Taj and the Great Camel Trek

by Rosanne Hawke

  Alec nodded at Mr Giles with a light in his eyes and Tommy grinned. He would never leave Mr Giles; it was as if he thought of Mr Giles as his father. I watched everyone’s faces. Although they were eager to go on, I wondered if they thought about water like me. I knew Jess Young did. Tommy didn’t seem worried at all. Was he the only one? It was as though he didn’t have to think whether he was worried or happy or what would happen tomorrow. Perhaps that was his secret: he lived in the present moment.

  Rani still hadn’t calved but there wasn’t enough water in the dam to stay longer. The people who lived there never came to talk to us, so we couldn’t find any other water nearby. ‘The tired camels have recovered,’ Mr Giles said to Padar and me, ‘so fill up everything you can find with water.’ That was a Friday, the tenth day of September. It was cloudy and cool as I looked for the camels. We had to lighten the loads to carry the water. To make room we had to leave behind anything that wasn’t needed as much as water. That included the box of brandy Mr Giles was given at Fowler’s Bay. Jess Young watched me as I took it out of one of the leather bags and left it on the sand, but he didn’t say anything.

  As Mr Giles mounted Reechy, I heard him say to her in a low tone, ‘My fairy camel Reechy, go westward,’ and with speed she darted forward.

  I reported this strange speech to Alec.

  ‘I remember a poem called Mazeppa that had a speedy steed in it,’ he said. ‘Perhaps Mr Giles is quoting it.’

  We left in good enough spirits, even though we didn’t know what was ahead. Mr Giles set the mood with his verse:

  Though the scrubs may range around me,

  My camel shall bear me on;

  Though the desert may surround me,

  It hath springs that shall be won.

  He seemed to thrive on what mystery or danger may lie ahead. The terrible scrub was still with us but I hoped for a change of scene.

  By the fifth day since we left Boundary Dam, we had gone further than Mr Giles and Alec and I had, and we still hadn’t found water. Nor had it rained. I suspected we had seen the last of the rain. We were entering the driest country we’d seen yet.

  We passed many salt lakes and the scrub began to clear. No more mallee scrub and spinifex but myall timber and acacia. The ground was hard clay and I couldn’t see our tracks, though I supposed Tommy could. The plain was so large around us that after the scrub it felt eerie. From the sky we must have looked like a giant serpent winding its way across the ground. No one called out as we rode and we spoke in low voices if at all. The stillness seeped into our souls.

  That night I dreamt of water. I could see it shining in the distance – a sheet of silver – shimmering. But as I ran closer it slipped further away. A black shadow swooped above me. I looked up to see a crow’s beak. It was only inches from my eye, and I woke, shivering in the cold of early dawn.

  Then I heard a camel groaning. I raced out of the camp and there was Padar with Rani, the old cow. She had finally calved. ‘Do not hope for a miracle here,’ Padar said to me as we watched the bull calf vainly trying to find his feet and falling over them in a muddle. Rani made encouraging sounds to him, her teats dripping.

  ‘What if I carried him on Mustara?’

  Padar sighed. ‘He is too weak.’ And I thought how the desert was making the calves too small to survive.

  Mr Giles came to inspect Rani and the calf. He started to speak and stopped. Then he said, ‘We cannot stay here.’ This time I heard the pain. His voice cracked and it dammed up my anger. ‘We don’t have enough water and until we find some we cannot stop. I am sorry, we cannot stay here.’ He didn’t realise he was repeating himself, Mr Giles, who was so particular about words.

  The calf was shot but Rani continued on with the string. Mr Giles said, ‘See, it’s as if nothing has happened.’ Perhaps it made him feel better to say that but Padar and I knew differently. If Rani was the sort of cow you could kiss and comfort we would have.

  The tenth night passed since we left the dam. We had cold fowl for breakfast and a little water each. Rani’s milk had dried up. While she still had some we had put it in our tea but now we were not having tea to save the water. Even though Mr Giles had not ordered rations we were all careful. No one complained about this aloud, though there were irritable looks at breakfast. I wondered if the other men’s urine was dark like mine.

