Brown started to protest, but the colonel picked up papers from his desk and ostentatiously demonstrated that the conversation was over. His brief written report was still folded and unread. The lieutenant stumbled as he left the room, almost forgetting the pain in his foot as he left the building. What could Thompson have said? Why were not the military and political officers in an uproar, already planning how best to address the insults that had been leveled against the crown itself? He would write a full account, indeed, and would include his own recommendations on how best to take retaliatory action. He would also insist on supplementing the document with a personal visit with the governor, despite the ridiculous instruction to remain in his quarters. Surely this was because they had overestimated the seriousness of his burns and felt that he was not able to move about.

For now, he saw no alternative except to return to his room and await his call to see the governor, who had always treated him with respect, knowing of his possible relation to the prime minister. The physician appeared within an hour, examined his head and burned body with few remarks or questions, and finally said, “I believe you have had a concussion, but there is not much to be done about it. Except for the toes of your right foot and a few burns on the tops of your shoulders, the other wounds should heal in a few days if they do not become infected. You will have some scars, but they will be superficial. Do not break the blisters or cover them with grease or oil. You must keep the burned surfaces as clean as possible. I shall do my best to treat your toes, but I am afraid that you may lose at least two of them, and perhaps more.”

Brown listened impassively, even to the last remark. He was obsessed with anger and consternation, and when the doctor left he began writing furiously, filling sheet after sheet with his description of the seditious actions of which he and the royal government officials had been victims.

That night, Brown was aroused by a knock on his door and found the governor’s secretary, Mr. Appling, standing there. Still walking with a crutch, Brown invited the man to come in and sit down.

“When can I see the governor? I have some very important information to give him.”

“The governor has already received a full accounting from Mr. Thompson and only needs a written report from you so he can conclude the matter.”

“The hell you say! I have been seriously insulted and injured while on a personal mission for the governor, and I insist on being given an immediate opportunity to inform His Excellency and to join in the expedition to find and punish the hoodlums who committed this crime—not only against me, but against the crown itself.”