Could this be the place? If so it behooved the
little party of explorers to be careful. As yet, nobody dreamed that any
mainland discovered by sailing westward from northern Europe could be
anything but Asia.
Cautiously they sailed along the rugged shore, but not a human being was
to be seen. It was the twenty-fourth of June, when by all accounts the
people of any civilized country should be coasting along from port to
port fishing or engaged in traffic. The sun blazed hot and clear, but
the inquisitive noses of the crew scented no cinnamon, cloves or ginger
in the air. All of these, according to Marco Polo, were in the
wilderness he crossed, and also great rivers. On crossing one of these
rivers he had found himself in a populous country with castles and
cities. Were there no people on this desolate shore--or were they lying
in wait for the voyagers to land, that they might seize and kill them
and plunder the ship?
One thing was certain, the air of this strange place made them all more
thirsty than they ever had been in England, and their water-supply had
given out. Sebastian and a crew of the younger men tumbled into a
boat, cross-bow and cutlass at hand, and went ashore to fill the
barrels, while John Cabot kept an anxious eye on the land. Sebastian
himself rather relished the adventure.
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