  We travelled on a plain but still we couldn’t see far for the ground was not flat; Alec found the field glasses of little use.

  ‘Here, give them to me.’ Jess Young took the glasses but he couldn’t see anything of note either. He handed them back in bad grace.

  There had been no place where any water could lodge. We didn’t find any tracks of humans, no emus or wild dogs either. Mr Giles called it ‘Godforsaken’. We had come 190 miles from water. I wondered if we would ever find any. The water in the casks couldn’t last forever. Mustara kept nuzzling me as if I had water in my pocket and I hadn’t given it to him yet. I couldn’t bear the hurt look in his eyes.

  During the day my head ached, even when I was doing nothing except riding Mustara. My throat pleaded for water, but it wasn’t only because of the shortage that I couldn’t drink: it was also Ramazan.

  I heard Mr Giles muttering to Reechy, ‘Where is our oasis, mariner? Where the bright spot of rest?’

  It disturbed me and I rode back and found Alec. I told him what Mr Giles had said. ‘What’s a mariner?’

  ‘A mariner is a seaman.’

  ‘Like Jess Young?’

  ‘Perhaps. I learnt a poem about a mariner in school. In the poem the ship finally finds its destination, so don’t worry, Taj.’ But I could see by his frown that he was using words to make me feel easier and that frightened me all the more.

  Everyone was subdued at the campfire that night. Jess Young had a look as though he wished he hadn’t accepted Mr Giles’ challenge at Boundary Dam. Padar fixed his gaze on Mr Giles and asked what everyone must have been thinking. ‘Mr Gile, when you get water?’

  The camels wouldn’t hold out much longer without a long drink. Salmah was showing signs of strain. If she didn’t have water soon her milk would fail. Then what would happen to little Youldeh?

  Mr Giles laughed, but it was just a pretence. ‘Water? Pooh! There’s no water in this country, Saleh. I didn’t come for water, I came to die. And you said you would too.’

  I was horrified. Mr Giles said in our hut at Beltana we would try to stay alive.

  Padar thought for a moment and then he said, ‘I think some camel he die tomorrow, Mr Gile.’

  I looked with concern at Padar. Was he calling Mr Giles’ bluff? Would a camel really die? Which one?

  ‘No, Saleh, I think they’ll all die tonight.’

  ‘I think we all die soon, Mr Gile.’ I couldn’t believe Padar was playing Mr Giles’ game.

  The officers were frowning but it was Tommy who restored some of Mr Giles’ previous lightness with a silly question. ‘If we all die tomorrow, can I have the bag of trinkets?’

  That made Mr Giles chuckle, but the officers didn’t relax their stern faces.

  The eleventh day: there were groans from everyone as we re-entered the dreaded scrub: mallee, casuarinas, desert sandalwood and quandong trees. It was a long day made longer by our thirst. The more I tried to put it out of my mind, the more I thought about it. I licked my lips constantly but it made them cracked and blistered. The lead camels were lion-hearted yet they were finding it harder to force their way through the scrub, and branches whipped back on their riders with more force than usual.

  I didn’t tell Padar that I felt unwell and it was hard to concentrate when he spoke to me. I felt tired all the time; sometimes I lay back on Mustara and fitfully slept.

  That night Padar was smoking after breaking his fast, being thoughtful, and Mr Giles asked him what was on his mind.

&
nbsp; ‘Ah, Mr Gile, I pray to Allah to give you a rock-hole tomorrow.’

  ‘But Saleh, if it isn’t there now how will God have time to make it? Besides, if God gives you what you want how about a flowing river – that would be better.’

  Padar couldn’t hide his dismay. ‘Ah, Mr Gile, you not religious.’

  This time Mr Giles was gentle with him. All he said was, ‘Try not to smoke, Saleh, it’s dehydrating.’

  We all tried not to use too much energy so we wouldn’t dry up inside. We slept early, keeping close to the fire for warmth. When I lay down I could hear the camels moan, restlessly eating what they could to stop the thirst.

  That night I dreamt again of water. It was as large as the harbour at Port Augusta. But I couldn’t reach it. There was a deep ravine between me and the water and there was no way to cross.

