Taj and the Great Camel Trek

by Rosanne Hawke

  Once she stood up and mimicked men throwing spears, talking the whole time but we couldn’t understand her. She spent most of the time after that watching Peter do his chores. If she had been any older I would say Peter had found himself a wife.

  It was a lazy afternoon: there was a breeze, shady trees, and the people were friendly. Jess Young carved Mr Giles’ initials and the date on a grevillea tree. I hoped we could stay long enough so the camels could rest. Who knew how many more times they would have to march without water?

  It was earlier than usual when Peter’s welcome call told us it was time to eat our evening meal. No one minded stopping their work. Jess Young finished his dried beef stew first and rose to his feet. ‘What’s going on?’

  Two men stood on a sandhill, like scouts, making signals to the others who were still sitting in our camp. ‘They must be sending a telegram,’ Mr Giles said.

  ‘More like morse code.’ Mr Tietkens laughed.

  Jess Young didn’t join in on the jokes, instead, he reached for his gun.

  Then suddenly we saw an army approaching, guided by the two scouts. They were all painted and had feathers on them, armed with spears and clubs. I had heard so much about such attacks but after their friendliness, I didn’t think I’d ever see one. My first thought was Mustara – what if he got in the way of a spear? So I picked up Dyabun and ran to Mustara and pulled him further away behind the trees. I tied the pup to Mustara’s hobbles.

  Jess Young called the alarm and immediately the desert men were swarming into our camp in closely packed rows. There must have been a hundred of them.

  Before Mr Giles had his gun ready, Jess Young began firing.

  One of the men who had been visiting in our camp suddenly jumped up when he saw Mr Giles aim his gun and grabbed Mr Giles around the neck. He kept shouting, ‘Don’t! Don’t!’

  Mr Giles grappled with him but he still managed to call, ‘Fire! Fire for your lives.’

  ‘Stay where you are!’ Padar said to me and he raced towards Mr Giles. I couldn’t do as he said – what if he was speared? I followed Padar and was almost up to him when Padar hit the Wangkatja man with the butt of his gun. Mr Giles made a final effort and threw off the man. I stood there amid the shouting and firing of guns. A scream startled me and suddenly Padar pushed me backwards out of the path of a man with a club who looked as if he would use it on me. Jess Young’s snider fired, the club dropped to the ground, and the man turned and ran.

  Tommy was suddenly speaking fluently to the two Wangkatja men who were still in our camp. Had they been spies after all, sent to see what we did and when it was best to attack us? Padar aimed his rifle into the mass and I crouched low, ready to help if anyone got close enough to club any of us.

  The strangest thing was the little girl. She ran from man to man and especially to Peter, patting him on the back. She didn’t understand the danger of the guns. It was as if she thought it was a game.

  Once Mr Giles was free to fire in earnest, the army retreated, carrying some wounded. ‘I’ve seen a lot of native attacks and this was the most organised of them all,’ he said, watching them disappear over the sandhill.

  What if they came back once they had regrouped? We picked up many of the spears. They were long and barbed. What dreadful damage they would do to a man’s body. The girl and one other man were still in the camp and when Mr Giles broke some of the spears, the man shouted at us until he finally took the girl away.

  Mr Giles asked Tommy, ‘How is it you could speak so fluently with those natives?’

  ‘They want me go with them, boss.’

  ‘They’d kill you if you did.’

  It was a strange thing to say, especially since Tommy then said, ‘I tole you blackfella coming.’ But only Alec remembered him saying that. I had untied Dyabun and was calming down the highly strung camels like Rani when I heard Alec and Mr Giles having words.

  ‘It needn’t have happened. It was precipitated.’ Alec’s voice rose. It was the first time that Alec had ever argued with Mr Giles. Mr Tietkens didn’t look happy either. I didn’t hear Mr Giles’ answer, but Alec soon strode back to his bed roll.

  We had to keep watch through the night now. Alec and I were on duty first. There were no noises from the other camp. I could only hear the camel bells and Wardah’s groans as she tried to make herself comfortable.

