The Sacred Shore (2011)
“Not even the Atlantic crossing had left him feeling so helpless. At least there he had a ship’s company at his beck and call. Here in Andrew’s village he was not only unrecognized, he was unwelcome.
He had started off badly. Georgetown had but one inn, and Charles had criticized the innkeeper’s only daughter for bringing him a breakfast platter of black tea and bread husks so hard he could scarcely bite through them. The innkeeper had heard Charles out, then coldly replied, “Feel free to get your own breakfast, for my family will serve you no longer.” Nor had they. When he had complained a second time, the innkeeper told him straight out the only reason Charles did not find himself sleeping in the forest was because he was the pastor’s brother, and a finer man God had never made—a pity the same could not be said for the reverend’s kin. It was the last word anyone within the inn had spoken to him.
That had been five days ago.
Since then, Charles had taken his meals with his brother’s family.
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