  We tried to travel more each day but Youldeh the calf was lagging and couldn’t keep up with Salmah. ‘I ride with you,’ Tommy said since he was riding Salmah. I was glad, for Mustara seemed to be walking slower too. I hoped I was imagining it. In the afternoon we camped in a hollow. It looked hopeful and Mr Giles ran Reechy down to check for water. There were signs of the presence of people but the whole basin and the plants were as dry as old bones. The grass was white and brittle; it would have disintegrated if we blew on it.

  ‘We are two hundred and forty-two miles from Boundary Dam,’ Mr Giles said. ‘We’ll rest here and water the camels at last.’ Mr Tietkens said something to him in a low voice. Mr Giles shook his head. ‘No, we have carried the water for them and they deserve it.’

  ‘Why don’t we water only some of the camels?’ Jess Young suggested. ‘Just the ones who are the healthiest?’

  Mr Tietkens didn’t disagree with him. I looked at Padar in horror. Would he allow it? That would be letting the camels die. How would we choose?

  ‘In fact why don’t we let some of them go or shoot them if you must. Then we would have enough water to survive ourselves.’ Jess Young’s face was red and stormy. Mr Tietkens was frowning, but as usual, Peter and Alec kept out of the officers’ serious discussions.

  I couldn’t help myself. ‘No.’ Padar’s hand landed heavily on my shoulder and I remembered who I was.

  ‘And which ones do you think we could dispense with?’ Mr Giles was staring at both the officers, for they seemed in agreement. If I was cooler in the head at that point I wouldn’t have worried, because his look was the one that came before his blaspheming. Jess Young must have chosen to ignore it, for he carried on. ‘The cow and calf certainly, the weaker ones. Taj doesn’t need his mount, he can ride with Saleh–’

  ‘You can’t!’ That was enough for me, if Padar didn’t already have his hand clenched onto my shirt I would have flown at Jess Young. Kill Mustara? How could he say such a thing? I struggled in Padar’s grip but the men didn’t look my way. Although I had grown as tall as Padar I wasn’t yet as strong.

  Fortunately, Mr Giles didn’t like the idea of sacrificing some of the camels. He gave Jess Young the kind of look Padar gives me if I’ve done something haram. His voice was only slightly raised, but it was a tone that finally the officers chose not to argue with. ‘It would be cruel and unjust to expect the unfortunate ones to travel on with us without being watered. It’s out of the question. As long as they can travel, travel they will.’

  ‘Do not mind Jess Young,’ Padar said in a low tone to me. ‘It is the thirst and the desert. It can affect a man strangely.’

  I heard Jess Young’s mumbling as he left the group. ‘He’s mad. A damn mad animal lover. What about us?’

  Perhaps Mr Giles knew what Jess Young thought for he added more loudly, ‘We shall all sink or swim together.’ He glared at the men, daring anyone to disagree. No one did.

  We had a hundred gallons but we could only give each of the eighteen camels four gallons. It would seem like a sip to us.

  ‘It’s like giving my blood to give away so much water,’ Mr Giles said.

  By Jess Young’s face I could tell he was thinking why do it then, but he managed to hold his tongue. Mr Giles understood, as Padar and I did, that if we watered the camels we would have more chance of survival ourselves. Padar and I carefully poured water from the casks into buckets. The camels could smell it and growled and jostled each other. It took Padar, Alec and Jess Young to hold them while I brought them in turn to the buckets to drink their portion and take them away again. Mustara had a pained expression in his eyes when the water in his bucket was finished. Rani was outraged. She roared as I led her away.

  Even after those four gallons Salmah’s milk began to fail. Youldeh was the sweetest little pet, but she was tired. She was too big to carry and even if we could, what would she drink? The desert was drying up Salmah’s udder. If we were at Beltana, Salmah would have enough milk and the calf would survive, or there would be another suckling mother to help. But Rani had no milk for Youldeh.

  Salmah could be difficult but she had done a good job of feeding Youldeh and I told her so. I was careful not to kiss her though. Motherhood had not improved her temperament. I watched Youldeh dragging at Salmah’s empty teats and bleating. Salmah shifted on her feet, while Youldeh tried again. Padar joined me. He shook his head and gave me a careful look. ‘Taj–’ He wanted to say more.

