The Englishman continued, “My hope is that the people of Carolina will help maintain order, increase trade with the Indians, and build up good markets for what we produce. The governor wants to improve the roads and ferries, and see that we obtain some more land in the west that will be made open for settlement. He has asked me to come here and then go to Augusta to see if there is anything he or the state council can do to help your communities.”

They continued the conversation for a while, speaking mostly of crops and the supply and latest prices of rum, sugar, salt, and other commodities that were brought in from the port of Charles Town. They heard raindrops on the roof, and one of the men said, “Well, maybe you brought us a shower.” Brown nodded, smiled slightly, and said, “I hope so. How far is it to Augusta?”

“It’s about a good day’s ride, including the river crossings.”

“Well, I’ll stay here tonight, and go there tomorrow.”

There was no spare room in the small building, but the innkeeper said there was a shed behind his house where guests stayed every now and then, and he agreed to provide a meal and some feed for the man’s horse.

Now, in the tiny shed room, Thomas Brown’s primary task was to get comfortable enough to sleep. He had not yet extinguished the sputtering tallow candle and could see the water beginning to flow under the door and form rivulets on the uneven earthen floor. Other than his low cot with its corn-shuck mattress, the only piece of furniture was a three-legged stool. He stepped carefully on still-dry places and placed his belongings on a slab-board shelf that extended across one end of the room, then blew out the candle, crawled onto the cot, adjusted the blanket around himself, and prepared to sleep. But a kaleidoscope of images of the last few days remained vivid in his mind despite his efforts to think only of benign and peaceful things.

His memory of the Charles Town visit was pleasant. The governor had treated him warmly, welcoming him into his private office and even offering him a cup of tea. Brown realized the political overtones of this relationship. He was aware of the prevailing rumor that he was the bastard son of Lord North, now prime minister, and that his presence in the colonies had been arranged at the highest level in London. He had not tried to correct the mistake. Brown felt that some enemies of his had spread the lie when he had received such a large land grant, but he felt that it might be to his advantage not to dispute the rumor of his personal ties to the highest official in London, save the king himself.