Taj and the Great Camel Trek (6 page)

By the middle of the next day we came to another cattle station of Mr Bowman. No one was there but a noisy dog. When he saw the camels his eyes bulged and he stopped barking as suddenly as if he had seen the Archangel Gabriel. He didn't make another sound until we were safely out of sight.

Mustara walked carefully in that country for the ground was stony. At least the scrub was less thick and his legs didn't get scraped so much. We were almost as far north as Beltana, though on the opposite side of Lake Torrens. Alec told me about latitudes but I can't remember which one we were on. It was strange that the Englishmen thought about lines in the air that couldn't be seen. Mr Giles had a special instrument called a sextant and every day he wrote which latitude we had reached. With it he could even tell how high a tree or hill was.

The next water we arrived at was called The Elizabeth. There were a few huts but no people. Mr
Giles said bad words when he saw how low the water level was. Alec called it blaspheming. ‘Damnation. I thought there'd be more water than this.' Mr Giles strode around and pulled his moustaches until Mr Tietkens joined him, then they spoke in softer tones, their heads close together.

Padar and I unloaded the camels; Alec and Jess Young helped. Jess Young frowned the whole time but no one said many words. I could hear Padar whispering to the camels. He believes if you are worried there is no point letting your camel know. For then both of you are upset and of what use is that?

Mr Giles spoke to all of us as I finished hobbling the camels. ‘We need to find more water. I heard in Port Augusta there is a Mr Moseley out to the west of us sinking a well. Alec, take Taj tomorrow and see if you can find him. Saleh, you will work out how to carry these infernal casks better. That one on Rajah is slipping. I don't want a lame camel. We will camp here for a few days.'

Jess Young shot more ducks. This time he waited with an odd grin fixed on his face until Padar had slit their throats and murmured the prayer. Then Padar took them to Peter to start cooking with Tommy's help. Again, I helped him pull the feathers out of the last duck.

‘You yadu bundarn, good plucker,' Tommy said.

I nodded at him, pleased that he'd spoken to me but I
didn't look into his eyes. I wasn't sure that Tommy would really like me, since he rode so well in those races. And besides, I still thought I should have won the camel race.

That night we slept in the huts; it was a welcome change. But before I unrolled my blanket with Padar, I sat with Alec by the fire and practised my letters. Jess Young was sketching in his book. When I glanced across to his picture of the camels in the spinifex I couldn't take my gaze away. It was as if I was standing in the desert with them. Khushi even had a half smile and Salmah was looking annoyed. He saw my interest and he cleared his throat. I thought he would say I shouldn't watch him draw but there was something quite different on his mind. ‘Teaching the natives to read and write mightn't be a good idea,' he said above my head to Alec.

Alec straightened his back. ‘Any man may have the right to learn what he will.'

Jess Young had on that same smirk when Padar slit the throats of the ducks. ‘He won't be able to string the letters together, you'll see, old chap.' Then he laughed. ‘It's only camels he can string together.'

‘We'll see,' Alec replied, but he said it so low only I heard.

Mr Giles said Alec could ride Reechy to find Mr Moseley. If I were in a camel race I would ride Reechy: she
is the fastest camel I have ever seen, faster than Salmah. Inshallah, God willing, Mustara will be as fast when he is fully grown.

After we had eaten our morning damper, Alec and I mounted and made off in the western direction. ‘It should be twenty-five miles,' Mr Giles said.
It will take us all day,
I thought.

‘I'll race you,' Alec shouted when we were far enough away from the camp.

Mustara couldn't outrun Reechy but it would be good to give him a gallop. Reechy and Alec pulled ahead of us immediately but I didn't mind. I slapped Mustara's hindquarters and he surged after them. It was much more fun than riding goats. I loved Mustara's rolling rhythm, the wind shooting past us, the way I sat so high. Emmeline had said it was like touching the sky.

I kept Alec in sight, shimmering in the distant dust, and then after a few miles Alec slowed Reechy to a walk and waited for me.

‘What is it?' I asked when we caught up.

