How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 10: Intruders

...A lot has happened during this time.

"Five... hundred bunches of grapes?"

"Yes. You must have already told the surrounding tribes you'd share more with them, right?"

"Well, of course the surrounding tribes are clamoring for even one more bunch, but..."

"Then take them."

"..."

Manteo walked out shaking his head as if something was wrong after seeing my relieved expression. Soon many natives began carrying out the 500 bunches of grapes in baskets.

That too was quite a sight.

Right.

This was the biggest development over the past 3 months.

The Shine Muscat gift economy network.

During that time, many tribes tasted the Shine Muscat and couldn't recover from the shock, like Chileans seeing automatic taxi doors for the first time.

That was inevitable, as the Algonquins in this area are basically farmers but also half hunter-gatherers. This was their first experience with such a highly cultivated fruit.

The surrounding tribes who experienced Shine Muscat once reached out to Manteo asking if they could have just one more bunch.

Eventually, Manteo's tribe established a large-scale gift economy network importing grapes from me in bulk and distributing them.

Since Manteo's tribe was at the center of this, Manteo and his mother's authority rose quite a bit, they say. At this rate, Manteo's succession as chief should happen without much difficulty.

Thanks to that, our village is now accumulating all sorts of pearls, coral, animal skins, and various vegetables and fruits.

The settlers now spend happy days proudly swishing their fur cloaks as if they'd never worried about food.

"Hey, can we eat this grass?"

"It's poisonous! Don't go near it!"

"What about that fruit?"

"That... that melon should be fine to eat."

As exchanges unexpectedly increased, Manteo sent two or three people to our settlement to use as diplomats, which helped our settlers increase their knowledge of local flora and fauna.

Plus one more thing.

"Mr. Brown, you said you were a goldsmith?"

"That's right. I was quite successful in London. I came thinking there would be a land of gold here, but..."

"My, that must have been disappointing."

"Not at all. Haven't we gained something more precious than gold? Rather, I thank the Lord."

"Hahaha, that's right. The friendship and experience gained in such a place is more valuable than gold..."

"No. I mean that 'rust-proof metal'! The one you gave us then! You still have that, right?"

"...What?"

"...What?"

Only then did I realize that the English who always piled their drink cans in front of my house weren't racist sociopaths.

Well, aluminum is more expensive than iron. But is it precious enough to be called a precious metal?

A metal that seemingly never rusts.

A metal terribly difficult to produce naturally.

A metal stronger than iron yet lighter than iron.

Ah.

That night I searched until dawn for aluminum cans buried in the backyard.

Pop quiz.

So is aluminum foil treated as a 'consumable' with infinite quantity in this house? Or as a 'permanent item' with infinite durability?

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The answer was 'consumable.'

A metal more precious than gold comes out infinitely from my house!

However.

"...Is this all the yaluminum foil?"

"It seems so, Mr. Brown. And it's aluminum."

"Alu..."

"...minum. Aluminum."

About 3g comes out per day.

Damn. Should have bought more when the aluminum foil was running out.

Anyway, goldsmith William Brown excitedly set up his workshop and got a taste for aluminum crafts. He grinned saying he was bound to become rich with this 'New World's gold.'

Thanks to that, I could place a palm-sized statue of Mr. Shoji at my bedside.

...Just like that, I suddenly became rich.

A wave of necessities and luxuries pouring in from all over North Carolina and Virginia.

Plus aluminum, which was just slightly more expensive than iron back home, became an incredibly precious metal (to be).

"Really, you are an incredibly wealthy person."

"Will this... really become that precious?"

"Of course. I was worried about having nothing to do as a goldsmith, but now those worries are over. Hahaha!"

So they say, anyway.

And one more thing.

The incredibly wealthy and comfortable settlement could now turn its eyes from survival to handle another urgent matter.

"We must prepare defenses before the Spanish come!"

"Um... didn't we leave muskets and gunpowder on Roanoke Island? Plus iron bars and lead ingots for making guns and bullets..."

"There should be many other weapons left there too. We should go back once."

"That's right! Plus my father won't even think we're here! Shouldn't we leave clearer markings?"

"Hmm... you have a point. Let's go."

So the settlers organized an expedition and borrowed boats from the natives to visit their original settlement on Roanoke Island. Everyone was greatly relieved when they brought back various weapons from there.

Well... of course they would be.

If the Spanish attacked, everyone here would likely die.

But not having the courage to say "Hehe, just kidding!" belatedly, I just smiled warmly. The settlers who had come to see me as their village chief seemed to interpret my smile positively.

And so a smithy was built next to the goldsmith's workshop, and the work of making muskets and lead bullets proceeded quickly.

The endlessly expanding settlement finally slowed its growth, then began defenses by surrounding it with a large palisade of bound logs.

People gradually became accustomed to a daily life of patrolling the area with muskets, watching for Spanish warships to land.

By this point, I really couldn't say anything.

I felt like I'd get shot if I said it was actually a joke.

Lastly...

"It's delicious, isn't it? The Spanish say it's terribly unpalatable."

"Those people must have said that because they were full, Mr. Hewett. How could those born in such a country with good weather and vast land not be picky about food?"

