“It could have been meant as such, Charlie.” Mr. Coggins lowered his voice and murmured, “The Phoenix, bird of Araby, is rising again. Its wings are strong.”
They looked at him questioningly. “What does that mean?” Alec asked.
“I don’t know. Just something I happened to think of. Heard an old Arab who returned with a caravan a few weeks ago quote it. I’m surprised I remembered it. Just the association with this,” he added, handing the medallion back to Mr. Volence.
The following day was spent in acquiring clothes for the trip. “That’s all you have to worry about,” Mr. Coggins had told them. “The Bedouin will take care of everything else.”
When they returned after having done their shopping, Alec, anxious to see himself in this new raiment, rushed to his room. Carefully he placed the white flowing robe and head shawl on the bed.
When he had finished dressing he stood before a long mirror. Curiously he gazed at his reflection. The head shawl, held tight by a black cord, fell low over his forehead, covering his red hair, and down the back of his neck. A white upper garment was draped loosely over his shoulders, and his legs were covered by a long white skirt held securely by a black sash. His American shoes had been discarded and he wore Bedouin sandals. With freckled face, tanned by the hot Arabian sun, he could have been mistaken for a Bedouin youth, providing one did not approach close enough to see the light-blue eyes and pug nose.
Later that afternoon he walked into the library to find Mr. Volence with their host. They stopped talking as soon as they were aware of Alec’s presence. Mr. Coggins held a pistol lightly in his hand. “I was suggesting to Charlie,” he told Alec, “that I supply you each with a gun for your own personal use. The Bedouin will secure arms, but it will be better if you have a gun of your own as well.”
Mr. Volence looked skeptically at Alec. “Know how to handle one, Alec?”
“Sure. Dad’s best friend is a cop in New York, and he used to take us to their indoor pistol range quite often. They said I was a pretty good shot.”
“Fine.” Mr. Coggins smiled. “I’ll have a gun ready for each of you.” He turned to Mr. Volence. “Charlie, there’s another matter I’d like to talk to you about. The Bedouin, as you know, does not speak any English, and none of you can speak Arabic. Also, chances are that of the few men hired to make the trip, none will speak English.”
“I’d thought about that, Bruce. It’s had me a little worried. Perhaps we should tell the Bedouin to be sure to hire one man who can speak English.”
“I hesitate to do that, Charlie, because he’ll hire men best suited for their jobs and may not be able to find a competent man who can also speak English. Furthermore, it would put my mind more at ease if I were certain you had someone you could definitely trust on this trip.” He paused, then continued, “I was thinking that Raj might go along with you.”
Alec’s eyes lighted. It would be great to have someone his own age with them. “That sounds good,” he told them.
“But, Bruce, don’t you need him around here?” Mr. Volence asked.
“I’ll manage to get along without him for a while,” assured their host with a smile. Then his voice became earnest. “Seriously, Charlie, it will be a good change for him. He’s never been away from Haribwan, and I’m certain he’d like to make the trip. He’s a Bedouin, remember … the desert is part of him. I’ve found him gazing across the Rub‘ al Khali very often, and he never fails to be on hand to meet an incoming caravan.”
Mr. Volence looked at Alec. Raj would no doubt prove to be a great asset on the trip, and he would also be good company for Alec. The boy’s eyes were intent. He was waiting for Mr. Volence to make a decision, a favorable one it would seem, from the expression on his eager face.
“Bruce,” said Mr. Volence finally, “we’d like very much to have Raj come along.”
“Good.” Mr. Coggins smiled as he rang a small bell. “Let’s tell him.”
The door opened and Raj slid silently inside. His head was bare and his heavy black hair was neatly brushed back.
“Raj,” Mr. Coggins began, “you know that our guests leave tomorrow for a trip across the Rub‘ al Khali. We thought you’d like to go with them.”
The Bedouin youth was silent for a moment, only his eyes disclosing any emotion. They were wide and full and soft. “I thank you,” he said slowly. “I thank you very much.”
