How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 11: Battle Begins

Three months was quite a long time.

In an era without smartphones, TV, or internet, that period felt especially long.

People didn't know what to do with their spare time even while doing embroidery and tending vegetable gardens. With food and clothing taken care of, everyone was bored with nothing to do.

And that boredom soon... led to energy being channeled in another direction.

"Um... do you really need to go that far?"

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"Of course! We have to stop the Spanish army!"

"Dedicating two or three days a week entirely to military training... whether that's reasonable..."

"Won't we all die if the Spanish army attacks anyway? Even Nemo himself witnessed their warship!"

At Eleanor's rebuke, I had no choice but to keep my mouth shut. In that gap, Lawyer Hewett continued.

"That's right. That's because Nemo doesn't know well about the Spanish army's brutality."

"I do know quite well, but..."

"There are various pamphlets, take a look. They detail how those Spanish exploited and massacred the natives called 'Indios'..."

"..."

Hey. You'll do pretty much the same things later.

Like, um, scalping, building concentration camps, spreading disease bombs...

Anyway.

I couldn't say such things to the serious settlers.

Besides, according to documents, there were indeed reports of Spanish fleets being sent to find our colony, so it wasn't a needless worry.

If the Spanish came, not only the settlers here but also our allies in Manteo's tribe would all die.

No matter how annoying, I couldn't stop them. Even if seeing the Spanish warship was my little lie, I couldn't know for sure whether the Spanish army wouldn't really come here.

"So... what you want to... prepare..."

"We need wooden shields to block enemy bullets!"

"We should have a plan. Like some people evacuate while others stay to fight when the Spanish come."

"Plus we're terribly short on gunpowder."

Moreover.

"Wooden shields? Can those really block bullets?"

"Isn't the gunpowder shortage an unavoidable problem anyway?"

"What kind of specific plan do you want to make? We'll all die as soon as hand-to-hand combat starts if strong men with steel swords come!"

I wanted to give advice whenever I joined the settlers' meetings.

They were too ignorant about future items, so their discussions went in circles.

"...Um, about that?"

"What is it, Mr. Nemo?"

I finally had to speak up.

"Actually... what if gunpowder ingredients came out endlessly from nearby? We could make gunpowder..."

"Of course we can make it! I'm a former English sailor!"

"...You have the ingredients?"

"...Yes."

Of course they're overflowing.

After all, nitrogen fertilizer and gunpowder share similar main ingredients.

"And you said you needed shields? You asked how to handle hand-to-hand combat?"

"Yes, yes... that's right."

"Don't worry about that either. Come with me to the warehouse."

When you live in the countryside, you need to be able to do simple repairs and maintenance on your house and nearby facilities.

Which means having materials to repair greenhouse walls...

"...And, phew. Let's organize. You want to deal with hand-to-hand combat?"

"Yes. That's right."

"Well... wouldn't it be enough if we could just trample and kill all enemies who come close?"

"Uh, yes, well, that's true."

I took that former sailor along to the warehouse.

Opening the corrugated iron door, I immediately pointed at 'that' and said:

"Let's say I drive that and charge at the enemies."

"...Yes."

"Would the enemies die or not?"

"...They would die."

"Good."

I clapped my hands and summarized all the discussions so far and.

"Then... let's organize our defense against Spanish invasion like this. From now on, we'll train, make shields with 'that', and charge at enemies driving 'this'."

There were no particular objections.

And we worked our butts off for three months.

==

The quiet eastern coast of Croatoan Island was surrounded by a sea so gray it seemed about to freeze. Waves rose high as if to swallow the snow clouds before collapsing on the beach.

Wind carrying unbearable cold along with saltiness savagely clawed at the coastline.

And there, there was a solitary hut.

It was an outpost guarded by several sentries, with the original English flag taken down.

Here, the residents of Croatoan Island watched for ships sent from England. They didn't know when Eleanor's father John White would send relief ships from across that sunrise.

"...Huh?"

Chauco, staring intently through the grayish-white curtain made by snow and clouds, spotted something like a dark 'dot.'

Unable to tell if it was a seabird or an illusion from the snow, he frowned and looked at the horizon again.

The dot had multiplied to four.

"Uh, uhhh..."

Blinking again.

'Those' were no longer dots.

And symbols that Europeans had taught them were drawn on those ships.

They were not friendly symbols.

They were...

"They're barbarians who burn people alive if they don't believe in their god! I definitely heard that when I was in London!"

...Chewing over what Manteo had shouted, a chill ran down Chauco's spine.