We harvested the potatoes.

...And sorry, but potatoes really are tasteless. While 21st century people eat sweet potatoes improved through hundreds of years of intense breeding, potatoes now are literally flavorless.

Whatever the case, the potato farming was a huge success.

I must have underestimated 16th century people. People of this era must have at least tended vegetable gardens.

Fewer potatoes rotted underground than expected, and the yield wasn't bad either. This time I carefully selected suitable seed potatoes without making mistakes and put them in cold storage.

When it's time to plant again, I'll do the light sprouting work then to grow sprouts. Then next year we can harvest many more potatoes than this year.

Anyway.

Successfully harvesting potatoes held an especially special meaning for us.

First, Christmas, the biggest holiday for Christians, was approaching, and besides having abundant food.

We succeeded in becoming self-sufficient.

"So... this colony has finally succeeded."

The sight of settlement people having a festival, grilling meat and singing songs was enjoyable just to watch. I watched them with a genuinely warm expression then looked to the side.

Sitting close beside me was Eleanor.

"We succeeded in self-sufficiency, and we're getting along well exchanging gifts with the natives. Everyone tends their own fields and lives happily."

I noticed Eleanor's pronunciation slipping.

"...Just like my father promised those people..."

She covered her face with both hands. Tears leaked between her fingers.

"I-I thought everyone would die... My husband died like that... and others..."

Her husband was apparently trash with a bad reputation as a philanderer. Still, death was death.

"...Among them were people who wanted to become gentry, and people who escaped London not wanting to become prostitutes. So many people came here with dreams... and achieved those dreams."

And then she looked at me. Her face, her eyes sparkled with tears.

"Th-thank you, Nemo."

"...It's nothing. It's thanks to everyone's efforts."

"No. If you hadn't saved us then, probably everyone would have..."

"..."

I gave her time. Time to sort out her emotions alone.

Only after sobbing sounds continued for a while did a trembling voice continue.

"...What's the reason?"

"..."

"Why did you save over 30 dangerous people like that, without any cost? Wh-why..."

"..."

I pondered my answer for a moment.

What should I say? After thinking about what answer would make me seem like a 'mysterious helper', I answered.

"...If we must find a reason for one person to save another, isn't that too sad?"

"...What?"

"Let's say it was 'just because.'"

"..."

I chewed over the words I'd spoken and realized they were actually true.

Just because, I saved them.

There wasn't really any special reason.

Eleanor cried again hearing my words. She kept crying.

"You shouldn't cry."

"...What?"

"It's almost Christmas, isn't it?"

So I threw out a joke.

"You won't get presents."

Of course, it was a joke no one but me could understand.

==

Thud.

Several boats finally reached land after crossing dangerous seas full of wetlands and whirlpools. They strode forward, stepping on long-grown grass and disgusting sunken swamps.

Each of them carried wariness in their eyes, their bodies tense.

"Everyone, move inland!"

As the last boat touched land and their warship gently contacted the island, a fiery command fell. The soldiers began moving without further hesitation.

"Governor?"

"What is it, Fernando?"

"Excuse me, but according to the nautical charts of this area, the colonists have already withdrawn from this small island. Perhaps we should thoroughly search the Chesapeake Bay area instead..."

"Haven't we already searched Chesapeake Bay? All sorts of strange rumors among the barbarians, talk of catching clouds... I'm already tired. Better to go to where everything started."

"...Understood."

Vicente González, governor of Spanish Florida's Santa Elena, looked around while giving orders in a solemn tone.

Over a hundred soldiers were lounging around searching this barbaric land.

Even after hearing rumors that the Roanoke colony had moved to Chesapeake Bay, His Majesty the King could not rest easy.

The West Indies colonial government was also gripped by fear of colonies that might be used as English military bases and stopover points.

Several months had already passed since González was dispatched like that.

After tedious searching in Chesapeake Bay, they finally found no trace of the colony. They must have fled to escape the Spanish fleet.

So, the exploration was a failure.

'We brought a warship, we can't end just chasing English tails. We must somehow create something to report to the colonial authorities...'

Thinking this, Vicente González unconsciously chewed his thumbnail anxiously.

Somehow, if they couldn't achieve results from this exploration, it was obvious those damned English pirates would suck out Great Spain's wealth like mosquitoes again.

It was an infuriating possibility just to imagine...

"Go-Governor! Come look at this!"

"Hmm?"

Rustle.

Deer fled startled by human footsteps, and birds flew up from pecking at broken melon pieces.

That fluttering sound broke the silence, and Vicente González jumped over the bushes toward where the soldier's shout came from.

And...

"Oh... my God."

They saw traces of about 100 people having lived there.

They saw the surrounding palisade, the half-collapsed and abandoned huts.

On one of the logs was written:

'CROATOAN.'

Below it, more detailed content was written small but legibly:

'Settlement successful. If found, come to Croatoan Island.'

A curve drew on Vicente's lips.

Soon over a hundred armed men left Roanoke Island again.

They had a new target location. They also had a new mission from God.

The English heretics who betrayed His Holiness the Pope are all like beasts.

Therefore, kill all two-legged beasts living there.

It was quite a clean conclusion.