Early on the morning of the 6th three Esquimaux came off in their kayaks, and although we were going at the rate of four miles an hour they easily overtook us. As they were going towards Churchill, I sent a few lines to Mr. Sinclair by them. Our latitude at noon was 60° 17' 59" N. Thermometer in air 49°, in water 45°. The total distance run, measured by Massey's log, was ninety-five miles, which agreed very nearly with our latitude, the difference being easily accounted for by the circumstance that the ebb tide runs much stronger to the northward than the flood does in an opposite direction. In the afternoon there was a strong breeze, which, although fair, was rather too much onshore and raised a heavy sea. At 5 P.M., having run twenty-five miles since noon, we got into shallow water, and although the heads of the boats were immediately turned to seaward, the ebb tide was too quick for us, and we got aground, being ten miles from the main shore. Five miles N.W. of us there was a small but steep island, on the E. side of which there was still a deep snow drift. By a meridian altitude of the moon our latitude was 60° 47' 24" N. The following morning we floated at 2 A.M., and with a strong breeze from S.E. stood on our course. The weather looked threatening, and we had not been long out before the wind increased to a gale, and the sea rose in proportion. The boats fully realised the good opinion we had of them, but being so deeply laden the sea broke frequently over them, and kept us continually baling; at last the Magnet shipped a heavy sea, and the steersman, either from losing his presence of mind or from not knowing how to act, allowed the boat to broach to. Fortunately no other sea struck her whilst thus placed, else both she and the crew must inevitably have been lost. I here saw the benefit of the precaution I had taken to have some Orkneymen with me, for it was evident the others (although as good fellows as could possibly be wished) knew nothing about the management of a boat in such weather. I was loath to lose so fine an opportunity of getting on, but it would have been recklessness to attempt proceeding. We accordingly ran in towards Knap's Bay, which was nearly abreast of us, and were soon anchored in a snug cove under the lee of the largest island in the bay. It was well that we put in here, for the wind in a short time increased to a perfect storm with heavy rain. On a neighbouring island some miles to the south of us, many Esquimaux tents were seen, but we could not discover if they were inhabited. Notwithstanding the rain I took my gun and made a tour of the island. It is about two miles long, a quarter of a mile broad, and not exceeding 100 feet in height, being covered with a scanty vegetation, and thickly strewn in many places with fragments of granite.