Chapter 11

Three months was a long time. In an age before smartphones, television, or the internet, that period felt especially long. The people embroidered and tended their vegetable patches, yet they still found themselves with so much time on their hands they didn’t know what to do with it. With their needs for food and clothing met, they were simply bored.

And that boredom soon found an outlet for its energy in a different direction.

“Um… do we really have to go that far?”

“Of course! We must stop the Spanish!”

“To dedicate two or three days a week entirely to military training… does that even make sense?”

“Won’t we all die if the Spanish attack anyway? And didn’t you, Sir Nemo, see the Spanish warship with your own eyes?”

At Eleanor’s sharp retort, I had no choice but to clam up. The lawyer, Mr. Hewitt, took the opportunity to continue.

“That is correct. It is because Sir Nemo does not fully comprehend the viciousness of the Spanish.”

“I am quite aware, however…”

“There are various books, you should look through them. They detail how those Spaniards exploited and massacred the natives they call ‘Indios’…”

“…”

Hey. You guys do all the same stuff later on.

Like, uh, scalping people, building concentration camps, and handing out disease-ridden blankets…

Anyway.

I couldn’t say such things to the earnest settlers. Besides, the game materials did mention that the Spanish sent a fleet to find our colony, so it wasn’t an entirely baseless worry. If the Spanish came, not only the settlers here but also our ally Manteo’s tribe would all be killed. No matter how much of a nuisance it was, I couldn’t stop them. Even if my claim of seeing a Spanish warship was a small lie, there was no way of knowing if the Spanish wouldn’t actually stop by here.

“S-so… what is it you wish to prepare…”

“We need wooden shields to block the enemy’s bullets!”

“We should have a plan. If the Spanish come, some should evacuate while those who will fight stay behind.”

“And we are desperately short on gunpowder.”

Furthermore.

“Wooden shields? Can they really block bullets?”

“And as for you, isn’t the lack of gunpowder an unavoidable problem?”

“As for a plan, how exactly do you propose we formulate one? If armored men with steel swords arrive, won’t we all be slaughtered the moment we engage in hand-to-hand combat?”

Every time I joined the settlers’ meetings, I felt the urge to give unsolicited advice. They were so ignorant of the artifacts of the future that their conversations just went around in circles.

“…About that, sirs?”

“What is it, Sir Nemo?”

I finally had no choice but to speak up.

“What if… what if the ingredients for gunpowder were infinitely available nearby? Could you make gunpowder…?”

“Of course, we can! I was a sailor in the English Navy!”

“…So, the materials… are available?”

“…Yes.”

Of course, they are. They’re overflowing.

The main components of nitrogen fertilizer and gunpowder are quite similar, after all.

“And you said you needed shields? And you asked how we would handle close combat?”

“Y-yes… that is correct.”

“Do not worry about that either. Let us go to the warehouse together.”

When you live in the countryside, you’re expected to be able to handle simple repairs and maintenance on your own house and nearby facilities. That meant I also had the materials to repair the outer walls of the greenhouses.

“…And, hooo. Let’s get this sorted out. You want to prepare for close-quarters combat?”

“Yes. That is correct.”

“Well… isn’t it enough if we can just run over and crush all the enemies who get close?”

“Uh, yes, well, that’s right.”

I took the man who claimed to be a former sailor and led him to the warehouse. Opening the tin door, I immediately pointed to ‘it’ and spoke.

“Let’s say I charge at the enemy driving that.”

“…Yes.”

“Will the enemy die? Or will they not die?”

“…They will die.”

“Excellent.”

I clapped my hands, summarizing the discussions we’d had so far.

“Then… let us prepare for the Spanish invasion as follows. From now on, we will train, we will make shields from ‘that,’ and we will charge the enemy driving ‘this’.”

There were no particular objections.

And for the next three months, we worked our asses off.

