How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 19: The Treasure Warehouse

Thomas Hewet bid farewell to people leaving the church after finishing another fulfilling service and sermon today. Then looking around... there was still one person remaining.

Sometimes people with worries would stay behind like this to seek counsel from Hewet.

"Mrs. Dare, what's wrong? Your face looks dark."

Today that person just happened to be Eleanor Dare.

"Um... Mr. Hewet? There's something I wanted to ask."

"What is it?"

She must have mixed feelings about meeting her father after so long, both resentful and happy. Hewet presumed it would be concerns about that.

"Um... do angels and demons fight each other?"

"Hm?"

This was unexpected. Suddenly such a theological question.

"Well of course? Even in Ezekiel there are descriptions of battles between angels and demons, and many other theologians say angels and demons will continue fighting until judgment day."

"Th-then, do angels invade hell to kill demons?"

"...Pardon? Well, that, I don't know."

"You-you don't know?"

"Um... yes. Calvin said not to concern ourselves with the hierarchy of angels..."

"..."

"..."

Silence.

A heavy silence like ice.

Mr. Hewet couldn't understand Eleanor's reaction. All he could do was leave saying things like "If you have more questions, please ask during the next service."

As Mr. Hewet left the church muttering things like "How strange...", now only Eleanor remained in the church.

Left alone, Eleanor kept replaying that scene in her mind and thinking.

The terrible hellish landscape.

Lord Nemo's unfamiliar appearance looking half-ruined.

Even the horrible demon's song echoing everywhere.

What I saw... what was it...?

Ah, I don't know.

I don't know at all.

"Hey Satan, payin' my dues."

"I'm on my way to the promised land, woo."

"I'm on the highway to hell!"

She finally shook off those evil verses that had been ringing in her ears.

"Highway to hell..."

Somehow... it was addictive.

It really did seem like a demon's song.

==

Crunch. Crunch. Craaaack!

"I'm on the highway to hell! Highway to hell! Don't stop me, eh, eh, ooh!"

Click.

Oh, Highway to Hell.

Indeed a masterpiece by AC/DC. Especially when playing violent and gory games, listening to this makes you feel so refreshed.

I put away my phone and turned off the music with a much refreshed feeling.

...No matter how I think about it, playing a song titled 'Highway to Hell' would be too much psychological shock for people of this era.

Indeed, 20th century music is still too early for this era.

Looking around again, there was still no one around me. Right. When playing 'these games' and listening to 'this music', no one should be around.

Over there in the distance, John White is diligently drawing pictures in his notebook alone. They were pictures of our farm.

This is the new grape farm under development.

Specifically, the place with the greenhouse for growing rootstock.

After Eleanor introduced her father John White and left as if fleeing, I was showing him around various parts of the farm and settlement.

'...But why did she really leave like she was fleeing?'

Eleanor suddenly became strange. She makes somewhat sad expressions looking at me, or suddenly startles terribly just from being called.

Anyway.

According to the game catalog, John White was originally a miniature painter by profession.

Having trained in watercolors, he developed the specialty of making quick sketches and accompanied explorers, serving as a kind of camera.

Using that skill, he was now quickly sketching various scenes around our colony.

When the sketching seemed roughly finished, he slowly walked over to me and asked.

"Um, could I know the purpose of that transparent structure over there?"

"Ah... that is."

How do you normally propagate grapevines? By planting leftover seeds from eaten grapes?

That won't work. You can't preserve the traits of carefully cultivated wine and fruit varieties that way.

Therefore, they normally used cutting methods for propagation. Since trees are roughly similar to planaria, if you cut off a part and plant it in the ground, it grows as a clone.

But a problem arose in the 19th century.

The grape grower's disaster, the death of grapes - it's no exaggeration to call phylloxera mites that.

Phylloxera, also called grape root louse.

Literally a pest that attaches to grape leaves and roots, creates galls, and sucks up all the nutrients meant for the grapevine.

European grape varieties were extremely vulnerable to this phylloxera newly introduced from America.

When Europeans cut and planted branches, the phylloxera attached to roots and leaves sucked up all nutrients going to the trees, killing them through malnutrition.

Because of that, European grapes almost dried up then, and wine history became divided into pre-phylloxera and post-phylloxera.

Anyway.

Eventually after phylloxera, they started using a different method to propagate grapevines - grafting.

