The Law of the Bolo

by Stanley Portal Hyatt

“I sent for you at the request of the Commission,” Mr Furber said. “This is not a departmental matter, or, rather, they will not have it treated as one. Therefore, I can say nothing about it yet. Possibly, they may call you before them, or they may communicate with you by letter at your hotel.”

Basil got up to take his leave, but, as he reached the door, the Commissioner called him back. “Captain Hayle,” he said a little haltingly. “We have not agreed too well in the past; and I will admit that in some things I have been wrong, or unjust. But this is not my doing. I, also, have met Felizardo, and—and I understand why you went to San Polycarpio that night.”

In the end, they did not summon Basil before the Commission, for what seemed to them a good and sufficient reason. Clancy of the Star had cabled the story of the funeral at San Polycarpio to a certain great newspaper in New York, and the editor of that paper had decided forthwith to make Captain Hayle the hero of the hour. Consequently, as even Commissioner Gumpertz had to acknowledge, it would have been a most injudicious thing to take any steps against the Constabulary officer; in fact, before the matter had come up again for discussion, there had arrived peremptory cables from Washington ordering them to leave Basil Hayle alone, not because Washington admired the conduct of the latter, but because, as ever, Washington’s main consideration was the question of the votes it might lose at the next election.

Still, Basil was not allowed to go scot-free. The Governor-General and Commissioner Gumpertz saw to that; the former because he was galled at the interference from Washington; the latter because it was Captain Hayle who had rescued Mr Joseph Gobbitt, and so allowed possible buyers to know that there were head-hunters living on that most desirable tract of hemp land to the north of Felizardo’s mountains. Had Mr Gobbitt’s head been permitted to hang from the ridge pole of a shack, beside that of Albert Dunk, no one in Manila would have known his fate, and the succession of would-be purchasers, willing to deposit five or six thousand dollars each, might have remained unbroken, greatly to the profit both of himself and of the head-hunters.

The result of the feeling against Basil was that he could not obtain permission to return to his post. Day after day went by, and still he was detained on futile excuses, until he began to realise that they did not intend him to go back to duty at Calocan. Moreover, there had been no further word out of Igut, either from Mrs Bush or from Don Juan, and the silence was driving him mad. At last, in sheer despair, he called on Commissioner Furber. That official looked at him curiously.

“You don’t know why they dropped all idea of open proceedings against you?” he asked. “Well, it is because they have made a hero of you in the States,” and the flicker of a smile crossed his face. “It wouldn’t have been wise, you see. As regards the future, I may as well tell you plainly. You are a marked man, and your chances in the Service are nil. I have done what I can for you, because I believe I owe you some reparation; but I must not strain things too far; in the end, that would benefit neither of us. I may tell you that if you remain in the Service you will be sent to one of the outlying islands, and that, I believe”—he spoke meaningfully—“would not suit you. Moreover, one is apt to meet with accidents in those places, as perhaps one of my colleagues, Mr Gumpertz, could tell you. Speaking unofficially—in fact you must regard all this as unofficial—I should advise you to resign. It would be wiser—and safer.”

Basil drummed on the table with his fingers. At last, “Yes,” he said slowly, “I think you are right. Can I do it now? I suppose it will be to you that I hand my resignation?”

So Captain Hayle resigned, and his resignation was accepted immediately, and then he went back with his successor to hand over the Government property in his charge, and to bid farewell to his plucky little men, who had fought under him on Felizardo’s mountain, followed him in the forced march over the pass, carried out the great killing in the plaza at Igut, and stood firm when the mob at Calocan threatened to rescue Juan Vagas from the gallows. He had to do those two things, and after doing them he would be a free man again, free to go to Igut if he wished, or rather if he thought it wise so to do, for his wish was always to be there.

It was not an easy thing to say good-bye to his men, after all. Like so many of their kind, they had come to regard themselves as being in his personal service; the State was a thing of which they knew nothing, towards which they felt no kind of loyalty; consequently, his departure filled them with absolute consternation; and though his successor was as lax and easy-going as the most tired Filipino could wish an officer to be, half his company was missing before the end of a fortnight, greatly to his disgust. But when he reported the fact to Commissioner Furber, the latter took it very quietly. “They were Hayle’s men,” he said. “And, from the first, I was doubtful whether they would stay with any one else. He was a man of rather an uncommon type;” then, as if thinking he had said too much, he went on curtly. “Let them go. Don’t worry to fetch them back, so long as they’ve taken no carbines. I will send you some recruits to take their places.”

Basil Hayle did not actually break down after he had bidden farewell to his men, but he went so near to it that he would not trust himself to accept his successor’s offer, and stay the night in the barracks.