How to Survive in the Roanoke Colony-Chapter 7: Nemo

"...I think he must be an angel."

"..."

"He laid out a map in front of me and told me about the native tribes, animals, and terrain in this area. It was far more accurate than what my father investigated over several years. How is that possible!"

"..."

"He even seems to be alone, yet how does he manage that huge farm, the fences, all those mysterious machines... If he's not an angel, there's no explanation...!"

"Mrs. Dare, you're excited. Drink this first and think about it."

"Oh, thank you.

...mmm, it's sweet."

While Eleanor was savoring the flavor of the Shine Muscat with furrowed brows, Lawyer Hewett spoke up.

"It's incredibly sweet, isn't it?"

"Yes! This must be a fruit from heaven too!"

"Columbus probably thought the same when he first tasted pineapple."

"...Ah."

"Please calm down. While this grape is indeed very sweet and fragrant and... um... delicious..."

"Really delicious."

"...Yes, while it is 'really' delicious, that alone doesn't mean its owner is an angel."

"But it has no seeds!"

"Well, nature is mysterious...?"

Mr. Hewett seemed slightly flustered. As others around started murmuring that such delicious grapes must indeed be heavenly fruit, Mr. Hewett quickly tried to calm everyone down.

"Anyway, did 'he' ever directly say he was an angel?"

"...No."

"See? If we ask the barbarians around here, they probably know something about 'him.' He couldn't have built such an impressive farm alone, overnight."

That was true.

"Whether he received help building the farm or got permission, there must be some connection somewhere that will give us answers."

"But when we came here last year, none of this existed. How could such a farm appear in just one year?"

"...That just shows how extraordinary 'he' is. Come to think of it, we don't even know his name."

"..."

"Let's not jump to conclusions."

At the lawyer 'sir's' words, everyone in the tent was nodding by now. As the governor's daughter and the lawyer seemed to have reached some conclusion, everyone focused back on eating the grapes.

Slurp slurp slurp.

Chomp chomp chomp.

And everyone, including Eleanor, thought:

'...Even so, this must be a fruit from heaven.'

Bang.

"Everyone, and Eleanor?"

"Ah, yes!"

"The logging is finished, please come out."

Everyone had gathered in the tent while he was logging, partly because they were nervous about the roar of that thing called a 'chainsaw', and he seemed reluctant to show the process of using it.

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And when they stepped outside the tent.

"Well, is this enough?"

"...Ah, yes, it is."

Eleanor realized she still wasn't used to this sight.

Dozens of trees cut down overnight.

'He' who had instantly completed logging work that would take 30 people all day, looked around with a relaxed face and said:

"Now that we have enough lumber, we can build a village in this area."

That was the signal. The settlers started gathering their tools and moving.

The sound of construction echoed throughout the forest.

It was the sound of the first English settlement being built on Croatoan Island.

==

I was slowly starting to adapt to this region's climate.

North Carolina (not yet called that) didn't have dramatically different weather from Japan. It was just a bit warmer in autumn and winter, and instead of having a concentrated rainy season, rain fell evenly throughout the year.

...So is that bad?

No, it's actually good.

Why do East Asian countries like Japan, Korea, and China put so much effort into producing premium grapes like Shine Muscat and Ruby Roman?

Why do they meticulously manage their vines and fruits, removing leaves and pruning branches, unlike the more casual farming in Europe and America?

Because the climate is terrible.

If you can't produce much anyway, might as well sell it expensive.

Like other fruits, but especially with grapes, when there's a lot of water, it goes straight to the fruit. If there's too much water around, the taste becomes bland for no reason.

That's why water management is so important in grape farming.

It's also why I'm reducing the water now right before harvest.

And in East Asia, the rainy season comes around July-August when the fruit is heavily bearing.

Plus, the clay soil holds a lot of water.

It means there's a lot, lot of water.

There's an old saying that you can survive three years of drought but not three months of rain - that's exactly my situation.

I feel like I'm going to die whenever it rains.

Once the rainy season starts, photosynthesis is blocked, so I have to adjust fertilizer accordingly.

During the rainy season, if there's too much water, the fruit splits from excess water.

Then when the heat comes, they split again from the heat.

The humidity brings mold and various pests and diseases as a set.

All of this hits right before harvest.

Should I water them to prevent leaf burn (when leaves necrotize to blackish-brown in humid climate with sudden heat), or should I reduce water if I don't want watery grapes?

What is this? Why is this grape acting like a client demanding a design that's simple yet fancy, modern yet traditional?

Why does this small hell-peninsula have so many handicap factors in the first place? Was Emperor Jimmu some crazy rabbit princess who enjoyed hard mode?

...Compared to that, this beautiful North Carolina has no rainy season.

Rainfall is even throughout the year and the weather is mild.

Of course, there are terrible disasters lurking like Pierce's disease and phylloxera mites, but for now I'm relieved since my trees are resistant.

Except for that... this place is a grape farmer's paradise.

Oh, America.

I happily sprayed fertilizer with my heart full of American pride. Eat well. Grow well and be delivered to department stores...

Ah, it'll be 264 years until the first department store is built.

Grape farming has now become just a hobby for me.

