Part 17

There was wild excitement in Bristol when it was known that the little Matthew had come safely into port, after three months' voyaging in unknown seas. August of that year found the two Cabots at Westminster with their story and their handful of forest trophies, and the excited and suspicious Spanish Ambassador was framing a protest to the King and a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella.

Henry VII. fingered the wooden needle, pulled the rawhide thong meditatively through his fingers, and ate a little handful of the wintergreen berries and young leaves. Their pungent flavor wrinkled his long nose. This was certainly not any spice that came from the Indies.

"This country you found," he remarked at last, "is not much like New Spain."

"Nay, Sire," answered John Cabot simply.

"And I understand,"--the King put the collection of curiosities back into the wallet that had held them, "that this represents one fifth at least of the gains of the voyage."

Cabot bowed. As a matter of fact there had been no profits.

"My lord,"--the King handed the wallet over to the uneasy Ambassador, who had been invited to the conference, "you have heard what our good Captain says. If, as you say, Spain claims this landfall, we willingly make over to you our--ahem!--share of the emolument." And the Spaniard, looking rather foolish, saw nothing better to do than to bow his thanks and retire from the presence.

The King turned again to the Cabots.

"Nevertheless," he went on meditatively, "we will not be neglectful of you. In another year, if it is still your desire to engage in this work, you may have--" a pause--"ten ships armed as you see fit, and manned with whatever prisoners are not confined for--high treason. Fish, I think you said, abound in those waters? Bacalao--er--that is cod, is it not? Now it seems to me that our men of Bristol can go a-fishing on those banks without interference from the Hanse merchants, and we shall be less dependent on--foreign aid, for the victualing of our tables. And there may be some way to Asia through these Northern seas--in which case our brother of Spain may not be so nice in his scruples about trespass. The Spice Islands are not his but Portugal's. And for your present reward,--" the King reached for his lean purse and waggled his gaunt foot in its loose worn red shoe "this, and the title of Admiral of your new-found land."

He dropped some gold pieces into the hand of John Cabot. In the accounts of his treasurer for that year may be seen this item:

"10th August, donation of L10 to him that found the new isle."

In May of the next year another voyage was undertaken by Sebastian, John Cabot having died. This time there was a small fleet from Bristol with some three hundred men. Sebastian sailed so far north as to be stopped by seas full of icebergs, then turning southward discovered the island of Newfoundland, landed further south on the mainland, and went as far toward the Spanish possessions as the great bay called Chesapeake. Meanwhile shoals of little fishing boats, from Bristol, Brittany, Lisbon, Rye, and the Vizcayan ports on the north of Spain, crept across the gray seas to fish for cod. They held no patent and carried no guns, but they made a floating city off the Grand Banks for a brief season, settling their own disputes. The people at home found salt fish good cheap and wholesome. When Sebastian told the Bristol folk that the fish were so thick in these new seas that he could hardly get his ships through, they would not believe it. But when Robert Thorne and a dozen others had seen the little caplin, the fish which the cod feeds upon, swimming inshore by the acre, crowded by the cod behind them, and by seal, shark and dogfish hunting the cod, when cod were caught and salted down and shown in Bristol, four and five feet long, then Bristol swallowed both story and cargo and blessed the name of Cabot.

Sebastian Cabot shook the dust of Bristol off his restless feet more than once in the years that followed. Within five years after his voyage to the Arctic regions he was cruising about the Caribbean. In 1517 he was at the entrance of the great bay on the north coast of Labrador. In 1524 he was in the service of Spain, and coasting along the eastern shores of South America ascended the great river which De Solis had named Rio de la Plata, came within sight of the mountains of Peru. But for orders from Spain, where Pizarro had secured the governorship of that land, Cabot might have been its conqueror. In 1548, after some years spent in Spain as pilot major, he came back to England, where he was appointed to the position of superintendent of naval affairs. It was his work to examine and license pilots, and make charts and maps, and some ten years later he died, having founded the company of Merchant Adventurers in 1553. This company was entitled to build and send out ships for discovery and trade in parts unknown. By uniting merchant traders in one body, governed by definite rules, and backed by their combined capital, it broke the monopoly of the Hanseatic League and finally drove the Hanse merchants out of England. Sebastian Cabot was its first governor, holding the office until he died, and has rightly been called the father of free trade. He had unlocked the harbors of the world to his adopted country, England.