  ‘It’s all right, Padar. I understand.’ Padar nodded at me but his arm around my shoulders showed he knew my words didn’t mean I thought it would be easy.

  ‘We shall give Salmah a few days. Perhaps the milk will flow again.’ It was kind of him, but we would have to find water the next day for Salmah’s milk to return.

  We set off again in the morning through the high scrub. The red sandhills rolled away from us like the waves at Fowler’s Bay. The trees were gums like huge mallee, and there was the killing spinifex. Youldeh’s legs bled from the spikes.

  Tommy showed me signs of human life. ‘People here find water in roots.’ Mustara took huge bites from a poplar tree as we passed.

  We were all trying not to drink too much and since the others didn’t have mugs of tea or coffee anymore, it was as if the English and Tommy were keeping the Ramazan fast with Padar and me.

  We were too aware of how many days we had been travelling from Boundary Dam. Alec wrote them in big letters each evening. Everyone, even Mr Giles, looked fatigued. The men didn’t shave which was strange for the English. I was tired all day and when I dismounted from Mustara on the thirteenth day I fell as if it was the first time I had ridden all day.

  But on the next day something happened to lift the tedium. We were travelling through scrub when Tommy yelled out, ‘Ilga, dingo.’

  When I first heard him, I looked around for Youldeh. She wasn’t so big that a dingo wouldn’t attack her, and she had become weak. Then I saw where Tommy was pointing. Two pups were running off to the side of us.

  ‘Come on, lads,’ Peter shouted. ‘Let’s get us one.’ Peter was at the back with me and we shouted ‘Hooshta’. Mustara and Tameem, Peter’s mount, folded down and we jumped off and raced after the pups. Tommy was ahead of us.

  All I could think of was the mother: where was she? She could kill Youldeh, but Tommy wasn’t concerned. Peter circled around and headed the pups off while Tommy and I ran them down. Tommy chased a light-coloured one, I chased the other. Suddenly Tommy leapt into the air and landed on the pup. It was safe under him, and he rose with a wriggling mass in his arms. If he could do that so could I; I made an extra effort to catch one too. When I made my leap I caught only the back legs but I hung on while the pup scrapped and howled.

  Peter laughed. ‘I hope they make nice pets and don’t bite when you be asleep.’

  Mr Giles didn’t mind us bringing the pups to camp. It was Padar who was cautious. ‘Have you thought of the calf, beta? Where there are pups there are grown dogs, hungry dogs.’ I knew that too, but the pup was warm in my arms; I didn’t want to let h
im go.

  ‘Don’t be a spoilsport, Saleh,’ Jess Young said. ‘Let the boy have some fun. Besides, we have rifles. We can pop off anything that attacks the calf.’

  I was surprised he stood up for me but grateful, for Padar didn’t protest any more. Jess Young’s hand reached out to touch the pup in my arms and I knew he was no stranger to dogs.

  I gave the pup some damper. I thought if I could keep it with me it would become used to me and not run off. Tommy seemed to have the same idea. He called his pup Dyabun. ‘Little fella,’ he said, grinning. Like me he stuffed the pup down his shirt.

  That day was eventful, for before we’d travelled a mile I heard a howl. Behind me, just a few yards away, a female dingo padded. ‘Tommy, get Jess Young, quickly.’ I leant down and took Youldeh’s rope and drew her close to Mustara. I tried to urge Mustara to go faster but he was tired. The dingo began to circle us. Youldeh could sense it and bleated louder than usual. The string was too far ahead. Jess Young wouldn’t get here in time. I pulled Youldeh even closer.

  Then what I feared happened: the dingo leapt for Youldeh. Perhaps Mustara thought I was in danger for suddenly Mustara turned to face the attack. He bellowed as loud as Malik and kicked sideways with his back leg. He caught the dingo off guard and clipped her on the rump. The dingo ran a short distance then circled us again. Mustara had surprised me. I didn’t know he could roar like that; it sounded frightening but how long could he keep up the defence? He wasn’t as strong as a mature bull and he was weakened from lack of water.