The map is so unlike the real coastline that it is impossible to identify definitely any of the places mentioned. In addition, there are no lines of latitude or longitude. The most plausible interpretation is that ‘Cavo de Ynglaterra’, the most northerly point marked on the mainland, is Cape Race, and that the southernmost flag represents a point on the coast of Virginia or Carolina, possibly Cape Hatteras. However, this is mere guesswork, as is shown by the divergent views taken by equally competent authorities. The only indisputable information obtainable from the map is the fact that the English did actually coast along a large part of the North American littoral before the year 1500. It is practically certain that the map embodies the geographical knowledge gained in John Cabot’s second voyage, since the amount of coasting shown is too extensive for the first voyage, the southernmost English flag being placed more than three-quarters of the entire distance down from the Cabo de Ynglaterra to the point of Florida. The only fact which weakens the value of the map’s evidence for the 1498 voyage is the possibility that it embodies information from Sebastian Cabot’s expedition, which, as will be shown, probably took place in 1499. It is possible that la Cosa had seen the charts of the latter when he drew his map in 1500.

But the most illuminating light is thrown on the voyage of 1498 by a careful reading of the descriptions of Sebastian Cabot’s adventure given in the next chapter. These accounts indicate that Sebastian had grasped the great fact that the transatlantic land was a separate continent, altogether distinct from Asia. From whence did he derive his information? Without reasonable doubt, from his father’s voyage of 1498. It is practically certain, although definite proof is lacking, that John Cabot acted in accordance with his expressed intentions, and sailed westwards to his former landfall. Thence he turned to the south-west and followed the land towards the tropics, exploring the coast, and seeking eagerly for signs of the wealthy and civilized Asiatics whom he expected to find there. The islands of Columbus were considered as merely a half-way house on the route to Asia, and Cabot was confident that his newly-discovered coast would lead him far to the west of their position, which the king’s instructions had doubtless enjoined him to avoid. It may be imagined, then, how his heart sank when day followed day and brought no sight of oriental shipping on the sea or cities on the land; and when no inhabitants could be encountered save wandering bands of savages, who lived by the chase, and had nothing of value to exchange for the goods in his ships’ holds. The coast, too, trended more and more to the southwards, taking him in the direction of the Spanish possessions and rendering illusory the hope of finding Cipango, for which there was evidently no room between them and it. Gradually Cabot must have realized that the new land was not a part of Asia, since it corresponded with none of the known facts about that continent; and, with the realization, the purpose of his voyage was gone. To find a way to Asia by the west would necessitate the finding of a passage through this strange and desolate land, and, until that was effected, all hope of profitable trade had to be abandoned. Whether an attempt was made to discover such a passage, or whether the expedition sailed straight back to England, is unknown. In either case the result, as judged by the shareholders in the venture, was complete failure.

It is easy to understand how, after this great disappointment, involving the shattering of a lifetime’s convictions, John Cabot had no heart for further voyages, but lived quietly at Bristol on the king’s pension until death overtook him at the close of the fifteenth century.

Such is the theory of the 1498 voyage to which all the ascertained evidence points. It explains the silence of contemporary chroniclers, who did not think such a financial failure worthy of mention; it explains the cessation of the interest of the London commercial world in transatlantic ventures; and it explains also the motives of Sebastian Cabot in the voyage which has now to be considered, and the meaning of his narrations, which have long been considered to be little more than a collection of impudent falsehoods.

CHAPTER IV
THE CABOT VOYAGES—SEBASTIAN CABOT, ? 1499

The voyage of Sebastian Cabot is described in narratives of which the details were presumably furnished by himself, in the works of various historians of the sixteenth century. As in the previous chapter, the necessary extracts will be given first, followed by a consideration of the conclusions to which they lead. Many other authors, besides those quoted, mention Sebastian Cabot; but, since they merely reproduce earlier accounts without providing any new evidence of their own, it is unnecessary to refer to them here.

Peter Martyr, in his Decades of the New World, of which the first part, containing the notice of Cabot,[[57]] was published at Alcala in 1516, says:

‘These North Seas have been searched by one Sebastian Cabot, a Venetian borne.... Hee therefore furnished two ships in England at his owne charges, and first with 300 men directed his course so farre towards the North pole, that even in the moneth of July he found monstrous heapes of ice swimming in the sea, and in maner continuall daylight, yet saw he the land in that tract free from ice, which had been molten by the heat of the Sunne. Thus seeing such heapes of yce before him, hee was enforced to turne his sailes and follow the West, so coasting still by the shore, that he was thereby brought so farre into the South by reason of the land bending so much southwards, that it was there almost equall in latitude with the sea Fretum Herculeum, having the North pole elevate in maner in the same degree. He sailed likewise in this tract so farre towards the West, that hee had the Island of Cuba on his left hand, in maner in the same degree of longitude. As hee travailed by the coasts of this great land, (which he named Baccalaos), he saith that he found the like course of waters toward the West, but the same to runne more softly and gently then the swift waters which the Spaniards found in their navigations Southward.... Sebastian Cabot himselfe named these lands Baccalaos, because that in the seas thereabout hee found so great multitudes of certaine bigge fishes much like unto Tunies (which the inhabitants call Baccalaos) that they sometime stayed his shippes. He found also the people of those regions covered with beastes’ skinnes, yet not without the use of reason. He also saith that there is great plentie of Beares in those regions, which use to eate fish.... Hee declareth further, that in many places of these regions he saw greate plentie of Copper among the inhabitants. Cabot is my very friend, whom I use familiarly, and delight to have him sometimes keepe mee company in mine owne house. For being called out of England by commandment of the Catholique King of Castile, after the death of King Henry the seventh of that name in England, he was made one of our councill and Assistants, as touching the affaires of the new Indies, looking for ships dayly to be furnished for him to discover the hid secret of Nature. Some of the Spaniards deny that Cabot was the first finder of the land of Baccalaos, and affirm that he went not so far westwards.’

Lopes de Gomara, Historia General de las Indias, 1554.[[58]]

‘Sebastian Cabot was the first that brought any knowledge of this land for, being in England in the days of King Henry VII, he furnished two ships at his own charges or, as some say, at the King’s, whom he persuaded that a passage might be found to Cathay by the North Sea.... He went also to know what manner of land those Indies were to inhabit. He had with him three hundred men, and directed his course by the track of Iceland, upon the cape of Labrador, at 58 degrees—though he himself says much more—affirming that in the month of July there was such cold and heaps of ice that he durst pass no further; that the days were very long, and in manner without night, and the nights very clear. Certain it is that at 60 degrees the longest day is of 18 hours. But considering the cold and the strangeness of the unknown land, he turned his course from thence to the west, refreshing themselves at Baccalaos; and following the coast of the land unto the 38th degree, he returned to England.’