***

The quiet eastern coast of Croatoan Island was surrounded by a gray sea that looked as if it could freeze at any moment. The waves rose high, as if to swallow the snow clouds, before collapsing onto the sandy shore. A wind carrying a biting, salt-laden chill clawed madly at the coastline.

And there, stood a lone hut. It was a coastal watch post, the English flag now taken down, guarded by a few sentries. From here, the residents of Croatoan Island watched for ships from England. They did not know when Eleanor’s father, John White, would send a relief ship from beyond the rising sun.

“…Huh?”

Chauco, who had been staring intently at the grayish-white curtain woven by the snow and clouds, spotted a single dark ‘dot.’ Unsure if it was a seabird or a trick of the eye, he narrowed his eyes and looked at the horizon once more.

The dot had multiplied into four.

“Uh, uhh…?”

He blinked again.

‘They’ were no longer dots.

And on those ships were painted the symbols the Europeans had taught them. They were not the symbols of allies.

They were…

-“They are savages who will burn a man alive if he does not believe in their god! I heard it myself when I was in London!”

Recalling Manteo’s shout, a chill ran down Chauco’s spine. There was no time to lose. Chauco ran. He sprinted toward the village where his people lived and saw Manteo and the young men of the village practicing with their muskets.

The moment he saw Manteo, Chauco screamed.

“S-Spain!”

That one word. That single, short word, and the leisurely smile on Manteo’s face froze into a mask of ice. Soon, the young men of the tribe were shouting, rousing the villagers who had been idly chatting. They grabbed the bare minimum of their belongings and fled the village.

Time was short. There was not much time until the enemy landed.

***

December 20, 1588.

With only five days left until Christmas, the village was bustling with activity. They had all arrived here in 1587, so this was their second Christmas in the Americas, but… no one thought of it that way.

This was, for them, their first true Christmas here. Even those who had lost family or companions during the past year stopped their mourning for now and cheerfully picked fruits and prepared food for the festival. In such an atmosphere, I couldn’t help but get swept up in it myself.

…I steeled myself and slated a few roosters for slaughter. The hens? Of course not. They needed to lay eggs and increase their numbers.

In short, everyone was in a state of excitement. Even I, who was not a 16th-century Puritan, found my mood lifting along with theirs. I enjoyed the positive energy the people radiated, so much so that I sometimes joined them when they prayed or held services.

That was the state of the settlement now.

“It’s starting to snow. Is your house all right, Sir Nemo?”

“Uh… why do you ask so suddenly?”

“Oh, it’s just that I’ve never once seen you carry firewood into your house.”

“…”

“I was worried you might be cold. I saw you have a chimney, so you must have a fireplace…”

My apologies. It’s a fake, made of brick and wood panels.

My mother, a die-hard fan of Anne of Green Gables, had wailed that she would not be able to rest in peace unless she perfectly recreated the look of ‘Green Gables.’ We almost gave up central heating to warm the house only with fireplaces, like in the 19th century, until I finally managed to talk her down by arguing it was ridiculous, and we settled for a fake chimney and fireplace.

In other words, my house runs on a hot water boiler with underfloor heating, just like a normal Korean home. And the boiler, just like the faucet that spews out endlessly purified water, runs just fine on its own.

“I am quite all right.”

Of course, there was no need to explain all this. I simply nodded and smiled.

“The top priority is ensuring that all of you do not run out of firewood. And if I had taken all that firewood for myself, would I have been able to decorate so many trees?”

***

‘To be so wealthy, yet to live so frugally and give up his firewood for others!’

Eleanor was deeply moved and made a mental note to write down ‘Sir Nemo’s’ words in her diary.

Naturally, ‘Sir Nemo’ himself had no idea of her thoughts.

***

Huh? Why does Eleanor have that look on her face… Never mind. Anyway.

The Christmas customs I was familiar with only began to take shape in the 19th century. In this era, there was no Santa Claus or Rudolph. Of course, I could understand the absence of Santa Claus. It was still the 16th century. With no Santa to deliver presents, I could also understand the lack of gift exchanges. Christmas now was just a religious holiday.

