On the Albert Edward, the days were as aesthetic as the evenings were eventful. 

Mornings started with a meal served with coffee or tea. Since there wasn't much to do on a ship, activities would be inside the parlor, on the deck or inside the sleeping chambers. The sound of chatter echoed everywhere, in every imaginable language from Asia, Europe and America. All of this happened, as the sun's rays shined gloriously, reflecting off the ship, making it sheen and shine like a pearl in the ocean. Lunch and tea time came immediately after, and whatever conversation ended before was resumed again.  

Evenings on the other hand were more varied. Dinner was served at seven o'clock sharp, consisting of three or four courses, depending on the chef on duty. A European entree, one or two main dishes, cycling between Oriental and Occidental cuisine, and dessert. Music from a four-man band played songs of dance, of folly and of nostalgia. Women and men mingled with each other on the floor where anything was possible. The sea of suits, gowns and vests would flood the ship's main room as soon as the time for nightly pleasure began.

For a person who would be considered second-class in his own country, Rodrigo could not believe he was at the height of luxury for an Asian in general, and a Filipino in particular. He could not help but smile with glee as he weaves through the mass of haute culture, conversing and enjoying as if he was one of them. He was at the same level as any other person, no matter how old he was or what color his skin was. It was just regrettable it wasn't in his own country, his own town even. He drank from his glass of Spanish merlot and finished his short conversation with a German trader on his way to Qingdao, before returning to his room, where Guelio was already preparing for the disembarking.

According to the boatswain, they were only a few hours away from Manila. He explained that by dawn the next morning, they would be anchored and ready to walk off, assuming the Spanish bureaucracy didn't bog down again and accidentally quarantine a ship for more than the required forty days. Rodrigo quipped that even after seven years -- or more! -- the colonists' have done nothing but to keep up their fantastic work of making mistakes.

They decided, at midnight, to rest in their quarters somewhat excited to land back in their homeland the following morning. A mix of nostalgia, homesickness, nervousness and hope was present within their souls, interfering with their sleep schedule. It was no surprise they were somewhat groggy as the steam-powered horns of the ship were blowing as it was nearing the Port of Manila.

As soon as they rose, and saw the slivers of green, black and blue on the horizon, they decided to don Barcelona's best outfits. They wanted to compensate for their horrible countenances by wearing something that is worthy of Peninsular ire and public wonder. They would not only impress their friends by dressing smart -- as all Ilustrados are groomed to do -- but also look richer, and practically more influential than the newly-landed Spanish friar bastards.

By the time the pier was within swimming distance, the sun was shining fiercely, something characteristic of the bonança season. Those trade winds coming from the north that boosted the bountiful galleon trade in the centuries prior, came at the expense of the humid, sticky heat that only natives can handle. These natives were busily ambling through the pier as teamsters, vendors, advertisers and even ship handlers. With a wide array of colours, from deep dark tones of black, grey and red to vibrant yellows, blues and whites, from afar the Manila Harbor looks like the gates of Paradise, with their ship serving as the opposite of Charon's ride on the river Styx.

As the ship's clock struck twelve, the Albert Edward docked inside Intramuros, on the Pasig River. Organized chaos then ensued, with every passenger piling and shoving each other onto the ship's exits on port side. Burly, moustached men in light overcoats carrying suitcases mix with Chinese wearing light-colored camisas and tan-skinned Malays and indios, who boarded in Mindanao, in their native clothes, all formed one giant blob, wishing to disembark and get the rest of their luggage. Luckily, the two avoided the conflict by dashing in front of the line. However, they weren't doing it just to get ahead of the tens and hundreds of people behind them, for after immediately going down the stairs, they took the rest of their luggage, passed by without notifying the Aduana bureaucrats and left the harbor as fast as they had arrived.

Guelio, who looked jovial moments earlier, now had a serious look on his face. The same went for Rodrigo, who was carrying a heavy, elongated briefcase. Inside are 52 pieces of metal blocks, embossed with Spanish and German letters, used for pressing in a printing press. Also inside, sealed away in an envelope and a pamphlet entitled La Tristeza Filipina ~ Sa Aba ng Filipinas. 

The Sorrow of the Philippines, in English.

Written by Spanish republicans, Catalan and Basque nationalists, and Filipino expatriates, the pamphlet was printed in Madrid, and focuses on the increasingly distressing situation in the Philippines. Contents included the pulses of reactionary politicians in Spain and their effects on society in the Philippines, such as the mobilization of more troops to the Philippines. Other articles included the aghast reactions of many over the friar theocracy and theft in the islands -- practically unheard of in Manila! -- and calls for representation and even independence from arduous independistas both of Spanish and native blood. 

From a community of Filipinos crying Eventually!; "Eventually, they will give us a seat in the Cortes," "Eventually they will give the landed class more reign over business!"; the pamphlet was written by progressives and radicals, seeking a clear solution over the problems in the Philippines. This was exemplified by the last article, written in Tagalog (which is rare) by two Ilustrados (even rarer), with pen names Batumbakal and Dayaw. 

"Añg mañga yslañg yto ay carapat dapat magiñg sariliñg bayan. Nañg ang sa gayo,y macamtan nañg mañga anac nañg madalamhatiñg capoloan ang naasam na libertad. Mañga capatid, mañga capoua Tagalog, Capañgpañgan, Ylukano, Visaya, mula catuctucan nañg mañga yslang hirañg, pa-Mindanaw, sa cabaliñg Moslem, ypagbuniyi añg Filipinas.  Ylaya añg bayan!"

[These islands are deserving of independence, of becoming their own nation. So that the children of that anguished archipelage can achieve their desired freedom. Brethren, fellow Tagalogs, Pampangos, Ilocanos, Visayeños, from the top of the Chosen isles, to Mindanao, to the fellow Muslim folk, celebrate the Philippines. Free the nation.]

It was no coincidence Guelio and Rodrigo carried the pamphlet, such as one Insular nobleman was charged of carrying in his household, along with a picture of an executed priest. Rodrigo prided himself in having knowledge of metallurgy, batumbakal. Guelio, on the other hand is a fluent speaker of Yluko, thanks to his paternal grandparents, both hailing from Lao-ag, who greet each other with maddayaw. 

The pamphlet was incendiary, subversive and over all, dangerous. As such, after finishing University, their clique in Barcelona decided to distribute copies in the islands itself, both to the rich and to the poor (which is to be written in pure vernacular), as to fuel the flames of revolt. They hoped that it would be enough to cause them to revolt, as they had noticed the famous Noli Me Tangere and El Filibusterismo was doing by the eminent Doctor Jose Rizal. They had to do it secretively though. The Guardia Civil were on the tracks of practically anyone considered a heretic or filibuster by the friars, and that included every freethinking man.

They walked outside of the walls to board a carruaje, going to Santa Ana, outside Manila. They were going home to their hometown of Nueva Donostia, just two miles away near San Juan. Though nervous and having feverish sweat, Rodrigo carried the filibusterous materials with enough poise for others not to take notice. Guelio, too, was nervous. His family had been notorious in the past with practically anyone in authority. If he was to be recognized, it would be both the end of his life, and of Rodrigo's too. He feared that the most.

Which is why it was to their surprise that before they had even exited near Baluarte de San Diego, a Guardsman stopped them in their tracks, to inspect their baggage.

"Ustedes! Detengan! You two, submit to inspection this instant!"

 On the outside, the two of them calmly nodded. Inside their heads though, their hearts were practically beating into oblivion.