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."