  Dyabun snuggled into my blanket. It was strange that Alec wasn’t in the mood for talking. It was as if he thought we had experienced a tragedy when none of us was hurt. ‘I’m sure it could have been avoided,’ he said. ‘It may have been only a ceremonial dance.’

  I wasn’t so sure. ‘But Mr Giles said the girl and the man were spies.’

  Alec turned to me. ‘They stayed in the camp while it went on. Would they have done that if it was a proper attack? Besides, they didn’t throw a spear until we fired first.’ I remembered Jess Young firing before Mr Giles gave the order. Was Alec thinking of that too?

  He fell silent, but it wasn’t the easy quietness between two friends. What if he was right, and the man grappling with Mr Giles was only trying to stop him from firing? And the girl miming the attack was only miming a dance? What had we done?

  We woke the next morning to dreadful screams. ‘What is it?’ I asked Padar. It sounded as if we were being attacked again. Jess Young sprang out of his blanket with his gun already in hand.

  ‘Some black men were wounded,’ Padar said, ‘and perhaps someone has died.’ The screams and crying continued, then later on the girl and the quietest man sauntered into camp as if nothing had happened. This I couldn’t understand. Didn’t they think we were enemies? Why come back? This time the man had the shirt on and the girl was wearing Peter’s coat. She looked odd in it for it dragged two feet in the dirt. We gave them breakfast and they returned for dinner. Mr Giles ordered them off after that. What would happen next if we allowed them to stay? Another attack?

  Alec whispered to me, ‘See? Would they have come back if they were guilty?’

  None of us had the stomach to camp at Ularring any longer. Jess Young quickly planted some seeds by the well in the afternoon while Padar and I filled the water casks and made sure everything was ready to be packed in the morning. None of the Wangkatja people had used the well since we had been there and we didn’t find any other water. Jess Young and Peter kept first watch that night.

  We left Ularring early on the eighteenth morning of October. Mr Giles said Mount Churchman was 150 miles away. We stopped at the hottest part of that day and he let me read his thermometer so he could write what I said. ‘One day you will make a fine explorer, Taj. An explorer must be able to take an observation, recite a verse, cook food, mend his clothes, kill or cure a horse, make a saddle and understand astronomy, surveying, geography and geology. You can already do much of that.’

  I smiled politely for I knew it was Alec who would be the explorer. The expedition was good experience for me and I would put it to use when I had my own camel string, but I didn’t have an explorer’s heart. Mr Giles said it had to be made of leather and mine wasn’t.

  The scrub was so thick again that we only marched twenty-four miles. We came to a hill that Mr Giles said was made of iron and his compass wouldn’t work. He could only guess at its height, perhaps 500 to 600 feet. I climbed up with him and saw the desolate landscape that we would have to travel across. Mr Giles was quiet as he looked out at the small white lakes and another hill amongst all that scrub. I am sure he was thinking of the tough march ahead.

  After we climbed down, we all helped collect lowans’ eggs. I counted thirty-four. All those eggs yet I never once saw a bird in the scrub. Chandani, one of the pack camels, looked to calve soon. With a sinking feeling I knew we would have to keep an eye on her.

  It was difficult to open my eyes in the morning. Alec called it sandy blight. For half an hour I sat on my blanket until I could see enough to go and
round up the camels. Surely some water would help, but it had been four days with none. Would our whole march be like this? Weeks on end without finding water? How long would the camels keep up with that kind of treatment?

  Three days later we were seventy-seven miles from Ularring and travelling slower than usual. We still hadn’t found water, and I was tired of it always being such a problem. We saw a few crows and hawks as we came to a large bare rock. I had learnt that evidence of any sort of life was a positive sign and I scanned our surroundings.

  Peter saw them first. ‘Natives up on the ridge.’ I looked up. If there were people surely there must be water.

  The people began to yell as soon as they saw us. Was it the camels that frightened them, or us? Tommy kept in Mr Giles’ shadow and didn’t offer to talk to the people.

