Taj and the Great Camel Trek (2 page)

The next morning I found Padar checking Salmah's legs. ‘Is she all right, Padar?'

He smiled at me but his eyes were dull. For almost a year now his smiles had lost their sparkle. Were mine like that too? ‘Yes, the race didn't affect her.' He gave her a rub on her belly, but Salmah just grunted in bad humour. It was very hard to know what would make Salmah happy. I started on my carefully planned idea with Padar.

‘Padar?'

‘Hmm?'

‘Could you tell the explorers what a good camel Mustara is? Then they'd choose him today. They'd trust your judgement.'

Padar turned from Salmah to look at me. ‘What are you saying, Taj?'

‘I want to come with you. I want Mustara to come too.' I sounded like a little child and wished I didn't. ‘I can help you with your work. I can fix the saddles if they
break, check the camels for sores. I can catch them in the mornings. I would be a help on the expedition and so would Mustara. He could carry something.'

Padar put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Taj.' Then he shook his head. ‘Mustara is not fully grown. They will not take him. They need adult camels to do the carrying. It will not be a picnic in the desert like you have with young Emmeline. It will be hot, then cold. Maybe there will be no water. Maybe some camel will die. Do you want this for Mustara?'

I shook my head miserably.

‘Emmeline's mother will look out for you, so will Bill the blacksmith. He has what he calls a soft spot.' Padar smiled, but I couldn't. Then he sobered. ‘Camel driving is my work, Taj. It is what I have always done even in the old country, and it means I have to go away from our home at times to care for the camels. This way I earn money for our life here, and you are old enough now to be looking after yourself.' Padar touched my head and moved on to check the bulls, Malik and Rajah. I watched them darkly. They were magnificent camels, growling in fun at Padar; there was no doubt the explorers would choose them.

I sat with Mustara snuffling down my neck until the explorers came out to the yards. I watched them through narrowed eyes. Mr Giles was the leader, though he wasn't the tallest. He had wispy, light-coloured hair and
a dark moustache. He had hair on the sides of his face too. Padar let his beard grow all around his face wherever it is meant to grow, but the English shaved it off in peculiar places. Mr Giles spoke a lot to a taller man with an odd beard shaven off at his chin. Another tall man with hair the colour of henna walked like a soldier and had much to say about the camels. Mr Giles called him Jess and seemed to listen to him. What would they know about camels? They should be listening to Padar.

They came closer as they checked the camels; Mr Giles patted some and said straight away, ‘That one.' He conferred with the other men about some. Salmah was one of those. She roared at them, and the man called Jess jumped. I grinned a little. Padar told them what a strong camel she was. Difficult in personality, yes, but she made up for it in other ways. ‘She is survivor,' Padar said, and Mr Giles nodded.

A young explorer walked ahead towards me. He looked too young to be on an expedition; he was tall and almost as gangly as I was. ‘Gangly' was Emmeline's word. You're gangly like a spider, she said to me once. ‘Good morning.' The young one had stopped in front of me. He smiled at Mustara. ‘Is this your camel? He is very fine.' Then he leant down and held out his hand. ‘My name is Alec, Alec Ross.'

I knew I couldn't be angry all morning, not when this Alec said Mustara was fine; I stood up and took his
hand. ‘I am Taj. Your camel driver is my father, Saleh Mahomed.'

Did Alec hear that note of bitterness I couldn't conceal? He paused only a second. ‘Will you be joining him? I'm sure you will be a help with the camel work.'

I couldn't answer for I was thinking how strict Padar could be when he had made up his mind. Alec was distracted by the other explorers then. They walked straight past me, men important with the power of choosing the best. I'm sure Mr Giles didn't even see Mustara, how strong a bull he would be when he was full grown and what a pleasing personality he had and so easy to train. How could they know? They didn't ask. Padar gave me a quick look but he was soon busy with Mr Giles, describing the strengths of Malik and Rajah.

When they'd all gone, Emmeline found me. She didn't ask what happened; she knew. Mustara was trying to cheer me up with kisses on my head. ‘Nobody wants us today,' I said. I meant it as a joke but it didn't come out that way. I wasn't good with joking.

Emmeline's voice was over bright, like her eyes. ‘That's not true, Taj Saleh, and you know it.'

I sighed. ‘I'll take Mustara for a ride. It will make us both feel better.'

‘Then I'll come too. I have my hat today.' Emmeline grimaced at me. She hated her hat but her mother made her wear it. She tied the ribbons under her chin while I
said ‘Hooshta' to Mustara. He knelt beside us as we both clambered on. At my whistle he rose, so effortlessly. If only the explorers could see him now. I turned him by the nose rope towards the desert.

