“My name is Raleigh. Ra-leigh.”
“Raleigh? Funny name.”
“You are very clever, Usamequin[1]. To learn basic English in less than a month is remarkable.”
“Sim…ple. You, your people, speak language similar to ours.”
Usamequin chuckled and spoke to Raleigh and Vicente. “Similar language, we talk. English, we talk. Same. Understand fast.”
“Excellent. Most excellent. A friend who learns our language so quickly must be given a gift.”
Rustle. Rustle.
As Raleigh took something out of his bag, Vicente quickly held up a Bible. Raleigh placed a scepter in his hand and a crown on his head, and Vicente recited a Bible verse, saying, “Do you now acknowledge Nemo of Croatoan as your great chief?”
“…Of course. If he is the wealthiest one.”
“Do you now swear to receive the gifts bestowed by Nemo of Croatoan, and to send gifts in return, and to fortify your faith and loyalty toward him?”
“The gift… must continue.”
“Excellent! You are now a faithful subject of Sir Nemo!”
Normally, he should have used the Queen of England’s name, but there was no way the Queen would send someone all the way here to check and have Raleigh’s head cut off for treason. Raleigh confidently offered Usamequin a handshake and said in Algonquian, “You are now our comrade as well. Let us work together for the Virginia Community!”
“Well… I doubt I’ll ever have reason to go there in my life…”
“You never know, do you? Would you like us to give you a ride?”
Usamequin shook his head. He spoke not in English, but in his native tongue. “This is my home, so I will not leave.”
“…”
“Did you not say you call this place ‘Massachusetts’?”
To be precise, Nemo had mentioned Massachusetts in front of them. The two men only remembered it.
“I will not leave Massachusetts. So you should return.”
“…Then, farewell.” Raleigh smiled and nodded to him. “Glory to our emperor, great chief, angel, whatever you may call him. I hope we shall see each other again.”
And so, Raleigh and Vicente left the shore and boarded their boat. They hastened on their journey once more. This was a story from a time quite a while after they had left Chesapeake Bay.
***
“…”
“…”
“…”
I and the other Europeans stared, speechless, at the map Manteo had colored. The natives, many of whom couldn’t read a map, had no idea what had happened and just glanced at each other. But I could tell just by looking at Manteo’s expression. Even if the other chiefs had known how to read the map, they wouldn’t have been so surprised. To them, this situation was probably ‘natural.’
We had organized a gift exchange network with our vast resources, and in doing so, we had succeeded in bringing numerous tribes under our sphere of influence. It was all an achievement accomplished with grapes, aluminum, and so on.
…What is this? Why does my head understand, but my heart refuses to accept it? It was a feeling similar to when, in a children’s anime, the fate of the world is decided by a card game or a soccer match. No, no matter how delicious Shine Muscats are, to conquer a land the size of South Korea with them? It was absurd.
“Ah, that, uh…”
“…You didn’t know?”
“I did not.”
“…”
“…”
But he said it wasn’t absurd. Right. No matter how much it felt like a lie, reality was reality.
“Then… the strangers who were loitering around whenever we held a meeting?”
“They were people who had gathered because they heard the ‘Great Chief’ had convened a council. I explained the situation and sent them back, but they must have had some complaints. I’ll mark those areas with diagonal lines.”
I see. Anyway, I managed to hold onto my reeling mind and barely finish the meeting. And as I scanned the map Manteo had colored… I let out a sigh.
“So, for now, they are within my ‘sphere of influence’.”
“That is correct.”
“But they are not members of our community.”
“That is also correct.”
Since they are within my sphere of influence, and they acknowledge me as their great chief, am I their king? No. To them, I am… uh… perhaps something like the Secretary-General of the UN.
Meaning, my presence is both there and not there. It’s simple if you consider that I didn’t even know I was the great chief until Oitohtan called me that. Can I, as the great chief, demand that they fight for me? No. Can I, as a monarch, give them other orders? Also no.
Whether chief or great chief, in this neighborhood, it’s closer to an honorary position. Somewhere between a group project leader and a village headman. …In any case, I had thought that the amount of resources coming in was strangely enormous. It turns out I had been distributing grapes over an area the size of South Korea.
“Everyone, I’ve missed you! You have no idea how much I longed for Chesapeake!”
“You would be surprised if you knew how many places we have adventured!”
“…Oh.”
Not long after I had that realization, Raleigh and Vicente returned.
