Then, standing before the large banquet, Bill stood up and when the people saw that he was ready to speak, their joyful shouts died down.
Turning his head from the inside of the island to the crowd, Bill looked at them and said in a loud voice that everyone could hear:
"Life has a way of surprising us. I don't think a year ago any of us could have imagined that all this would be possible."
Then, gesturing with his hands around himself, he continued:
— And even now, when I look around, I find it hard to believe...
After pausing for a moment, he lowered his hands and continued:
— After we lost our homes and property... our loved ones and friends... how could we dream of something like this?
As Bill mentioned all that had been lost, the crowd's mood shifted from admiration for the present to reflection on the past.
He was not a master of rhetoric, but when Bill saw that the mood of the crowd had changed, he spoke again:
— But even when it seemed that there was no more hope, even when all the doors seemed closed, we stood up!
When he said this, the crowd seemed to come alive as a single unit, and everyone was riveted to his words.
"We've weathered the storm. We don't know how it happened or if the storm is truly over, but one thing we know for sure—we're not the same anymore."
"And here's what I'll tell you," he said in conclusion.
"The most important thing that ever happened was how people weathered a storm and came out the other side with new hope. We have hope, and in this place we have found a New Refuge from the storms that have tormented us. This place is our home. Our neighbors are our brothers, and from this New Refuge we will spread hope across the Blue Seas, across the Grand Line, and into the hearts of our neighbors."
When he finished, there were cries of "Down with the pirates!" and "Justice for all!" but most of all he heard his name chanted over and over again.
He didn't like it, but in this situation he couldn't do anything about it.
Overlooking the massive Marine Corps training complex, Bill led a small group of men to the forward armory.
As they walked, musical bells from the Diamond Clock in the center rang out across the island, signaling that it was midday.
Looking over his shoulder at the Marines practicing assault tactics and marksmanship, Bill was pleased with the past year.
Since the completion of its fusion reactor, the island, now named New Haven, has been completely transformed.
It was now safe to say that every inhabitant of the island was somehow connected to the Science Department, although not everyone had formally signed a contract.
Once Bill had established safe power at almost any voltage, he recruited a small group of people to train them in how to build a reactor, and together with the chief engineers, they developed a huge manufacturing center near the port.
The center was large, consisting of two huge buildings on either side of the harbor: the first housed furnaces and equipment for assembling watches, machine tools, water pumps, and other industrial products, and the second housed an arsenal.
The arsenal was not very large - it could produce three or four cannons at a time, as well as about forty rivet guns a month.
But what it lacked in size, it made up for in quality.
Bill thought long and hard before deciding to produce the King's Guns for sale to various Marine bases, the first of which was Vallipo Island.
He never thought he would get into weapons manufacturing, but he had to find a reasonable justification for the arsenal.
Fortunately, direct approval from Marineford wasn't necessary, as one of the Science Department's responsibilities was to supply the fleet with weapons. The only stipulation was that all weapons produced had to be marked with their place of manufacture, and thus the [New Haven Arsenal] first appeared atop the high towers of SB-T Base.
He still hadn't heard anything about the tribunal he was facing, and a year after the incident, it no longer bothered him too much. However, from time to time, he was overcome by the feeling that sooner or later he would be summoned to Marineford, and perhaps even to Ennis Lobby, depending on how things went.
Brushing those thoughts aside, Bill focused again on the path he was leading Sasha, Borodo, Fia, and Ricky along.
The arsenal had high ceilings, and the main workshop housed a dozen conveyor belts that moved parts for weapon assembly.
The system was pretty good, Bill thought, but it was slowed down by the production of ammunition for the weapon.
The Royal Cannon required high-velocity projectiles weighing over a thousand pounds each, and nothing could be done about it. It was also decided that the rivet guns would use .30-06 caliber cartridges.
To accommodate this caliber, the gun had to be redesigned slightly, and ended up looking bulkier than the M1 Springfield rifle.
Overall, this was a huge improvement—except for true superhumans, such cartridges and ammunition would have turned wooden ships and lightly armored pirates into a sieve.
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