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:
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?