“Welcome back. It’s time for you to go to England.”
“…Pardon?”
“Excuse me? I am Spanish.”
“Then Vicente is excluded. Only Walter will go.”
We needed a great many things. Spices, sugar, various small tools, clothes for the residents to wear… And so, after releasing pearls, coral, and all sorts of jewels into England, by the time Walter Raleigh returned, several more months had passed, and it was now September.
September… the season of grapes… Grapes were overflowing from every direction. This time, we were able to harvest most of the grapes at the perfect time, without worrying about freshness. And, the various kinds of grapes we had ambitiously cultivated anew this time! Ruby Roman! My Heart! Cotton Candy! And other high-end grapes worthy of being supplied to department stores were blooming in countless numbers on Croatoan and the nearby islands!
I had originally paid royalties for some of the varieties, but now there was no one to collect the royalties! Neither the US Department of Agriculture nor the Japanese Ministry of Agriculture, Forestry and Fisheries could stop me now!
“Now, Walter! Please do your best again.”
“…I have spent half the year at sea.”
“As expected, Walter’s spirit of enterprise is magnificent.”
And the ambiguous climate of the North Atlantic certainly couldn’t stop me! Now I could send grapes picked at the peak of ripeness across the sea in perfect condition! With the thought, ‘I’m going to ruin the gums of all the British nobles,’ I controlled my pounding heart and sent Raleigh off.
Raleigh complained about how difficult the clipper was to pilot, its terrible handling, and the grinding labor of the skilled sailors, but… all his words only led me to the conclusion that I had to send out a ‘skilled captain.’
“…In that case, I will stay in England for a while this time. I should attend Her Majesty the Queen’s accession day banquet for the first time in a while.” I granted Raleigh’s vacation request.
And so, Raleigh left. And I remained for a while, munching on the leftover Shine Muscats, lost in thought. It was already my sixth year in this land. This was a Shine Muscat whose quality I had maintained with all my might, constantly replanting and even attempting the pergola cultivation method. Hmm, grapes.
Even though I was the great chief, like other great chiefs of this era, I was not a being with any real power. To many, the grapes I cultivated were probably closer and more familiar than I was. Just as it is for most grape farmers and their consumers. Right. I was just a grape farmer. But a farmer whose target market was a bit wide. Thinking like that made me feel a little more at ease.
I chewed and swallowed another grape.
***
“Father, the jewels are becoming rarer. The fur-bearing animals nearby are also becoming scarce.”
“Is that so?”
The drought continued. Farming became difficult, hunting became difficult, and it was not strange that the foxes that provided the fur had become rare. And jewels, too, do not grow like grass or beasts, so if you keep picking them up and digging for them, their numbers are bound to decrease.
You cannot live by holding onto things that are disappearing.
“Father, why did our tribe abandon its former life? Why did we accept the grapes and that thing called the ‘potato’ that the so-called great chief offered, instead of throwing them away or burning them?”
“…To live,” the chief said with a smile at his son’s words.
A ‘gift,’ was not originally like this. Originally, a ‘gift’ was mostly a venue for sharing things that were more symbolic, valuable, and, to put it crudely, useless. Like sharing necklaces made of coral and shells, or passing around ornately decorated feathered headdresses. It was only natural, as people had an abundance of time but not an abundance of food. No one was that wealthy.
No one, like now… could casually give away food that could feed a tribe for months and call it a ‘gift.’ No one, like now, could offer a rare fruit to those facing drought and famine. The people of this tribe found it hard to believe each time the ‘Great Chief’ sent a gift. In a situation where everyone was starving, unable to find food, they endlessly created numerous fruits, as if they were molding them from clay. After the envoys they sent had left, everyone from the chief to the tribe members would hungrily devour the potatoes and grapes.
The simple act of accepting a massive gift in the beginning was the start of it all. The pain of the famine that continued for several years, the hunger, the disease—that changed them again. Many of the tribe members now no longer bothered with the doomed farming and simply wandered around to obtain precious furs. It was easier to live by exchanging them with the great chief for food. The old days of making gift ornaments in the time left over after farming and hunting were gone. Now, only after making ornaments, if there was time left, did they barely manage to sow seeds and catch fish.
They were not the only ones. Someone spent all day diving for pearls. Someone spent the whole day grinding coral to make beads. Someone lived every day beautifully combing animal hides. It was the first time. In Europe, this would be called the ‘division of labor,’ but the situation was so unfamiliar to the Algonquians of this region that they couldn’t even find a word for it.
