Hammond Innes - The Doomed Oasis

David didn’t greet them. I doubt whether he even saw them. His eyes were fixed on his father, who had come out of one of the tents and was standing, waiting for us, a dark, robed figure in silhouette against the light of a pressure lamp. David handed his camel to Salim and went blindly forward. I think he still held his father in some awe, but as I followed him I began to realize how much the day had changed him. He had purpose now, a driving, overriding purpose that showed in the way he strode forward.

There wasn’t enough light for me to see the expression on Colonel Whitaker’s face when he realized who it was. And he didn’t speak, even when David stood directly in front of him. Neither of them spoke. They just stood there, staring at each other. I was close enough then to see Whitaker’s face. It was without expression. No surprise, no sign of any feeling.

‘It’s your son,’ I said. ‘He’s alive.’

‘So I see.’ The voice was harsh, the single eye fixed on David. ‘You’ve decided to return from the dead. Why?’

‘Khalid asked me to come here and talk to you. He wanted us to … ‘

‘Khalid’s dead.’

‘1 know that. I buried his body this morning.’ David’s voice trembled with the effort to keep himself under control. ‘He died because his father hadn’t the sense to avoid a pitched battle.’ And he added, ‘We passed that rig of yours a few miles back. It’s too late now to start drilling on my locations.’

‘On your locations?’

‘On Farr’s then — as checked by me.’

‘And by me,’ Whitaker snapped. ‘Since you’ve got Grant with you, I presume you now have some idea what I was trying to do. If you hadn’t disappeared like that … ‘

‘Don’t for God’s sake let’s have another row.’ David’s voice was strangely quiet. ‘And don’t let’s start raking over the past. It’s too late for that now. Khalid was right. We’ve got to work together. I came because I need men.’

‘Men?’ Colonel Whitaker stared at him with a puzzled frown. ‘What do you need men for?’

‘I’ll tell you in a moment. But first I’d like to know what you’re planning to do with that rig? You can’t surely intend to drill here — not now, after what’s happened?’

‘Why not?’

‘But it’s crazy. It’ll take you months … ‘

‘You call it crazy now, do you?’ Whitaker’s voice was hard and pitched suddenly very high. ‘Last time I saw you, you were raising hell because I wouldn’t drill here. Well, now I’m going to try it your way.’

‘But don’t you realize what’s happened in Saraifa?’

‘Of course I do. Sheikh Makhmud is dead and I’ve lost an old friend. His brother, Sultan, is Ruler in his place, and you know what that means. Saraifa is finished.’

David stared at him in disbelief. ‘You mean you’re going to do a deal with the Emir?’ His tone was shocked.

Whitaker’s face was without expression. ‘I’ve seen him, yes. We’ve reached a tentative agreement.’ And then as he saw the look of contempt on David’s face, he exclaimed, ‘Allah akhbar! When are you going to grow up, boy?’

‘You don’t have to worry on that score, sir. I’ve grown up fast enough these past few months.’ David’s voice was calmer, much quieter. He seemed suddenly sure of himself. ‘But there’s no point in discussing what’s gone. It’s the future I’m concerned with the future of Saraifa. Can I rely on you for support or not?’

Whitaker frowned. ‘Support for what?’

‘For an attack on Hadd. I’ve worked it all out in my mind.’ David’s voice came alive then, full of sudden enthusiasm. ‘For centuries they’ve been destroying other people’s wells. They’ve never known what it is to be short of water themselves. I’m going to give them a taste of their own medicine. I’m going to destroy the wells in Hadd.’

‘Are you out of your mind?’ Whitaker glared at him. ‘Even if you did blow up a well, what good would it do? In a day or at most two they would have repaired it.’

‘I don’t think so,’ David said quietly. ‘Just let me have a few men.’

‘Men? You won’t get men out of me for a crack-brained scheme like this.’ And then in a gentler voice, ‘See here, David. I realize you’ve probably been through a lot during the past two months. And if you’ve been out to the battlefield on the Mahdah falaj, as I rather suspect from your attitude, I don’t imagine it was a pleasant sight.’

‘It wasn’t a pleasant sight riding through Saraifa and seeing the people there without water and fleeing from the oasis,’ David answered hotly.

‘No. But … ‘ Colonel Whitaker hesitated. He’d seen the obstinate look on David’s face. No doubt he sensed his mood, too, which was desperately determined. ‘Come into the tent,’ he said. ‘I refuse to continue this discussion out here.’ He glanced at me. ‘If you’ll excuse us, Grant, I’d like to talk to my son alone for a moment.’ He pulled back the flap of the tent. ‘Faddal.’ It was said quite automatically. A carpet showed red in the glare of the lamplight, some cushions, a tin box, and the two of them were inside the tent and the flap fell.

The outline of the dunes, smooth and flowing like downlands, faded into darkness as I sat alone on the sand, a centre of curiosity for the whole camp. The sky was clouded over so that there were no stars and it was very dark.

It was about half an hour later that David suddenly emerged out of the night and sat down beside me. ‘What happened?’ I asked him.

‘Nothing,’ he replied tersely. And after that he sat for a long time without saying a word, without moving. Finally he turned to me of his own accord. ‘I don’t understand him,’ he said. ‘It was like talking to a complete stranger.’ And he added, ‘I don’t think Saraifa means anything to him any more.’ The bitterness of his voice was overlaid with frustration. ‘It’s tragic,’ he whispered. ‘Half a dozen men. That’s all I asked him for. But he thinks it’s all a dream, that I don’t know what I’m doing.’

‘You told him about Khalid — what he’d said to me?’

‘Of course.’

‘And it made no difference?’

‘None.’

‘What did you talk about then?’

He laughed a little wildly. ‘About locations, geological formations, a drilling programme. He wasn’t interested in anything else.’ And then speaking more to himself than to me: ‘I couldn’t get through to him. I just couldn’t seem to get through.’ He beat his fist against the ground. ‘What do you do when a man’s like that?’ He stared at me angrily. ‘I don’t understand him. Do you know what he said? He said I was forgiven. He said everything was to be just as it was between us in the early days when I first worked with him. I’m to stay here and help him drill a well. He and I — together; we’re going to drill the most important well in Arabia.’ Again that slightly wild laugh. ‘And when I mentioned Hadd, he said Hadd or Saraifa, what did it matter now? He’ll treat with the Emir, with the Devil himself, so long as he’s left in peace to drill his well and prove his bloody theory to the damnation of Philip Gorde and all the rest of the oil boys. God! I wonder I didn’t kill him.’ And he added, ‘The man’s mad. He must be mad.’

‘Obsessed perhaps … ‘ I murmured.

‘Mad.’ He glared at me. ‘How else do you explain his attitude, his fantastic assumption that I’d be content to sit here drilling a well after what’s happened? For Khalid’s sake I’d have agreed to anything. I’d have played the dutiful bastard sitting at the feet of the Great Bedouin. But when I asked him for men … ‘ He shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t give them to me. He wouldn’t do a damned thing to help. Said I was crazy even to think of it. Me? And all he could talk about, with Makhmud dead and men he’d known for years lying by that well with their guts half eaten out — all he could talk about was his damned theory and how he’d known all along he was right. I tell you the man’s mad.’ His voice was sharp with frustration. ‘I wish to God,’ he said bitterly, ‘I’d never come out here, never set eyes on him. And to think I worshipped the man. Yes, worshipped him. I thought he was the greatest man living.’