Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes

"Papa, I am ready."

Isabela came out of her room after what felt like an hour of preparation, wearing a dress and some makeup. Even here, it was customary to wear formal attire when picking up guests. I wore a Western-style suit and a top hat.

"Let's get going then."

Below, the carriages awaited. They were nothing like the carriages I was accustomed to. They were much smaller but sturdier, built for rugged roads. Each had a small passenger box that could only fit two, while the coach driver sat in front on an elevated seat. Both were pulled by locally bred horses, the size of ponies.

Isabela and I took the first carriage, snugly fitting into the tight cabin. The young lad called Rodrigo took the driver's seat as our calesero. The second, empty carriage followed behind as we set out.

The wheels treaded over the shadows cast by the houses against the early morning sun. The residences of the affluent lined the roads at the center of town. A few familiar faces gave us a wave, a smile, or both as we passed by.

There was negligible traffic on the road. Carriages, even small and simple ones like the one we were riding in, were extremely rare in the province due to the rough roads. I could count on one hand the carriages in town, and two of them were mine.

As we got farther out, the buildings became sparser, and trees and bushes grew more abundant. The outer part of town was where the middle class and the lower class lived. They resided in bahay kubos, which, unlike the bahay na batos, were made primarily of nipa leaves and bamboo.

The nipa huts varied greatly in size and aesthetic quality. The wealthier ones lived in bigger, multi-room, well-maintained huts, while the lower class settled for two-room or single-room bahay kubos.

We left town, and the rest of the journey was spent in the company of large-leaf ferns, tall grass, and coconut and banana trees. Bandits and wild animals could easily hide by the side of the road, yet somehow, I felt relaxed and right at home, soaking in the soothing tropical sights.

The port, as expected for the time and place, was a simple docking area with a wooden pier extending into the water. On the shore stood makeshift structures in the form of sheds for storage and waiting.

We arrived just in time. The steamship had already anchored in the distance, and the ferries on the shore were setting out to fetch passengers and cargo. But reaching the ship, loading up, and returning to shore would still take at least half an hour.

It was December, and the monsoon winds were making the seas rough for ships. Coupled with the events in the north, the port saw reduced activity. We joined a small crowd, which stirred with murmurs when they saw the two of us.

Isabela had found a friend to chat with, while I was entertained enough by the sight of the wavy sea. Having lived most of my life in Franklin, deep in the Appalachian Mountains, the scenic view of open waters was a rare pleasure.

Before I realized it, our waiting had ended. The boats were returning, their paddlers doing their best to fight the waves and propel their loaded bancas toward the shore.

Isidro Lardizábal was easy to recognize. The son of my much older brother, who had married and had children young, he was only ten years younger than I was. He was a fat man with an indecisive mustache that further uglified what was already an unflattering face.

He got out of the boat with much difficulty. When he set foot on land, he struggled to keep his balance on the rocky shore.

A much younger man stepped out of the boat with him and accompanied him as he made his way toward us. The young man wore a rayadillo uniform, adopted by the Revolutionary Army from the Spaniards, which meant he was from one of the better-equipped military units in Luzon. He also wore a handsome face, one that I did not recognize.

"Kuya!" My daughter charged at Isidro and hugged him. They were cousins, but due to the age difference, Isidro was more like an uncle to the girl.

"You've grown, Isabela." Isidro smiled, revealing a golden front tooth as he embraced the girl in his massive arms, pressing her against his pillow-like stomach. "Two years ago, you were just a little girl who couldn't care less about combing her hair. Now… look at you… a pretty little thing."

Isabela gave him a subtle punch when she noticed the handsome young officer watching the affair with an emotionless face.

"And who might this be?" I asked.

Isidro promptly released Isabela and turned toward the lad. "Ah! Teniente Vicente Triviño, sent here by Heneral Diokno."

"This is my uncle, Martín Lardizábal, politico-military governor of Marinduque," Isidro said, introducing me.

"A pleasure to meet you, Señor Gobernador. We will be counting on your cooperation," Teniente Triviño said as he shook my hand. He spoke with the confidence of someone much older.

I raised my eyebrows. "What are your orders, Teniente?"

He did not immediately answer. "The orders are for Capitán Abad… but since you are the military governor, you should hear them as well."

"Heneral Ananias Diokno is under orders from the President to organize resistance here in Southern Luzon and the Visayas. I bring orders from the Heneral to Capitán Abad to start organizing military units in this province," he proceeded to say.

The prospect of war had just become even more real, and it hit me like a bag of bricks. Since I arrived here, Marinduque had been nothing but a peaceful paradise.

"Are you sure you are not being too hasty?" I asked.

The teniente's face softened as he gave out a chuckle. "No, we are not, Señor Gobernador. Last Saturday, the Treaty of Paris was signed, and Spain sold the Philippines to America for twenty million dollars."