Emmeline sat in front of me. ‘Oh, it's so high up here, I can touch the sky.' Then she laughed. Emmeline's laugh was so deep and infectious I couldn't stay as sad as I wanted to be, and I urged Mustara into a gallop.

We ventured further into the desert than we had ever gone. Emmeline made me sing and Mustara lifted his feet as if he was dancing. I forgot about Padar leaving without me, and paid no attention to the sky. It must have been hours later when I first noticed it. ‘Oh no.'

Emmeline twisted around. ‘What is it?' Her face changed when she saw the peach-tinted clouds looming behind us, like a mountain in a mist.

The wind had blown up hot for the time of year. Already grit filled our eyes.

‘Dust storm.' I shouted for Mustara to kneel. The wind was stronger now, pulling at my turban and Emmeline's hat, and we only had time to hide behind Mustara. I looped the reins over my arm and clung to Emmeline.

The dust was so thick I couldn't even see her. ‘I can't breathe,' she shouted; there was more but the words were taken by the wind.

‘Don't talk.' The wind screamed above us and we
hid our faces in Mustara's fur. The air around us was grey as night. The cloud blotted out the sky, and we gripped each others' hands so we wouldn't blow apart.

Finally the dark wave rolled over. We spat dust from our mouths and rubbed our eyes free of grit.

We mounted as I whistled; Mustara blinked his eyelids clear and unfolded himself.

I felt as though I'd been deeply asleep and all looked different as I woke. We both stared about us, bleary eyed.

‘Which way is home?' Emmeline asked.

Every way I looked there was freshly swept sand. I couldn't see the sun for the dust haze and all our tracks had disappeared.

‘What shall we do?' Emmeline peered into my face. Did she suspect I also didn't know? Then she gave a laugh that sounded more like a cough and ripped the ribbons from her hat. ‘Father told me how explorers tie themselves onto camels' backs when they are sleepy or unwell. Here, we can use my ribbons.'

I think she was joking. It was Emmeline's way and I almost cried to hear her courage. She was like a mountain lion. That was what Mustara was too, an Afghan mountain lion. It is what his name means.

I managed a smile. ‘It's a good idea but the ribbons aren't strong enough. We'll use Mustara's reins instead. He'll find the way home.'

She grinned at me as if to say ‘Of course', but I hoped Mustara could do what I expected of him. If not, we were truly lost.

Emmeline's songs had dried up with the dust, but we both tried not to say discouraging things to each other. I was thinking them though and maybe
Emmeline knew, for every now and then she'd lean back and poke me.

‘What are you thinking, Taj?'

‘Nothing,' I said.

‘Then tell me a story.'

I didn't feel like telling stories either but I knew Emmeline would keep asking so I told her one about seven princesses and seven princes who lived in Persia. She liked stories about princesses and the more of them the better. Padar had told me stories ever since I was a little boy, though not lately. Strange that my mother didn't tell me stories, or not that I remembered.

‘What shall we do when it gets dark, Taj?'

I shrugged. ‘We keep going. Mustara can walk in the dark.'

Emmeline was quiet then and so was I. We watched the muddy sky as Mustara plodded onwards. It was still too hard to see which way the sun was travelling; I could only trust that Mustara knew the way.

Dusk had fallen when I began to recognise shrubs we brushed past. It was Alec and Tommy who found us first. ‘Ahoy there.' That was Alec. He rode up on Reechy, a new white camel. She gleamed in the dark. ‘Everyone's looking for you – the station hands, your fathers, the explorers.' Alec sounded kind and I could see Tommy's white smile as though it glowed. Then we were surrounded.

Padar rode up beside me and laid his hand on my shoulder. I knew he was relieved but Emmeline's father pulled her from Mustara's reins with a groan and cradled her as if she was a baby.

Emmeline's voice was a dusty croak. ‘Mustara brought us home, Father.'

That evening two visitors came to our hut. It was Mr Giles and his second-in-command, Mr Tietkins. Padar boiled sweet milky tea over the fire and gave it to the men in tin mugs. Mr Giles spoke about the expedition to Perth, how they would have to go to Port Augusta first to pick up supplies that Mr Elder had provided. Their objective was to find a watered way to Perth, but overall to stay alive. That meant Padar would need to keep the camels alive. Mr Giles asked Padar a question about the camels and then he turned his attention to me. I was sitting on my mattress, listening and wishing.

Mr Giles' eyes were piercing, even in the light of the lantern. ‘Young man, how far did you go into the desert today?'

I glanced at Padar; was I in trouble? But he lifted his chin at me. ‘A long way. We travelled for a few hours.'

