The Camel Caravan That Carried Afghan Wool Across Australia (1870)
The Camel Caravan That Carried Afghan Wool Across Australia (1870) — a history story. 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder History.
Page 1
The cargo sling swung out over the ship's rail, chains groaning, and the sailors let it drop too wide. Three fat bales of fawn wool, each as tall as a man's chest, slammed onto the wharf planks with a hissing thud. One bale bounced, rolled, and kept rolling, bumping toward the edge where the blue gulf water lapped the pylons. Billu dropped flat on her stomach, skidding across the planks, and flung out her tally-board on its cord, hooking the cord around the bale's rope binding just as it reached the last plank. She hauled backward with both arms, boots scrabbling for grip, until the bale stopped dead at the wharf's lip. Behind her, Zareena folded down onto her knees with a grunt, ready for loading, brass bells chiming along her neck. The tall old cameleer strode over, caught the hissing bale's edge, and steadied it upright again, laughing under his breath at how close the gulf had come to swallowing a winter's wages.
Page 2
The scree shifted under Zareena's feet, loose stones clattering down the gorge wall, and the frayed girth rope gave way with a snap like a whip crack. A fawn wool bale, heavy as two grown men, broke free and tumbled twenty metres down the rocky slope, bouncing and spinning until it wedged hard into the fork of a river red gum. Billu gasped and scrambled to the edge, pointing. Haji Dost Mahomet did not hesitate — he looped his pale rope twice around his shoulder, gripped the rock ledges with both hands, and climbed down carefully, boots sliding on loose stones, until he reached the bale. He lashed the rope tight around it, tugging twice to test the knot, then called up the slope. Billu looped the other end around Zareena's broad saddle horn, slapping the camel's flank. Zareena planted her grey-dusted knees, leaned her whole body backward, and hauled, the rope creaking taut, dragging the heavy bale slowly up the gorge wall, inch by scraping inch, until it bumped safely over the lip.
Page 3
The twelve camels groaned at the base of the red cliffs, their tongues dry, when a whistle cut down from a ledge high above. A barefoot boy appeared on the rock, grinning, then slid down the scree in a spray of pebbles, landing light on his feet before the old cameleer. He pointed up at a cleft in the stone. 'Water hole, hidden in there!' Billu scrambled after him over the loose rocks, her mirror-cap flashing, while Dost Mahomet uncoiled the pale rope from his shoulder and knotted a bucket to the end. Together they lowered it down into the dark rock hole, hand over hand, and hauled it back brimming and heavy. Alick caught each bucket as it rose and tipped it into the trough, water splashing his bare feet, while Zareena shoved her nose in eagerly and the other camels crowded behind her, bells ringing as they jostled for a turn to drink.
Page 4
Lamplight flickered over the cramped shed as Haji Dost Mahomet bent close to a torn pack-saddle, pushing his bone needle through the thick hide while Billu held the flap steady with both small hands. Alick sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, waxing a length of thread between his palms, humming to himself. Suddenly the low doorway darkened, and Zareena's broad cream head shoved through, nostrils flaring at the smell of hay. Her shoulder caught the stacked saddles leaning against the wall, and they toppled sideways in a clattering heap. She stumbled forward, hoof catching a flour sack, which burst open in a soft explosion of white dust. The little room filled with a choking cloud as every brass bell on her head-rope and neck fringe jangled wildly. Billu shrieked and dove under the workbench, Alick grabbed the swinging lamp before it fell, and Dost Mahomet threw both arms wide to stop more saddles sliding. Flour settled on beards, plaits and harness alike, turning the whole shed ghost-white.
Page 5
Wet bricks came down the line hand over hand, each one heavier than it looked, and everyone's forearms were soon striped grey with mud. The old cameleer braced himself at the wall's end, catching bricks from the townsfolk and slamming them into place with a grunt, smoothing each joint flat with his broad thumb. The teenager hauled on a rope looped around the split date-palm beam, digging his bare heels into the dust and hauling until the camel threw her weight backward too, the rope creaking taut across her chest, and the beam rose inch by inch to drop with a thud onto the top course of bricks. Everyone cheered, and the camel shook her bells in reply. The small girl scrambled up the ladder last of all, her green sleeves flapping, and pressed her whole hand flat into the last soft brick before it could dry, leaving five small fingerprints and a palm-print grinning up at the sky, a little mark to say she had been there, holding up a wall built to hold a whole town's prayers.
