Taj and the Great Camel Trek

by Rosanne Hawke

  This time when the dingo leapt she flew straight for Mustara’s neck. But Mustara was ready: he kicked and roared just as Rani had when her calf was attacked at Beltana. The dingo soon decided that Youldeh wasn’t worth the trouble, and by the time Jess Young galloped up with his gun ready, the dingo was escaping.

  ‘Seems you managed well enough, Taj.’ He gave me a look that I couldn’t fathom, but it looked like respect.

  Not only did we travel twenty-six miles in 96-degree heat that day, find pets and fight off a dingo, but Tommy and I found birds’ nests. I didn’t know what they were but Tommy did. ‘Them fellas galbiny,’ he said. The nests were five feet in height yet Tommy said they were not big birds. ‘He fill nest with plants, lay eggs in a circle.’ I was amused at his use of English pronouns but I didn’t say so. We found two layers of upright eggs and there were nine in each layer.

  ‘These be as large as turkey eggs,’ Peter said at the campfire. ‘They must be Mallee fowls.’

  Mr Giles disagreed. ‘They’re lowans, Peter.’

  Besides a bush turkey Mr Young had shot on the plain a week ago this was the only different food from damper and dried beef we’d had for months. But I didn’t understand why we couldn’t find water if lowans and puppies lived in the desert.

  The pup lifted my spirits so that I didn’t think so much about water, and what would happen to Youldeh if we didn’t find any. By night time the pup snuggled up with me in my blanket. Perhaps the warmth of my blanket had more to do with him keeping close than an attachment to me, but I believed it would come. I ignored my fear of grown dingoes and decided I would have a dingo and a camel, and we would all be the best of friends.

  I called the pup Asad, for it means lion. He was brave to survive in the desert where we couldn’t find water.

  By the sixteenth day, catching the camels was so tiring I didn’t think I could stay on my feet. Everyone helped to load up now but I found it was easy to say words that were unkind. Even Alec snapped at me to hold my end of a box higher and I felt the irritation rise. Before I could stop myself I grumbled, ‘What about yours?’ I felt sorry, for Alec was my good friend.

  The desert was changing us.

  Padar and Mr Giles were talking near Salmah and Youldeh. I hobbled over. ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  Mr Giles looked at Padar. This was one thing he was going to let Padar tell me. ‘Taj, Salmah is completely dry. Even if we found water today, her milk will not flow.’

  ‘But–’

  ‘Beta, look at the calf. Do you want her to suffer?’

  Padar was right. Youldeh’s eyes were dull, she complained constantly. Salmah kept nudging her but she wouldn’t stop bleating. She bumped into Salmah as though she was blind. She even fell, and could only just rise. ‘She will become worse. This is the reason I knew it would be difficult for you and Mustara in the desert.’

  Padar was saying I wasn’t old enough to cope with death. And if being sad every time a camel died meant I was still a child, I suppose I would stay a child for the rest of my life. Was Mr Giles a child? He felt it, I could tell. He wiped his hand across his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Taj,’ he said. Then I saw his rifle.

  I was sobbing as Mr Giles raised it to his shoulder. I wanted to run but I forced myself to stand by Padar. My eyes were closed when the shot rang out, and it was Padar who moved forward to cover Youldeh with branches. Salmah sniffed her until Tommy led her away to the string. A thick darkness stained the sand.

  Mustara kissed the top of my head before I mounted. I hugged Asad, put him in my bag so he could ride on Mustara with me and gave him some of my water. Mr Tietkens saw me and grumbled about giving the pups precious water. Mr Giles spoke to him too quietly for me to hear.

  ‘But this is life and death, Ernest. How can you countenance it – giving water to a wild dog when we may need it? It will only run away given half the chance.’ I hadn’t heard Mr Tietkens talk so plaintively. Perhaps I wasn’t the only one who suffered from headaches and fatigue.

  Mr Giles stopped his final checking of leather straps to look at Mr Tietkens. ‘There is little to amuse the boys at present. The pups will not drink much.’ I was struck by Mr Giles’ kindness when we were all struggling to be civil. He sounded gruff yet I knew he was letting Tommy and I have the pups to keep our minds from our dangerous position in the desert, and perhaps to keep my mind off Youldeh.

