However, after the deaths of his friends, he had been pushed aside. The young prince, Dom Pedro II, fell under the influence of men who did not have the interests of southern Brazil at heart—one of those interests being the sale of jerky. The gauchos became angry because their jerky, which was sold only in Rio Grande do Sul, was being taxed out of the market. Meanwhile, imports from Argentina and Uruguay were not only able to avoid the tax, but being sold at a discount to the population. The gauchos rose up in defiance and Gonçalves, a native of Rio Grande do Sul, felt it was his duty to lead the rebellion.

The anger of Rio Grande do Sul spread into Santa Catarina, infecting everyone with its hunger for rebellion. Laguna buzzed with news of the riot in São Joaquim. Gauchos there had stormed the village center and burned down the constable’s building, with him inside. People argued in the streets. Those who were loyal to the king thought the rioters were rogue gauchos from Rio Grande do Sul. Others, who didn’t like the Imperial government’s influence, found the events inspiring. If São Joaquim could rebel against Brazil, so could Laguna.

I was living in the small home of my godfather with my mother and sister. Maria, the glorious wife of the ship caulker, had been sent home by her husband in disgrace. After four years of marriage she had not produced a child. By law, he was able to set her aside for another, younger bride who might be able to give him children.

Our godfather was often out. A house full of three bickering women was more than enough for a man who intended to be a bachelor his whole life. His small one-story house was three hundred yards from the harbor, but my mother liked to tell the other women, “We are on the right side of Laguna, west of the cathedral. We all know the east side is for the poor.” But really, there was not that much difference, especially since we were across the street from the cathedral.

At eighteen years old, I found my time at the washing well a welcome respite from my crowded home. There I could listen to the gossip while I took my time laundering our clothes. One morning while it was still cool I made my way down to the well. The rainy season was fading away and the bright sun poured over the city, giving it a pleasant warmth. As I was washing, I heard a soft sniffle behind me. I turned to find Manoel standing there. Dark red veins spiderwebbed the whites of his eyes. He sniffled, wrinkling his nose.

“Hello, wife.”

“Manoel.” I bundled the shirt that I was holding into a ball in front of me. “Why are you here?”

Manoel smiled. “I just came to see you. It’s been a while; you look well.”

“What do you want?” I asked.

He sighed deeply. “I’ve joined the Imperial cavalry. We are riding south.”