possibly float before the tide returned in the morning, and invited them to lodge for the night in their tent, a proposal with which the poor drenched brethren were glad to comply.  Immediately Segulliak, the Angekok, plunged into the water and brought them successively on his back to the shore; he afterwards carried them to his tent, caused his wife to procure them dry garments, and spread a skin on the floor for them to sit and sleep on.  The tent was soon crowded with people, who frequently asked them if they were not afraid?  “We do not know what you intend,” answered they, “but you are our friends, and friends are not afraid of each other.”  “We are good Karalits,” was the universal rejoinder, “and now we see you are not Kablunat, but Innuits, and our friends; for you come to see us without weapons,