Chapter 15

“Ah!”

Vicente Gonzales, the governor of Spanish Santa Elena, awoke to the sound of birdsong and the most refreshing, clear morning he had ever experienced in his life.

…Why? Why is the air here so sweet? Why does the wind blowing through the window feel so pleasant?

‘…It is because I was spiritually reborn in this very place.’

Vicente, shedding tears of gratitude once more, made his bed. For a prisoner, the sleeping quarters provided in the farm hut were quite luxurious. What’s more, it was a near miracle that his body was unharmed after being struck by that monster. He was a lucky man.

In any case, he opened the door, took in a deep breath of the fresh morning air, and began his day with a light run to explore the farm.

“Hah… good heavens…”

There was nothing that did not elicit a gasp of wonder. The cleanly plowed fields, the well-tended garden despite the winter season, and the manor house, which, though not massive, had a strange and mysterious atmosphere. It was beautiful. There was nothing that was not beautiful.

As he ran, his eyes caught sight of the lingering traces of the previous day’s battle. For example, the iron fence. He was certain that when the ‘beast’ had rammed him and then crashed into it, the fence had been torn and twisted beyond repair. And yet today, as if by magic, it had been restored to its original state, once again separating the farm from the world outside.

Next, the yellowish ‘beast’ that he had thought was completely destroyed, spewing smoke…

WROOOOOOOOOOM!

“Sir Nemo! Over here!”

“Waaaaah! It’s so big!”

“…”

Not even a stain of the blood from the soldiers it had killed remained. It was clean and pristine once more.

“…Ah.”

As he thought of this, Vicente’s expression grew somber. The lawyer, Mr. Hewitt, who happened to be passing by, noticed him, blinked, and ambled over to his side.

“Good morning, Governor Gonzales. You look troubled. Is something worrying you?”

“Good morning to you, Mr. Hewitt. You see right through me. My heart is heavy with concern.”

“What is the matter?”

“It is just… my men…”

At this, a shade of sadness also crossed Mr. Hewitt’s face.

‘Ah, he is blaming himself for the deaths of his men.’

“…Do not blame yourself so harshly. The battle that day was not your fault, Governor. The deaths of the men you commanded were no one’s fault.”

“…Hmm? Ah, of course, it wasn’t. Why would it be my fault? Who could have known Sir Nemo would be here?”

“…?”

“…?”

Of course, an ordinary person might have fallen into despair or been tormented by guilt, just as Mr. Hewitt had predicted. That is, if Vicente had been such a weak man. But Vicente Gonzales, the governor of Santa Elena for the great Spanish Empire that ruled the West Indies, the Philippines, and the Low Countries, was not a man to be tormented by such ‘trivial’ matters.

“Earthly suffering is but a fleeting moment; eternity belongs only to the Lord. As long as they have gone to Heaven, what does it matter if they died in battle or choked to death while eating gazpacho[1]?”

“…I see.”

Above all, he was a devout 16th-century Catholic.

“…If you do not mind my asking, then why were you saddened?”

“Well, ahem, it is just that my soldiers fought against the angel, Sir Nemo, did they not?”

“Uh… they did?”

“Then will they not be barred from Heaven? Those who survived were given a chance to repent, but those men were not. How could that not be a sad thing?”

“…Hmm.”

Now that he mentions it, that is true.

Mr. Hewitt pondered for a moment, then replied to Vicente.

“Do not worry. They, too, will be able to enter Heaven.”

“…Is that so?”

“Of course. It was a sin committed in ignorance, was it not? How heavy could a sin be, if it was committed without knowledge that it was a sin? If they, too, were devout, it is highly likely they have been saved.”

“Aha.”

Vicente beamed at his words. Problem solved!

“Thank you, Mr. Hewitt!”

“It is nothing, Governor Gonzales! Have a good day!”

“Hahahaha!”

“Hahahaha!”

Vicente resumed his run. The trivial matter of his dead soldiers was now completely forgotten. Mr. Hewitt, who had also played a part in killing those soldiers, likewise felt no guilt and offered Vicente a warm smile. What did it matter? Whether they were saved or not was predestined from the beginning.

