perfect acquiescence of the woman in this plan after hearing a few words from him.
So, after much trouble, with Kojesse and Sharkey as my companions for the trip, I again started at 9 a.m. of the 8th of May. Our progress on the firm ice was fair, our course northerly and westerly. In and out among numerous islands, and with a few stoppages to take bearings and make observations, we passed on for several miles, seeing places on the mainland familiar to me, and finally, after twelve hours' travel, making a distance of twenty-three miles, encamped on Field's Island,[1] at the entrance of Waddell Bay. The following day, May 9th, we were at the entrance to the bay—A. H. Ward's Inlet,[2] as I named it—which I had so long desired to explore; but, on the next, owing to bad weather and soft snow, we could proceed only a short distance. On the 11th, however, we made rapid progress, passing on the east side of a long island, the scenery magnificent, and, going through a place where the mountains almost meet, and which I call "The Narrows," finally arriving at the head of this truly romantic and beautiful inlet at about 2 p.m.
Just before passing up through the Narrows, we saw that the ice ahead was completely riddled with seal-holes, and that seals in immense numbers were lying by them basking. Sharkey laid himself down, and proceeded with his gun to make the usual Innuit approaches, as already described, toward a place where some seals were close together. At last he shot one, having been one hour and twenty-five minutes crawling up to within six fathoms of his prey. A raw and blood-warm seal-feast immediately followed, for this was the first thing secured for four days. Never did I enjoy anything with a better relish.
On the right of the extreme termination there is a bold mountain, with a ravine between it and the opposite side, which is gradually sloping. The bay or harbour between the Narrows and the termination of the inlet is indeed magnificent.
