Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 68: Difference

Through a letter delivered by one of the recruits under him, Capitan Roque reported that the news of my martial law declaration had been well received by the gobernadorcillo and the principales of Mogpog.

I was expecting a warm welcome into the town—but not as warm as the one that would greet us after the nearly two-hour journey.

If I hadn’t known any better, I would have thought a fiesta was going on. Even from a distance, we could see the colorful banderitas and the crowd lining the main street, and we could already hear the lively music of the rondalla.

Greeting us at the entrance of the pueblo were Capitan Roque and his soldiers, along with the principalia led by Mogpog’s gobernadorcillo, Don Fernando Lagran.

"What a momentous event for our young country, Gobernador—and how happy I am to be part of it," the old town mayor told me as he shook my hand. Already then, I knew the afternoon would only get better.

After marching through the streets and being hailed and cheered by the boisterous townsfolk, we were led to the private residence of Don Lagran to enjoy a small feast.

It did not escape my notice how the elites of Mogpog treated me with more respect than my peers in Boac.

I believe part of it was due to the old saying: no prophet is accepted in his hometown. Most of Boac’s principalia had grown up with Martin—overly familiar, aware of his flaws and humble beginnings. They knew him as the unassertive and mild-mannered man, and my sudden assertion of authority must have been at best surprising—and to some, even outrageous.

It could also be that the elites of the much smaller and more rural Mogpog were not as politically competitive as their counterparts in Boac, which was both the administrative and commercial center of the province. It had always been the case that the smaller the settlement, the less divisive it was—socially and politically.

But I would soon discover a much simpler reason.

"Señor Gobernador... I want to introduce you to the Mendez brothers," Don Lagran said as our plates were nearly empty and our stomachs nearly full. "I think you might have heard of them."

The Mendez name was one of the more well-known in Marinduque. I think Martin had once dealt with a Mendez hacendero, but that man was from Gasan, not Mogpog—and I did not recall more than one Mendez.

"Forgive me, Don Lagran, but I am old. I might need my memory jogged," I replied.

He chuckled and pointed to the men seated near Capitan Roque. "This is Basilio Mendez, the leader of the revolutionists here in Mogpog during our struggle against Spain," he said, referring to the older man, who looked to be about forty years old. "And this is his brother, Vicente Mendez, who was second-in-command," he said, referring to the younger Mendez, about ten years his junior.

Both men stood and gave me a respectful nod.

I raised my eyebrows, smiling, "It is a crime that this is the first time I’m hearing of you two. I hope you’re not already retired? I’m afraid our struggle for independence is far from over, especially with the arrival of the Americans."

"No, not at all. We are ready to serve, should our service be called upon," Basilio replied, then glanced at Capitan Roque. "I’ve heard from Señor Faustino that you’re training men in Boac?"

"Indeed I am," I said. "And I plan to train recruits here in Mogpog as well. I’ll need officers for them—and I believe the two of you would be the best candidates."

The Mendez brothers beamed at what they heard. A round of congratulatory applause rose from the other guests.

"You’ll find no difficulty getting recruits here in Mogpog, Señor Gobernador," the younger Mendez added eagerly, nearly on the edge of his seat. "I think I can provide fifty men as soon as tomorrow—friends of ours who fought with us against Spain." His passion drew a few chuckles from around the table.

I laughed and nodded. "That’s good, Señor Mendez—but tomorrow is too soon. Monday will do... and I’ll be expecting more than fifty."

Since all the elites were already present, I proceeded to conduct the meeting regarding what they should expect under martial law—and what I expected from them.

First, I informed them that Capitan Roque and his men would remain in town to enforce martial law guidelines until native units were raised to take their place. That must have come as a surprise to Capitan Roque, who had expected to stay only until my arrival. But he made no protest.

Since the gobernadorcillo was cooperative, there was no need for me to take over his position. I tasked him with assigning quotas for men and supplies to the cabezas de barangay, and instructed him to cooperate fully with Capitan Roque in all matters related to the enforcement of martial law in the town.

To the principales, I announced that their produce would be requisitioned by the republic to supply the troops and raise funds for the war effort. They would be paid for it—albeit at a discounted rate.

Those were tall orders—ones that naturally earned resistance from some elites in Boac. But here, I was met only with solemn silence. I watched the officials and hacenderos absorb the instructions, and by the end of it, most either smiled or nodded in acceptance.

What a pleasant feeling it was to be at the head of that table. The difference between Boac and Mogpog was stark: in the latter, patriotism thrived not only among the common folk but also among the ruling elites.

I had expected to spend a few days handling affairs in the town, but by the end of the meeting, I felt as though I could proceed to Sta. Cruz the next day.

But since it was already late in the afternoon, we accepted Don Lagran’s offer to host us for the night.