Bryce Courtenay - The Potato Factory

The ferry had caught the outgoing tide on the lower reaches of the Derwent River and the trip back had taken slightly over two hours. It was just after half past six in the evening when Mary, helping Jessamy serve customers, saw Ikey arrive and motioned urgently for her to meet him at the rear of the mill.

She was already in the kitchen waiting, wiping her hands on her apron, when Ikey entered the doorway. It had been a month and two days since Tommo and Hawk disappeared. Mary ate almost nothing and was silent most of the time, talking only when she was required to do so and working until late into the night. The new Tomahawk beer had thankfully kept them all very busy, or they might not have been able to bear the thought of Mary's sorrow.

'What is it, Ikey?'

Ikey looked at Mary. 'Sit down, my dear.'

Mary saw the concern on his face. 'What is it?' she asked again and then pulled out a chair and sat down. 'It's bad, isn't it?'

Ikey nodded and drew himself up a chair, then told Mary the story of his visit to New Norfolk.

'So there it is, my dear, you get the boys back by signing the deeds to the Potato Factory over to David Solomon.'

Mary remained silent for almost a minute, then she looked up at Ikey, a terrible weariness showing in her beautiful green eyes. She nodded slowly and Ikey knew she would give up anything for her two boys. 'He were never a good lad, that David. Bright but of a mean spirit,' Mary said quietly, then she was silent again before adding a small voice, 'Show me.'

Ikey recoiled, his head jerking back. 'No, my dear, it will distress you!'

Mary looked up at him, her expression suddenly fierce. 'Show me! I want to see it for meself!'

Ikey removed the small parcel from the interior of his coat and placed it on the table in front of her. Mary's hands trembled as she picked at the bow and then removed the brown paper wrapping. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she unfolded the grubby, white cloth so that she could barely see the finger. She started to weep, then to wail, choking at the same time, her head averted from the small dark object.

Ikey quickly rose from his chair to stand behind her and place his hands on her shoulders. 'Oh dear, oh dear! Oh my! Oh dear!' he babbled. He could think of nothing to say to comfort Mary.

After a while Mary reached into the pocket of her apron for a piece of rag, and wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Ikey reached over her to take up the parcel, but she saw his action and pushed his hand away. 'Leave it!' she commanded.

'But, my dear… '

Ikey stopped mid-sentence, for there was a surprised gasp from Mary and then she began to laugh, though in a hysterical manner, pointing at the finger.

'What is it, my dear?' Ikey cried, alarmed.

But Mary's hysterical laughter continued and finally Ikey slapped her hard. She stopped and looked at him wild-eyed. 'It's not Hawk's finger!' she cried, then wept again.

'What do you mean?' Ikey cried out. He repeated himself several times, 'What do you mean? What do you mean?' before Mary stopped crying. Now she took deep gulps of air to calm herself.

'Whatever can you mean?' Ikey repeated urgently.

'It be the right forefinger,' she said, pointing to the object before her. 'Hawk had a long scar down that finger where I cut and sucked it when he had the snake bite. A long, clean scar, not to be missed!'

Ikey remembered the incident well. 'Are you sure it be the right and not the left?' he said.

'Left were once broken in a fight, it mended a wee bit crooked,' Mary said emphatically. She glanced at the finger on the table and gave a small shudder. 'Besides, that finger be too small, much too small, that be the finger of an Aboriginal child!'

'You mean this be a scam?' Ikey cried in amazement. 'They's seen the beer label and cooked it all up!' Ikey whistled to himself. 'Jesus, I never thought that whore Hannah had that much imagination!'

Mary looked at Ikey and then said fiercely, 'That finger still come from a little brat! That be wicked and cruel enough beyond imagining.' She paused and pointed at Ikey. 'They could have taken the Potato Factory, they could have had the bloody lot, if only it would o' brought back me boys!' She burst into tears again and then shouted, 'Ikey, I swear, I dunno how and I dunno where, but Hannah's going to pay for this!'

It was four months after his visit to New Norfolk when Ikey, in the course of his nightly peregrinations, sensed he was being followed. He changed direction, cutting down the lane past New Market and quickening his pace, thinking to slip into the Hope amp; Anchor, the tavern at the end of the lane facing onto the safety of Macquarie Street. But then he heard his name called softly in a voice he was never likely to forget.

'You good pella, Ikey!'

'Billygonequeer?' Ikey called back in surprise.

'No, no, William Lanney!' Billygonequeer said urgently as he came out of the darkness not five feet from where Ikey stood.

Ikey listened to the voice from the shadows, amazed that Billygonequeer could have been so close without his hearing him. The two men embraced and as Ikey's hands clasped around Billy's shoulders, he felt the raised scar tissue across his back through the coarse canvas shirt.

'Blimey, I thought you be dead!' Ikey exclaimed, beaming at Billygonequeer's dark face. 'What's happened to you then, my dear?'

Billygonequeer, who now spoke quite passable English, explained to Ikey that under the name William Lanney he had become a whaleman for Captain Kelly on one of the local whaling ships which worked the bays and channels during the winter season.

'Ikey, listen,' Billygonequeer said finally. 'I come about the black kid on the beer bottle.'

Ikey's heart missed a beat. 'What's you know about that, Billygonequeer?'

'William Lanney! You gimme the name y'self!' Billygonequeer cried urgently. 'I still on the lam, man!'

Ikey listened carefully as Billygonequeer told him what he knew. He had been down south at the whaling station at Recherche Bay where they had been boiling down the catch. They had thereafter sailed up the D'Entrecasteaux Channel, but opposite Huon Island had hit a squall and done some damage to the mizzen mast and so had taken shelter in the Huon River. The wind being fair, they had sailed upriver to Port Huon, and put ashore for some minor repairs. Here, Billy had gone for a walk along the riverbank some way from the settlement when, to his surprise, he had met seven Aboriginals, five of them half castes and two of full blood.

The full bloods explained they came from the upper reaches of the Kermandie River to the south-west, which stretched to the high mountain. They talked for some time and then told him that several days previously they had been out hunting rat kangaroo when they saw a wild man who rode a horse, behind which he caused a black boy to run. Curious, they had crept closer. The boy was tied about the neck with a rope which was attached to the saddle. The wild man passed close to where they hid and they could see that the boy was not an Aboriginal, but quite different in appearance to their own people. Billygonequeer concluded by saying that, nearly three weeks later, he had heard some of the whalemen talking about the fifty pounds reward posted on the beer bottles and he'd asked one of them to read it aloud. Hearing Ikey's name, he had decided to tell him what he knew. 'You good pella, Ikey!' he said, laughing at himself, for he now spoke much better English.

'What sort of country be it, these mountains?' Ikey asked at last.

Billygonequeer shook his head. 'You can't go there, boss!' he protested vehemently. 'It black fella place, wild men convict and some timber getter, very bad country.'

'Can you go with troopers?'

Billygonequeer sniffed. 'Troopers can't go this place, wild men kill!'