  By mid morning we saw smoke from campfires and some human footmarks that Tommy pointed out. This made Mr Giles so happy he let the camels lie down with their loads on at twelve o’clock, for it was 96 degrees. The camels didn’t mind the heat; they sat facing the sun so they could conserve any water they had left. I licked my lips, which were cracked and sore, and kept looking around me; people in the desert meant there may be water but what if we couldn’t find it?

  We marched on for many hours and just before we camped, there was a big problem with Jess Young and Mr Giles. It was Jess Young’s turn to steer by the compass; he was at the head of the string on Sultan, taking readings. I saw Mr Giles look up at the sun and then he rode forward to Jess Young. ‘Jess, you’re not steering correctly. You’re too close under the sun.’

  Jess Young swung around on Mr Giles. He reminded me of a young bull we had at Beltana. He had come into season and challenged the stud bull, Sher Khan. The young bull ran around with his jaw near the ground looking terrible with his side lips spread and froth dripping out. Sher Khan spread his back legs apart and made a gurgling sound. It didn’t take Sher Khan long to reach the other’s front foot with his mouth. He gave a lift with his head and over fell that young bull. He scrambled up and was off before Sher Khan could sit on him.

  ‘You can steer yourself if you don’t think I can.’ Jess Young threw the compass into Mr Giles’ hand. I was shocked at his tone. He looked as if he wished he could strike Mr Giles. I thought Mr Giles would shout at him but he just took the compass and began steering in a more southerly way. He led us over a white ridge of sand to a hollow where we camped.

  We travelled twenty-seven miles that day, and the camp was in a dreadful place. There was nothing for the camels to eat. Around us were only sandhills and none of the plants that the camels could gain moisture from. I was sure by Jess Young’s dark looks he thought we would have had a better camp if we kept to his steering.

  Everyone was thinking his own thoughts, but tempers were short. Even when Peter couldn’t find the salt, he blamed Tommy and then himself. There were no stories around the campfire. No songs; Jess Young wasn’t in the mood for music. Nor was I, for every time I shut my eyes I could see a white leggy body with red staining its curly fur.

  Padar was watching Mr Giles. Even at Boundary Dam I had thought Mr Giles would know how to find water. But I was learning he was an ordinary man, a man driven by jinns to complete what he set out to do. ‘Mr Gile, will we find water tomorrow?’

  ‘How can I tell?’ Mr Giles replied. At least he had stopped his teasing. But it wasn’t heartening. If Mr Giles stopped joking then the situation was very serious. I gave the pup some of my water away from the campfire so it wouldn’t offend anyone, and sat stroking him in my lap. I wondered what the last few days without water would feel like. Would we just fall sleep or would our tongues swell and our mouths hang open and our bellies fire with pain? Why hadn’t God given us water?

  Alec came to sit by me. He was in the same mood. After a while he spoke. ‘Have you ever wondered if God is really here? What if it’s just a story to keep us doing the right things through life?’

  His words shocked me. Surely that was blasphemy. Yet was I any better? Wasn’t doubting God’s providence the same thing? I had nothing to say to Alec. Perhaps we just had to pray whether we lost hope or not. Alec had a similar idea. ‘God will carry us when our faith wanes. That’s what my mother said. If we die, Taj, then there is paradise. When Mother was dying she said she could see Our Lord Jesus. She w
as smiling.’ Then his face shadowed. ‘But I have seen a man die who was afraid. He couldn’t see anything except his fear.’

  I didn’t want to be like that man and when Alec asked if I thought our paradises were the one and same, I didn’t think for long. ‘I hope so.’ I couldn’t imagine eternity without Alec.

  For once Jess Young didn’t tease Padar as he took his prayer mat into the scrub. Perhaps he realised the more of us praying, the better.

  The next morning I was too weak to rise from my blanket. Not only did my head hurt but my teeth ached too. I had bruises all over me, yet I hadn’t been beaten. Padar pulled back the blanket to check. ‘What is the matter, beta?’ He picked up some of my hair that was on the blanket. When he saw the bruises he said one word: scurvy. He’d had it himself on that expedition with Mr Warburton. He nearly died.

  I showed him my sore mouth. Padar frowned. ‘I think you will lose a tooth, beta.’

  ‘Will I die?’

