The Whiskey Rebel

“Then bring me in,” I said. “Tell me what you do.”

“I have not permission for that. You of all men must understand that I am in a difficult position. Were it in my power to trust you, I would. But I must act alone, and you must stay away from anything involving the Million Bank, stay away from anything involving the Bank of the United States, and stay away from Duer.” He rose. “You and I have been friends, Saunders, but do not test me on this. You know what I am capable of. Good day.”

Leonidas watched him leave. “He is unhappy.”

“Rather unkind of him to take out his frustration on us, don’t you think?” I signaled the boy to place our orders, but he did not come over. Instead, an older man in a very dirty apron manifested himself and came to our table. “Are you named Saunders?” he asked.

Leonidas stiffened considerably in his chair. I don’t know what he made ready for, but I suppose after ten years in my service he knew that any time a stranger recognized me, it might well mean trouble.

I told the man I was indeed who he thought, but there was nothing threatening in him. He was, in fact, naught but smiles. “Very good, sir. I’m meant to inform you that your orders, sir, for drinks only-spirituous drinks, you understand-are to be paid for at no charge to you. May I send you a bottle of our best claret, sir?”

“Yes, that would be very good. Better make it two,” I said.

“Ah, very good, sir. Your wine shall be with you anon.” He bowed and retreated backward for a few steps, as though afraid I might attack him if he turned away.

“Duer means to keep you drunk,” Leonidas said.

“Obviously.”

“He is clearly afraid of the damage you might do to him.”

“Certainly.”

“And what shall you do about it?”

“Drink his wine and then do the damage.”

T o the accompaniment of some very good wine indeed, we spent several hours watching small trades transpire about us. At 3 P.M. there was a mass exodus into one of the Merchants’ long rooms, where an auction in government securities was conducted by a man named John Pintard. It was a raucous and loud affair, and things happened far too quickly for me to understand who sold and who bought. Duer did not himself attend, but I noticed the unusually tall Isaac Whippo standing toward the back of the room, carefully observing each transaction.

After this, we retired back to the taproom, as did many of the speculators. The auction seemed to be only the most orderly and organized of the day’s activities, for the real trading took place afterward in comfort and semiprivacy.

Whippo left after the auction, which I considered to my advantage. I did not want him around to see me work my business. It had been of some value to sit and watch, to listen to men talk. It was an even greater advantage to invite them to talk with me, using the excellent free wine as an incentive. I decided it would be wrong of me, very wrong, not to use Duer’s assault upon my perceived weakness against him, and I spread it about that I was willing to share my bounty with any man willing to share information about Duer. No one precisely lined up, but as soon as one man left my table, another was willing to take his place. I listened to what each had to say and would ask the occasional question about Pearson, though this yielded little fruit. Some knew who he was and had seen him in New York, though not recently. Some asserted he worked with Duer, but none could say to what end or in what capacity.

I did hear a great deal about Duer, though, much of it contradictory. The Million Bank was indeed upon everyone’s lips, and while most men had absorbed the message Duer wished them to receive-that this project was a fiscal disaster in the making-I was also pleased to hear repeated back to me the very rumor I had spread that morning: that the Million Bank was poised to be a major enterprise, and that Duer himself had invested heavily.

I had been at my project almost two hours, and growing weary of it, when a shadow crossed over my table and a vaguely familiar voice greeted me. The man himself was uncompelling in stature, losing his hair precipitously, and dressed finely in a new suit of light blue material. It took a moment, but then I recognized him, for I’d met him at the Bingham house. This was the new senator from New York, Colonel Aaron Burr.

“I’d hoped to make your acquaintance once again,” he said, and sat without waiting to be invited.

I presented Leonidas to him, who nodded and spoke a few pleasant and forgettable words, as was his habit when I treated him as an equal. Burr looked at the bottle of wine, having clearly heard rumor of my bottomless supply. I called for a fresh glass and a fresh bottle.

With wine in hand, he appeared ever more relaxed. “What brings you to New York, Saunders? I hear you have been making inquiries of Duer. Are you making inquiries for Hamilton?”

“I’m merely curious,” I said.

He knew an obfuscation when he heard one, and I had no doubt he had issued more than his share. “Then you are not upon Treasury Department business?”

“I am upon personal business,” I said, as though this were but more casual conversation. “Tell me, have you seen Jacob Pearson here in New York?”

“I have seen him in New York, but not recently. Are you hoping to create a reunion of our little circle from the Bingham house?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the two of us, Pearson, and that delightful Mrs. Maycott.”

This was interesting. “She is in New York?”

“Oh, yes, she has rooms in a boardinghouse on Wall Street. You must be careful, though. A rich widow is always an attractive target, but her Irishman doesn’t let any suitors too close.”

It was tempting to jump to conclusions, but I could not know that this was the same Irishman I’d met outside the Statehouse. New York was more full of Irishmen than Ireland. “Have you met this guardian?”

“Oh yes. Very imposing fellow. Not young, but tall, hairless as an egg, and smelling of whiskey. I would not recommend crossing him.”

The charming and beautiful Mrs. Maycott, who claimed to be my best friend in this affair, was in league with the bald and giant Irishman from the Statehouse. This was disturbing news indeed.

“As for Pearson,” he continued, “that is a more difficult matter. They say he is hiding from the Treasury Department, though no one knows precisely why. I suppose that is why Freneau is passing his time here in New York. He must wish to find Pearson as well as you, though I imagine for different reasons.”

“Philip Freneau?” said Leonidas. “ Jefferson ’s newspaper man? What has he to do with all of this?”

“I don’t know,” said Burr, “but if you wish to know, I can think of no better method of discovering the truth than asking him. He is sitting across the room.”

Fortunately, he had the good sense to do no more than gesture with his head. I looked over, and there indeed was a gentleman I recognized. I could not disguise my astonishment. I knew the man’s name and I knew his face, but I had never before associated the one with the other. It was the frog-faced man whom I had seen watching me all over Philadelphia. He sat behind a pillar so he was mostly obscured, and he was looking away at the moment, but every few minutes he glanced in my direction. He took a lazy note on a piece of foolscap. The man who had appeared everywhere I went was Jefferson ’s newspaper man.

“He has been following me for some time,” I said to Burr. “Have you any idea why?”

“I imagine it is because he believes you can lead him to a story for his newspaper, and if it is for his paper, it must be something to make Hamilton look poorly.”

“Do you know the man?” I asked.

“Not well, but I know him a little. I’ve had a few social interactions.”

“Is he a physical man?” I asked. “Does he possess courage?”