CHAPTER VI.
The Middle Savage Isles .-- Glimpse of an Esquimau Canoe .-- Firing at a Bear with the Cannon-Rifle .-- A Strange Sound .-- The Esquimaux .-- Their Kayaks .-- They come on board .-- An Unintelligible Tongue.--"Chymo." During the night following our bear-hunt a storm came on,--wind, rain, and snow, as before,--and continued all the next day.

The tremendous tides, however, effectually prevented any thing like dullness from "creeping over our spirits;" since we were sure of a sensation at least twice in twenty-four hours.

But during the next night it cleared up, with the wind north; and, quite early on the morning of the 11th of July, we dropped out of "Mazard's Bay," and stood away up the straits.
At one o'clock we sighted another group of mountainous isles,--the same figured on the chart as the "Middle Savage Isles;" and by five o'clock we were passing the easternmost a couple of miles to the southward.

Between it and the next island, which lay a little back to the north, there was a sort of bay filled with floating ice.

Raed was leaning on the bulwarks with his glass, scanning the islands as we bowled along under a full spread of canvas.