The Whiskey Rebel

“I wonder if there are things of which you might be more certain,” I said, “if you went about your affairs in a different way or had the benefit of more experience.”

At once it all became clear to me, like a vision: Lavien and I working side by side, his curious physical prowess and my abilities as a spy. I’d had too much to drink, I suppose, and had been confronted by the past too unexpectedly. I had not thought of being in service for some time now-years, perhaps-but suddenly it seemed close enough to touch. Were I to find myself a coequal with Lavien, would that not erase the tarnish that had been placed upon my name all those years ago? Could I not appear in better circles without the whispering and pointing and awkward conversation? The encounter with this remarkable man, in service to Hamilton, and my contact with Cynthia Pearson, who made all things seem bright and wonderful, left me with the unexpected notion that I could rejoin the brotherhood of respectable men, that I could be useful once more. The thought of it was every bit as intoxicating as the wine.

“You misunderstand me,” he said, “I have been sworn to secrecy on this matter, and on all matters relating to my work for the Treasury Department. I am sorry, Captain Saunders. I understand that you have a personal interest in this, but I ca

“But he shall never give me permission. Hamilton despises me.”

Lavien looked distraught, like a child told there were to be no sweets. “I am certain you are mistaken. I have heard him speak of you, and he has had only flattering things to say. He tells me you were an exceptional spy.”

“What else has he told you?” I could not help but suspect that Lavien was lying to flatter me or for some other deceptive end.

He smiled. “He said you were remarkably clever in your dealings with people-that if you wished you could talk the devil himself into selling you his soul.”

These words surprised me. Perhaps Hamilton had spoken of me after all, and in these flattering terms. Still, it did not change things. “Nevertheless, he dislikes me.”

“I suggest you visit him, put your case to him yourself. In the meantime, Captain, if you know of anything that can help me find Pearson or aid his family, I hope you will tell me.”

I thought about the note in my pocket, the one from Cynthia. I thought about my encounter with the Irishman. Surely he would like to know these things. If he were unwilling to aid me, however, I would not share with him. Indeed, it seemed increasingly necessary that I conduct my own inquiry. I would find the wretched Pearson, and I would protect Cynthia from whatever dangers lurked around her.

“Where did you learn to do such things?” I asked. “To move so quickly and silently?”

His eyes moved this way and that, a sure sign that he considered a fabrication, but in the end his words sounded like truth. “I was in Surinam, sir. The Maroon uprisings.”

I am not a man easily impressed, but here was something. The Maroons-with their mixture of African and Indian blood-were said to be among the most vicious fighters in the world, ruthless in their quest for land and liberty. They lived by a rigorous code of honor, but any man they called enemy would die and die hard.

“Good Lord,” I said softly. “You fought the Maroons? You must have seen Hell itself at the hands of those godless savages.”

“You misunderstand me,” he said. “I fought with the Maroons, for their freedom. It was they who taught me to do what I do.”

Had he told me he fought on behalf of the moon in its war against the sun, I could not have been more surprised. I had never before heard of a white man siding with the Maroons. I had never even heard of a white man being allowed to live by the Maroons. “You fought alongside those dusky savages?” I managed.

“Neither their complexion nor their degree of civilization interested me,” he said, his voice rather flat. “Only that they were wronged.”

There was nothing to say, not to a man who would help a pack of ca

“As for my difficulties,” I said.

Lavien, perhaps eager to change the subject himself, waved me off. He told me he had no sums of money to give away, but he would be honored to have me as a guest for his evening meal and to spend the night. He would have his woman make up the garret for me. If I wished to refresh myself with a washbasin, that too could be arranged. He managed to make the suggestion sound generous and not an unkind comment upon my state.

I took him up on his offer and cleaned myself as best I could.

In the meantime, his sitting room had been turned to a dining room, with the table assembled from its various pieces. The old crone laid it out quite elegantly, with fine silver and handsome drinking glasses. The room was well lit, and the food was plentiful. Yet, for such refinement, Lavien conducted himself like a peasant by bringing his children to the table. We sat with a pretty girl with fair hair whom I guessed to be seven years of age, and her younger brother, no more than two. The food was of the Hebrew variety, filled with strange spices and flavors but by no means unpalatable to a man open to alien sensations. The wine was superb, for Jews ever have co

It astonished me that Lavien, whom I had judged to be so hardened and cruel, cut off from human society by his past and by his skills, was a different creature altogether with his wife and children. He was open and easy, obviously delighting in their company. Once, when his daughter made an unusually mature and earnest observation, he and his wife burst into peals of rich laughter. Lavien had seen and drawn blood, hunted white men for Maroons, eaten human flesh for all I knew, and yet found comfort in domestic quiet. The envy I felt for him made my heart ache.

After di

“I did things which I am now ashamed to own,” he said, “though I am not ashamed of the cause. I believe that all men, African, Indian, and European alike, are equal in the eyes of God and of nature. It is only in the eyes of one another that inequity lies. I grew up in the West Indies, upon the island of Nevis, and, pressed into the family business, I visited Surinam. There I was abducted by the Maroons, who thought to use me as a hostage, or perhaps they would have killed me out of vengeance. I convinced them, however, that I was of a different tribe, one as despised by their oppressors as their own, and through a series of circumstances I shall not now relate, I remained with them for two years, embracing their cause, though at the same time attempting to temper it.”

“It must have been trying to live among them,” I said.

“At times it was, but I did not live wholly among them. I would travel to white settlements, where my co