How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 17: John White

I understand what it means when they say time flies like an arrow.

A year passed in an instant.

First, in January and February, I reorganized the materials I had downloaded from the Rural Development Administration website when I was going to farm, and planted rootstock around Croatoan Island to expand the vineyard.

The rootstock I'm planting is the 101-14 variety.

The 101-14 rootstock is suitable for growing grapes in sandy loam soil with lots of sand mixed in, making it appropriate for Croatoan Island's environment.

I was originally going to use the Teleki variety, but since this is the homeland of that damn phylloxera, I used a variety with stronger resistance to phylloxera.

My plan was to cut the branches of this planted rootstock when it grows and graft Seisui or other varieties on top.

It's a troublesome process, but if we don't do this... um... the grapevines could all die from phylloxera mites. Sigh, originally wine varieties could just be propagated by cuttings. Anyway.

It's a long-term plan considering it will take 2 years after planting the rootstock for the tree to fully grow and bear fruit.

Anyway, after spending those first two months like that, when March and April came, I got busy with sowing.

Plowing the fields... sowing seeds of lettuce, cabbage, Chinese cabbage, tomatoes, beets, etc. that I grew in the garden... planting spring potatoes...

First replanting and sowing a small amount of corn for seed preservation even though it doesn't suit this soil and will drain nutrients...

Right. I remember this was the busiest time.

Still, Easter was in between so I took some time off then.

After that hard work ended, spring gradually passed and summer came. Though North Carolina's summer was quite hot since the climate is generally milder than Japan's, it was bearable.

Why?

Because there's no damn monsoon season!

Originally during monsoon season you have to desperately prevent soil erosion, prevent crops from rotting due to humidity, and even add organic amino acid products to grapes to promote photosynthesis...

Ah.

North Carolina is bri-ight.

Rainfall is consistent throughout the year and summer isn't especially, terribly humid.

In other words, the effort needed for farming was reduced quite a bit, so it was pretty comfortable.

Around this time my main job as a grape farmer began in earnest.

Around May after the flowers fully bloom, I give Shine Muscat the first gibberellin treatment to prevent seeds from forming in the grapes and help the fruit grow better.

Then during the first enlargement period, while maintaining the tree's vigor, I give it a second gibberellin treatment.

After receiving gibberellin twice like this, the Shine Muscat fruit enlarges again, and around this time I put bags on them to protect the fruit from pests and diseases.

Thus spending July, August, and September's summer and harvest season repeating what I did last year when I fell here completed the grape farming.

Another wave of surplus stock passed by us, but this time we could handle the massive quantity without problems from the start by making wine and running a gift economy.

The wine-making issue was very important. Not just for Christians' Mass, but wine is an everyday drink, and the homemade Shine Muscat wine tasted... um...

Like shit.

So this time I took special care when growing 'Seisui'. When I grew wine grapes, Europeans also started coming one by one to look.

"This grape looks different from the others? More... ordinary?"

"It's a variety called 'Clear Water'. Used for making wine."

"Clear... Water?"

"Ah! Just as Moses struck the rock with his staff to give clear water to the Israelites, Lord Nemo gives us clear water!"

"...Pardon?"

Right. These days when talking with them, context often jumps without me realizing.

For example...

"Wait. Clear water?"

"Isn't that when the Israelites complained to God so He gave them clear water and cursed them not to enter Canaan?"

"Um...?"

"We... must have done something wrong to Lord Nemo too! It's not important that the wine tastes bad, what's important is the heart with which Lord Nemo blessed us, but we only complained..."

"The Shine Muscat wine is... ta-tasty too! I'm fine with just drinking Shine Muscat wine!"

Like this.

Belatedly realizing the atmosphere was getting strange, I put down the pesticide sprayer and watched Eleanor and the others.

"...Pardon?"

...Are you serious? The amateur Shine Muscat wine is fine?

"That's right! We're satisfied with just Shine Muscat wine so don't worry! We don't need this 'Clear Water' grape..."

This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.

"Take your hands away. If the grapes get damaged, there will be no more wine."

"..."

"..."

I'm not fine with it.

There are many people who can make tasty Shine Muscat wine.

But I'm not one of them.

Anyway.

Of course, I couldn't focus only on grapes while having to feed a population that increased several times.

While managing and harvesting grapes, I proceed with double-cropping lettuce, cabbage, and Chinese cabbage. It was work just to set dates so the first frost wouldn't overlap with harvest season.

While all the villagers tended their gardens that way, I harvested the small amount of corn I was growing and preserved those seeds in refrigeration.

