Hammond Innes - The Doomed Oasis

I nodded.

‘Give her my love; tell her I’ll be thinking of her and of a day we spent on the Gower. She’ll know what I mean.’

‘She thinks you’re dead,’ I reminded him.

‘Well, tell her I’m not — not yet, anyway.’ And he laughed and slung the heavy blanket over the wooden saddle.

Ten minutes and I’d have been away. Just ten minutes, that was all I needed. But then the sound of a rifle cut the stillness of the night and a man screamed and went on screaming — a thin, high-pitched sound that had in it all that anyone could ever know of pain. Bin Suleiman shouted a warning from the east-facing wall and David let go the camel and raced to meet the attack. ‘Get out now,’ he called to me over his shoulder. ‘Get out before it’s too late.’ He called something to Hamid who was posted on the far side of the fort by the main entrance gate and then the darkness had swallowed him. A stab of flame showed high up on the wall and the echo of the shot cut through the man’s screams as though it had severed his vocal cords. A sudden silence followed, an unnatural stillness.

The camel, startled by the noise, had fled into the night. I found him close under the wall of the tower. Bewildered and obstinate, the wretched beast refused to move, and by the time I had coaxed him to the main gate it was too late. Firing had broken out all round us. A figure appeared at my side, gripped my arm and shouted something in Arabic. It was Hamid and he gestured towards the tower. Rocks thundered against the wooden timbers of the gate we had barricaded that afternoon. Hamid fired, working the bolt of his rifle furiously, the noise of his shots beating against my eardrums.

And then he was gone, running for the tower. I let the camel go and followed him, my gun clutched in my hands. Bin Suleiman was at the ladder ahead of me. David followed close behind as I flung myself through the hole and into the darkness beyond. As soon as we were all inside, we drew the ladder up. Bullets splattered the wall — the soft, dull thud of lead, the whine of ricochets. ‘Didn’t expect them to attack so soon,’ David panted.

We heard the wood splinter as they broke down the gate. They were inside the walls then, vague shadows in the starlight, and we fired down on them from the embrasures. The shouts, the screams, the din of firing … it went on for about ten minutes, and then suddenly they were gone and the inside of the fort was empty save for half a dozen robed figures lying still or dragging themselves laboriously towards the shelter of the walls.

From the top of those walls our attackers kept up a steady fire. Bullets whistled in through the entrance hole so often that the slap of lead on the opposite wall became a commonplace. They caused us no inconvenience for they struck one particular spot only and the convex curve of the wall prevented them from ricocheting. We kept a watch at one of the embrasures, but did not bother to return their fire. ‘Let them waste their ammunition,’ David said. ‘Our turn will come when the moon rises.’

Once they misinterpreted our silence and left their positions along the outer walls. We waited until they were in the open, and as they hesitated, considering how to reach the entrance hole, we caught them in a withering fire. Our eyes, accustomed to the darkness of the tower’s interior, picked them out with ease in the starlight. Very few got back to the safety of the walls or out through the gateway. And when the moon rose about an hour later, we climbed the ladder to the very top of the tower and from there we were able to pick them off as they lay exposed along the tops of the walls.

Below us Hadd lay white and clearly visible. There was great activity round all the wells. David fired one shot. That was all. The people scattered, activity ceased and in an instant the whole town appeared deserted again.

We took it in turns to sleep then, but there was no further attack and sunrise found us in command of the whole area of the fort. With no cover from which they could command our position, the Hadd forces had retired. We took the guns and ammunition from the dead and dragged the bodies outside the walls. Nobody fired on us. The hilltop was ours and the sun beat down and the rock walls became too hot to touch. We buried AH and retired to the shade of the tower. The camel that was to have carried me to Buraimi had disappeared. There was nothing for me to do but resign myself to the inevitable.

‘How long do you think you can hold out here?’ I asked.

‘Until our water’s gone,’ David answered. ‘Or until we run out of ammunition.’

‘And Hadd?’ I asked. ‘How desperate will they become?’

He shrugged. ‘There’s a well in the Emir’s palace, and they can always evacuate the town and camp out in the date gardens. There’s plenty of water there. It’s more a question of the Emir’s pride. He can’t afford to sit on his arse and do nothing.’

And each night we’d be a little wearier, the hours of vigilance more deadly. I closed my eyes. The heat was suffocating, the floor on which we lay as hard as iron. Sleep was impossible. The flies crawled over my face and my eyeballs felt gritty against the closed lids. The hours dragged slowly by. We’d nothing to do but lie there and keep watch in turns.

Shortly after midday a cloud of dust moved in from the desert — men on camels riding towards Hadd from the south. It was Sheikh Abdullah’s main force. They halted well beyond range of our rifles and the smoke of their cooking fires plumed up into the still air. There were more than a hundred of them, and at dusk they broke up into small groups and moved off to encircle our hill. They seemed well organized and under a central command.

It was that and the fact that they were mounted on camels that decided me. I went to where David was standing by one of the embrasures. ‘I’m going to try and get out tonight,’ I told him. ‘Whilst it’s dark, I’ll get out on to the hillside and lie up and wait for a chance to take one of their camels.’ And I added, ‘Why don’t you do the same? A quick sortie. It’s better than dying here like a rat in a trap.’

‘No.’ The words came sharp and hard and violent. His eyes burned in their shadowed sockets, staring at me angrily as though I’d tried to tempt him. ‘To be caught running away — that isn’t what I want. And they’d give me a cruel death. This way … ‘ Again I was conscious of that sense of mission blazing in his eyes. This way I’ll write a page of desert history that old men will tell their sons, and I’ll teach the people of Hadd a lesson they’ll never forget.’ And then in a quieter, less dramatic voice: Think you can make it, on your own?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘But it’s dark and there’s bound to be a certain amount of chaos when they put in their attack.’

He nodded. ‘Okay, it’s worth trying. But they’re Bedou. They’ve eyes like cats and they know the desert. And remember, the moon rises in four hours’ time. If you’re not away by then … ‘ He left it at that and stood for a moment, watching me, as I gathered together the few things I needed — a canvas bandolier of ammunition, my rifle, the water bottle, a twist of rag containing a few dates and some pieces of dried meat. My matches and my last packet of cigarettes I left with him and also something I’d become very attached to — a little silver medallion of St Christopher given me by a mission boy in Tanganyika after I’d saved his life. ‘You’re travelling a longer road than I am,’ I said.

Ten minutes later I was saying goodbye to him by the splintered timbers of the main gate. When I told him I’d get help to him somehow, he laughed. It was a quiet, carefree, strangely assured sound. ‘Don’t worry about me. Think about yourself.’ He gripped my hand. ‘Good luck, sir! And thank you. You’ve been a very big factor in my life — a man I could always trust.’ For a moment I saw his eyes, pale in the starlight, and bright now with the nervous tension that comes before a battle. And then with a quick last pressure of the hand, a muttered ‘God be with you,’ he pushed me gently out on to the camel track.