Felizardo said afterwards that John Mackay should have been more explicit as to his exact destination, in which case the latter part of this story would have been very different ….
Mr Joseph Gobbitt did not like the twenty-mile ride in the cart, which was drawn by a couple of water-buffalo, beasts for which he seemed to entertain a most wholesome dread. He was absolutely shaken to pieces, as he told John Mackay, with what that naturally-silent person seemed to consider wearisome persistency; yet he liked the climb over the pass still less; and when they reached the northern valley, he insisted on a rest of two days, despite the protests of John Mackay, who urged: “Why, it’s only some fifteen miles now to Hayle’s stockade at Silang. He can put you up comfortably there, whilst I have a run round and look at the land. From what I can see, it is all right. We are at a fair elevation, even here, quite high enough above sea-level.”
But Mr Gobbitt was firm. “I will rest here, and then we will go straight on. I see no reason for wasting time going to this stockade, which appears to be well off our route.”
The Scotchman shrugged his shoulders, and rested too; then, on the third morning, they moved down the valley slowly, cutting across from one side to another, so as to get an accurate idea of the whole area. On the fifth morning their task was practically complete. Mackay’s verdict was wholly favourable. “It’s valuable land,” he said—“as good as any I know, except, of course, that in Samar. Only, it is curious no one has made use of it before. But I suppose they were afraid of the ladrones or of old Felizardo.”
“Who is Felizardo?” the merchant demanded.
The Scotchman jerked his thumb in the direction of the mountains. “He’s the chief up there. An outlaw.”
Mr Gobbitt flushed. “Rubbish! They assure me that all that sort of thing has been put down, and I can see it now for myself.”
Mackay shrugged his shoulders. “Very well. I suppose you know best. You are my employer, and I have come here merely to advise you on the nature of the land;” and, from that point onwards, he declined to discuss anything but hemp and hemp-growing.
The following morning they decided to turn back. Mr Gobbitt was now in great good-humour. There was no question that, at the price arranged, including the payment to Mr Gumpertz, or rather to Mr Hart on behalf of Mr Gumpertz, he would be making an extra-ordinarily good bargain. He forgot the trials of the journey, that horrible cart, his sore feet and aching limbs; and thought only of what those trials would bring him ultimately. They were then taking a route slightly different from that by which they had come, and were just thinking of making a halt for breakfast, when, to the surprise of every one, they saw the roofs of some nipa-shacks through the trees.
The place proved to be the most miserable little village Mackay had ever seen. There was not a soul in sight, and, as the carriers filed in, they looked at one another with anxious, questioning faces.