While managing seed potatoes to use in fall and re-educating those who failed at spring potato farming because they weren't familiar with it.

While handling various administrative matters scattered around the village, I... um...

"Uh, um, wait, don't eat potato leaves!"

"No! You threw it away because it looked like dirty dirt clumps? That's the potato fruit!"

"Sigh, let's look at the cabbage first. Fertilizer... um... you didn't apply any?"

...I feel like a village head.

Shouldn't the modern person teach pre-modern people farming when transported? Why am I teaching them?

Why do they come to me for mediation when conflicts arise? You're Spanish, so go to your commander Vicente.

I thought 300 people wasn't much, but with teaching farming to those 300 people, interpreting for those who couldn't communicate, managing public facilities, even 10 bodies wouldn't be enough.

Plus since I was the only one who could handle various equipment, I was also in charge of clearing weeds with the grass cutter, taking the excavator to construction sites, and managing tough fields with the cultivator.

I brought in Eleanor to share all sorts of administrative work but Eleanor collapsed and I collapsed too.

After such trials and tribulations, we could spend another year. This time we had a proper Christmas, and could safely greet the first day of the new year.

The number of people to share that emotion with grew from about 30 to about 300.

Whether Spanish, English, or Algonquin, they all set up a feast while singing songs that somehow made sense yet didn't, as if bonds had formed while living together for a year.

Thus.

1590 dawned.

==

Vroom. Vroom.

Rattle rattle rattle.

"Woof, woo..."

"Um, is it really okay for me to dare ride in such a place?"

"Why wouldn't it be okay, Eleanor? Don't worry and fasten your seatbelt first."

"Ah... yes!"

As I drove the used Hijet around, Eleanor looked around curiously. Come to think of it, this is the first time I've given anyone a ride since being transported.

I couldn't even use the Hijet properly for a while.

The Hijet is originally a vehicle type with terribly low safety, and with its high center of gravity, the body can sway and even tip over just from wind blowing from the side.

Therefore, it was nearly impossible to drive around in 16th century Croatoan where there weren't even roads, just swamps and forests.

Wrooooom!

"Vicente... worked hard."

"Of course. He managed it for weeks, staying up nights."

Like this, until the road was made.

How did it get made? The Spanish strongly argued that since we had a ship we needed a port, and since we had a port we needed a road connecting to it.

It's a road made by grinding up cement, sand, and countless labor. Of course it's at a horrific level even compared to abandoned unpaved roads of the 21st century, but at this level the Hijet shouldn't worry about flipping...

Bump!

"Kyaaah!"

"...It'll be fine."

"Re-really?"

"...Probably."

...Right?

Anyway, what was important was that I could now drive the Hijet outside my farm and settlement.

Originally the purpose of using the Hijet was to transport small orders of grapes to the delivery company, and its large cargo capacity made it useful for carrying fertilizer bags and grapes around the farm for a while.

Even though it was just a motorcycle-level vehicle, the Hijet's existence was truly unparalleled in this era, especially in this colony without horses.

Rattle rattle rattle!

...Though its vibration sensitivity is also unparalleled. I can't tell if I'm holding a car steering wheel or a game controller.

Anyway, after passing about one kilometer of such unstable unpaved road, soon the surrounding forest clears and the view opens up.

Then the wide, flat sandy beach comes into view. Coastal batteries built with red brick and PC panels were positioned here and there, and beyond them were simple port facilities.

There our galleon lies.

The ship's name... 'Nautilus'.

...Since I'm 'NEMO'.

Its previous name was already discarded. According to Vicente, since that ship was "now spiritually reborn, it should use the name given by its new master."

People are shouting various things while moving goods here and there. Soon Algonquins led by Manteo come beside the Hijet to unload the cargo.

Eleanor fidgeted for a moment then turned to ask me.

"Will Father really come?"

"..."

"As you know, today is... Virginia's third birthday. It would be nice if Virginia could see her grandfather... if Father is still alive..."

"Virginia."

I cut off Eleanor's words and said.

"Will definitely be able to meet her grandfather today."

"..."

"So go without worry. Have a safe voyage."

Instead of deliberately turning my head, I checked Eleanor's expression through the rearview and side mirrors.

Something dropped from her eyes, and Eleanor soon got out of the Hijet.

"Th-thank you... all of this, everything..."

Her voice was swallowed by sobs before finishing.

She ran toward the Nautilus.

And soon one galleon left the coast.

...Not completely left.

It was scheduled to return soon.

August 18, 1590.

The day Eleanor's father returns.

