Bryce Courtenay - The Potato Factory

However, it was through the production of bottled beer that Mary was to make her reputation. Ikey's nocturnal habits and excellent nose for gossip meant he was always the first to know what was contained in the manifest of any ship arriving into port. If there should be a consignment of bottles on board Mary instantly knew about it and purchased the lot before other merchants were any the wiser. She would also buy any bottles the ship used during the voyage, and many a ship's master knew her as Queen Bottle. In addition, any urchin who could lay his dirty little hands on a bottle knew it would fetch him a halfpenny at the Potato Factory.

Soon Mary had sufficient capital to order from England her first consignment of green quart beer bottles, which she used for her Temperance Ale, and so the Potato Factory became the first brewery to offer its product in sealed bottles to be consumed in the home. This meant that working folk, who could not afford to buy beer by the barrel, could purchase their beer not, as was the custom, by the jug, so that they had to hurry home in haste to keep the benefit of its good, creamy head, but in a sealed bottle to be enjoyed at their leisure. The other brewers sneered at this nonsensical notion. They sold their beer in barrels to be consumed in public houses, and those who wished to take it home could bring their jugs to the ale house to be filled. They felt certain that quantities as small as a quart sold in expensive glass bottles would never catch on with the poor, who were the largest portion of the population who drank beer. They also thought Mary's Temperance Ale label another silly affectation as paper was relatively expensive, and a label on a bottle of three-penny beer was regarded as an outrageous waste.

Although Mary was prepared to take a lower profit for her beer by bottling and labelling it, she would not compromise on its quality. The people of Hobart Town, and those who lived further out in the country, immediately saw the benefits of what they called 'picnic beer', which could be transported in small quantities and drunk at leisure.

People soon realised that while they initially paid an extra halfpenny for the bottle, if they returned the empty for another full one they paid only the usual price of threepence for their beer. Furthermore, if they wished to surrender an empty bottle without buying an additional bottle of beer, Mary refunded the halfpenny they'd paid on the original deposit.

Soon Mary was selling all the beer she could make, and it was only the lack of glass bottles which prevented her from selling more. Thus Mary invented the concept of bottled beer with a paper label to indicate its quality and brand which would in time become commonplace on mainland Australia.

Six years had passed since Mary had been granted her unconditional pardon, and she now found herself welcomed into the society of tradesmen, clerks and the free settlers of smaller means who were collectively known as third raters. As an emancipist Mary rightfully belonged two social ranks further down the ladder. But her great business success, ardent support of the Temperance Society, stubborn courage against the beer barons and quiet manners, together with her charitable work for the orphanage, elevated her to the lofty heights of the third social position in the class ranking of the colony, this, despite the knowledge that she employed the odious Isaac Solomon, whom it was rumoured as common scandal had once been her paramour.

Any other woman of Mary's dubious background would have greatly cherished this unexpected promotion to the better classes. Hannah, for instance, would have made much of the opportunity. But Mary was far too busy to profit from the social advantages of her newly acquired status. This was just as well, for it was soon enough to be taken away from her.

Before long the rumours concerning Tommo and Hawk were spreading among the tattle-tongues of Hobart Town. The very idea that Mary, an unmarried woman, should take in as her own children these so-called twins, said to have been left on her doorstep, and the fact that one was obviously of aboriginal extraction, horrified the respectable classes. The infants had only been with Mary two months when she was summoned to see Mr Emmett at his offices.

She was ushered into his chambers by a clerk, who silently indicated the chair in front of a large desk and immediately left. Mr Emmett was working on some papers and did not look up at Mary, who was uncertain as to whether she should wait for permission to be seated. She thought this most unusual for they had been friends a long time and, besides, he was an unfailingly courteous man.

'Sit down please, Mary,' Mr Emmett said, still not looking up. He continued to write for a full minute, so that Mary could hear only the scratching of the goose-feather quill against the paper and the slow, measured tic-toe of the pendulum from a wall clock to the left of his desk.

Mary sat quietly in the chair with her hands folded in her lap. She was not accustomed to meeting Mr Emmett in this manner. She always accorded him the respect he deserved as a first rater and high official of the government, but their relationship over the years had become a warm and familiar one. Mary was also aware that he took secret pride in what she had achieved and he would visit the clearing on the mountain to watch each new construction. He had been very useful in the obtaining of various licences, and a positive stalwart in her fights with the beer barons and others who did not like to see an emancipist and, in particular, a woman succeed at what they felt was most decidedly the province of a man.

Finally, and to Mary's relief, Mr Emmett looked up and smiled. 'Good afternoon, sir,' she said also smiling. Mary was still a pretty, slender woman, and today she was wearing a neat dress and best bonnet of a russet colour which complemented her lovely green eyes.

'My dear Mary,' Mr Emmett began, 'it is always such a pleasure to see you, though perhaps today is a somewhat less pleasant occasion.'

'Oh?' Mary exclaimed. 'Is there something I has done wrong, sir?'

Mr Emmett spread his hands and leaned back slightly, both gestures intended to relax her. 'You have done so well, Mary, and there are many, even in the government, who think most highly of you. I am sure you know how I feel about your success. We are good friends, do you not agree?'

'I take it a great honour to be counted your friend, sir.'

Mr Emmett cleared his throat and now leaned slightly forward across the desk. 'Mary, you must listen to me. It is not right that you should take these children to be your own. They do not have the right blood and it will turn out badly for all concerned.'

'Tommo and Hawk?' Mary exclaimed in surprise.

'Yes! If that be their names, you must be rid of them!'

Mary had never before heard such a harsh, uncompromising tone in Mr Emmett's voice. 'But why, sir?' she pleaded. 'They just be orphans, there be hundreds like them.'

'They will destroy you! We cannot have it!'

'Destroy me? But I loves them like me own!' Mary cried.

Mr Emmett shook his head impatiently. 'Mary, I will not lie to you, they be of an inferior species and the Lord God would not have us to mix with them. You have seen how the aboriginal people of this island are. There can be no place for them in this society. I beg you to see reason. This child will destroy you and the other, though thought to be white, is, I am told, a twin and therefore of the same stock!'

'Mr Emmett, you must help me please. These are my children and I wish them to be given my name!'

Mr Emmett shook his head. 'You were always of a most stubborn nature, Mary Abacus, but this time I am right! You cannot keep them. Besides, in the matter of a name, it can only be that of their father.' Mr Emmett was not a cruel man, but now he paused and raised one eyebrow. 'And God alone knows who he might be! The children of a whore and a nigger are not to be given a decent English name.'