Alec pointed up the track. I could see dust in the distance. Mustara twisted his head as I pulled gently on his nose rope. He didn't want to stop.

‘What do you think it is?'

Alec took off his hat and wiped his forehead with his arm. ‘Someone coming.'

The distance between us soon shortened and a man
on a horse hailed us. He had smiling eyes and a beard like Mr Giles' but he had more hair. It was sticking out from under his felt hat. ‘Where are you headed?' he called.

‘We're looking for Mr Moseley,' Alec said.

The man chuckled. ‘You're in luck. I'm Moseley. I'm on my way to The Elizabeth.'

We rode back together but his horse was so skittish because of the camels that Mr Moseley had to push on ahead. At the camp Mr Giles quickly overcame his surprise to see us all back so soon. ‘Moseley, you must eat with us. Stay the night.'

Mr Moseley was happy with Peter's duck soup. At the campfire he told us where he found water. ‘My men draw water from clay pans called Coondambo. It's near the edge of Lake Gairdner. Just follow my horse's tracks,' he said, ‘and they'll lead you to a well. The clay pans are seven miles farther on.' It was as if he was inviting us to his home for a meal.

‘I'm glad to hear of the well.' Mr Giles looked relieved. ‘The only water I know of nearby is at Wynbring, one hundred and seventy miles away.' That seemed odd to me and for the first time I realised the meaning of ‘exploring'. Could it be possible that Mr Giles didn't know where the water lay in the desert?
Surely he wouldn't have started on a long trek without finding out such an important thing?

Afterwards when we were drinking tea Jess Young took his concertina out. Mr Tietkens sang and the others joined in. They sang a song called ‘Billy Boy'. When Jess Young played, it made me think of Beltana and Emmeline. I fetched my tabla; I hoped no one would mind. When I returned Alec asked for a song from Scotland.

‘So you are a Scottish lad, Alec?' Jess Young's eyebrows rose.

‘My father was born there.'

‘The only Scottish one I know is “Loch Lomond”.' It sounded an odd name for a song but Alec was pleased to hear it. The concertina began playing, and so did I on the tabla. Jess Young was surprised for an instant and then he relaxed when he heard I kept a good rhythm. When I glanced at Alec he was smiling at me as he sang but his eyes were watering. I pretended not to notice.

Alec leaned closer. ‘It's about a lake.' Already water was becoming a part of us. It wasn't long before it consumed our thoughts and became our constant prayer.

When we found the well Mr Moseley had dug, his men were gone. ‘They must be digging elsewhere,' Mr Giles said. Padar and I dropped a leather bag down to bring up some water. Padar checked it. ‘It is white water, Mr Gile.'

Mr Giles hurried over. ‘White?' He put his hand in and sloshed some into his mouth. Padar and I watched while he swallowed, then Mr Giles smiled. ‘It's good enough to drink. Bring more up.'

We drew enough water to pour into the canvas trough for the camels. There were bushes for them to eat and everyone, even Salmah, was in a good mood. I could hear Mr Giles reciting softly to Reechy.

When the work was done I practised writing my letters; Tommy came over. ‘What you doin?' he asked.

‘Writing.'

‘Guba, white fellas' words.' It was an interesting comment. Did he mean I shouldn't learn to write English? And why not? I had never thought of myself as black or
white. But Tommy knew he was black. Mr Giles often called him his black boy.

‘Do you want to try?' I asked.

Tommy was so horrified he put his hands up as if to push me away, so I kept writing with my pencil.

‘Writing English is good for business,' I said with my head down. ‘One day I will have a camel string like Dost Razool, except the camels will be mine, not Mr Elder's. Perhaps I will have a sheep station to keep the camels on.'

When I looked up Tommy had gone. He moved as quietly as a camel.

The next day we followed Mr Moseley's horse tracks south-west. I was learning about directions. If Padar was in the desert at night he would know how to find home. He knows the moon and the stars and they tell him where to go. Mr Giles used his compass. Alec had one that was smaller than Mr Giles' and he showed me how to read it. ‘See? You hold it until this needle points north. Then you know where you are.'

