David took the parcel and in a most matter-of-fact manner rewrapped it and tied the string, then placed it back in front of Ikey. 'You have two days to give me your half o' the combination, Ikey Solomon, then we sends the second finger to Mary Abacus with a single instruction, a note what says 'Ask Ikey about this'. If we don't hear from you in two more days, well, we'll send a third finger with the same note, then a fourth and then we'll start with a little white finger to match the black ones, does you get my drift, father?' David sneered.

'Mary knows nothing o' the safe and the numbers!' Ikey said at last, recovering his courage. 'But be warned, she has powerful friends in the government, she'll go directly to them and you'll be apprehended!'

David laughed. 'The whole bloody island knows about the kidnapped brats and the fifty pounds reward from the back o' her beer bottles. That were very clever, that was! But the finger could've come from anybody, we'll deny it come from us! The authorities well knows o' the quarrels between us. They'll not believe you, thinking it's spite. But you'll have to tell Mary what you knows,' David grinned, 'and you won't do that, will you, Ikey Solomon?' He took his watch from his pocket and clicked it open. 'It be half past three o'clock. The ferry for Hobart Town leaves at four o'clock.' David Solomon paused. 'Or perhaps you'd like to stay the night. Ann made you a mutton stew. Give us your answer in the morning?'

Ikey, shaking his head, rose from the table. 'I'll not be staying,' he said quietly, then he looked up at his son. 'I been a villain in my day. But I didn't do no harm what led to bloodshed, and them I stole from could always afford a little loss. I ain't saying what I done was right, but I've served my punishment and what's in that safe in England I've earned. Not one-eighth, but half and much more!' Ikey paused. 'But half will do, the other half be your mother's and she can share it any way she likes. But you didn't earn it, and let me tell you something for nothing, my boy! As for my name, the black Solomon and his brother make me proud of it for the first time in my life!'

David Solomon now shook with anger. 'What does ya mean, I hasn't earned it? You, ya bastard, you betrayed our mother so she were sent 'ere and Ann, Sarah, Mark and me, we were put in the bloody orphanage! We earned that money orright! Every fuckin' penny, ya miserable sod!' He stepped up to Ikey and tapped him on the chest. 'Two days, or ya gets the bloody boy what you're so fuckin' proud o' givin' yer name sent to Mary Abacus bit by fuckin' bit, and the white brat follows soon after!' David stepped back, the whites of his eyes showing, his hands now balled into a fist. He was breathing heavily and Ikey felt he was about to strike him, but for once he was not afraid.

Ikey shook his head. 'This was your mother's idea, wasn't it? It's not just the money, it be her revenge on Mary Abacus too, ain't that it?'

'She has a good right to it!' David said, dropping his hands to his side. 'That bitch tried to steal her husband and the affection o' her children!' He cleared his throat. 'You got two days, Ikey Solomon.' He picked the tiny parcel up and handed it to Ikey. 'Show this to your whore!' he shouted.

On the ferry home Ikey's mind was a whirl. David was right, he would not go to the authorities. With his record of family quarrels and vendettas they would never believe him and, besides, two urchins going missing was an everyday occurrence and hardly worth investigating. The mutilation he knew they would take more seriously, but it looked typically like the work of some desperate escaped convict or wild man, or even a sealer or kangaroo shooter who had heard about the reward. Moreover, it was a black hand. While they would not say so, Ikey knew they would attach much less importance to it than if it were white.

Having Hawk's finger in one of the pockets of his coat saddened Ikey most terribly. He could see Hawk's hands dancing in the air as he worked the silent language, his little black fingers so elegant and expressive. The thought that Hawk's dancing hands might soon be bloody stumps was almost more than he could bear. Yet Ikey could not bring himself to tell Mary of the money in the Whitechapel safe. He knew he must attempt to save the lives of Tommo and Hawk, but he was also convinced he would never see a penny of the money it had taken him a lifetime to earn if he gave Hannah his half of the combination. Ikey tried to convince himself that Mary would recover from the loss of her children. Even if she should never talk to him again, he was comfortable enough and sufficiently independent. 'Life goes on,' he repeated to himself several times. 'They were not really her children,' he told himself, though he knew Mary loved Tommo and Hawk as well as if they had been born her own. He, too, was greatly fond of the boys, but Ikey's entire life had been a matter of his own survival and the first rule was not to mourn the past but to move on. He refused, out of a lifetime of habit, to agonise over the matter. Although he might never bring himself to say so, Ikey knew himself to love Mary, but he saw no purpose in telling her about the safe in Whitechapel. He would need to invent something else to explain the package he carried. By the time the ferry had arrived back in Hobart Town, Ikey had cobbled together quite a different story.

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.