That’s right. Above all, Mr. Hewitt was a devout 16th-century Calvinist[2].

And so, just as the two very devout and slightly unhinged men were about to begin their pleasant day, Vicente, his mind now clear of all worries, began to think.

‘Wait a minute… For Sir Nemo’s sake, I must somehow retrieve our ships.’

Come to think of it, the four ships he had brought were still anchored on the western coast of Croatoan Island. There were quite a few sailors waiting there as well. If this was handled poorly, a strange report could reach the colonial authorities, and this colony could be put in jeopardy.

Slightly tense, his mustache twitching, Vicente became lost in thought. For the glory of the great Sir Nemo and this Croatoan colony. For his ‘true faith.’

“…Aha!”

And at last, a good idea came to him.

***

Two galleons[3] and two small pataches[4], four ships in total, were quietly anchored on the western sands of Croatoan Island. Every time the salt-laced ripples lapped against the sides of the warships, armed with dozens of cannons, the sailors felt an unbearable sense of boredom and anxiety. They wanted to break this silence, even if it meant firing those cannons until they burst.

Their comrades who had gone out on patrol had not returned. If this island were enormous, it would be understandable. But had not the governor himself assured them that two days would be more than enough to search this tiny island? And yet, more than six days had passed… they had even spent Christmas aboard the anchored ships.

There could only be one answer.

“…They’re all dead, aren’t they?”

At someone’s words, everyone started and silenced him. But no one denied it. Whether they had encountered hostile Indios or been wiped out by the soldiers of a powerful English colony, they must all be dead.

However, to leave without a direct order, before the governor had even returned, would be mutiny. They had to at least make a show of searching for them.

“So… who’s going?”

“…”

“…”

Of course, no one wanted to venture into this ominous island of death. As they glanced at each other, stealing peeks at the dark shadows of the Croatoan forest, one of them shouted.

“Uh… uh oh?”

“What is it, Hosea?”

“Uh oh? Th-there…! Over there!”

At the sailor’s cry, everyone rushed to the railing and looked toward the island. A few very small, very… very faint human figures were getting closer. Judging by their clothes, they were not Indios. And seeing them wave their arms and jump up and down at the sight of the ship, they did not seem hostile.

In that case…!

“Th-they’re back! That’s Pedro over there!”

“Quick, lower the rope ladder!”

“What? Why are there only five of them?”

“Just lower the ladder, I said!”

As the long silence and boredom were shattered, the sailors excitedly lowered the ladder. They waited for their five comrades, who were now wading through the water, to bring them news.

Thump.

When the five men climbed onto the deck of the galleon, everyone’s expression hardened. Covered in blood, their clothes torn to shreds, they looked more like beggars than sailors.

“Wh-what happened? Where is everyone else…?”

When someone mustered the courage to ask, one of the five immediately answered.

“This… damn it all. Th-there were no Englishmen here. No Englishmen, no colony, nothing!”

“Then why are you in this state…”

“Why do you think! Use your head!”

“…”

“…”

One of the five survivors finally burst into tears, and the others slumped down, exhausted. Only one man shouted at the top of his lungs, and everyone focused on his words.

“Th-the Indios appeared, shot poisoned arrows, and fled. At first… it was just that. But then, one by one, they started collapsing, vomiting blood, and dying. Anyone who touched the blood met the same fate. In the end, we were the only ones left.”

“A-a plague?”

“Plague or poison, it doesn’t matter. We just have to get out of this hell… Urp.”

“Bleeegh!”

“Hwuaaaargh!”

At once, the five men began to vomit blood and collapse. The faces of the sailors watching them turned ashen. How many comrades had they seen die after shouting things like, ‘Bah, we can handle this! It’s nothing!’ while traversing the Americas? A minor itch, a small cut, a simple rash—all of it had led to death.

They were experienced explorers of the Spanish Empire, experienced sailors. They knew far better than those savage Englishmen what to do in a situation like this.