There was no time to waste. Chauco rushed immediately.

Running to the village where the tribe lived, he saw Manteo and village youths practicing shooting.

Chauco shouted as soon as he saw Manteo.

"Sp-Spanish!"

That one word.

At that short word, Manteo's relaxed smiling face turned cold.

Soon tribal youths shouted to wake the villagers who were chatting leisurely. They left the village taking only the minimum belongings they could carry.

Time was tight.

There wasn't much time until the enemies landed.

==

December 20, 1588.

With only five days left until Christmas, the villagers' movements became even busier. Though this was already their second Christmas in America since arriving here in 1587...

No one thought of it that way.

This was their true first Christmas here.

Even those who had lost family or colleagues stopped mourning for now and picked fruits and prepared food for the festival with joyful hearts.

In such an atmosphere, I couldn't help but move too.

...I made up my mind and put up several roosters for slaughter. Hens? Of course not. They need to lay eggs and increase the population going forward.

Anyway, to put it shortly.

Everyone was excited.

Even I, not a 16th century Puritan, got caught up in the good mood. Just liking the positive energy people emitted, I even joined when they prayed or held worship.

That was the settlement now.

"Snow is starting to fall, is Nemo's house alright?"

"Uh... why such a sudden question?"

"No, just. I've never seen you bringing firewood to your house."

"..."

"I'm worried you might be cold, since there's a chimney so there must be a stove..."

Sorry. That's fake, made of bricks and boards.

Mother, who was a huge fan of 'Anne of Green Gables', wailed that she couldn't die in peace without perfectly recreating the appearance of 'Green Gables' where Anne lived.

We almost gave up central heating and went with just fireplaces for heating like in the 19th century... but I barely talked her out of it, and we just made fake chimneys and fireplaces.

In other words, our house runs on hot water boiler floor heating like normal Japanese homes.

And the boiler runs well on its own, just like the faucet that endlessly spouts purified water.

"I'm fine."

Of course, there was no need to explain such circumstances. I just nodded and smiled.

"First priority is making sure you don't run out of firewood. And if I had gathered firewood, could I have decorated all those trees?"

==

'Despite being so wealthy, living frugally and giving up firewood for others!'

Eleanor was so moved she tried to remember Nemo's words to write in her diary.

Of course, 'Nemo' himself had no idea about such circumstances.

==

Huh? Why is Eleanor's expression like that... never mind. Anyway.

The Christmas scenery familiar to me only takes shape in the 19th century. There's no Santa Claus and Rudolph in Christmas yet.

Of course, I could understand the absence of Santa Claus. It's still the 16th century.

I understand there's no gift exchange without Santa Claus to give presents. Christmas now is just a religious holiday.

But it was too bleak without even trees, so I taught them that. It did look pretty with candles and aluminum decorations on the trees.

Like that, aluminum pieces made by Mr. Brown hung sparkling from countless branches, and the sight was quite spectacular.

"...Now it feels more like Christmas."

"Did they celebrate Christmas in Nemo's homeland too?"

"Of course. Every street was brilliantly lit with lamps, and people bought gifts for children or donated wealth for the poor on earth."

"That... must have been beautiful!"

"Yes, it was beautiful. ...Especially the people dressed as Santa Claus and Rudolph..."

"Mr. Nemo!"

Ah, damn.

Who's interrupting at this important moment when I was about to spread the existence of Santa Claus for the first time in world history?

Looking back, the palisade gate was open and men with serious expressions were running toward me.

"...Uh, Mr. Hewett?"

The respected lawyer in this settlement. We sent him as an envoy to Manteo's tribe since he learned native languages quickly, but why is he suddenly back?

And with dozens of native warriors?

"Huff, huff, looks like we're not too late. They've come! They have!"

"..."

If they mean... surely not...

...At first it was a lie, and after reading some documents I thought it was a somewhat reasonable worry but.

Why now of all times?

Looking to the side, Eleanor grasped the situation faster than me.

She was already running toward the settlement with a pale face. When she shouted loudly, others stopped what they were doing and immediately headed to their positions.

Right.

We didn't have much to do during the past days. Food situation had become comfortable, and there was almost no worry about survival.

At most, there was nothing else to do except chase away birds pecking at potatoes.

And when there was nothing else to do, we didn't just play. For months, we repeatedly practiced the same behavior patterns.

Eleanor repeatedly shouted one word:

"Spanish!"

And at that word, everyone moved according to their training.

"Manteo, how much time do we have?"

"Probably about three or four hours. That's how long it'll take for the Spanish to land and find this place."

