Hammond Innes - The Doomed Oasis

‘Not much. But it’s cooler inside the tower. We’re drinking very little.’

‘And your two men?’ Berry asked. ‘Are they alive?’

‘Yes, they’re still alive. Hamid’s very weak — a bullet through the shoulder and a splinter of rock from a ricochet in the back. Bin Suleiman’s leg is smashed. But they’ll both last as long as the water.’

‘So you won’t leave with us?’

‘No.’

Berry nodded, accepting his decision as final. He seemed to understand David’s attitude and he didn’t attempt to reason with him. Instead, he unstrapped his web belt, slipping his water bottle from it. ‘It’s not much,’ he said, holding it out. ‘But one day could make the difference. I’ll report your decision by radio to HQ as soon as I get back to my wireless truck.’

David took the water bottle and though there couldn’t possibly be any moisture left in that emaciated, dried-up hull of a body, his eyes glistened for a moment. ‘Thanks,’ he whispered. ‘I’ll remember.’ His thin hands were gripped tight round the bottle. ‘One more day,’ he breathed.

‘You’ll have that — I promise.’ He wasn’t looking at Berry or at me. He was looking upwards to the burning vault of the sky … a pact with God. And on this barren, burned-rock hilltop where the air was heavy with the stink of rotting bodies, it would be an Old Testament God. ‘One more day,’ he whispered again in that croaking voice, and at that moment a rifle cracked.

The thud of the bullet, the scream of pain, the clatter of a gun barrel on rock — it was all on the instant and I turned to see the body of an Arab writhing on the eastern wall. It reached the edge, paused and then fell, and as it pitched, screaming, on its face, a second shot rang out.

The screams thinned to silence. The body on the ground arched, a series of violent jerks; something sounded in the throat and after that it lay still. I glanced at Berry. He hadn’t moved. Nor had David. The click of metal on stone drew my eye to the top of the tower. The glint of a rifle, a thin wisp of smoke. Everything was still again; it was difficult to believe that in that instant a man had died.

‘You see! That’s all the treacherous bastard’s safe-conduct is worth.’ David gave a dry little laugh. ‘You’d better get out of here whilst you still can.’

Berry hesitated, and then he nodded. He reached into his pocket and produced some field dressings and a small first-aid kit. ‘Had an idea these might be required.’ He handed them over and then drew himself up and gave David a formal, parade-ground salute. ‘Good luck!’ he said, and turned quickly.

David looked at the first-aid tin and the dressings, his eyes quite blank, his face suddenly fallen-in, the flesh tight on the bones of the skull. I could only guess what he was thinking. A few more days and if he hadn’t been killed by a bullet, he’d be dead of thirst. He looked up. This is goodbye, sir.’ He held out his hand. ‘Tell my father, will you, that I hope it’s a bloody good well… but if he lets the Emir get his hands on one penny of the royalties I’ll haunt him to the grave and beyond.’

His skin was dry, the bones of the hand like an old man’s bones. I stared at him, not knowing what to say, for I was sure I wouldn’t see him again. He was so damned young to die — and like this, in cold blood with his eyes open, trading life for the sake of a gesture. And yet, like Berry, I didn’t try and argue with him. ‘Goodbye,’ I said, and turned quickly before my eyes betrayed me.

At the gateway I paused and looked back. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, quite alone and swaying slightly, all his muscles slack with weariness. We stared at each other for a second and then I went out through the gateway, and I knew if the Emir attacked again that night, it would be the end. ‘What a waste!’ I said to Berry, stumbling almost blindly down the track.

He looked at me. ‘I don’t agree.’ His voice was hard and there was a ring to it as though I’d struck a chord deep down. ‘If there weren’t men like David Whitaker … ‘ He shrugged. ‘It’s a big question, isn’t it? Why we’re born; what we do with our lives.’ And he added after a pause, ‘I’d like to think, given his circumstances, that I’d behave the same way.’ He had loosened his pistol holster and his eyes searched the rocks as we hurried back down the track. But we saw nobody and the only sound was the heat throbbing at our temples. The Land-Rover was still there with Ismail standing beside it. Treachery had gone back to its lair and high up over the fort the black speck of some carrion bird planed on the still air.

Berry had seen it, too, and as we drove off, he said, ‘I give him four days. In four days I reckon he’ll be dead of thirst.’

‘He’s weak,’ I said. ‘They’ve only got to make a determined attack now.’

But Berry shook his head. ‘So long as there’s one man left in that tower capable of firing a rifle or tossing a grenade they’ll never take it, and Sheikh Abdullah knows it now. Only artillery or mortars could blast them out. I couldn’t understand, even from your description, how three men could hold a fort against a hundred tribesmen, but now that I’ve seen the place … ‘ He was staring back at it over his shoulder. ‘I am only surprised that a civilian should have appreciated the military possibilities of it.’

‘He was a gang leader in Cardiff docks before he came out to join his father in Saraifa,’ I said.

He laughed. ‘Well, I suppose that’s as good a training as any.’ And after that we drove in silence.

When we got back to the wireless truck, Berry found a message ordering him to return to Sharjah immediately. ‘But why?’ I said. ‘You’re not on Hadd territory.’

‘They’ve got cold feet over the situation by the sound of it. My Company’s been ordered back, too.’ He stood staring towards Jebel al-Akhbar and there was an obstinate look on his face. ‘I’ve given orders that we move at dawn and I’ve notified HQ that I’m held here the night with a damaged spring on the wireless truck. Twelve hours isn’t much, but you never know. The situation could alter.’

By this simple stratagem we were still there on the border when the slanting sun showed a cloud of dust moving across the desert from the direction of Hadd. Through the glasses we counted thirty-two camels, and the riders were all armed. Berry ordered his corporal to issue additional ammunition and personally sited both the Bren guns on a low ridge. But the raiding force kept to Hadd territory, heading due west towards the Sands. ‘Their objective must be Whitaker’s camp,’ Berry said. ‘There’s nothing else out there.’ But he made no move to follow them. ‘Colonel Whitaker will have to look after himself.’

I thought of the lone figure we’d left standing with the clutter of that drilling rig behind him. This was what he had feared, the emissary returning in force. Whitaker would go with them this time. He’d have no alternative. I wondered what would happen when he met the Emir. Would he agree to go up to the fort? And if he did, how would David react?

But that was all in the future. I watched the dust cloud until it disappeared below the rim of the horizon and then I fetched my briefcase and settled down to write a report. It was finished by the time the sun had set and darkness closing in. I gave it to Berry and he agreed to have his wireless operator transmit it to Sharjah at the next contact with HQ. The report was a long one, for it covered David’s situation, our visit to the fort and the treacherous attempt on his life, and I addressed it to Ruffini. We were both civilians and I thought there was just a chance that it might be passed across to him before anyone in authority stopped it.