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Chapter One: Part i) The Filipino Question
April 13th, 1863. The shore of Fabrica on the island of Negros, in the Filipines.
The sea was a great swirl of blues, turquoises and grey. The sky stood azure over the calm ocean, its gentle waves lapping at the shore of golden crystal sand, like a thirsty dog.
‘Oh what a joy the weather here is, so peaceful and tranquil. If only the shores of Spain were so picturesque’ Bartolome Don Alejandro thought to himself as he stared out at the shore, with its dark green palm trees, swaying gently as they caught on a breeze with a calming creak.
He stood on the helm of a large ship, what the Spanish liked to call a modern Galleon, his hands outstretched and gripping against the side. A cheroot hung limply from one corner of his mouth, smoke drifting bluish grey until it became transparent in the clearness of the sky.
‘This truly is a magnificent country’ thought he as he watched a yellow winged bird flutter from the palm tree’s yonder and soar through the air and over the vessel into the distance. ‘a shame its inhabited by uncivilised pagans who don’t know there place in the world.’
He was a tall man, with jet black hair, a cleanly shaven face and neatly trimmed moustache under his roman nose, 'his whiskers' he called them.
He wore a military uniform of a most splendid crisp yellow, with red trimmings and epaulettes of beige with slightly darker tassels which swung in the light breeze.
Around his shoulders he wore a violet sash upon which proudly stood a broach displaying the Spanish Royal Coat of Arms.
At his waist hung a silver scabbard, the hilt of the sheathed sword being a most solid gold, the pommel of which was carved with the badge of Castille.
He watched over at a small jetty on the shore, bustling with men armed with crates, weapons and ammunition stores. Amongst the swarm of men he could glimpse a few blackish-brown faces here and there. ‘So there were some natives who had stayed loyal to Spain then’ he thought. ‘I'll make sure those men are duly rewarded, unlike there brothers who have taken up arms against his Majesty and Spain, I shall have them hunted out of the jungle like rats and slaughter them until they realize the foolishness of their rebellion.” The Spanish didn’t know where the natives had got their arsenal of small arms from but there were suspicions that the Dutch had supplied them with the arms to fund a rebellion to end Spain's presence in the Pacific.
He took a long pull on his cheroot and tossed it into the sea below, it floated and drifted towards the shore with a wave. To his right he watched a landing boat returning from the jetty, no doubt to pick him up and take him ashore.
And nonetheless just as the thought had come to him one of the Galleon’s Lieutenants came over to his side, clicked his heels and saluted.
“Colonel, Admiral Francisco gives his warmest regards and would respectfully inform you that a boat is returning to take you to shore.”
‘Thank you, please inform the Admiral that his services in letting me board this ship have been invaluable. Now please, to this boat.” Such formal speakings were annoying to Bartolome but he knew they were necessary and thus conformed to them.
The short journey to the jetty was uneventful and as Bartolome was helped out of the boat by some of the men on the jetty he was surprised to see the crystal clear sea teeming with fish. He stood one leg over on the jetty and one on the boat for a moment, mesmerized by the scene, for a reason he did not know why.
The crowded jetty gave way respectfully and a few saluted awkwardly. This they knew was the infamous Colonel who had once crushed the big rebellion in Cuba which had nearly seen the Spanish kicked off of the island, in ’61.
Now it was the turn of the Filipino’s, who similarly were trying to push the Spanish off the Filipines, something they had already succeeded on doing in the neighboring Filipino island of Cebu, slaughtering all but a few of its 800 strong garrison.
At the end of the Jetty Bartolome was received by a stern looking Captain who saluted smartly and said, ‘My respects Colonel Don Alejandro but we are your private guard and are to accompany you everywere over this island as ordered by Captain-General Fernandez. We have been charged with your protection on this dangerous island, as the ‘Pinas’ are fighting a dirty war, although most are yonder” he pointed with a dirty, nailbitten finger northwards were a large mountain loomed from out the jungle, he dropped his hand and stared back at Bartolome “ they have recently been infiltrating our rear via the jungle and cutting up our reinforcements.”
“So the situation is rather bad then” proclaimed Bartolome with a mocking air.
“Ci Senhor, the damned ‘Pinos’ aren’t to sharp with their weapons but they outnumber us 7 to 1.”
“Rather sporting odds, I think” replied Bartolome in indifference and beckoned for the Captain to lead him to the Captain-General’s residence were he had an appointment.
The Captain called over his men, who were a motley dozen who it seemed had just the day before came out from the ever changing frontline out in the jungle, on the ridges of the big mountain that towered above overhead. The group stalked up a dusty track which turned a bend and cut into the jungle and soon they were lost from view amongst the green of the leaves.
Terminology:
Galleon - An old Spanish ship of the Pre and Elizabethan era. Commonly attributed with the Spanish exploitation of America and initial Empire building.
Pinas - Slang term used by the Spanish when speaking of the Filipinos.
Captain-General - The most senior rank held by a any Spanish military personel in the Colonies.
Arrival
April 13th, 1863. The shore of Fabrica on the island of Negros, in the Filipines.
The sea was a great swirl of blues, turquoises and grey. The sky stood azure over the calm ocean, its gentle waves lapping at the shore of golden crystal sand, like a thirsty dog.