==

"There! Roanoke Island!"

"Drop anchor and launch the boats! Hurry!"

As two ships reached Roanoke Island's coast, boxes containing relief supplies were lined up one by one on the shore.

And a group of men looked around while wading through rough waters to land.

"Mr. White, is this the right place?"

"...Yes. Though the settlement should be a bit further in... roughly this is the right island."

John White answered in a dejected voice to the subordinate that his sponsor Sir Raleigh had attached.

'I shouldn't have... left Roanoke.'

All dreams start infinitely sweet.

Everything went well from when Walter Raleigh, favored by the Queen, obtained rights to colonize America, until he trusted John White and appointed him as colonial governor.

He gathered devout Puritans to form a pioneer group. He thought he had found capable colleagues and navigators while receiving all sorts of support from Sir Raleigh.

But from when they actually started sailing, everything was a nightmare.

The crazy navigator had no interest in building a colony.

Rather, that bastard wanted to kill them all, seize the ship, and make a fortune plundering Spanish ships.

"Simon Fernandes, that damned bastard..."

It was also that bastard who arbitrarily changed the colony's planned location from Chesapeake Bay to a backwater like Roanoke Island. His teeth still ground at that bastard's atrocities.

Was it smooth sailing after arriving at Roanoke Island?

No.

The promised supply shipments didn't arrive properly, they were attacked by hostile tribes, or ruined diplomacy by accidentally attacking allied tribes, only misfortunes continued.

Finally forced to board a ship to England at the settlers' insistence to somehow get supplies... but what was the result?

Naval battle with Spain.

Her Majesty the Queen requisitioned almost all ships to prevent Spanish invasion and banned private voyages. Even when the Queen's favorite Sir Raleigh begged, the Queen wouldn't even pretend to listen.

Thus a year and a half was wasted.

When the big battle ended and the Queen's sailing ban was lifted, White again tried everything to find a ship.

However, no one was willing to fund a voyage to a colony that might not even still exist. There was also much risk of Spanish attack.

Thus another year was wasted.

Only after over two and a half years had passed could White finally depart, and now nearly three years after leaving this place, he could finally return.

Virginia, who was a newborn baby when he left, would now be 3 years old.

Eleanor would now be a mature 21-year-old lady who had shed her girlishness.

The settlement after 3 years would now be completely rooted. Maybe they had even moved elsewhere without that villain navigator's interference.

If they were all still alive.

"..."

Actually he knew.

Three years is a very long time.

When a colony that requested relief due to food shortages was abandoned for 3 years, the result was actually obvious.

Especially if they had hostile relations with surrounding barbarian tribes and even their location wasn't very good.

"Mr. White! Why are you dawdling there? We can't waste time!"

"...Ju-just, just wait a moment."

"What's the matter?"

"...Nothing, nothing at all."

But White tries to comfort his gloomy mood.

Right.

Beyond those bushes, surely his lovely daughter and granddaughter are waiting. His rascally wanderer son-in-law would be there, and other settlers would scold him asking why he took so long.

Step.

Then he would apologize. Sorry for being so late. Couldn't help it due to war and royal orders. Almost no merchants would come here.

Step. Step.

And this John White, exhausted in body and mind, would cry in his daughter's arms. His already too-grown granddaughter would walk over asking who that old man is.

Step! Step! Step!

Then he would tell her while rubbing this bearded face. That I am your grandfather, and you are my granddaughter.

That I wanted to see you for a very long time.

That I... and your mother, my daughter... very...

"...Oh, good heavens."

"Mr. White? No... how should I say this..."

"..."

That I wanted to see you very much.

Thud.

John White finally pushes through the bushes and emerges from the thicket. Then his eyes see the settlement where his lovely daughter should be waiting...

No.

Where his lovely daughter should have been... waiting.

Thump.

His legs suddenly lost strength and he collapsed.

"Mr. White... is this the right place?"

White couldn't answer that question in human language.

"Uu, uwaaaagh..."

"..."

"..."

"..."

"Ah, uwaaaah! Kyaaaaaaah!"

There was no colony before him.

Only its half-burned remains.

"He-here! There's some record! Some graffiti..."

"Eng... land... who... Oh, damn. It's Spanish."

The words of Sir Raleigh's subordinates reach his ears even though he doesn't want to hear.

All circumstances were clear.

Spanish troops... those damn Catholic pig bastards...!

He didn't want to continue his thoughts but horrible images unfolded in his mind.

People being butchered, his daughter screaming terribly, his granddaughter already dead, burning houses and furniture...