NOTE

The rules drawn up by Cabot for the merchant adventurers, to be read publicly on board ship once a week, are interesting as showing the character of the man and the great advance made in welding English trade into a company to be guided by the best traditions. For the first time captains were required to keep a log, and this one thing, by putting on record everything seen and noted by those who sailed strange waters, made an increasing fund of knowledge at the service of each navigator. Some of the points in the instructions are as follows:

7. "That the merchants and other skilful persons, in writing, shall daily write, describe and put in memorie the navigation of each day and night, with the points and observations of the lands, tides, elements, altitude of the sunne, course of the moon and starres, and the same so noted by the order of the master and pilot of every ship to be put in writing; the captain-general assembling the masters together once every weeke (if winde and weather shall serve) to conferre all the observations and notes of the said ships, to the intent it may appeare wherein the notes do agree and wherein they dissent, and upon good debatement, deliberation and conclusion determined to put the same into a common ledger, to remain of record for the companie; the like order to be kept in proportioning of the cardes, astrolabes, and other instruments prepared for the voyage, at the charge of the companie.

12. "That no blaspheming of God, or detestable swearing, be used in any ship, or communication of ribaldrie, filthy tales, or ungodly talk to be suffered in the company of any ship, neither dicing, tabling, nor other divelish games to be permitted, whereby ensueth not only povertie to the players, but also strife, variance, brauling, fighting and oftentimes murther.

26. "Every nation and region to be considered advisedly, and not to provoke them by any distance, laughing, contempt, or such like; but to use them with prudent circumspection, with all gentleness and courtesie."

These and other instructions form an ideal far beyond anything found in the merchant shipping of any other land at that time, and the wisdom which inspired them undoubtedly laid the foundation of the fine and noble tradition which formed the best officers of the navy not yet born. There was no British navy in the modern sense until a hundred years after Cabot's day. In time of war the King impressed all suitable ships into his service, if they were not freely offered by private owners. In time of peace the monarch was a ship-owner like any other, and such a thing as a standing navy was not thought of. Hence the brave, generous, and courteous merchant adventurer, when such a man was abroad, was the upholder of the honor of his country as well as the upbuilder of her commerce.

GRAY SAILS

Gray sails that fill with the winds of the morning, Out upon the Channel or the bleak North sea, Neither cross nor fleur-de-lis goes to your adorning,-- Arctic frost and southern gale your tirewomen shall be. Yet when you come home again--home again--home again, Gray sails turn to silver when the keel runs free.

Gray sails of Plymouth, 'ware the wild Orcades, Gray sails of Lisbon, 'ware the guns of Dieppe. Cross-bows of Genoa, 'ware the wharves of Gades,-- You that sail the Spanish Seas may neither trust nor sleep. Yet when you come home again--home again--home again, You shall make the covenant for Kings to keep!

Gray sails are crowding where the sea-fog sleeping Masks the faces of the folk that throng and traffic there. When the winds are free again and the cod are leaping, All the tongues of Pentecost wake the laughing air. And when they come home again--home again--home again, They shall bring their freedom for the world to share!

VII

LITTLE VENICE

"Translators," observed Amerigo Vespucci, "are frequently traitors. Now who is to be surety that yonder interpreter does not change your words in repeating them?"

Alonso de Ojeda touched the hilt of his poniard. "This," he said. "Toledo steel speaks all languages."

The Florentine's black eyebrows lifted a little, but he did not pursue the subject. Ojeda was not the sort of man likely to be convinced of anything he did not believe already, and Vespucci was having too good a time to waste it in argument.