Republic Reborn: Against the Stars and Stripes-Chapter 69: Moro

I hadn’t yet received any letter from Pedro when we decided to set off early the next morning. It would not be surprising for him to face resistance in Sta. Cruz. The town, being distant from Boac and also having its share of very wealthy principales, would not readily submit to a fledgling governor.

Still, he could have sent a report. Perhaps he did not want to send anyone back until he had succeeded.

But I was starting to get worried. We had no news of him for five days already. And even if he was safe, to have no result for that long must mean he might need my personal help.

The coastal road continued toward Sta. Cruz, but to travel it on foot would take six to eight hours, and with our number, we might be delayed. Not to mention that if the occasional downpour arrived, the dirt road would become mud and twice as hard to navigate.

It was the gobernadorcillo who advised us to take the sea route. He had some of his people escort us toward the coastal barrio of Balanacan.

I had a sizeable retinue with me. I took ten men from the escolta and then a platoon of 25 recruits, totaling 35. I did not need that many to secure my safety in the relative quiet of Marinduque. I could scare the local highwaymen even with just a single rifle.

And my 35-man company was not there to scare off bandits but to give substance to my title as an appointed general of the republic. It had already worked its wonder in Mogpog.

Three bancas were arranged to transport us. Two of them were meant to contain the bulk of my company, fifteen each. The last boat would only contain six, including me.

"Heneral!"

A voice rang out in the air, attracting the attention of everyone in the cove, just as I was about to climb the gangway toward the boat. Emerging out of the small path that led to the sands from the coconuts was the son of Capitan Roque, the cadet Tomas Roque, on the back of a horse.

The young man rode toward me and then produced a piece of folded paper from one of his chest pockets.

"We intercepted a messenger from Capitan Pedro who was intending to ride toward Boac. He did not look too happy," the cadet told me, still trying to catch his breath. ƒгeewebnovёl.com

The letter was not carried gently. It was slightly crumpled, slightly wet with sweat, and had stains of dirt. To make it worse, Pedro did not have the best penmanship, having dropped out of college.

Still, I was able to decipher his report through careful reading.

It was as I had suspected.

Until his arrival, no news about the war in Luzon or my Martial Law declaration had reached the town. And when he arrived with it, it was taken badly, with some of them doubting that there really was a war in Manila.

To add salt to the wound, even his mother’s family did not take his side.

He asked to be given more time, which I had to deny.

---

Señor Alcantara’s ship would be useful for intertown travel. Not only would it be faster than using the coastal road, it would also matter little how many men and how much baggage I brought with me.

Unfortunately, I had already sent Señor Alcantara and his ship to Iloilo, where he said the industry and skilled labor existed to reinforce the hull of the steamship. Marinduque lacked any shipbuilding capacity beyond crafting small to medium wooden sailboats.

So, we had to make do with the bancas, which, even with the light load in mine, still did not offer enough space for comfortable sitting. After just an hour, my butt cheeks were burning, and my legs and back aching.

The only consolation was the beautiful view that graced our eyes. Our route involved us hugging the coast the whole way, which meant that we did not sail somewhere deep, and we could see the beautiful sea floor below through the crystal clear, clean water. We were also shown the province’s coastline, beautiful enough to build resorts on.

Somewhere along the way, the wind picked up, and our traveling speed increased. Soon, the helmsman was telling us we had gone past the boundary between Mogpog and Sta. Cruz.

The sea traffic was very light, but throughout the journey, I had seen multiple fishing and transport boats.

But I did not spot any ship as large or as decorated as the one that would soon loom in the distance. The first thing to be noticed were the colorful square masts, and the splash around it produced by tens of rowers.

I grinned in admiration although I did not really know what I was looking at. And I would soon know enough.

We were at the head of the flotilla, and the crew of my boat were the first ones to notice it. As soon as they did, they froze where they were, and only a few moments later would I know it was not to admire.

"Jesús, María y José... is it not too early in the year for them to be doing this?" the helmsman shouted above the sound of the waves, his eyes still on the impressive wooden ship, presumably talking to the oarsmen behind him.

"What... what is it?" I asked because he did not seem too excited.

"Moro, señor," he said to me grimly.

Then suddenly animated, he shouted to his crew and to the boats following us, "Take down the sails!"

"Pirates!"

----

We landed on the shores of a barrio called Baliis. As soon as the boats hit shallow water, some of the crew jumped out and rushed to warn the populace.

The reaction from the dwellers was immediate and chaotic. Villagers quickly emptied their houses of their valuables, their livestock pens of every animal, and mothers snatched their kids as they scattered out of the barrio. A few brave men remained, armed with bolo knives and bamboo spears.

Before I even stepped on the ground, the barrio was as quiet as a ghost town.I was still trying to process what had just happened. Pirate attacks were common in Marinduque, but it had been a while since Boac itself was touched by the Moros. And neither Martin nor I would have been able to distinguish a pirate Moro ship.

"Any chance they will be heading here?" I asked the same helmsman, whose name I did not know.

Unlike the other boatmen with him, he did not run along with the villagers. He accompanied us to the shore and stayed at my side while we surveyed both the sea and the nearly empty village

."No... this barrio has nothing worth raiding," he answered, his hands on his hips. I took another look at the village and knew what he meant. It was just a humble village whose only livelihood was fishing and only consisted of a little more than ten houses.

"They are likely headed to Kasily..." he continued. "That one would be worth raiding. They have a few warehouses for salt, rice, and copra. Not to mention... a few wealthy families."

"And that’s... how far is that from here?" I asked him.

He turned to me and then to the soldiers, his eyes widening as if he had just remembered something. "It’s the next barrio over."

We communicated with just our eyes. I knew what he was thinking, and I thought of it as soon as I heard the word Moro. What a coincidence for them to appear when I was around.

"How would Kasily... defend itself?"

His mouth opened but no words came out until he shook his head. "They won’t be able to defend themselves. If they’re lucky, they’ll see the Moro ship early and flee from the village before the pirates come ashore... and that’s if they’re lucky."

He maintained eye contact, growing serious by the second. "If you want to help... I can lead you there."

I heavily sighed. The Moro ship likely contained around the same number as us and would only be armed with melee weapons... but unlike my recruits, these were warriors, used to the sight and scent of carnage. And while we did have guns, most of them were single-shots and terrible at close quarters.

The man framed it as a question, but there could only be one answer. How could I, who not only claims to be the governor of the island but also a general that would lead the fight against the Americans, shrink against mere pirates?

Sargento Guzman, the only NCO I brought with me, already had the men stand in formation as soon as they stepped ashore. They had been curiously watching me as I conversed with the boatman.

"Load your rifles..." I left the side of the helmsman without a word and walked toward the soldiers, "and prepare to move out and expect to be engaged."

I scanned the ranks, and the young, speckless, and scared faces did nothing to comfort me. But it would not be my first time leading riffraff.

I walked closer to the sergeants. "Sargento Guzman... I will be leading the Mausers at the front. You and the Remingtons will keep behind."