“Well,” said van Rheijn, “all that is not so very formidable after all. In case matters came to the worst, the army would know how to do its duty.”
“Its duty!” cried Grenits. “That sounds well from you who just now were the first to scoff at those ‘soldier fellows’. But I ask you this one question:—Has the Government any right whatever to reckon upon the fulfilment of that duty? Has it not neglected, in the most shameful manner, its duty towards that army? I will allow—I am indeed fully persuaded—that in spite of any treatment the officers would stick to their duty, and would do it strictly and honourably. But—! can one expect as much from all the foreigners, which have been shipped out hither? Why, even now in Atjeh, they are deserting to the enemy with bag and baggage, with arms and ammunition—and, in the case I was supposing, they would go over in entire companies. Can one look for any sense of duty in these poor wretched native soldiers, who have almost to a man, by the most shameful means—by opium, by gambling, by the allurements of the vilest women—been pressed into the service. No, no, pray don’t go on deceiving yourselves.”
“There!” cried van Rheijn, “now you are simply talking treason—your language is seditious.”
“Treason, do you call it?” cried Grenits, passionately. “When I do nothing more than lay my finger upon the wound?”
“Gentlemen,” said Verstork interposing, “methinks it is high time to close this discussion. Such topics are very apt to make men hot, and—moreover, why, it is just past midnight. We must go and get some rest, for to-morrow we must be up by day-break and we have a very fatiguing day before us. The Djoerang Pringapoes which you visited with me this evening, is no ball-room let me tell you—you will find that out to-morrow. Come, let us all turn in and get some sleep!”
At these words all, except van Nerekool, rose and prepared to retire.
“I am very glad,” said Grashuis, “that old Muizenkop was not present at this conversation. Had he been here, by to-morrow evening the Resident would have known all about it, chapter and verse, with no doubt the necessary additions and flourishes. And then, my good friend Grenits, you would have had a ‘mauvais quart d’heure.’ Who knows, they might have packed you off to Atapoepoe or to Tomini Bay; perhaps they might have kicked you out of the island altogether. Remember poor lawyer Winckel!”
Grenits shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
“Are you coming to bed?” asked Verstork as he walked up to van Nerekool who was still seated with his head resting on his hand outside the hut which the others had already entered.
Van Nerekool made no reply, he merely looked up and stared into the face of his friend with a strange dazed expression.