Even when the tracks were faint Tommy could tell where Mr Moseley's horses had been. Whatever my misgivings about Tommy, he could track.

We soon came to the Coondambo clay-pans. The water was yellow and thick, and didn't taste as good as
the white water. ‘Taj,' Mr Giles called. ‘Ask Peter for a billy and fill the casks.' I tried giving some to Mustara but none of the camels wanted to drink again so soon. I didn't like the yellow water. When Peter made the tea with it, it curdled.

‘It would be all right to drink if you don't put sugar in. It's the sugar which causes the problem,' Mr Giles told us at the campfire.

‘Who can drink tea without sugar?' Jess Young said. ‘It's bad enough without milk.' He actually scowled.

Mr Giles didn't say any more about tea to Jess Young.

We didn't stay long at the claypans, and the day afterwards we camped in a scrubby area. There was a rocky hill which was good to climb to see ahead, but it was difficult for the camels. There was a little water on the rocks, maybe a few gallons, but the camels had to climb over the rocks to get it. I was afraid Mustara would break a leg, scrambling for it.

At least we managed to collect some pure water to drink for our tea. Alec and I laughed as we emptied out the dreadful yellow water from the Coondambo clay-pans. ‘At least we won't have to carry that any more,' he said.

Then I heard Mr Giles talking to Tommy. ‘This is your country, Tommy. Aren't you glad?'

Alec heard too. ‘This is the same track that Mr Giles,
Peter and Mr Tietkens travelled earlier this year from Wynbring. Tommy was with them.' Alec called out to Tommy. ‘Will you be going home?'

‘This fella close to home country,' Tommy said but he didn't look happy. Would he leave? It was strange because the relief that I thought I'd feel didn't come.

That night some of the men were thinking about Mr Giles' last trip in the area. Jess Young asked him about it. ‘Was it difficult to find water?' It was a subject that weighed heavily on more minds than I realised.

Mr Giles took up the story. ‘I will tell you about William, Peter, Tommy and me. Earlier this year we took three horses and two camels–'

‘T'were difficult having the horses and camels together,' cut in Peter. ‘The horses were terrified of 'em. And the cow I were riding,' he shook his head, ‘if I beat her she lay down, bellow, spit and roll over on her saddle. She looked fit to die then and there.'

Jess Young chuckled.

‘Yes, those two camels certainly gave us some trouble,' Mr Giles said. I glanced at Padar. If Mr Giles had had Padar with him they would have been no trouble at all. ‘But Tommy here, he didn't give us any trouble.' Mr Giles laid his hand on Tommy's shoulder. ‘He found the way to Wynbring. How he did that with no compass or any advantages of science I have no idea, perhaps because his imagination is uncluttered.'

Tommy was smiling at Mr Giles but I wasn't sure that Mr Giles had said a good thing. Yet there was something between Mr Giles and Tommy which must have come from sharing hardships together: a certain respect that I recognised for it is what Afghan ways are built upon.

Mr Giles' voice took on a different tone. ‘The last horse, Formby, was so struck by thirst that he put his head into the campfire one night thinking it to be water. This upset me so much I gave him two quarts of water, after which he promptly died. I thought we would all follow in his wake. We only had three pints of water left.'

‘Mr Giles were never gloomy but that time he were close to despairing,' Peter said quietly.

Mr Giles gave a small smile. ‘And Peter – he was delirious and throwing his hat into the air and shouting “water” where none existed.'

We laughed at that, then stopped as Mr Giles carried on. ‘Even the camels looked to have only a day's life left in them, their humps had shrunk.'

‘So how did you survive such a damnable situation?' Jess Young frowned at Mr Giles.

‘I saw a whitish light through the mulga and came upon an enormous clay pan. At the end of the channel was yellow water.' Mr Giles stared out into the darkness as if he could see that light.

‘And you didn't know it was there? It wasn't based on a scientific bearing?' Jess Young asked.

Mr Giles shook his head.

‘A miracle,' Alec murmured.

Padar and I glanced at each other. Padar even took his pipe from his mouth. He does that when he thinks carefully. God is merciful and great, but all the same, that story made me nervous.