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.