This certainly could not be Cipangu or Cathay with their seaports
and gilded temples. Whatever else it was, it was a land of wild people,
savage hunters. John Cabot left on a bold headland where it could not
fail to be seen, a great cross, with the flag of England and the
Venetian banner bearing the lion of Saint Mark.
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.
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