But the absence of a tree made it feel too bleak, so I was the one who introduced that. Placing candles and aluminum ornaments on the trees did make them look pretty. And so, the branches of countless trees were hung with sparkling aluminum ornaments made by Mr. Brown, and the sight was quite spectacular.

“…Now it finally feels a bit like Christmas.”

“Did they celebrate Christmas in your homeland, Sir Nemo?”

“Of course. The streets were grandly lit with lanterns, and people bought presents for the children or donated their wealth to the poor on earth.”

“That…! It must have been beautiful!”

“Yes, it was beautiful. Especially the people dressed in Santa Claus and Rudolph costumes…”

“Sir Nemo!”

Ah, damn it. Just as I was about to perform the important task of spreading the existence of Santa Claus to the world for the first time, who dares to interrupt?

I turned to see the stockade gate open and a group of men with serious expressions running toward me.

“…Uh, Mr. Hewitt?”

The well-respected lawyer of this settlement. He was a quick study with the native languages, so I had sent him to Manteo’s tribe as an envoy. Why was he back so suddenly? And with dozens of native warriors?

“Hah, huff, it seems I am not too late. They have come! They are here!”

“…”

They? Could it be…

…At first, it was a lie. Then, after reading the materials, I realized it was a plausible concern.

But why now?

I glanced to my side and saw that Eleanor had grasped the situation faster than I had. Her face was already deathly pale as she sprinted toward the settlement. As she shouted at the top of her lungs, the others stopped what they were doing and immediately moved to their positions.

That’s right.

We hadn’t had much to do in the past few days. The food situation had become stable, and there was little need to worry about survival. There was nothing much to do other than shooing away the birds that pecked at the potatoes.

And when we had nothing else to do, we didn’t just play. We had trained, repeating the same patterns of action for months.

Eleanor shouted a single, repeated word.

“Spain!”

And at that word, everyone moved as they had trained.

“Manteo, how much time do we have?”

“Perhaps three or four hours. It will take that long for the Spanish to land and find this place.”

“How far have your tribe’s people come?”

“Right there! They have all arrived!”

“Evacuate everyone to the greenhouses and have your warriors wait at the entrance with their muskets!”

“Understood!”

“Everyone, grab your shields and muskets and gather at the entrance!”

At her command, all the adult men and women of the settlement gathered, each holding a transparent shield and a musket. The evacuation of the elderly and children had already been completed.

And so, the chilly minutes ticked by. I immediately moved to the warehouse, started the engine of ‘it,’ and likewise moved toward the main gate.

Clank. Clack. Thunk. Clank.

Soon, the sounds of metal and sharp commands could be heard. ‘They’ soon gathered at the only place we had not yet enclosed with the stockade: the entrance to the settlement.

A shout rang out.

“In the name of Philip II, the rightful king who rules Spain by sacred blessing!”

“…”

“We offer you English heretics and your Indian allies a chance to save your lives! If you swear your allegiance to your new monarch…”

BANG!

Thump.

“Begone!”

“…”

“…”

A silence fell over the island with Eleanor’s shout.

And that was the first death of the battle.

***

A flushed Vicente Gonzales immediately shouted to his lieutenants.

“That damn bitch! The English dogs have killed our envoy! There shall be no more mercy for them!”

Of course, they had no reason to spare the English in the first place. Whether man or woman, child or elder, they had more than enough reason to execute them all with excruciating pain and then plunder their settlement, and they likely would have done so anyway.

So, Gonzales’s anger did not stem from his mercy being rejected. It came from the fact that the process of arson, plunder, and massacre had just become somewhat long and tedious. But communicating such a thought process was both undignified and inefficient.

So, instead of worrying about the strange stockade, iron fence, and bizarre structures inside, Vicente shouted a single word.

“Fire!”

RAT-A-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!

