Taking control of Boac was the first step to it all.
That was the reason for the grand speech I made at the plaza—to energize the common populace for the war effort and put pressure on the principalia. It was a leap of faith, a move that should work on paper, but things did not always turn out according to plan.
But in my case, it would seem that it did.
I had sent an order to all the cabezas de barangay, giving the barrio chiefs quotas for both n and supplies. They were technically part of the principalia, but unlike the elites in town, the cabezas were sowhat closer to the common people due to the nature of their work. And if my speech had done its job, they would be the most exposed to the patriotic fervor of the people and would find it difficult to contradict my demands.
I had not expected an imdiate response, as the requests were not sothing to be arranged overnight, but I grew anxious when nothing arrived in the following days.
It was only on Friday when the first cabeza turned up at the doors of the Casa Real—and his was from one of the farther inland barangays, about two hours’ walking distance from the town.
Señor Tiburcio Sales was the cabeza of barrio Canat, the sa barrio where my abaca plantation was located, and I had long been on good terms with him. Accompanying him was none other than my dutiful capataz, Leonardo Perez.
As I had written down in the quota for the barrio, the cabeza brought with him ten n. I had required less from barangays that already had so of their young n in my current pool of recruits, but being distant, Canat must not have been reached by the colonel or by Pedro in their recruitnt drives.
Señor Sales also managed to deliver his quota of resources and supplies—and even exceeded them.
Carried in muddied carts and pulled by old carabaos were three piculs of abaca, two piculs of copra, ten cavanes of rice, two gantas of coffee, two jars of tuba, generous amounts of root crops, and several bundles of firewood.
Impressed and very pleased, I ended up giving him the market prices for the products, though I told him it was the discounted rate.
As for the recruits, I imdiately had the clerks take down their personal information and assigned Dimalanta to handle their accommodations and preliminary rituals.
"I could not believe you actually dared to do this, Don Martin. I did not know you had the cojones!" Señor Sales said with boisterous laughter. "What you are doing is quite ambitious... and potentially dangerous... but we need bold n like you in these tis."
I had them stay for the night, since they had arrived late in the afternoon. For the first ti that week, I felt truly relaxed and let down my guard in accommodating them. It was refreshing to deal with friendly and supportive folk, for a change, after all the confrontations.
"You only need to call for , Gobernador," said Señor Tiburcio as they were about to leave the following early morning. "I will be ready to help."
And I might really call on him soon. If the recruits continued to co streaming in, I would need more loyal and reliable n as military officers—or civilian leaders to operate the auxiliary wing.
As it turned out, he would be the buena mano. Not long after he left, my sister took the reins in Buliasnin in the absence of her husband and arranged for carts of supplies—most of which were fish—and delivered them herself. I had not required more n from her barrio, since they had already provided eleven recruits, but she brought with her three more.
I was touched by the gesture and sent her away with a generous purse for the supplies and two ard escorts to ensure her safety and that of my niece while Pedro was away.
In the afternoon, I was surprised by four cabezas de barangay arriving one after another. All of them brought the number of recruits I had asked for. They also brought along several carts, though not all of them managed to fulfill my quota for food and supplies. So of their reasons had rit, but I was convinced they just weren’t ready to go all out yet.
Still, I was simply happy they responded, so I let it slide. Although, I was not as generous with them as I had been with the first two—offering them the actual discounted price.
"You are being very cheap with us, Don Lardizabal. It is very unlike you..." one of them complained when I offered a 30% discount on their goods. Which was actually being generous, because I didn’t know if Señor Lim would even be able to sell them—or if he would agree to it at all.
If he didn’t, I would likely be bankrupt.
"Well, I am not buying this as a businessman, Señor Sumulong," I said to the cabeza of Agot. "I am requisitioning it as a general of the Republic. My price is a fair price, given what we are fighting for."
He didn’t argue further after that. Maybe he agreed with —or was at least unwilling to be called unpatriotic. Or maybe it was because Vicente was coincidentally polishing his pistol in the background.
I had a suspicion that the bulk of the cabezas would arrive on Sunday, and to my delight, I was proven right. Fifteen cabezas de barangay arrived in the town proper in the morning, their caravans causing a rare traffic jam in the streets. The clerks—who were supposed to be having their day off—were made to work double ti, recording the nas of recruits and taking inventory of the supplies.
I had been anxious for nothing. The cabezas needed more than a couple of days to arrange everything. Their constituents needed convincing, the recruited n needed to prepare and say their goodbyes, carts and carabaos had to be acquired, and distances—sotis through narrow trails—had to be traveled.
Sunday was just the right ti.
I was so relieved and in such a good mood that the fiery sermon that followed—perhaps the priest’s sharpest attack on yet, though still without naming —did little to dampen my spirits.
By Monday, I felt I had done enough in Boac to finally venture into Mogpog and Sta. Cruz.
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