Of course, they were still not ‘buying and selling’ goods like the Europeans. They were still just exchanging gifts. More potatoes and grapes for more furs, and again, even more potatoes and grapes for even more furs, they gave back to each other. No one was bound by a contract. They were still free.
But, again, everything had changed. The wars that were bound to break out when a famine occurred were gone. They picked up thread, needles, and traps instead of bows, spears, and clubs. As a result… they gained peace instead of war.
“And we gained life instead of death.”
“Don’t say such things. We now have to go deeper into the forest to get furs, don’t we? And we fight with other tribes there.”
“Hmm… that’s true.”
“Besides, it has become harder and harder to dig for jewels. We will starve to death soon! We must leave this area!”
“…No. That’s not true.” The chief shook his head at his son’s worried words and said, “I have heard that the great chief’s tribe does not kill even large beasts recklessly, but instead puts them in enclosures, tames them, increases their numbers, and then eats them.”
“…Pardon?”
“Could we not do the same? We could tame foxes and eat their meat. And get their hides as a bonus.”
And so, they would domesticate the fox. To his son, who had only ever tamed small animals, the suggestion felt absurd. “W-We’ve never done anything like that before, have we? For one, don’t foxes eat meat? And we don’t even know if the foxes will adapt and live well in the place we prepare…”
“We have to try. Though we will surely only experience failure for several years.” The chief’s eyes gleamed. “Are not things we have never experienced before continuously happening? We must change, too. Or at least change our hunting methods.”
“But…”
“Have you ever seen a being like the great chief before? Why do you try to respond to a situation you do not know with the methods you knew?”
“…”
“If it really doesn’t work, we can just lead the tribe and leave for the great chief’s land. You must remember that a chief must, above all, make the decision that saves his tribe members.”
“…”
Anxiety flickered in the son’s eyes. It was the look of one who fears change. But there is no tree that still bears fresh green leaves in winter as it did in summer. When change comes, everything must change accordingly. That is the way to survive.
He didn’t know what his son thought of the great chief… but the chief felt his heart grow firm whenever he thought of the great chief he had never even seen.
“Originally… around this time, you would have died fighting.”
“Pardon?”
“And I would have starved to death.”
“…”
“But look. We are both alive and enjoying the night. The bonfire is still burning, and the moon and stars are burning in your eyes. Do you not know whose grace this is?”
No one starved, and no one died. Even if not a single fox were left in this land, and all the rubies in the surface mines were to disappear, they would not starve to death. Because the great chief of the rumors always welcomes new people. He was someone who would not let anyone who came under his protection die carelessly.
So they would survive. Thanks to a certain grape farmer they had never even seen. According to the rumors, that grape farmer was a spirit who had descended from the sky. And because he had brought the treasures of the heavens, he was that wealthy. According to an even more unbelievable rumor, that grape farmer was a being who did not experience death.
Honestly, the chief didn’t believe even half of those rumors. But regardless of what was true and what was false. The lives of hundreds of thousands were deeply indebted to that grape farmer.
Originally, around this time, the population of this area is wiped out by smallpox. The population of the southern Mississippi River basin dies from diseases spread from the Spanish colonies, and those who were nearby move north, and in the midst of many people starving to death from an abnormal climate, the chaos in this region intensifies. The Powhatan Confederacy begins to rapidly expand its body, fighting wars with unfamiliar tribes who have come down from the north, from New York and Pennsylvania, fleeing drought and famine. And again, after several decades, many tribes are defeated and fall in wars with the white men.
That is the same for the seemingly huge Powhatan Confederacy. They, too, seem to succeed in mediation under the name of the famous Pocahontas, but in the end, they collapse under the invasion of the white men, and many of their subordinate tribes are forcibly relocated.
Defeat, massacre, forced migration, extermination, collapse. The histories of the native tribes of this region that follow are summarized as such. And they disappear from history as beings of no consequence. In the splendidly bound volumes of American history, they are relegated to an area of only a few pages. Just as they were driven from their homes. They were driven not only from space, but also from time.
But now, it will not be so. Thanks to the existence of one grape farmer.
This was a debt that could not be repaid with any number of gifts. If this unprecedented drought were to continue, the refugees heading for Nemo’s land would swell to the hundreds of thousands in an instant.
And that was why that grape farmer was called their Great Chief.