Instantly, the muskets of the colonial veteran soldiers, who had fought countless battles against the English and massacred countless ‘Indios,’ erupted in flame.

Should I have brought the cannons…? No. The obstacles between us and them are crude at best. Unless we are to engage in a siege, cannons are unnecessary.

BANG! BANG-BANG-BANG!

As the Spanish fired, the English and the natives returned fire. However, the volley from the civilians was somewhat crude and clumsy. For a long time, the smoke from the gunpowder tickled the soldiers’ noses and the acrid smell stung their eyes, obscuring their vision. Again and again, the two sides fired, waiting for the other’s gunpowder to run out.

And then.

Swoooosh.

When a clear wind blew through the battlefield after the volleys had ceased, Vicente saw an unbelievable sight. It was not surprising that about thirty of his 211 men lay fallen and scattered on the ground. Whether fired by a young girl, an old woman, or a strapping man, a gun was a gun, and the English had fired back. On the battlefield, death was as impartial as the merciful Lord. It was only natural that this many would be injured after exchanging a full volley at this range.

Therefore, it was not his own men that surprised him.

“…They’re not dead?”

It was the enemy.

By his eye, only one or two people had fallen. It was an unbelievable result for sailors who had cut their teeth on countless pirate hunts and rebellions.

However, he would never be able to solve this mystery.

He would never know that the shields they held were made of the same material as the greenhouses behind the farm.

That the material was polycarbonate sheeting[1].

That the outer walls of a Lexan[2] smart house, built with a father’s entire retirement fund, could never be pierced by a 16th-century matchlock rifle.

He could not know.

That’s right. A retirement fund was stronger than gunpowder weapons.

Vicente’s face, which had been flushed, finally turned a pale, bluish-green. He drew his own Toledo steel sword[3], stepped forward, and shouted.

“Charge! Charge and tear those English savages to pieces!”

“WRAAAAAAGH!”

The Spanish soldiers swarmed forward, shouting as they immediately began to climb the iron fence. They couldn’t understand what had just happened, but in any case, if it came to hand-to-hand combat, they would certainly have the advantage.

Or so they thought…

“Fire!”

RAT-A-TAT-TAT!

“Keuk…!”

“Gyaaaah!”

At this point, Vicente couldn’t understand the situation at all.

…Why?

Based on all the information we gathered, there was no way they could have stockpiled more gunpowder than us. How could a half-failed colony, cut off from supplies, have amassed so much gunpowder?

The answer to his first question could be summarized in two words.

The ammonium nitrate fertilizer on this farm was treated as a ‘Consumable.’

And ammonium nitrate is the main ingredient of black powder.

Of course, just as with the information about the polycarbonate panels, there was no way for Vicente to know the answer. That was his second mystery.

And.

WROOOOOOOOOOM!

“…W-what is that thing!”

CRASH!

***

What is it?

It’s a 10-ton excavator with a top speed of 37.5 kilometers per hour.

***

From top to bottom: Chesapeake Bay, Roanoke Island, Croatoan Island

This image is a map illustrating the key geographical locations associated with the historical mystery of the Roanoke Colony, often referred to as the “Lost Colony,” on the coast of present-day North Carolina, USA.

 

Roanoke Island (로어노크 섬): This was the site of the 1587 English settlement established by Sir Walter Raleigh. It is where the 115 colonists, including Virginia Dare (the first English child born in the Americas), were left when their governor, John White, returned to England for supplies.

Croatoan Island (크로아토안 섬): When John White finally returned in 1590, he found the Roanoke settlement deserted. The only clue left behind was the word “CROATOAN” carved into a post. This island, inhabited by a friendly Native American tribe of the same name, was the colonists’ pre-arranged destination in case of trouble. This island is known today as Hatteras Island.

Chesapeake Bay (체사피크만): Located to the north, this was another potential destination for the colonists. Before his departure, John White knew of plans to move the colony “50 miles into the main,” and some historians speculate they may have attempted to relocate north toward the Chesapeake Bay area.