During the night, the wind was at south south-east, blowing hard and in squalls, with rain, and very thick weather. At ten o’clock next morning, the wind became more moderate, and the weather being somewhat clearer, we got under sail, in order to look out for some snug place, where we might search for and stop the leak; our present station being too much exposed for this purpose. At first, I proposed to have gone up the bay, before which we had anchored; but the clearness of the weather tempted me to steer to the northward, farther up the great inlet, as being all in our way. As soon as we had passed the north-west point of the bay above mentioned, we found the coast on that side to turn short to the eastward. I did not follow it, but continued our course to the north, for a point of land which we saw in that direction. The natives who visited us the preceding evening, came off again in the morning, in five or six canoes; but not till we were under sail; and although they followed us for some time, they could not get up with us. Before two in the afternoon, the bad weather returned again, with so thick a haze, that we could see no other land besides the point just mentioned, which we reached at half past four, and found it to be a small island, lying about two miles from the adjacent coast, being a point of land, on the east side of which we discovered a fine bay, or rather harbour. To this we plied up, under reefed topsails and courses. The wind blew strong at south-east, and in excessively hard squalls, with rain. At intervals, we could see land in every direction; but, in general, the weather was so foggy, that we could see none but the shores of the bay into which we were plying. In passing the island, the depth of water was twenty-six fathoms, with a muddy bottom. Soon after the depth increased to sixty and seventy fathoms, a rocky bottom; but in the entrance of the bay, the depth was from thirty to six fathoms; the last very near the shore. At length, at eight o’clock, the violence of the squalls obliged us to anchor in thirteen fathoms, before we had got so far into the bay as I intended; but we thought ourselves fortunate that we had already sufficiently secured ourselves at this hour; for the night was exceedingly stormy. The weather, bad as it was, did not hinder three of the natives from paying us a visit. They came off in two canoes; two men in one, and one in the other; being the number each could carry. For they were built and constructed in the same manner with those of the Esquimaux; only in the one were two holes for two men to sit in; and in the other but one. Each of these men had a stick, about three feet long, with the large feathers or wing of birds tied to it. These they frequently held up to us; with a view, as we guessed, to express their pacific disposition.[60]