I still can't let go because of the facility investment costs poured into three 1,650-square-meter greenhouses, but someday I'll have to abandon even this grape farming for survival.

...It brings tears to my eyes. I finally came to a grape farmer's paradise, only for the grapes to become useless.

Anyway.

Except for about 10,000 bunches of grapes growing with no demand, everything is going according to plan.

Several temporary huts for the English were built in just a few days. Thanks to my help with the logging.

The English who were huddled together in the farmhouse and tents are slowly starting to move their belongings into their own houses.

Not wanting to only rely on me, they soon started hunting and gathering food on their own. Some even tried to gift me crabs they caught in the valley.

Of course, I didn't accept.

It was bothersome to cook, and it wasn't time yet to let them repay their debt to me.

Instead of accepting gifts, I offered them a few more bunches of grapes, and the English seemed so deeply moved they left with tears in their eyes.

Since I still can't fully trust them, I lock all doors when sleeping and keep a machete and chainsaw beside me... but they showed no signs of hostility toward me.

I had thought they might try to kill me and plunder my property.

But without me, there would be no one to maintain this farm or help them. And they seemed to understand that well.

This is how the mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship between the English settlers and me began.

This was the situation I most wanted after falling into this land 'alone'.

As long as I have these 30 friendly English people, neither natives nor settlers would easily mess with me.

But since nearly 10 of those 30 people are children, I can't let my guard down relying only on them.

To ensure my safety, I need approaches from other directions. In other words...

"You're back, Eleanor. How was it?"

"The tribes of this island said they'll accept us! They said we can settle on this island!"

A diplomatic approach.

Eleanor returned with positive news from the natives I had sent her to.

I nodded slowly while inwardly rejoicing.

The reason they came here was because of the friendly tribes in this area. Through the English, I indirectly gained the freedom to stay here too.

"Manteo said that since they won't be staying on this land permanently anyway, they don't mind us settling here!"

"That's good."

Manteo was the first Native American to become an Anglican. The son of this island's chief who visited England himself and decided to establish relations with England.

"But, he was puzzled? He asked why we chose this narrow island full of wetlands."

"It might look that way. But Eleanor, don't you need to wait for your father's relief ship on this island's coast?"

"...Well, that's true."

"..."

"..."

What's this?

When I turned my head at the sudden silence and stared at her eyes, Eleanor turned her head away with a reddened face. Ah, is it rude to stare at women in this era?

Even after I shifted my gaze upon belatedly realizing my rudeness, Eleanor's silence continued. When I glanced at her, she was looking at me with somehow meaningful eyes.

Her expression seemed to be trying to see through me.

She appeared lost in thought.

==

...This man before her.

What exactly is his identity?

Is he a prince from Asia? An angel? Or just a handsome and wealthy Asian man?

How does he know English? How does he know European affairs so well? How can he predict when my father will return? What's with this huge farm, complex machines, and all these facilities?

Eleanor asked carefully.

Why.

Why did you choose this narrow island full of wetlands?

How did you come to settle here, and what is your identity?

But the man didn't answer. He just stared at her intently.

She already had many questions, but after meeting Manteo, her curiosity only doubled.

...Eleanor recalled her meeting with Manteo.

As she approached the village, Manteo welcomed her and her group with a friendly face. When he asked if they came seeking refuge, she said no. She said they came to get permission to settle.

"...Most of your group are women and children? How do you plan to settle?"

"As you know, there's that huge grape farm up ahead? We've taken refuge with its owner."

"...What?"

Manteo's face hardened.

"What grape farm? There is no such thing."

"But there's clearly a huge settlement in those woods..."

"We searched those woods just about 2 weeks ago, and it was quiet then. If there was a 'huge' settlement, we would have found it first!"

"Wh-what?"

Fortunately, no other companions were present. Only Manteo, his mother the chief, and Eleanor were there.

"My mother doesn't know about it either. Are you sure you really saw such a farm?"

"...What are you saying? You didn't know until now that such a farm was built? In your homeland?"

Hearing Eleanor's words, Manteo thought for a while, then picked up a grape from Eleanor's hand.

It was a grape the man had given to be presented as gifts to Manteo and the tribe members.

"Such grapes... I've never seen in my life. Hmm... delicious. May I have another?"

"As many as you'd like."

"Anyway, I've never seen anything like this anywhere."

"..."

...That's right.

Eleanor didn't know who this man was or where he came from.

She only knew that he was currently friendly.

"...Um, this might sound like a silly question now."

"What is it? Feel free to ask anything."

"..."

Eleanor unconsciously opened and closed her eyes before speaking firmly.

"What is your name?"

At those words, the man was silent for a moment... then opened his mouth.

"Nemo."

"...What?"

"Call me that."

"Ah, yes. Mr. Nemo."

And then.

"...Ah, there was something I wanted to ask but forgot."

"Oh, yes?"

"Do you see these grapes? What do you think?"

"Um... there are very, very many?"

"And?"

"They're very well ripened?"

"That's exactly it."

'Nemo' snapped his fingers and smiled at Eleanor.

"Please help with the harvest."

And so Eleanor and the settlers found themselves picking grapes with scissors, not knowing why.

"...How many bunches in total?"

"Hahaha! It looks like a lot, but it's not that many."

"About 10,000 bunches."