  We found a well but the excitement of the water was dampened by the people watching our every move from a distance. It was unnerving. What if they attacked us? Mr Giles gave the order to camp there, and Padar and I unloaded the camels and put the bare essentials out for Peter’s cooking and for sleeping. Mr Giles fired his gun into the air just in case any of the men knew what had happened at Ularring.

  They disappeared after that. ‘I don’t want a repeat performance,’ Mr Giles said with a glance at Alec.

  The well was shallow, and even though it was the only water around and most probably belonged to those people, Mr Giles didn’t let this bother his conscience. ‘We need to drink too, and they can find more,’ was his only comment.

  Jess Young caught some bronze-winged pigeons and Mr Giles called the place Pigeon Rocks. It would have been interesting to know what the people there called the place but none of us wanted to risk a confrontation. It was 100 degrees in the shade and the air felt heavy as if a storm was gathering.

  I was worried about Wardah. I whispered to her to keep being brave. Padar checked her leg. ‘She will not be able to travel much further.’ He shook his head.

  I hated this part of exploring: not being able to care properly for the camels.

  The next day we were preparing to leave when Padar told Mr Giles about Wardah. ‘The lame cow, she is worse, Mr Gile. She can travel no more.’

  Then, just as we were talking about Wardah, Chandini began to calve. We attended to her and she had an easier time than poor Khushi. Chandini didn’t need us at all. Her calf was the colour of the moon but only as big as a rabbit, the smallest calf I’d seen and, perhaps because of its size, it looked as though it would never stand on its own.

  That familiar feeling of dread sank into my bones. ‘Padar, if we could stay here a day or two, perhaps the calf could stand.’ Padar motioned for quiet as Mr Giles and Mr Tietkens walked over.

  Mr Giles thought about our situation for a while and spoke with Mr Tietkens, and then he decided. ‘We cannot stay here any longer,’ he said.

  I knew what that meant. If we stayed we would be in danger of using all our water and what if there was no more to be found? Then there were the desert people close by. I understood, but it didn’t make it less difficult.

  Again Mr Giles took the responsibility to kill the calf. It was the twenty-third day of October.

  Poor Wardah followed us but she couldn’t keep up. When we stopped I spoke to Padar. ‘I must get her and bring her to camp.’

  ‘No beta, you are needed for the unloading.’

  ‘What if she loses her way?’

  Padar’s eyes were kind. ‘Wardah will find her way.’

  She arrived at camp just as we were about to eat our lowans’ eggs. I rushed over and hugged her and said ‘Hooshta’ so she’d sit and be able to rest her poor leg. ‘Poor Wardah, you are brave for walking so far.’ But I wondered how long she could keep doing that; each day she took longer in coming to camp.

  The next night I wrote this in my book:

  Monday, 25 October 1875.

  Wardah did not arrive tonight.

  I hope she goes back to Pigeon Rocks where there is water.

  She may get better with rest, but she will be lonely. Mr Giles said she will get so much better that she will return to Beltana by herself, exploring new country on the way.

  Jess Young’s eyebrows flew high when Mr Giles said that, but it is possible.

  ‘Tommy! Taj!’ Mr Giles called us both to him the next morning. ‘I have lost a special knife that was a gift. It has an ivory handle.’ His eyes scaled our faces as though they were razors. No one has stolen anything before though Tommy always had his eyes on Mr Giles’ bag of trinkets.

  ‘Tommy? Look at me.’ Tommy didn’t meet Mr Giles’ gaze but I understood that was his way of showing respect. ‘Have you seen it?’

  ‘No, boss.’

  ‘You, Taj?’

  ‘No, sir.’ I knew what it would feel like to lose the knife that Padar had given me, and I felt sorry for Mr Giles.

  He seemed satisfied with us, but it was an uncomfortable feeling. ‘See if you can find it for me,’ he said more quietly. Then he strode away.

  Once when I was younger Emmeline lost a book. It was one she had shown me on their veranda. I had held it and turned the pages; even then I had felt the magic in the words. I saw the expression on Emmeline’s mother’s face as she looked at me when Emmeline searched for her book, as if she thought I had taken it to my hut. Soon Emmeline found it under her bed and nothing was ever said about lost books or toys.

