“Nor I!” cried Grenits.
“I don’t much wonder at that,” replied van Rheijn, “he is much too busy yonder at Kotta Radja. You may fancy how much he has to do, as he is the only civilian in that military world.”
“Yes,” said Grashuis, “a military world which has become a very small one now that our centralising system has come into operation.”
“A system, Leendert, which might more properly be styled a system of isolation,” said Grenits; “it won’t be very long before our grand army will be sitting there like Robinson Crusoe on his desert island without any other means of communication with the surrounding inhabitants than that of bullets.”
“Come, come, Theodoor,” interrupted one, “no politics.”
“Especially, I suppose, no Atjeh politics,” laughed Grenits. “Oh aye, I know all about that, we Dutchmen dread that subject as a cat dreads water; but, my friends, remember that for all that, it is a question which involves the most vital interests of our country and its colonies.”
“Now that’ll do, that’ll do!” they cried.
“All right, my friends,” said Grenits with a laugh, “I must not, of course, inflict upon my kind friends who deign to come and while away the time of a poor captive, a subject of conversation which is distasteful to them. But, yet, I cannot make out what in the world William can have to control at Kotta Radja. The native population which has, nominally, remained faithful to us and shows its good faith by treacherously attacking our soldiers—”
“Now there you go again—do shut up!”
“Well, but;” persisted Grenits, “this is no politics, I do not suppose he has to look after the mess of the soldiers and marines!”