HOW MR COMMISSIONER GUMPERTZ OFFERED A REWARD
In his stockade at Silang, Basil Hayle waited anxiously for news of the result of the great expedition against Felizardo. As an officer of the Philippines Constabulary, he felt he ought to hope that the band of outlaws would be broken up, and their chief either captured or killed. As a man, he could not disguise from himself the fact that he would be extremely sorry were any ill-luck to befall the old chief, who had proved his friend on so many occasions. The idea of Felizardo being taken and hanged, as Juan Vagas had deservedly been hanged, was absolutely repulsive to him; though on that point he had not much fear, feeling certain that they would never take the outlaw alive.
Basil knew perfectly well that he had been excluded from all participation in the movement purposely, with a view to hurting his pride, by forcing him to remain in a state of inglorious inaction, a few miles from the scene [209]of hostilities, whilst Constabulary from other parts of the Archipelago were brought in to do the work. But he took the slight philosophically, feeling that, as a matter of fact, he would much sooner not have anything to do with the hunting down of Felizardo, a view in which his men concurred heartily. He knew Bush and his company were going—Mrs Bush had told him so, in the latest of those letters which were now the great interest of his life—but the news did not move him, knowing, as he did, that the chances of any fighting were extremely small.
It was two days after the meeting between Felizardo and Commissioner Furber that Basil heard the result of the expedition. Even then, all he got was a brief note from Lieutenant Stott at Catarman:—
“Felizardo escaped after all, simply laughed at them, and rode down to Furber’s camp, where he gave the Commissioner the fright of his life, and hanged your old friend, the Presidente of Igut. That is all I know yet. Will let you have details when they come in. They are sending all the troops back to Manila.”
Basil laid the note down with a sigh of relief. He knew now which way his sympathies really lay. After all, life at Silang would have seemed very drab and dreary had the fierce, chivalrous little man up on the mountain-side been killed, or, worse still, captured.
It was from Mrs Bush that he received the [210]first detailed account of the great drive, and he smiled grimly to himself as he read of the dramatic ending of it all, the sudden dash on horseback through the cordon of troops, the equally sudden appearance at Commissioner Furber’s camp, the execution of the Presidente of Igut.
“My husband and his men saw nothing and did nothing, save force their way through jungle and scramble over rocks. They all came back very tired and cross. In fact, every one is tired and cross, and in favour of leaving Felizardo alone for the future. Still, the man who must decide, the Commissioner, says nothing. Somehow, he seems to have changed, and every one is wondering what he said to Felizardo, or what Felizardo said to him; but the only witness, that hateful Presidente, cannot tell us now.”
Basil read the letter several times; then sat down and cursed things in general, and Silang in particular, which was extremely illogical. If he had cursed anything, he should have cursed his own folly in falling in love with a married woman, who was far too proud ever to be more than a friend to him; but, as I said before, when men, and women too, live under the shadow of a place like Felizardo’s mountain, and have the Law of the Bolo as the background of their lives, they are apt to become illogical, or even rash, and to do things which are never supposed to be done in civilised countries. Basil’s conduct was the more foolish, and therefore [211]the more indefensible, because he was convinced that, even if Bush were to be eliminated by means of the bolo, he himself would be no better off—worse even, for Mrs Bush would then go back to the States, and he would see her no more. All these things he would have seen and reasoned out, had he been amongst ordinary surroundings; or, at least, he ought to have done so, just as Mrs Bush would have seen the danger, and impropriety even, of writing to a man her husband loathed; but the fact remains that they did these unwise things, and were very miserable in consequence. They could not settle their love affairs as Felizardo had settled his, many years before, with a slash of the bolo?….
When Commissioner Furber got back to Manila he set his face hard, expecting to meet with veiled jeers and gibes; but, though men did rejoice over his failure, they did not do so in his presence, possibly because they saw that, for the time at least, he was a broken man. Even his colleagues showed considerable forbearance, saving only Commissioner Gumpertz, who, having discovered that the operations against Felizardo had already cost three million dollars, which might have gone to more deserving objects, such as himself, was mightily annoyed, and went to Mr Furber’s office to tell him so.
However, he did not say it all; in fact, he had hardly got into his main argument before [212]he found it wiser to stop altogether, though, instead of taking his colleague’s advice and finishing it outside the door, he hurried back to his own office and vented his spleen on his clerks. None the less, he scored off Commissioner Furber at the meeting of the Commission on the following day.
The Governor-General himself brought up the question of Felizardo. “What do you propose as your next move, Commissioner?” he said to Furber.
The latter did not hesitate. “I have no further move in contemplation,” he replied.
Mr Gumpertz leaned forward. “May I ask why?” he enquired with dangerous politeness.
The Commissioner for Constabulary and Trade addressed his answer to the Governor, ignoring the other. “I see no use in further expeditions. They will do no good. We have done our best; but we have been mistaken all along. Felizardo would have done us no harm had we left him alone. He is an old man now, as I have seen for myself. He wishes for peace, and I should grant it to him.” He spoke slowly, coldly, decisively, as a man whose mind was made up.
The other Commissioners exchanged glances, and the Governor spoke in an unusually severe tone. “It was your department, Commissioner, which started these expeditions.”
Furber nodded. “Yes, my department. I myself take full responsibility for them, though [213]I have been misled all through by some of our native officials here in Manila. It is to them that I shall give my attention now. I learnt a good many things whilst I was out this time. We have carried our philanthropy too far.”
Again the Commissioners exchanged glances. Could this be the same man who had been the one really sincere and pro-native amongst them, at whom they had always laughed amongst themselves, because he thought of his principles and not his pocket? But the Governor-General was growing angry. He, at least, had to stand or fall by the Little Brown Brother theory of Radical Equality.
“Supposing, Commissioner,” he said, with a veiled insult in his voice, “supposing the Commission decides not to make peace with this old scoundrel, but to continue operations. It will still be the work of your department to carry those out.”
The Commissioner laid his winning card on the table. “My department will carry out no more expeditions of the kind whilst I remain head of it. I should resign first.” He spoke very quietly, knowing well that they dare not force his resignation, and so allow him to return to the United States, and tell many things to the President, whose personal friend he was, or, more terrible still, tell them to the Press.
But though he could refuse to send out further [214]expeditions—and he knew well that the Army authorities would refuse too—he could not open peace negotiations without the consent of the Commission, and that question was adjourned indefinitely.
Commissioner Gumpertz tried one parting shot. “What about the three million dollars your ‘mistake’ has cost?” he demanded.
His colleague’s composure remained unruffled. “They are spent,” he answered.
The Governor-General corrected him mildly. “Wasted, you mean, perhaps?”
Furber smiled. “I thank you, Governor. They have been wasted, I should have said; and also many good lives. But”—and for once he looked them all squarely in the face, with flashing eyes—“I am not the only man here who has made mistakes, and wasted money and lives. And”—his glance travelled from the Governor to Commissioner Gumpertz, and from Commissioner Gumpertz to Commissioner Johnson, and on to Commissioner Georg............