I fulfilled my promise of a house for Señor Alcantara—at great expense. Because I wasn’t sure he would accept my offer, I hadn’t arranged for his residence when he arrived. So I was forced to give him my own house in Boac—the very place I had lived in before I was given the governor’s quarters in the Casa Real.
I still dread telling Isabela. And sooner or later, Isidro—who stays there whenever he’s in Marinduque—will find out once he returns from wherever he’s gone these past few days.
I was accommodated in the sala, which, although not as furnished as the one in the Casa Real, was more spacious. As I sat there, everywhere I looked, memories came streaming in. It was surreal to have my emotions stirred in a place I had never technically been in before.
To my surprise, Señora Alcantara warmly received me when I paid them a visit. I suspect this was either because she hadn’t expected their accommodations to be this decent, or because she had just learned what my position truly meant. After all, she had been present during my speech.
Just as we were about to finish our small talk and get to the purpose of my visit, she entered the room with a cup of coffee for me and her husband.
"Señor Gobernador... forgive me if the coffee took too long. I don’t usually serve guests, you see. But I’ll be learning," she said with a slightly exaggerated smile on her thickly painted lips.
"I’m flattered, Señora," I replied, raising the cup to smell its contents. "Ah... this is strong. I like it."
"I hope you do," she said as she made her way back to the door.
Her husband watched her with a smile until the door shut behind her.
"So... how can I help you, Heneral?" he asked.
"About your ship, Señor Alcantara... I think we should start planning how to convert it into a gunboat," I said. I didn’t think I’d need it anytime soon, but if the elites knew I had a gunboat at my disposal, I’d appear more formidable. And for martial law to be upheld, I needed them to be intimidated.
I took a sip of the coffee—and it was the bitterest thing I had ever tasted. My eyes watered, but I forced down a gulp.
Señor Alcantara wasn’t as resilient. At his first sip, he spat it all out onto the floor.
"I’m so sorry about this," he said, coughing. "My wife’s a tea person, Don Martin. I bet it was her first time making coffee. I assure you, she meant well."
I chuckled. "I dearly hope so. This coffee is bitter enough to be a murder weapon."
We both laughed like schoolboys at a dirty joke. So loud were our laughs that we didn’t immediately notice the door open.
Señora Alcantara returned, looking both horrified and confused at the sight of us.
"Uhmm... there’s someone looking for you, Señor Gobernador."
---
My martial law declaration was challenged just two days after I announced it.
Teniente Dimalanta came looking for me about an altercation at the port between Colonel Abad’s men and the workers of a hacendero who was about to ship off his goods.
When I arrived, I found a pathetic scene. Perhaps to avoid escalation, Colonel Abad had instructed his men not to use their rifles. So the soldiers had their rifles slung behind their backs as they tried to push through a blockade of older, more muscular workers.
Some sacks were already being carried to waiting boats. In the distance, another steamship—aside from Alcantara’s—was moored.
I quickly recognized the hacendero. Señor Grimaldo owned a sizeable portion of the rice fields in the town. I had seen him seated at the far end of the table during the meeting, likely an ally of Don Contreras.
"Colonel Abad, have your men withdraw!" I ordered from atop my horse. Colonel Abad hadn’t seen me coming, being in the middle of the pushing and shoving himself. He looked surprised to hear my voice.
"Withdraw!" he repeated, and the soldiers stepped back.
Señor Grimaldo’s eyes widened, and he laughed. "Ha! All bark and no bite! I knew you wouldn’t dare!"
"Quick, everyone—get the sacks to the boats before they get their hands on them. You can’t just use a war happening hundreds of miles away to justify confiscating other people’s property!" he continued, while his workers scrambled to move the cargo.
I sighed and then shouted, "¡Listos!"
The soldiers looked up at me and began to take their rifles off their backs—but not fast enough.
"¡Listos!" I said louder. This time, even Señor Grimaldo heard.
The soldiers moved quickly. Soon, rifles were raised and bolts clicked into place.
"¡Apunten!" I barked. The soldiers took aim at the workers, who began to slow as they noticed what was happening.
"You wouldn’t dare!" Señor Grimaldo shouted, his voice filled with fury. "Shoot, and they’ll storm the Casa Real and drag you through the streets!"
My cheeks burned. Grimaldo was a hothead, yes—but he wouldn’t behave this outrageously unless someone had been feeding the fire. I had suspected as much, and I needed to respond accordingly.
I reached for my sidearm—only to remember I’d given it to Vicente.
I looked around and quickly snatched a raised rifle from one of the soldiers nearby. Still on horseback, I aimed it at Señor Grimaldo.
He paled and took a step back.
My finger rested on the trigger.
"H-Heneral..." Teniente Dimalanta cautiously stepped closer.
Just before I pulled, I shifted the rifle slightly.
The gunshot cracked through the air. The fat Señor Grimaldo nearly jumped off the ground in fright.
The bullet struck one of the sacks being carried near him. The worker dropped it and dove to the ground, frantically checking his head and neck, grunting in fear.
"Did you not listen during the meeting?" I called out, throwing the rifle back to the soldier. "All exports must go through me."
"Any violators will be shot."