“G-gyaaaah! Quick, quick, set sail!”

First, abandon the ones who are going to die.

“Hey, you bastard! How are we supposed to set sail on a galleon by ourselves!”

“Then get on the pataches, now!”

And so, the remaining sailors fled from the survivors. No matter how much the five men begged and crawled after them, they ignored them and didn’t look back. But they were trained soldiers of Spain; they would not leave behind a ship that could fall into enemy hands.

Gathering what little manpower they had, they set out from the coast on the two pataches, and then…

BOOM! K-BOOM!

…they scuttled one of the galleons.

They left the other one. It had been their comrades’ ship, and… if the English captured that ship, they would get a taste of plague-ridden hell. It was a thoroughness befitting the great explorers of Spain.

And so, the two pataches, carrying the Spaniards, sailed serenely over the horizon.

“…That was excellent acting, gentlemen. It is sad that only one ship remains, but, well, they are men I trained myself. It can’t be helped.”

“My apologies, Governor.”

“Not at all. Now, shall we?”

Vicente Gonzales smiled arrogantly as he looked out at the beautiful warship, stroking his mustache with pride.

“…We must deliver the blessed news to our new lord.”

***

“It is a fine vessel, armed with thirty-two cannons! And it seems we can salvage a few more cannons from the destroyed ship! With this, this colony will be able to effectively deal with any threat!”

Well… he wasn’t wrong. A population of 300, a large warship, and dozens of cannons. Unless Spain decided to make a concerted effort, this was a level of strength that could not be easily challenged.

“What do you think, Sir Nemo? Is it not magnificent? It is as if fate itself is guiding this colony to success!”

…But why are you so happy about it? Weren’t you the governor of a Spanish colony just a few days ago?

“It is, Governor Gonzales! Truly magnificent!”

“Hah, it is nothing, Mrs. Dare.”

“You have made a great contribution to this settlement, Governor.”

“Not at all, Mr. Hewitt. I am just glad to be a part of this glorious journey.”

And you all… why are you just accepting this without a hint of suspicion?

Has some kind of strange bond formed between you? Did the attendees of the ‘Nemo’s Arm-Cutting and Regeneration Show’ form some kind of friendship?

Manteo was shedding tears of gratitude in the corner, and the others were clapping and cheering.

…Anyway.

The meeting continued with discussions of this and that.

“What about constructing a coastal battery?”

“…A coastal battery.”

“Yes, Sir Nemo. The threat we just faced will not be the last to come to this colony. If word gets out that this colony is growing, other powers will surely do everything they can to threaten it.”

Right. You know you were a threat, at least.

“So, I propose we take some of the cannons from our ship and place them on the coast! If we guard the coast and build a fort at the same time, no one will be able to invade this holy ground!”

“Ah, Hallelujah!”

“…Is that so?”

“Yes. While we’re at it, it would be good to build a port facility and a road to the coast. We have a ship now, don’t we? It will have many uses.”

“That’s right! There are still supplies we couldn’t bring back from Roanoke Island!”

“Come to think of it, the people who split from our colony are in the Chesapeake Bay. We will need a ship to find them and bring them here.”

“Hmm…”

Everyone was now looking at me, as if waiting for my final approval.

‘…This is burdensome.’

I gave a nod.

WHIIIIIRRRRRRRR!

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

And so, the construction of the port and coastal battery began.

“Alright! Alright! This way! Move it this way!”

Unfortunately, we couldn’t use polycarbonate panels as the main material. While PC panels were light and invincible against bullets, they had one weakness. They were flame retardant, but they still burned. It was a material that would have to be used sparingly in fortress construction, especially since we didn’t have a fire suppression system like in my greenhouses.

“Here, bring more mortar!”

“Roughly… should we build the embrasures here?”

In the end, we used a mixture of red brick and stone. The PC panels were used as a supplementary material.

“What do you think, Sir Nemo? It is the first coastal battery built on this island!”

“Our tribesmen lent their strength as well!”

The sight of the red structure with transparent walls here and there…

…was quite a spectacle.