This time there was the full authorized flotilla of five sail, of which one turned back and four sailed on.  Somewhere on the way John Cabot disappeared from history and his second son, Sebastian, reigned in his stead.  Sebastian, like John, apparently wrote nothing whatever.  But he talked a great deal; and in after years he seems to have remembered a good many things that never happened at all.  Nevertheless he was a very able man in several capacities and could teach a courtier or a demagogue, as well as a geographer or exploiter of new claims, the art of climbing over other people’s backs, his father’s and his brothers’ backs included.  He had his troubles; for King Henry had pressed upon him recruits from the gaols, which just then were full of rebels.  But he had enough seamen to manage the ships and plenty of cargo for trade with the undiscovered natives.

Sebastian perhaps left some of his three hundred men to explore Newfoundland.  He knew they couldn’t starve because, as he often used to tell his gaping listeners, the waters thereabouts were so thick with codfish that he had hard work to force his vessels through.  This first of American fish stories, wildly improbable as it may seem, may yet have been founded on fact.  When acres upon acres of the countless little capelin swim inshore to feed, and they themselves are preyed on by leaping acres of voracious cod, whose own rear ranks are being preyed on by hungry seals, sharks, herring-hogs, or dogfish, then indeed the troubled surface of a narrowing bay is literally thick with the silvery flash of capelin, the dark tumultuous backs of cod, and the swirling rushes of the greater beasts of prey behind.  Nor were certain other fish stories, told by Sebastian and his successors about the land of cod, without some strange truths to build on.  Cod have been caught as long as a man and weighing over a hundred pounds.  A whole hare, a big guillemot with his beak and claws, a brace of duck so fresh that they must have been swallowed alive, a rubber wading boot, and a very learned treatise complete in three volumes—­these are a few of the curiosities actually found in sundry stomachs of the all-devouring cod.

The new-found cod banks were a mine of wealth for western Europe at a time when everyone ate fish on fast days.  They have remained so ever since because the enormous increase of population has kept up a constantly increasing demand for natural supplies of food.  Basques and English, Spaniards, French, and Portuguese, were presently fishing for cod all round the waters of northeastern North America and were even then beginning to raise questions of national rights that have only been settled in this twentieth century after four hundred years.