Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 59: Another Monday

I woke up to yet another Monday. On the surface, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for the brief shower that occurred at dawn. As I understood it, during the first half of the year in the Philippines—right before the rainy season—rain typically fell in the afternoons.

I didn’t mind it. When I peered out the window, a dreamy mist had settled over the town, and the air was thick with petrichor.

This Monday, the fifth of February, marked the first day of the second week of training. As planned, it was time to issue rifles to the recruits and begin marksmanship training.

Unsurprisingly, the mere sight of rifle crates being carried out of the Casa Real had the recruits murmuring with excitement in their formation. Smiles spread across their faces despite the wet condition of the plaza, where mud and puddles soaked their boots.

The escolta’s NCOs had drilled them with wooden poles as dummy rifles the week before. They already knew where the rifle was supposed to go when standing in formation. In the "order arms" position, the rifle is held vertically at the right side, with the butt resting on the ground.

I chuckled at the sight of some recruits looking frustrated when they realized that the clean rifles they’d just received would be dirtied immediately. A few tried to work around this by subtly raising the rifles slightly off the ground—not proper "order arms," but I let it slide.

Drilling and parading recruits had become a common sight in town. But now, with rifles completing their attire, a small crowd had gathered to admire them—recruits who now looked no different from real soldiers.

To their likely disappointment, no ammunition had been issued yet. I decided to give them two days to familiarize themselves with the rifles and to be taught basic handling before introducing live rounds.

Besides, the officers weren’t ready yet to assist with marksmanship training. While they were now decent marksmen, knowing how to shoot and knowing how to teach shooting were two entirely different things. I figured another session or two would help prepare them.

As always, we did our daily march toward Buliasnin, though this time each recruit was burdened with a rifle and slightly hindered by the muddy, slippery coastal road.

I wasn’t entirely surprised that the extra load and worsening terrain didn’t make much of a difference. They were already building stamina, and the morale boost from carrying a real rifle likely offset the added weight.

But something did surprise me, just as we were about to reach Buliasnin.

I raised my hand to signal a halt. As in the first couple of drills, the entire formation didn’t stop cleanly. But I didn’t turn around—I was too focused on the Sibuyan Sea.

"Vicente!" I called out.

I heard his footsteps before he appeared at my side. "What’s the matter... Heneral?"

"Is that Señor Alcantara’s ship?" I asked, gesturing toward a silhouette in the distance that looked very much like the one I’d seen off the coast of Ternate.

He followed my gaze. "Yes... I think that’s his ship."

---

Señor Alcantara had arrived earlier than I expected—if I expected him to return at all. All he’d told me after our last conversation was that he would go home to Batangas and consult his wife.

Apparently, they had decided to take the offer. Señor Alcantara stepped off the boat and onto the shores of Marinduque, accompanied by a sizeable retinue and a great deal of baggage.

"This is Leonora Alcantara—my wife," he introduced the middle-aged woman as soon as we took shelter under the port’s shed.

In sharp contrast to her husband’s unassuming demeanor, the lady looked every bit the socialite, judging by her thick makeup and the many pieces of jewelry that adorned her hair, ears, neck, and fingers.

She extended a hand—not for a handshake, but for a kiss. After a brief pause, I took it and gave it a polite peck. "Welcome to Marinduque, Señora Alcantara."

"Thank you, Señor. I hope I will not be disappointed," she said with a tight-lipped smile.

"I hope so too," I replied.

"And this is my firstborn, Rosalinda," Señor Alcantara continued, introducing the young woman who was no less powdered than her mother, despite being no older than twenty.

She extended her hand as well, which I ignored in favor of a slight nod. She looked offended.

I had a feeling dealing with Señor Alcantara’s family would not be as easy as I had hoped.

He then introduced his two sons. "This is Andrés," he said of the older one, likely fifteen or sixteen years old, "and this is Luis," he added, referring to the toddler.

The boys smiled politely and bowed. They both looked far more agreeable than their mother and sister. I wondered which one he had mentioned he was willing to offer for an American warship when we’d arrived at Manila Bay a month ago.

"And this is my daughter, Isabela," I said, placing a hand behind her back. Isabela greeted them with a warm and modest nod. She wore far less makeup than the other two women—though in her case, she needed none to look beautiful.

My escorts were already busy loading the baggage from the porters onto carts. Vicente and Dimalanta had taken the drivers’ seats of the two carriages we’d brought to carry the guests to the Casa Real.

I didn’t have a chance to speak at length with Señor Alcantara until we were traveling toward the town proper. Isabela ended up riding with his two young sons in one carriage, while his wife and daughter took the other. Our men followed at the rear, manning the carts.

We led at the front, riding on horseback, just like the first time.

"I thought I’d lost you the moment you said you’d consult your family first," I told him with a chuckle. "How did you even convince your wife to come to this backwater province?"

He smiled at that, then let out a deep sigh. "You’re right—they didn’t like the idea at all... until yesterday."

I raised an eyebrow.

He glanced at me, nervously swallowing. "We received news that fighting had broken out in Manila."