  Tommy and I searched as best we could but we couldn’t find the knife. ‘Where shall we look now?’ I asked when we had checked around the tents.

  Tommy shrugged and looked out to the desert. Where had Mr Giles lost it? What if it fell from his pocket in the scrub? Tommy and I wouldn’t be able to find it out there. Suspicion does terrible things to a person’s mind. What if Tommy had it? What would Mr Giles do then? We hadn’t checked anyone’s bedrolls. False guilt does even worse things. What if it turned up in my blanket and I couldn’t explain how it came to be there?

  On the twenty-seventh day of October we climbed Mount Churchman. Mr Giles was pleased to reach there at last. ‘Maybe there is water, help me look,’ he said to Tommy and me. Mr Tietkens came too. I looked between the rocks for any blades of grass, but it was Mr Tietkens who found the water.

  ‘Here is a native well!’ he cried. It had enough water in it for all the camels and our needs too.

  After lunch something strange happened: we had visitors. There was an older man, a young man, and a boy. They wore a few pieces of clothing. The young man said his name was Charlie, the boy’s, Albert, and the older man’s, Billy.

  Charlie said hello; he had a few English words. He noticed Tommy and stared at him for a while. Tommy grinned but I could tell he wasn’t pleased to see the visitors. Charlie also had Mr Giles’ knife in his hand. ‘I find this. I follow track.’ He held it out to Mr Giles. How did he know who to give it to?

  I overheard Mr Giles talking to Mr Tietkens before dinner. ‘That Charlie has been someone’s pet. He knows too much by half.’ I wondered what Mr Giles meant. I hoped there would be no problem, for Charlie and his friends were camping with us that night. Tommy moved his blanket closer to Mr Giles’ bedroll.

  Nothing untoward happened in the night. Charlie, Albert and Billy left in the morning. ‘We go to Nyngham now,’ Charlie said to Mr Giles. Then he nodded at Tommy, though Tommy didn’t return his look. If only all meetings with the people of this land were as friendly.

  That afternoon we reached Moore Lake; it was a salt lake. We found some rock waterholes where we camped. There were also horse and cattle tracks. Tommy and I checked the tracks to see if there was any game around.

  It was time to apologise to Tommy. I had suspected him of taking the knife and there was more that I couldn’t explain. But I still didn’t know which words to use or which ones would show him that I wanted to be his friend.

  The next mor
ning was Friday, 29 October and after Padar and I checked the salt lake was dry and would hold the weight of the camels we all crossed it. It was seven miles wide but fortunately not a bog. Padar and I didn’t want to go through that again.

  Tommy rode beside me for most of the way. There were times now with Tommy when we didn’t say much but it felt fine, so that when Tommy did start to talk I was surprised.

  ‘I not true fella.’

  I stared at him, unsure what he meant.

  ‘My hair not long,’ and he pulled at it. ‘I was bard naba but I met Mr Giles and he cut my hair. Then I go with him or I die, not do dyibiri.’

  I was at a loss. I wasn’t sure of all he said, but it seemed there was something he hadn’t done right in the ways of his people, something that he could die for. I sensed what that would feel like. If I drank alcohol or ate meat that was haram, or did things that Padar thought would send me to hell, he would be angry with me. I had heard of people in the old country who were killed to save the honour of their family. Is that what Tommy meant?

  I asked Alec that evening but there is no privacy at a campfire; Mr Giles overheard. ‘What’s that about Tommy?’ I glanced at Tommy and asked Mr Giles about Tommy’s hair.

  Mr Giles chuckled. ‘Ah yes, Tommy’s hair. I saved him from a fate worse than death – all those scars and dreadful mutilations, just to be initiated.’ He scuffed Tommy across the head. It was playful and Tommy smiled but I was beginning to see differences in his smiles. ‘How silly you looked in that chignon. Now you’re civilised. It’s a good thing I cut off your hair and made a man out of you.’