  Padar stared at me; his eyes had become hollowed. ‘Our lives are in Allah’s hands, but some water will help.’ He went to get me a mugful.

  Mr Tietkens awoke and walked around the camping area looking out at the dark sandhills and in front of them a fall in the land. I heard him talking to Mr Giles. ‘Ernest, I think we are in the vicinity of water here.’

  Mr Giles wasn’t as sure. ‘Are you certain? God knows we have to find water and soon. We are in a damnable situation – I shouldn’t have risked our lives.’

  I glanced at Padar as he took his prayer mat away from the camp to say prayers before he found the camels. Later, Alec and Tommy did my share of the loading, then Alec helped Padar lift me onto Mustara. Alec was worried when he saw Padar rope me on. ‘Do you think that’s necessary, Saleh? Can’t he hold on himself?’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ was all Padar said.

  Mr Teitkens led the string as it was his turn to steer. This time he started off on foot and gave Tommy Malik to ride. ‘Go to that white sandhill on our left, Tommy, and see if you can find blacks’ tracks.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  We had travelled about two miles when we heard Tommy shouting. Then he came crashing through the scrub on Malik at full gallop, howling. Or was he screaming?

  ‘Big gabi! Plenty watta here!’

  Mr Giles was hesitant. We all knew what ‘plenty watta’ might mean. It was probably a tiny mud hole. ‘What sort of water? A native well? Will we need shovels?’

  ‘No fear shovel, that fella gabi sit down itself. Camel, he drink it himself.’ In his excitement Tommy mixed up his English words.

  Mr Giles gave the order and the whole string turned after Tommy. There was open grassland, half a mile away, falling into a hollow.

  ‘I see emu track,’ Tommy shouted. ‘I follow him.’

  Had he truly found water? Mr Giles didn’t say a word, just belted Reechy to a gallop. It was the first time I had seen him do that. I kept my eyes on the hollow, for that was where Tommy was headed. Did I see a faint flash of silver? It looked like a mirage on a desert horizon. I squeezed my eyes shut and knew Tommy had been fooled. It was just like my dream.

  ‘It is. It is!’

  I opened my eyes to see Mr Giles throw his hat in the air. He didn’t even bother to catch it.

  Then I saw the water in the hollow – not a mirage at all. The camels didn’t wait to be unloaded.

  ‘Rocko! Rocko!’ Padar shouted at them to stop – they might lose their loads – but they bellowed and flung themselves towards the water. They waded as close as they dared, reached out, and drank. The sound of their guzzling was pure music. They must have swallowed twenty-five gallons each in those first few minutes.

  The camels had come 325 miles and seventeen days without a proper drink. Mustara didn’t wait for Padar to untie me. He blinked his eyelashes at me and stretched out his neck. He drank for an hour; he must have had fifty gallons. I wished I could drink like Mustara but I knew I mustn’t.

  What would have happened if Mr Giles hadn’t noticed that Jess Young was steering wrongly? We would have missed the water: we would have died in the desert. I felt light-headed as though the water was rising up to wash over me. I hung onto Mustara; I would have fallen but the rope held me.

  It was Alec who helped me down from Mustara. ‘How do you feel now, Taj?’

  ‘Not badly.’ It was a lie. I felt happy that we had found water at last; that the camels wouldn’t die, not yet, but I couldn’t stand upright without Alec supporting me. He sat me under a tree and gave me water in a mug. Then he went to get my blanket from Mustara. Asad had already jumped down and was nosing around the camp. First I washed out my mouth, and when my body felt cooler I drank a small amount even though it was Ramazan.

  Later, at the campfire Mr Giles said, ‘Mr Elders’ camels are second to none for strength and endurance.’

  Padar smiled at me and we took the compliment personally for we were the ones who bred and trained them.

  Mr Giles seemed to be the most relieved out of us all, if that was possible. It was the first permanent water we had found. It must have been a strain: everyone’s hollowed eyes on him, expecting him to find water. How difficult it is being a leader. It is good when things go well, but if they don’t it is always the leader’s fault.

  Mr Giles called the place Queen Victoria Springs after the English queen. The desert we travelled through he named Queen Victoria Desert. I wondered if people lived there and what they called it.