‘Oh what a joy the weather here is, so peaceful and tranquil. If only the shores of Spain were so picturesque’ Bartolome Don Alejandro thought to himself as he stared out at the shore, with its dark green palm trees, swaying gently as they caught on a breeze with a calming creak.
He stood on the helm of a large ship, what the Spanish liked to call a modern Galleon, his hands outstretched and gripping against the side. A cheroot hung limply from one corner of his mouth, smoke drifting bluish grey until it became transparent in the clearness of the sky.
‘This truly is a magnificent country’ thought he as he watched a yellow winged bird flutter from the palm tree’s yonder and soar through the air and over the vessel into the distance. ‘a shame its inhabited by uncivilised pagans who don’t know there place in the world.’
He was a tall man, with jet black hair, a cleanly shaven face and neatly trimmed moustache under his roman nose, 'his whiskers' he called them.
He wore a military uniform of a most splendid crisp yellow, with red trimmings and epaulettes of beige with slightly darker tassels which swung in the light breeze.
Around his shoulders he wore a violet sash upon which proudly stood a broach displaying the Spanish Royal Coat of Arms.
At his waist hung a silver scabbard, the hilt of the sheathed sword being a most solid gold, the pommel of which was carved with the badge of Castille.
He watched over at a small jetty on the shore, bustling with men armed with crates, weapons and ammunition stores. Amongst the swarm of men he could glimpse a few blackish-brown faces here and there. ‘So there were some natives who had stayed loyal to Spain then’ he thought. ‘I'll make sure those men are duly rewarded, unlike there brothers who have taken up arms against his Majesty and Spain, I shall have them hunted out of the jungle like rats and slaughter them until they realize the foolishness of their rebellion.” The Spanish didn’t know where the natives had got their arsenal of small arms from but there were suspicions that the Dutch had supplied them with the arms to fund a rebellion to end Spain's presence in the Pacific.
He took a long pull on his cheroot and tossed it into the sea below, it floated and drifted towards the shore with a wave. To his right he watched a landing boat returning from the jetty, no doubt to pick him up and take him ashore.
And nonetheless just as the thought had come to him one of the Galleon’s Lieutenants came over to his side, clicked his heels and saluted.
“Colonel, Admiral Francisco gives his warmest regards and would respectfully inform you that a boat is returning to take you to shore.”
‘Thank you, please inform the Admiral that his services in letting me board this ship have been invaluable. Now please, to this boat.” Such formal speakings were annoying to Bartolome but he knew they were necessary and thus conformed to them.
The short journey to the jetty was uneventful and as Bartolome was helped out of the boat by some of the men on the jetty he was surprised to see the crystal clear sea teeming with fish. He stood one leg over on the jetty and one on the boat for a moment, mesmerized by the scene, for a reason he did not know why.
The crowded jetty gave way respectfully and a few saluted awkwardly. This they knew was the infamous Colonel who had once crushed the big rebellion in Cuba which had nearly seen the Spanish kicked off of the island, in ’61.
Now it was the turn of the Filipino’s, who similarly were trying to push the Spanish off the Filipines, something they had already succeeded on doing in the neighboring Filipino island of Cebu, slaughtering all but a few of its 800 strong garrison.
At the end of the Jetty Bartolome was received by a stern looking Captain who saluted smartly and said, ‘My respects Colonel Don Alejandro but we are your private guard and are to accompany you everywere over this island as ordered by Captain-General Fernandez. We have been charged with your protection on this dangerous island, as the ‘Pinas’ are fighting a dirty war, although most are yonder” he pointed with a dirty, nailbitten finger northwards were a large mountain loomed from out the jungle, he dropped his hand and stared back at Bartolome “ they have recently been infiltrating our rear via the jungle and cutting up our reinforcements.”
“So the situation is rather bad then” proclaimed Bartolome with a mocking air.
“Ci Senhor, the damned ‘Pinos’ aren’t to sharp with their weapons but they outnumber us 7 to 1.”
“Rather sporting odds, I think” replied Bartolome in indifference and beckoned for the Captain to lead him to the Captain-General’s residence were he had an appointment.
The Captain called over his men, who were a motley dozen who it seemed had just the day before came out from the ever changing frontline out in the jungle, on the ridges of the big mountain that towered above overhead. The group stalked up a dusty track which turned a bend and cut into the jungle and soon they were lost from view amongst the green of the leaves.
Terminology:
Galleon - An old Spanish ship of the Pre and Elizabethan era. Commonly attributed with the Spanish exploitation of America and initial Empire building.
Pinas - Slang term used by the Spanish when speaking of the Filipinos.
Captain-General - The most senior rank held by a any Spanish military personel in the Colonies.
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@ Calipah: Why thankyou old fellow, 'pon my soul i shall try my utmost, you can be assured of that.
I must apologise for the lack of an update, it has been caused due to my being ill with the flu for the last week but hopefully ther'll be an update tomorrow.
If there is any popular demand for this After Action Report then i shall continue it if not, alas it shall fade and die.
So please do tell?
So please do tell?
Not that my voice count for mutch 
but i found the start intresting and would like to see how it continues
but i found the start intresting and would like to see how it continues