The caravan was forming on the outskirts of Haribwan. It was to be a large one and their small unit of ten camels was to be a part of it for half the distance across the Rub‘ al Khali. Then, while the rest of the caravan journeyed on to a great port on the Persian Gulf, they would turn to the south and east.
Dawn was just breaking over the eastern desert when they arrived with Mr. Coggins. It was cold and Alec pulled his shawl of camel’s hair tightly about him. There was little confusion and it was obvious from the heavy packs roped securely around the backs of the camels that many hours of work had been done before they arrived. The camels were resting on their knees, heavy mouths working ponderously over their food.
“Gosh, what a mob of ’em!” Henry exclaimed.
“The Bedouin told me it would be a caravan of about five hundred camels,” Mr. Coggins said. “One of the biggest … which means you’ll have little trouble while you’re with them.”
They threaded their way through the horde of beasts and men. The Bedouins were separated in what seemed to be hundreds of small groups. Mr. Coggins led them toward the rear of the long line, where they found their guide. He walked up to them, nodded, and spoke to Mr. Coggins.
Raj, standing beside Alec, told him, “He says all is ready and soon we will be leaving.”
Alec glanced at Henry and Mr. Volence clothed in their white garments. How strange they looked—but no different from him. His gaze swept over his own clothes down to the light sandals on his feet. He raised his hand and pulled the cord on his head shawl farther down. Digging in his deep pocket, he felt the cold steel of the pistol Mr. Coggins had given him.
A cry was heard up front and gradually it swept toward them like an incoming wave. The groups had dispersed and men were walking quickly toward their camels.
Alec felt Raj’s hand on his arm. “The Karwan Bashi, leader of the caravan, has given notice to make ready to go,” he said.
After bidding Mr. Coggins good-bye and thanking him for all he had done, Alec, Raj, Henry and Mr. Volence made their way to the camels assigned them by the Bedouin guide.
“I’ll be seeing you in a couple of months,” Mr. Coggins called. “Much luck!” His gaze turned to Raj. “Have fun, boy, and give them all the help you can.”
Alec walked up to his camel, which was still kneeling on the ground. One of the men hired by their guide stood at his head. He motioned Alec to mount. Cautiously Alec threw a leg over the back of the camel and sat on the saddle, which was nothing but a heavy piece of cloth covering the single hump. His backrest, however, was made of leather and Alec leaned against it. There were no stirrups, so he gripped the sides of the camel tightly with his knees. Looking back, he saw that the others had also mounted, and that the Bedouins were patiently awaiting the signal to leave.
Another shout rang out and the camels ahead began climbing to their feet. Raj, astride the camel ahead, looked back at Alec and waved.
Seeking support as he felt his camel gather himself, Alec grabbed the forepart of the hump. There was a sudden lurch, frontwards then backwards, and the camel was on his feet. The dark-skinned Bedouin in front smiled, and handed Alec the rope, which was attached to the camel’s leather halter. He moved his head, indicating that all Alec had to do was to follow the other camels, then he left.
The sun had risen above the horizon of the Rub‘ al Khali and its rays were already warm. Their Bedouin guide, riding in front of Raj, was looking impatiently up the line. It was obvious that he wanted to proceed while it was still cool. Behind Alec rode Mr. Volence and then came Henry followed by the rest of their small unit co
nsisting of two Bedouins and three camels heavily laden with baggage and supplies.
The camels ahead were moving. Their guide looked back and waved his arm. Raj moved, swaying back and forth in his saddle. Alec looked at the long crop in his hand and wondered whether it would be necessary to use it. Then he felt a sudden lurch as his camel began jogging slowly to catch up with the others. It was a pacing motion, the camel lifting both feet on the same side successively, and was not uncomfortable. Alec sat easily in the saddle and relaxed.
The single line of camels and Bedouins stretched far into the desert. To the rear was Haribwan. How long before they would return? What lay ahead? Alec’s hands tightened over the rope and crop. The final and most important phase in their search for the Black had begun. The sun rose higher on the horizon and Alec removed his warm shawl.
