again took my place on the bowsprit end. Occasionally a huge white old rock peered up its head, as if to ask, Who were we that thus disturbed the usual quietude of the place, and unsettled the peace that had reigned during the world's age? But no interruption to our progress was made. We went on and on, creating the most joyous emotions in my breast as we proceeded. My heart leaped within me as the vessel bounded forward.
I had taken my glass in hand and cast my eye to the southwest. There I could see the extent of the bay was limited by a very low coast, but beyond it were the high, bold mountains of Meta Incognita, across the olden "Straits"—so termed—of Martin Frobisher. Though in the blue melting distance, and some fifty miles off, yet they seemed like giants close by. Then, too, the lofty hills of rock on either side of us, with the sun-glade, like a pathway of dazzling gold, ahead, made the picture beautiful and exciting in the extreme. It was my first visit and approach to the scenes of Frobisher's discoveries, and well might I be excused for the joyousness of my heart on the occasion.
At length the schooner carried us to the termination of the bay, and in a few moments more we had safely anchored in a good spot, having four and a half fathoms' depth at low water.