Mr Giles glanced at Mr Tietkins. ‘And how did you survive the storm without tents and tarpaulins?'

‘We hid behind Mustara.'

‘Mustara is your camel?'

‘Yes, sir.'

‘Miss Emmeline tells me this young camel negotiated the desert and delivered you home.'

I nodded uncertainly. Some of Mr Giles' words were strange but he seemed kindly.

With another glance at his companion, Mr Giles cleared his throat. ‘In the light of this information I would like to offer you a place on the expedition. You and your camel, Mustara.'

I sat up straighter. I must have heard wrong. ‘Pardon?' I glanced at Padar. His face was carefully blank, so he knew about this.

Mr Giles smiled at me. ‘Come now. I have already spoken to your father and wouldn't you like to be with him? I'm sure he needs the help. We are taking twenty-two camels. It is a lot of work for one man to load them, retrieve them in the mornings, treat them for illness, not to mention mending those infernal saddles. What do you say?'

‘Thank you, sir. But why? You didn't choose Mustara this morning.'

Mr Giles rose from his stool. ‘This morning we didn't know your camel could find the home paddock after a dust storm so far into the desert. We need camels who can find the base camp after a storm.' Mr Giles looked back at me as he shook Padar's hand. ‘Besides,
he will grow on the way to Perth and you will be good company for Tommy.'

When they'd gone I sat stupefied. It was Padar who spoke. ‘Mustara, he is a good camel – you both have earned this fairly.' Then he went to the tin trunk he kept by his bed. He took a key from his shalwar pocket and glanced at me. ‘There is something I need to give you now you are coming with me.'

I watched the key in his fingers. As far as I knew there were only clothes and money kept in Padar's trunk. The lid swung back with the squeak I'd always heard as a child whenever Padar opened the trunk in the evening. On top were my mother's dresses. His hands slid over them and hesitated. I saw the glistening in his eyes and I averted mine so I wouldn't see his pain. Why couldn't we talk about it? It was as if my mother was a curtain hung between Padar and me and neither of us had the power to pull it aside.

Padar wiped his eyes before he slipped one hand down one side and withdrew an oilskin. He laid it on the bed and unrolled it. I crept close to see, and lying before me was a knife. No ordinary knife, but an ancient one, curved like a miniature scimitar with a scabbard. Designs were painted on the handle and scabbard in bright colours and gold. I looked up at him. I knew a knife like this was given as a sign of manhood and authority; surely he wasn't giving this to
me? His eyes were calm now, and thoughtful as they regarded me; what control he had. ‘I have kept this for you. It was given to me by my father, his father gave it to him. Now it is yours.' He lifted it and handed it to me as though we were part of a ritual. I took it just as carefully. It was too beautiful to say so. Padar always said it was best not to attract the evil eye by remarking on someone's beauty. No doubt that would work for knives as well.

I pulled the knife from the scabbard and tested the sharpness of the point with my finger. ‘Sharp,' I said unnecessarily as a pinprick of blood appeared. I began folding it up again in the oilskin, but Padar put out a hand to stop me.

‘It needs to have you wear it, beta.' In his other hand was a long piece of cloth. ‘Your mother, she made this for when you were old enough to wear the knife.' His eyes filled again and I knelt there in shock. I couldn't even ask when, when did she do such a thing? ‘Come.' He lifted me by the shoulders and wrapped the cloth around my waist. When I looked at him again his tears had dried and he had a crooked smile on his face. ‘You put the knife like this,' and he tucked the knife into the waist cloth. ‘It will become part of you, and in the desert you may need it.'

‘You don't mind, Padar? That I come with you? You had said I couldn't.'

‘It is for preparing you I said these things.' Then he lifted off his turban without unwrapping it. ‘It is true I do not think an expedition is for boys and half-grown camels, but Mr Gile, he has spoken.'

I almost smiled at Padar's ‘Mr Gile'; he often couldn't pronounce the endings of English words. ‘You don't sound happy for me.'

Padar sighed. ‘Too many difficult things can happen on an expedition. Once, when I was driving camels in the north-west of India, we reached a caravanserai and bandits were hiding there, twenty of them. They took everything the camels carried, and those men who argued, they were killed.' He shook his head.

‘Will there be bandits in the desert on the way to Perth?'

Padar's eyes searched my face. ‘I am not knowing. No one has been where Mr Gile want to go. No one except desert peoples. Who knows what dangers we will face.' His gaze shifted to the knife at my waist.

I wasn't so worried about dangers then; I was more concerned by Mr Giles' final words and wondered if they'd prove true: that I'd be company for Tommy, but would he be good company for me?