They would propagate phylloxera-resistant grapevines by cuttings (these trees are called 'rootstock'), then graft existing grape varieties onto that rootstock to produce grapes.

Of course, this is before the 19th century and globally they still use cutting methods to propagate grapes.

But I'm growing grapes in North America, the homeland of that phylloxera.

I alone have to use the troublesome method of planting rootstock and grafting branches onto it.

Anyway the population has increased, and proportionally the number of Christians has increased too, so wine demand is exploding. Plus the gift economy network is growing day by day.

"...So, we're building this greenhouse."

"Green... house you said? What's that?"

John White listening to my explanation asks back.

Hmm, were 'greenhouses' not around yet?

"It's a space kept warm inside so plants can grow regardless of season."

"I-I see! This is the first time I've seen such a structure!"

Living in the countryside basically means having some stock of items and materials needed for living. Of course we have extra PC panels that wrap our farm's smart house.

Here's a question, are PC panels considered consumables?

The answer is 'yes'.

Thanks to that, it wasn't difficult to build the greenhouse by assembling PC panels with steel frames here and there.

"The difficult part was... keeping the temperature warm inside. Though North Caro... no, Virginia is mild year-round and the ground temperature rarely goes below zero... no, no, rarely gets cold enough for water to freeze, if we're not careful the rootstock could still freeze to death."

"I see. I understand."

After looking around various parts of the greenhouse under construction for quite a while, White looked at the stove in the middle and asked.

"Is that... the device that maintains the temperature?"

"That's right. It's called a rocket stove. It allows efficient use of resources while minimizing production of carbon monoxide and other toxic gases."

"Wa-wait, wait. Greenhouse... rocket stove... carbon... there are too many difficult words. Perhaps... are these things used in Lord Nemo's 'homeland'?"

"...Something like that."

"...Ah! Indeed! Amazing! Building such facilities while fighting various great evils!"

...I don't know why he's so fixated on the 'homeland' part, and I don't understand why he gets so excited when I agree. And what 'great evils'? Spain?

More precisely, I didn't want to know. I quickly changed the subject.

"Ahem, anyway soon we'll be able to produce rootstock year-round in that greenhouse. Thanks to that, I expect the grape farm expansion will happen much faster than anticipated."

"Hmm... I understand well."

Thump.

John White closed his notebook and spoke to me with clear eyes similar to his daughter's.

"I think I can roughly understand how this colony operates."

"...Really? Isn't that just from looking around for two days?"

"It's a village of about 300 people living scattered around. And I am a skilled explorer, aren't I?"

John White spoke while giving a few dry coughs.

"You're planting... a lot of grapes?"

Ah.

I involuntarily flinched as if struck somewhere.

"Ah... since settlers demand a lot of wine, it couldn't be helped."

This was only half true.

If that were the case, I would have planted only wine varieties in the new vineyard too.

...Ah, grapes.

My parents' romance, my desire, the culprit that put me in debt and the scent of success I can't help but chase...

The day I give up grape farming will probably be the day I die.

I tried hard to keep my face from showing any wavering. Seeing this, White smiled questioningly and continued speaking.

"Well, anyway the most cultivated crops in this colony are grapes and potatoes, right?"

"...That's right."

"Neither keeps long, and one isn't even long-term food.

If a famine hits, this colony is finished right away. Since you can't stock food and seeds."

...Huh?

That's right?

"Moreover, this colony is economically inefficient. Simply put, does this settlement have any proper products to export to Europe?"

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

"...Not many."

"Right. Even if communication with England opens, you can't properly trade like this.

Meaning you can't make economic profits."

Stability: Low.

Profitability: Low.

...Ugh. A painful report card.

"Sigh... what should we do about this..."

"But there's a way to solve all these problems at once."

"...Really?"

"Yes!"

White said with a bright smile.

"Just grow wheat. There are wheat seeds in the relief supplies I brought, aren't there?"

Wheat is food that can be preserved long-term so it adds stability to the colony.

Plus England is constantly short on food now so we could export there.

...Oh.

"Then we should start right away."

"Of course. But Croatoan Island isn't good for growing wheat. The soil has lots of sand, the elevation is low, and it's barren from salt. It might work for grapes but not wheat."

"Then..."

"Yes. We need to go to Chesapeake Bay."

Chesapeake Bay.