As he shed tears, Sir Raleigh's subordinates could say nothing more and fell silent. They realized that whatever words they added would be no comfort to a father who lost his only daughter.

The merchants who came with White returned to the ship with expressions of being in a fix. Soon only White and Sir Raleigh's subordinates remained before the ruins.

Thus, after time passed with tears and silence.

"Co-come back! Right now!"

Suddenly a shout comes from the shore.

When White turned his head at the sudden call, a sailor who ran breathlessly from the shore was shouting something.

"A wa-warship... a galleon is coming! You must board immediately!"

"...What?"

The only English colony here... was just confirmed destroyed.

They just found Spanish graffiti around here.

Then the galleon approaching this area... could it be...

"Damn shit! It's the Spanish!"

"Mr. White, get up right now! Hurry!"

Sir Raleigh's subordinates hurriedly lift John White and start running while supporting him. But emerging from the thicket, what they see is already two merchant ships hastily leaving the shore.

"These... these crazy bastards! Abandoning passengers and running!"

The ships they came on are fleeing to save themselves. Sir Raleigh's subordinates sprint toward the inland while spewing all sorts of curses.

White stared at the opposite shore with half-focused eyes.

As they said, one galleon was approaching the shore in a majestic figure. As if it was already too late to chase the two fleeing merchant ships.

"Aah... aaah..."

Those Satan's minions, after killing my daughter and granddaughter, now come to kill me too.

White suppresses his desire to scream and runs following Sir Raleigh's subordinates. The splashing sounds and shouting from behind pierce his spine.

Must run... must run quickly. To not die...

...Huh?

White's running pace with Sir Raleigh's subordinates slows. When the startled subordinates turn to look at him, White speaks as if muttering.

"...Can we, live by running?"

"..."

"..."

"I'll die here. You all go."

"Mr. White! Our employer Sir Raleigh..."

"Go."

"..."

"..."

Soon as the commotion grows louder, they abandon White and run as if letting whatever happens happen. White, left alone, walks toward the burned settlement.

Step.

Over the collapsed gate of the palisade, to the house where he stayed.

Here... he believed he would gain a new life.

He thought he could become a gentleman and nobleman of the New World from his humble commoner status and live luxuriously with his daughter.

All those dream's remains are scattered here, turned to burnt smell and ashes.

"..."

He found a rope. He also found a suitable tree outside the house.

"Over there!"

"The others?"

"Already caught!"

"Search the settlement area!"

Various voices are heard as if mumbling. Ha... Sir Raleigh's subordinates are already caught. Really unfortunate.

Demons who killed my daughter, behold. Watch the miserable death of a father whose girl you caught and killed.

Those who commit suicide cannot go to heaven so he too would wander hell. But that much wasn't any worry to White.

Because this world would be more hellish to live in without his daughter...

Flash!

Suddenly anger at the world boils up.

He glared at the noose hanging in the air that he just made and shouted.

"May heaven's punishment fall on that whore who calls herself Queen of England! May Elizabeth that whore who killed my daughter by issuing a sailing ban go to hell!!"

"Oh Walter Raleigh. Devil who whispered false hope to me, lustful male prostitute who pleases the queen in bed, filthy demon... may curses be upon him too!"

"And finally the Spanish bastards! You're all bound for hell!"

And he brought a chair, stood on it and...

Bang!

Kicked it away.

My throat is constricting...

Can't... breathe...

"Ah, Daddy!"

I hear my daughter's voice...

My daughter... is waiting for me in heaven...

I'm... sorry...

This unworthy father... will go to hell...

Whoosh!

Slash!

...Huh?

Bang!

The rope is cut and John White's body falls to the ground. His consciousness blurs. His vision darkens from the edges.

From far away, a man who looks Spanish shouts loudly and others run over.

One person is Manteo. Ah, my friend. You too were waiting for me in God's kingdom.

Another person is lawyer Hewet. That gentleman... I didn't know radical Calvinists could go to heaven too.

And finally... um...

"Daddy! Daddy!"

My... daughter...

He lost consciousness.

And when he woke up.

"...Huh?"

He was on a Spanish ship.

"Wh-what... how did this..."

"Are you coming to? Sir Raleigh's employees are in that cabin over there."

"He-Hewet? What is all this? Why are you on a Spanish ship..."

"...Ah, don't worry."

Thomas Hewet told him with a somewhat insane, dreamy expression.

"You too... will soon meet 'Him'."

"...Him? Who is that?"

"A most... noble one, more supreme than any earthly monarch."

Something was wrong.

Something was seriously wrong.