SHIPS OF THE DESERT
8
The caravan moved at a steady and uniform pace throughout the day, stopping only once during the terrific heat of the afternoon to give them time to eat a light meal of dates and goat’s milk. “We’ll reach our first oasis before nightfall,” Raj told them.
The hot sun beat down unmercifully upon them as they traveled across the endless miles of white sand. Occasionally they would see a cloud of sand in the distance and bounding shapes. “Ghazlán … gazelles,” Raj would call back to Alec, pointing toward them. “They travel quickly from oasis to oasis,” he explained.
Monotonously the hours passed, the camels’ padded feet moving tirelessly over the hot sand, the bodies of their riders swaying rhythmically back and forth with the elongated curved necks of the camels.
The sun was low in the west when Raj pointed ahead and said, “Wâha … oasis.”
Alec could see the tops of the date palms rising above the horizon. Those at the head of the caravan would be there in a short time. The pace quickened, and Alec looked back at Mr. Volence and Henry and grinned. It had been a tiring first day.… They would sleep well that night.
The following days were repetitions of the first … miles and miles of scorching white sand under hot, cloudless skies. Their skin was burned black from the constant blistering sun and glare. Their eyes were barely slits, kept closed most of the time. They seldom spoke to one another during the day and it was only during the cold nights that they were awakened from their trance-like states and looked beyond to the time when the desert would be behind them.
During the evening of the sixth day, after they had eaten a meal of dates and camel flesh, washed down with a beverage made from fermented dates, Raj said, “Our guide informs me that we separate from the others tomorrow morning. Now we are to proceed to the south and east.”
Mr. Volence said gravely, “So it’s tomorrow.”
They were silent, realizing that no longer would they have the protection and security of the large caravan.
“How much longer?” Alec asked Raj, and his voice was tired.
“Only seven more days,” he replied. “We can travel faster now.”
“Only?” Henry grunted. “Seven more days …”
Raj was sympathetic. “I think you’ll find the days to come easier,” he said.
A little later Alec was left alone, Mr. Volence and Henry having retired to their tent for the night. Raj was tending his camel, which had been limping toward the last part of the day’s journey. The sun had gone down and only a red glow in the west kept the day alive. A short distance away Alec saw their Bedouin guide sitting alone, gazing out across the desert to the south. He was always alone, for even the men whom he had hired did not associate with him once the day’s work was done. A Bedouin without a tribe, an outcast, and unwanted. What strange thoughts did he think? Did he not fear for his life? Alec supposed so, but it was not obvious from the man’s cold countenance.
The red glow in the west flickered and then died. A cold wind swept across the desert. Alec reached for his shawl, and pulled it about him. Then he walked over to Raj, who was anxiously bent over his camel.
“Is he all right?” Alec asked.
“Ê … yes. Just a thorn, which I have removed. He will be well tomorrow.”
For a minute Alec watched as the camel chewed cakes of crushed date stones, which were his daily food. It was a homely but friendly face. The sensitive nostrils were oblique, enabling him to close them at will and preventing the entrance of dust and sand. His brown eyes were protected from the glaring sun and drifting sand by long eyelashes. Alec thought how well nature had provided for this “ship of the desert.” And rightly so. For without him the desert could not have been conceived of as a habitable place. Alec smiled, for even with the camel it was a difficult enough place in which to live.
“Raj, how long can a camel go without water?” he asked as they walked back toward the tent.
“From three to six days,” Raj replied, and then added hesitatingly “… Alec.”
It was the first time he had called him by his first name, and Alec was glad for he felt that Raj, sensitive and retiring from the beginning of the trip, had finally become a friend with whom he could share many things.
“But how does he do it, Raj?”
The Bedouin youth smiled. “No one knows exactly how he does it. Camels drink a great deal of water when it is available and can make it last a long time.”
They had reached the tent and Alec suddenly realized he was very tired. A cold wind swept across his face, but he scarcely felt it, his skin was so toughened by the sun. “Guess I’ll go to bed,” he said. “I’m pretty sleepy.”