  God is merciful and I tried to forget my moments of despair. It was good to have a bath, though Padar had to help me. The men swam naked in the waterhole while I lay submerged near the bank. Even Mr Giles and Mr Tietkens joined in the splashing games. It was a Sunday, the twenty-sixth day of September and a hundred degrees in the shade. Padar washed my clothes and helped me put on another shalwar qameez. Alec shaved after the swim and he brought his mug and soap over to me. He lathered some soap on my top lip and carefully scraped it off with his shaving knife. ‘There – you have become a man, Taj. Your first shave.’ I touched my lip as Padar walked past us. Would he mind? But Padar smiled at Alec and didn’t say a word.

  There were many jobs to do, repairing and patching my clothes, for one. Jess Young called anyone a fop if their patches were still in the same material as the original. Alec thought this a great joke. It was hard to find buttons to replace those lost in the scrub. At least Mr Giles had spare ones in his bag of trinkets.

  Mr Young planted seeds – giant bamboo, vegetables and wattles – and Mr Giles decided to stay for a week at least, to let the camels recuperate from their long ordeal. It was good for me and I gradually regained my strength. By the third day I could help Padar and I had a lot of work checking the camels for ulcers from the casks.

  My tooth never got better, and it was Peter Nicholls who had the job of pulling it out. ‘Pity we didn’t have the brandy,’ Jess Young said. ‘The poor chap wouldn’t have felt a thing.’

  Padar frowned at him and held my arms. Alec sat on my legs. I was determined not to cry out, but if Peter Nicholls’ fingers weren’t halfway down my throat, the other side of the desert would have heard me. It’s no fun having a tooth pulled.

  Alec wanted Tommy to tell a story that night.

  ‘Yes, you found the water here.’ Mr Tietkens smiled at him. ‘You have to pay now.’ The Englishmen laughed and I was struck by the renewed generosity between them.

  Tommy’s smile disappeared. ‘I don’t tell stories.’

  ‘Come now,’ Mr Giles said. ‘Everybody knows stories. Your people have many interesting stories. What about that giant serpent one?’

  Tommy’s eyes grew wide and he spoke a long low word I didn’t understand. Then he shook his head. ‘I no tell that one.’

  Mr Giles persisted. ‘Didn’t he live along the desert here? Doesn’t he live in the sea now?’

  Talk of a giant serpent th
at may still live there bothered me, for something was certainly bothering Tommy. Mr Giles was speaking as if it wasn’t true, but by the look on Tommy’s face he knew it was. It worried me for there was still a long way to travel across Western Australia and no one had done it before. What if it was dangerous as well as waterless?

  ‘Look at the sky, beta.’ Padar had sighted the new moon. It was the end of Ramazan and time for our Eid ul Fitr, a day of special blessings. ‘Allah is sure to listen to prayers on this sacred day,’ Padar said.

  When I told Alec, he said, ‘Now you are better you should have your birthday as well. Then we can say you are thirteen years old.’

  I found Padar repairing a saddle. ‘Alec wants to give me a birthday. What time of year was I born?’

  He squinted out past the sandhills. ‘It was around this time. Close enough,’ and he smiled at me. We were alone with only the camels to hear and it was a chance to finally ask him a question. ‘Padar – were you happy with my mother?’

  He shifted his feet; he wasn’t expecting this question. He closed his eyes against the sun. ‘Zarur, certainly. It was a good arrangement.’

  The songs the men sang around the campfire spoke of love. Sometimes the English marry for love. It was an interesting idea to me. ‘Did you love my mother?’

  Padar hesitated. ‘It grew to be love. Your mother became a happy girl, and so she made me happy. She loved the camels also and before you were born she travelled with me.’ He put aside the saddle and regarded me before he said, ‘So you are ready to talk about your mother now?’ But I couldn’t ask him what I needed to know: if she was happy why did she leave?

  Tommy came to find me. ‘Some blackfellas been here. Seen tracks.’ My stomach plummeted with a mixture of emotions: we had already found water, their water no doubt, and I feared what they might do. I went with him to check but we didn’t see anyone. ‘Look.’ Tommy pointed to a path on the top of the bank above the water. ‘People do dancing there.’ I supposed that was their religious feast like our Eid and the English Christmas. Emmeline was very fond of Christmas.