Riviere-Pilote, Martinique ? In the languor of a steamy afternoon, the sweet aroma of fermenting sugar mingles with the scent of orchids, frangipani and hibiscus.

The perfume hangs over the La Mauny distillery, where Laurent Gervoise, a transplanted Frenchman, is at work on his sensuous concoction. One part chemistry to two parts instinct, the tough decisions on this French-ruled island’s proudest product have been made: the right patches of soil for growing the sugarcane, the perfect time to cut it, the optimum length of the stalks to be fed into the crusher to produce the freshest juice for “rhum agricole.”

Riding an international wave of demand, Caribbean rum producers are hard at work refining their famously ruffian wares for the connoisseur. Once a shameful profit of New World slavery, the rotgut fuel of the American Revolution and the favored tipple for frat parties and prom night, rum has entered the crystal-and-cigars splendor of fine parlors.

Ultra-premium rum sales grew 32 percent last year, faster than 10 of the 11 other spirits tracked by the Nielsen Co., outdone on the luxury front only by top-line tequilas.

Although much of the trade is controlled by a handful of multinational behemoths who mostly sell rum produced from distilled molasses, the exploding popularity of good rum presents struggling Caribbean economies such as Haiti, the Dominican Republic and Grenada with opportunities to cash in on the worldwide thirst for their upscale spirits.

One of the few unifying characteristics of the Caribbean, rum lubricates the mind and body for the swaying and savoring of Cuban salsa-dancing, Jamaican reggae, Trinidadian steelpan. It speaks to devotees in Spanish, English, Dutch, French, Portuguese, Creole, Papiamento and other patois. It conspires with tropical juices and the islands’ fragrant spices to offer a swelling palate of products, with more than 1,500 rums now being produced in factories and on family-run farms.

Mojitos might be hot across the global club scene. Daiquiris have held their own through decades of arriviste cocktails that go quickly out of fashion. But rum is on the ascendant, its analysts say, because of the exploding popularity of drinking the good stuff neat or over ice, rebuffing the centuries-old tradition of drowning its taste in juice, sugar and seltzer.

“It seems to have hit its moment. It’s like what happened with tequila – people realized it didn’t have to be nasty,” said Wayne Curtis, author of “And a Bottle of Rum: A History of the New World in Ten Cocktails.” All the growth in rum sales in recent years has been in super premium, Curtis noted. The clamor for top-quality boutique rums also has pushed mass producers such as Bacardi and Captain Morgan to introduce premium brands, much as the microbrew craze spurred companies such as Budweiser to add niche products to protect their slices of the expanding pie.

At La Mauny on Martinique, founded in 1749, Gervoise struggles to balance tradition with innovation. Should the 60-year-old cane press be replaced, or does its mechanical squeezing contribute that “je ne sais quoi” to the distillery’s concoction? Should the 19th-century brick-walled furnace give way to a more modern version?

“Rum is a living thing,” the distiller observed quietly, as if thinking out loud. “Some things about how you make it change. Others need to stay the same.”