The Last Camel Died at Noon - Elizabeth Peters [71]
“It wouldn’t have mattered,” I reassured him. “We could not have forced them to go on; we do not use chains and whips, like the slavers.”
“No, but we might have—er—persuaded them to leave us food and water,” Emerson said. “Not that I blame you, Kemit, you are a true man and you did your best. It is my cursed stupidity that is to blame for our plight; I should have kept one of the supply camels with us, instead of trusting the men with them.”
“There is nothing so futile as regret for what cannot be mended,” I remarked. “If a mistake was made we all share the blame.”
“True,” Emerson said, cheering up. “Precisely what do we have left, Peabody?”
“Our personal possessions, changes of clothing, notebooks and papers, a few tools. Two waterskins—but both are less than half-full. A few tins, a tin opener, two tents, blankets…”
“Hmph,” said Emerson when I had finished. “It could be worse, but it could certainly be better. Well, my dears—and my friend Kemit—what shall we do? There are only two possibilities, for we obviously can’t remain here. Either we go on or we turn back—try to overtake those villains and force them to share the supplies—”
A general chorus of disapproval greeted this last suggestion. “They have several hours’ start on us and they will travel as fast as they are able,” I remarked.
“The ugly man has a fire stick,” said Kemit.
“Daoud?” Emerson gave him a startled look. “Are you certain?”
“He struck me with it,” Kemit said briefly.
“It seems to me that we have no choice,” said Ramses. “According to the map, which has hitherto proved accurate, there is a source of water less than three days’ journey from here. It would take twice that length of time to return to the river. We must go on.”
“Quite right,” said Emerson, jumping to his feet. “And the sooner we start the better.”
We camped that night in a wilderness of rock and sand, without even a dead shrub to suggest there had ever been a drop of water available. In order to spare the camels, we had abandoned all our nonessential baggage, including the tents, but as the long hot day wore on, all the beasts showed ominous signs of weakness. Sheer willpower, of which I have a considerable amount, prevented me from admitting even to myself that I was in little better case. There was nothing with which to make a fire, so we dined on cold tinned peas and a sip of water, rolled ourselves in our blankets and sought what relief we could find in sleep.
I will not dwell on the misery of the night or in our sensations the following morning when we found two of the three camels dead. My malady was of such a nature that it seemed to be relatively quiescent in the morning and grow worse as the day went on, so I had been able to conceal it from Emerson. He had, I am bound to admit, other things on his mind. So we went on, until the event occurred which I have described, when the last camel dropped gently to its knees and—in a word—died.
I daresay most individuals would have been speechless with horror at this catastrophe; but that condition has never affected the Emerson-Peabodys. Adversity only strengthens us; disaster stimulates and inspires us. I found myself considerably refreshed by our discussion, and as we proceeded on foot, after a brief rest in the shade of the camel, I dared to hope my illness had been overcome by quinine and determination. (Mostly the latter.)
We had gone through the saddlebags and discarded most of their contents, since we could carry only the barest of necessities: the clothing on our backs, the remaining water-skins, with their sadly depleted and evil-tasting contents, and a blanket apiece. The latter were essential, for the night air was bitter cold, and they could be arranged to offer some shade during the hottest part of the day. Ramses insisted on carrying his little knapsack, and of course my parasol could not be left behind. Kemit carefully buried the rest of our goods, though I attempted to dissuade him from expending effort on such trivial things as changes of linen and a few books—for I never travel without a