At the tippy top of Bonavista peninsula is a wee statue of a man who landed here in 1497.
Funny story. John Cabot was not at all English, but Italian.
An explorer and navigator (all the best navigators and mapmakers in those days were Italians) he reasoned that the rich Spanish would not fund another trip so soon after Columbus (who didn't even land in North American at all!) so went to Spain's rival, England.
Henry VII gave him a commission and a boat and a team and funding to set sail from Bristol with:
... free authority, faculty and power to sail to all parts, regions, and coasts of the eastern, western and northern sea, under our banners, flags, and ensigns, with five ships or vessels of whatsoever burden and quality they may be, and with so many and with such mariners and men as they may wish to take with them in the said ships, at their own proper costs and charges, to find, discover and investigate whatsoever islands, countries, regions or provinces of heathens and infidels, in whatsoever part of the world placed, which before this time were unknown to all Christians.
John Cabot was born Giovanni Caboto, but became known as John Cabot due to the European tradition of the time when names were translated according to contemporary documents of the country in question, in this case England.
Even though he did not find the China he (and Christopher Columbus before him), Spain's loss was England's gain, as his landing and "discovery" launched the great cod fishing competition between nations, and England was out of the gate first.
It's easy to think that India was Britain's wealthiest colony, or the West Indies, but Newfoundland had them all beat. One word - cod.
Fish that could be dried and salted and transported easily for months at a time was not only lucrative as a product to sell in Europe, but it allowed ships to sail for months and months by providing light, nutritious food for the crew. It is a little known fact that Britain's famed Armada was the success it was because of Newfoundland - it trained its men on runs to and from Newfoundland, fighting off Spanish and Portuguese and Basque and French ships, and all this was fueled by salt cod. It brought riches to England way beyond any other resource from any other colony - for centuries.
And don't get me started on how the fish merchants treated the fishermen who actually caught and prepared all that cod! The rich owners, living in the West Country (e.g., Devon), almost to a man never even set foot on the Island but exploited their "employees" shamefully. Merchants put up the finances and paid for the boats and enterprises, and had to deal with uncertain weather and pirates, and could be at the mercy of their agents. There was corruption and bad management all round - aided by the fact that merchants never did come to visit their productions.
But merchants' their tight-fisted and hands-off monopoly kept the fishers completely beholden to the merchants for everything, even for life itself. Food was given instead of wages, based on the catch. Bad catch this year no matter how many months you spent working? Too bad. No food or clothing for the winter for you and your family. And the cost of the goods were exorbitant as the merchants chose the terms.
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| family operation |
Reading nonfiction histories were wonderful with the whos and whens (e.g., The Colony of Unrequited Dreams by Wayne Johnston) and fiction filled in the whys and hows (e.g., The Innocents by Michael Crummey, Random Passage by Bernice Morgan).
The latter novel was such a hit that it spawned a TV series, filmed not far from Trinity, and the set is still there, at the end of a long, gravel road. We were the only ones there, and could well imagine what it must have been like, eking out a living in this isolated place, coexisting with a few others on whom your life depended. Everyone had to work incredibly hard, all year round to catch and prepare cod for the owner in whatever way one could.
They had to build shelter with whatever wood or sod was at hand, make fuel to last the winter, build a boat, make or me nd what nets came their way, set up the storage rooms and cod preparation site. They also had to make or mend clothing and shoes (often wearing the same clothing years at a time), try to grow vegetables if there was a bit of land that could be prepared, with fish guts and seaweed to enrich the meagre soil. The lucky ones were able to get a gun for hunting, or make traps. It was hand to mouth existence, with no cash given for their work, just the hope of enough food (flour, molasses, potatoes, etc.) as well as maybe sewing needles, cloth, or a knife if the catch earned enough favour.
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| the entire village - probably 3 to 5 families |
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| benign view today |
Small huts, called tilts, were often set on stilts over the ocean. Bigger ones were called Salt Boxes, as they resembled the upright containers salt arrived in. Traditionally they had a short steep roof in front and a longer steep slope in the back. So called biscuit box houses were larger, two storeys, and with a gently curved roof. A fish flake is a platform built of evenly thin trees stripped and topped with more poles lashed together to allow fish to be dried on top. Fish was gutted, then salted, then dried, then packed into barrels.
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| sod roof for insulation |
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walls either horizontal or vertical as per choice
or construction skill level |
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| the flake next to a tilt |
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| don't fancy that wooden chimney! |
In the end, the cod stocks started to fall through overfishing, and Newfoundland gained a form of self-government - a rocky road in itself! But for centuries, this was the place to put your money into, and many family dynasties can claim their wealth and status on the lowly cod.
So there he stands, John Cabot, right by the uniquely painted Bonavista lighthouse, both beacons in their own way.