"How far have your tribe members come?"

"Right there! They're all here!"

"Evacuate everyone to the greenhouse and you and your warriors wait with guns at the entrance!"

"Understood!"

"Everyone gather at the entrance with shields and guns!"

Then all the adult men and women of the settlement gathered with transparent shields and muskets.

The evacuation of the elderly and children was already finished.

Time passed chillingly like that. I immediately moved to the warehouse to start 'that', then moved to the gate as well.

Click. Click-click. Click-clack. Click.

Soon metal sounds and commanding voices were heard.

'They' soon gathered at the settlement's entrance, the only place we hadn't managed to surround with palisades.

Soon shouts were heard.

"In the name of Philip II, rightful king ruling Spain by divine blessing!"

"..."

"We'll give you English heretics and your Indian allies a chance to save your lives! If you sincerely swear to serve a new sovereign..."

BANG!

Thud.

"Get lost!"

"..."

"..."

With Eleanor's shout, silence fell over the island and.

That was the first death of the battle.

==

Red-faced Vicente González immediately shouted to his staff officers.

"Damn it! England's dogs killed the envoy! There will be no more mercy for those creatures!"

Of course, they had no reason to spare the English.

They would have tortured and executed everyone regardless of man, woman, child or elderly before plundering, with more than enough reasons.

So González's anger didn't come from having mercy rejected.

It came from the process of arson, plunder, and massacre becoming somewhat longer and more troublesome.

But conveying such thought processes one by one would be undignified and inefficient.

So instead of paying attention to those bizarre structures inside the palisade and wire mesh, Vicente shouted one word:

"Fire!"

RATATATATATA!

Immediately, the muskets of colonial veteran soldiers who had fought countless battles with English and massacred countless Indians spat fire.

Should we have brought cannon after all...? No. The obstacles between them and us are terribly crude anyway. We don't need cannon if we're not conducting a siege.

RATATA! RATATATA!

As the Spanish army fired, the English and natives also fired their guns. However, the civilians' volley fire was somewhat crude and rough.

For a while like that, gunpowder smoke tickled the soldiers' noses, acrid smell hurt their eyes, and visibility was blocked. Both sides fired their guns again and again, waiting for the other's gunpowder to run out.

And.

Whoosh.

When a clear wind swept across the battlefield where volley fire had ceased, Vicente saw an unbelievable sight.

"Urgh... cough..."

"Ugh..."

It wasn't surprising that about 30 of their 211 men were rolling on the ground fallen.

Whether shot by a young girl, an old woman, or a strong man, a gun is a gun, and the English fired guns too. On the battlefield, death was fair like a benevolent Lord.

Of course, exchanging volley fire at this distance, that many casualties was natural.

Therefore, what surprised him wasn't because of his own forces.

"...They're not dead?"

It was because of the enemy.

To the naked eye, only, only one or two people seemed to have fallen.

It was unbelievable that this was the result achieved by sailors hardened through countless acts of piracy and rebellion suppression.

However, he could never resolve this question.

That the shields they held were made of the same material as the greenhouse behind the farm.

That the material was polycarbonate.

That the walls of a Lexan smart greenhouse that had eaten up some father's retirement money could never be penetrated by 16th century matchlocks.

He couldn't know.

Yes. Retirement money was stronger than gunpowder weapons.

Vicente's face finally turned from red to blue.

Drawing his Toledo steel sword himself, he stepped forward and shouted:

"Charge! Charge and tear those English barbarians to pieces!"

"Uwaaaah!"

The Spanish soldiers rushing forward shouted while immediately climbing the iron fence.

Though everyone couldn't comprehend what magic had just happened, anyway they would surely have the advantage in hand-to-hand combat.

That's what they thought but...

"Fire!"

RATATATATATA!

"Urgh...!"

"Arrrgh!"

By this point, Vicente couldn't understand the situation at all.

...Why?

Clearly when gathering information, they couldn't have stockpiled more gunpowder than us?

How does a half-failed colony that can't even receive supplies have so much gunpowder stored after moving here?

The answer to his first question could be summarized in two lines:

Ammonium nitrate fertilizer was treated as a 'consumable' in this farm.

And ammonium nitrate is the main ingredient of black powder.

Of course, like the information about polycarbonate panels, Vicente had no way of knowing this answer. That was his second question.

And.

VROOOOOM!

"Wh-what is that!"

CRASH!

==

What else would it be.

It's a 10-ton forklift with a top speed of 37.5 kilometers per hour.