A still more probable testimony to the return of Cabot’s expedition, and to its having coasted extensively on the other side of the Atlantic, is furnished by the map of the Spanish pilot, Juan de la Cosa, drawn up in the year 1500. It is a map of the world as known at the time, and includes a part of the east coast of North America, with flags marking the places visited by the English. The flags are intended to represent the English standard, and some of the names, although translated into Spanish, are such as English explorers might have given; others are unintelligible. They are as follows, reading from south-west to north-east:

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.