Where White originally tried to colonize.

"If we additionally colonize Chesapeake Bay and grow wheat there, most of this colony's problems will be solved. However..."

However?

"Um... we're too short on craftsmen... and livestock too."

That's true.

Originally since 70% of the English who landed on Roanoke Island flew off somewhere, goldsmith William Brown is even serving as blacksmith.

Plus in this era livestock were like tractors plus food plus cars plus textile factories combined. Since we only have chickens, it seems the colony would collapse right away without my help.

"But... this seems like a difficult problem to solve..."

White bowed his head dejectedly.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well... isn't it obvious? If you need profits for investment, and need investment for profits, what can you do with a colony that doesn't make profits right now?"

"..."

"If only it were a place overflowing with jewels and all sorts of luxury goods!"

"..."

Um... wait a minute.

"John? Could you come over here for a moment?"

"Ah... yes, understood. What is it?"

What is it, you ask.

"What would you think if this colony actually had profitability? Um... let's suppose this island produces various jewels, animal furs, gold dust, pearls, and coral."

"...Is this perhaps about your homeland too?"

Of course not.

My homeland is a crappy land with not a drop of oil, yellow dust in spring, monsoons in summer, typhoons in fall, and severe cold in winter.

Anyway without answering, I walked ahead. I positioned the still puzzled White in front of the new warehouse.

"Um... actually you know the grapes?"

"You mean those seedless grapes with soft skin and incomparable fragrance? Or those strangely long black grapes with excellent harmony between crisp texture and sweetness?"

"...Seems the Black Sapphire tanghulu left quite an impression. Yes, both are right."

"Is there some problem with those beautiful grapes?"

"No. There's no problem at all. They're perfect grapes."

And we're not the only ones who want those perfect grapes.

"...Among the natives here, there's a custom of exchanging gifts to show off wealth."

"Ah, right. I know that too."

"Then will we eat all those many grapes ourselves? Or share them?"

"Share them... right?"

"Yes. Then..."

Creeak.

"...Won't we receive something in return?"

I threw open the warehouse door.

At that moment, John White's mouth opens wide.

In one corner was a display case made from cut microfiber blankets. Why make such a thing?

"Those... surely not all..."

"They are indeed pearls."

To store pearls and coral there.

And opening another door reveals all sorts of animal furs spread everywhere, and opening yet another door reveals uncut gems filling the space.

"Uh... ah... uhh..."

"All things Manteo traded for grapes."

"..."

John White collapsed sitting right there.

"How about it? Can we get livestock and craftsmen with this?"

"..."

White nodded silently like a madman.

This feels like some dark desire being fulfilled.

...Something like a desire for ostentation being satisfied.

==

"'Currently... November 4th, preparing for sailing and departing in just 2 weeks is a first in my life. Is this a new form of suicide attempt, or a great undertaking? I don't know. Does Sir Walter Raleigh know?'"

"Thomas! What are you doing there!"

"'...Probably not.'"

Thomas Harriot, mathematician, linguist, and naturalist, anxiously closed his diary. Then climbed onto the deck with unsteady steps.

Looking around, his employer Walter Raleigh's face was nowhere to be seen. As Harriot tilted his head in confusion, far away Raleigh poked his head out from the cabin and beckoned to him.

When he hurriedly ran over, Raleigh was kneeling in the middle of the cabin with his hands clasped.

"Um... what are you doing?"

"Can't you tell by looking? I kneel only before God and my lover."

"Ah, I see."

Thomas Harriot, thinking that meant Raleigh had too many people to kneel before, soon found himself unconsciously kneeling beside him at Raleigh's glaring eyes and closed his eyes.

The prayer of devout Protestant Raleigh quietly echoes in the cabin.

"Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us..."

Up to here it seemed like a normal prayer...

"...Please, if this colony fails too I'll die too. Ah, Father! Father! Please...!"

"..."

It was basically a prayer in the same form as countless stock investors responsible for the Sumida River's water temperature in the 21st century.

Of course Thomas Harriot, living in a world where the 21st century was an unimaginably distant future, not knowing of the existence of the Sumida River, and joint-stock companies not even existing yet, couldn't think such thoughts.

Just... his head became quite dizzy.

Though in the 21st century they would call that 'hitting the wall'.

He didn't know that fact either.

Thus they begin their Atlantic crossing.