Page 6
The Neales River had turned from dry sand to brown flood overnight, and in the middle of it a shrinking island of grit held a girl and her tipped-over milk cart. Water chewed at the sandbank's edges. The old cameleer saw her waving and barked a command, slapping Zareena's flank. The white camel plunged in, the water rising past her knees, her chest, until only her head and the red tassels of her rope showed above the brown current. Alick waded in behind, gripping the cart's shaft with both hands, bracing his bare feet against the sliding sand. He scooped the small girl up and passed her, billycan and all, into Billu's waiting arms on the saddle. Billu hauled her over the pack-saddle's edge, holding tight as Zareena turned for the bank. Alick heaved the cart through the current, dragging it by its shaft until the wheels bit solid ground. Everyone dripped, grinned, and caught their breath on the muddy bank together.
Page 7
The spring steamed warm and green, ringed with reeds taller than Billu's shoulder, when the last rope slipped free of Zareena's pack and a whole bale slid sideways with a soft splash. It bobbed out across the water like a fat cream duckling, turning slowly in the current. Alick dropped his waterbag and went running along the bank, snatching up a palm frond twice his own height and wading knee-deep into the reeds. "Here, here, catch it before it sinks!" he shouted, hooking the frond's edge under the bale's cord. Sadie scrambled in after him, gripping his shirt-tail for balance while still clutching her billycan. Billu grabbed the far end of the frond and hauled with both hands, her mirror cap flashing as she leaned back. Together they dragged the sodden bale scraping onto the mud. Dost Mahomet knelt and began untying the wet wool, spreading it in heavy handfuls over the reed-tops to steam dry in the sun, while Zareena stood patiently, dripping and unbothered, her bells chiming softly.
Page 8
A sharp hiss split the dusty quiet, and the big iron water tank — as tall as Dost Mahomet's own chest — tore open along a rusted seam. Water gushed out across the stony ground in a spreading brown sheet, already sinking fast into the thirsty earth. 'Catch it, catch it all!' shouted Dost Mahomet, dropping his rope and slamming his own hat upside-down under the gushing seam. Sadie sprinted with her dented billycan and shoved it under the worst of the flow, water slopping over her boots. Billu tore off her mirrored skullcap and scooped with both hands, dumping each capful into a bucket Alick had wrestled from the saddlery wall. Zareena knelt low so her empty pack-bags could be held open to trap the spreading puddle, bells jangling as she shifted her weight. Alick hauled bucket after bucket, forearms straining, while Sadie's billycan filled and emptied, filled and emptied, until the seam finally slowed to a trickle and the dust around them had turned a damp, dark red.
Page 9
The wind had howled all night, flinging red dust against the sandstone pillar until it rose like a tooth from a sea of drifted sand. By dawn the wool bales, stacked taller than a man the evening before, had vanished beneath a smooth red dune, only a few corners poking through like buried treasure. Dost Mahomet knelt first, scooping sand away with both hands, while Alick slammed his hat down and used it as a scoop, flinging dust sideways in arcs. Sadie dropped to her knees and dug with her billycan, scraping until a strip of fawn wool showed, then ran to tip the sand away before scrambling back for more. Zareena pawed the sand with a broad padded foot, uncovering a whole bale's edge, and leaned her shoulder against it to push it free. Billu grabbed the rocky ledge of the pillar and hauled herself up hand over hand, climbing until she could reach a jutting spur of stone, where she tied her yellow plait-string tight and let it snap in the wind like a flag, calling down to the others still digging below.
Page 10
The red walls of Heavitree Gap folded open like a doorway twice as tall as a man, and the whole caravan swung through it into the gold light of sunset. Zareena broke into a lumbering trot, bells clashing, straight for the sandy riverbed of the Todd, where she dropped to her knees with a great grunt and buried her muzzle in the shallow water. The last bale slid from her pack with a soft thump onto the grass. Linesmen came running from the telegraph station, sleeves rolled, and sliced the hessian open with quick knife-strokes. Dost Mahomet knelt to help peel back the covering, and warm fawn wool spilled out like a cloud caught mid-fall. Billu scrambled over and flung herself backward into it, laughing as it closed soft around her shoulders. Alick hauled armfuls out and spread them flat across the grass into wide blankets, while Sadie ran back and forth filling her dented billycan at the river to splash the hot, tired camels' legs.
About this story
- Audience: kids (ages 6–12)
- Format: 10 illustrated pages, narrated, on the kids shelf, free to read on Wonder History
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