Raj smiled. “I will also go soon. Tomorrow there will be much to do, for we will be alone.”
The next morning, shivering and cold in the predawn stillness, they stood watching the first of the caravan leave the oasis and head northeast. Before the last of the camels had left they, too, were ready to depart. Alec, astride his camel, waited patiently for their Bedouin guide to give them the signal to start. He glanced back at Henry, Mr. Volence, and the pack camels. All were ready. Riding up the line, the guide passed Alec without a glance. His face was set and the long scar was red against his black skin. When he reached Raj he stopped, spoke to the boy, and then looked back, a grim smile on his lips. He raised his hand, then his crop fell on the flank of his camel.
Taking advantage of the sunless sky, the Bedouin drove the small unit relentlessly to the south and east. The large caravan was soon out of sight in the early morning light. Alec, sitting easily in his saddle, enjoyed the quickened pace and freer movement of the small compact unit. He looked to the east. Dawn was breaking and soon the scorching sun would rise in the heavens. For some reason he did not fear it today as he had in days past. Perhaps he was becoming hardened to desert life. Or perhaps it was the swift freedom of movement.
The Bedouin slackened their pace in the early afternoon. They stopped only once for a light, hasty meal and then went on. Night fell, and they camped in the desert. “When the sun sets tomorrow we shall arrive at another oasis,” Raj explained after speaking to the Bedouin guide.
Three days passed without mishap. The Bedouin still drove them forward, stopping only when his keen eyes discovered fresh camel tracks in the sand. Then he would dismount and closely scrutinize them. Usually, after reading the tracks, he would proceed without changing their course. But twice they turned, headed north for hours, then swung once again to the east, their guide’s eyes ever on the horizon. Whenever they saw a cloud of sand, he would call a halt until he was satisfied that it was made by gazelles or ostriches. At night he and his men would stand guard, their eyes and ears always alert for any strange sound.
Late on the afternoon of the fourth day, the Bedouin guide raised his hand and the small caravan came to an abrupt halt. Alec surveyed the horizon in every direction and saw nothing. The Bedouin had dismounted. Quickly he walked a short distance in the sand, and fell to his knees. After a time he rose and with narrowed eyes looked to the east. His face was tense when he returned, mounted his camel, and again started. The pace was slo
w, nothing more than a fast walk.
The Bedouin led them only a short distance to a deep wadi, which concealed them from all sides. He stopped and signaled to make camp. Alec’s gaze turned to the sun. Strange, there was still an hour’s good traveling time left in the day.
After pitching their tents and bedding down the camels, they were ready for dinner. Their guide, who had walked to the top of the wadi, returned and talked to Raj. Nodding, Raj made his way toward them. He spoke to Mr. Volence. “He says there is to be no fire tonight. We must eat cold food.”
“Any trouble?” Henry inquired.
Raj shook his head. “He did not say, but I suspect there is danger.”
They ate in silence. The night before had been spent on an oasis, and their fruit and water were fresh. “One thing to be thankful for,” Henry muttered, breaking the silence.
Alec watched the Bedouins who sat apart from their guide. They ate little, their eyes sweeping nervously around the wadi, and then up to the sky, which was strangely overcast in the south.
“Perhaps there’s a storm brewing,” Alec suggested.
“I feel that it’s more than that,” Mr. Volence replied. “We might as well try to get some sleep, anyway. There’s not much we can do.”
Physically spent from the day’s hard ride, they slept soundly in spite of the tension. Alec was the first to awaken. Sleepily his gaze turned to the top of the tent, which was shaking. The wind whistled through the flaps. A storm! He shook his head to rouse himself. They would have to make sure the tent poles were secure!
He awakened the others, and hurriedly they pulled on their clothes and left the tent. Outside they felt the strong surge of the gale; blowing sand peppered their faces.
“Afraid it’s gonna get worse,” Henry yelled, pointing to the blackened sky to the south from which the wind was blowing. To the east only a few stars shone in the ever lightening sky, for dawn was not long off.