Bordon's Girl

CHAPTER 28 Life Goes On

At the Fort, Colonel Tavington rapped on the door to General Lord Cornwallis’ office.

“Come in,” Lord Cornwallis called through the closed door.

“Sir,” Tavington said, with a quick bow of his head.

“Ah, Colonel,” said Cornwallis. “It’s good to see you out and about.”

“Thank you,” the Colonel said cordially.

The General motioned to Tavington, offering him a chair to sit in. William sat in the chair across the desk from his superior.

Cornwallis stopped what he was doing and leaned back in his chair. He looked pleased at the distraction. “So, what brings you here today, Colonel?”

“I want an assignment,” he answered bluntly.

“Colonel, you’re in mourning,” replied Cornwallis.

“For how long?” asked Tavington, nearly cutting the General short. “Forever? I can’t stay away forever. The war doesn’t stop for mourning. My men need me.” He was very direct and cold with his words, as if he had pushed his emotion over the death of his wife and child into the very depths of his soul, where it could not affect him anymore.

“Colonel Tavington, you need the time off to rest—“

“Just give me an assignment,” Tavington snapped, then remembered himself. “Please.”

“I don’t think you’re fit for duty yet,” remarked Cornawallis. “You need to be able to think clearly.”

“I’ve done nothing but! Everything is painfully clear right now! My wife and child are dead and I can’t do a God damned thing about it!”

Cornwallis sighed. Normally, he would have reprimanded a subordinate for that tone of voice, but he understood the officer’s pain.

“I don’t think it’s wise,” Cornwallis said patiently. Tavington knew his commander was politely refusing his request.

“Shall I beg?” Will asked. He continued on, pleading his cause. “My Lord, I am desperate. If I have to spend one more day alone in our room or one more hour standing over their grave, I will go mad!”

“Colonel, mourning takes time,” the General stated in an almost fatherly voice.

“Please,” begged William, “just give me something to keep my mind off of it!”

“Tavington, you can’t hide from the grief.”

“I know,” Will agreed, “But I think it will help my grieving to get back to normal life as soon as possible.”

“Life will never be normal for you again,” warned Cornwallis carefully.

“Well, if not normal,” began Tavington, “then as close to routine as possible.”

Cornwallis was quiet for a moment as he thought. He certainly understood Colonel Tavington’s feelings for he, too, had lost his wife in the recent years. He needed Tavington, as well, for he was one of his most valuable commanders. He knew that the Colonel was always first and foremost a soldier.

After another moment of thinking, he decided that Tavington could put death and mourning out of his mind long enough for the duty at hand. He figured that the Colonel could have time to mourn whenever he was off duty, for those were the longest hours.

“Alright, Colonel,” the General began, “I have an assignment for you then.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Tavington said, with a small hint of relief in his voice.

Cornwallis motioned for his subordinate officer to follow him to the map table. He pointed to Fort Carolina on the map, then traced an invisible trail on it to another point.

“Colonel Tavington, you know that I am very anxious to finish this thing and get back to England. We have received reliable information that the Colonial Regular Army and the Colonial Militia have gathered here. I am sending troops and cavalry here to engage them and put an end to this conflict once and for all. And, I have high hopes that our superior strength and tactics will defeat them.”

He tapped his finger over a spot on the map and paused thoughtfully. He looked at William and continued. “Yes, Colonel, I believe these Colonials are going to meet their end at this place…….these Cowpens.”

* * * * * *

Colonel Tavington sat tall and proud upon his horse. He peered through his long glass and viewed the Colonial’s positions on the field below his hilltop perch at Cowpens. His unit stood behind him on their horses, waiting for him to receive a signal then call a charge.

William thought back to yesterday, recalling a musing that had dominated his mind as he rode to this place. He reflected on how only the day before he had battled with himself. Part of him wanted to live through this battle, but most of him hoped he would get killed. Now, as he stared at the humanity upon the field before him, his English pride came back to him. He wanted to live out the war and become a hero. He wished to fight bravely and brilliantly, and for this to end in glory. His mourning had truly been set aside for the time being, and he concentrated wholly on the matter at hand, and how best to be victorious!

In true Tavington style, he ignored orders, took initiative and called for a charge without receiving a signal from his superiors. His men followed him, as usual, knowing this was their commander’s way of doing things, and there was no argument from them.

They surged down the hill and straight into the jaws of the battle. Tavington, as usual, felt no fear. He swung his sword with all his strength. He hacked away at the enemy with agility, speed, and flexibility from his mount. He deftly shot with his pistol and regularly hit his mark, while riding. Tavington reloaded with fast precision, able to get off many shots at his enemies.

At one point in the battle, the Colonial militia had retreated, which had been a ploy to deceive the enemy, and a mass of Colonial Regulars soon appeared. The English were forced to fall back and regroup for another charge. Tavington’s unit was on the retreat back for reposition, when suddenly, William noticed Benjamin Martin. It was as if all the other men on the field were a mirage; a blur. Tavington had turned his head only momentarily, and looked right at the Ghost. To him, it was an amazing moment. It was as if someone or something had just dropped Martin there right in front of him. How lucky could he get?

Tavington smiled impishly to himself. This is it, Tav old boy, he thought. This is your chance! It’s now or never! And it truly was the time. William had the advantage in the situation for he was still upon his horse, and Martin was on the ground alone as all those around him fought for their lives. To Will, he felt that if he could get rid of this one man, then he could destroy, or at least hamper, the organization, morale, and backbone of Martin’s rebel militia followers. He reasoned that this would therefore inflict major damage to the rebel cause. Truly, finishing off Benjamin Martin was ridding the English army of a big thorn in their side!

The two men stared at each other for a moment, each daring a silent challenge to the other. Then, William’s heels pressed in to his horse’s ribs and he charged straight at Martin. His sword flashed silver and crimson in the daylight as he held it straight before him. It appeared that he had the upper hand, for Martin offered no resistance.

But as William’s horse bore down on the Ghost, Martin quickly pulled out a flagstaff to use as a lance. Before Will could get the beast stopped, it was impaled on the makeshift spear. The speed of the things sent William sailing over his horse through the air. He landed hard on the ground. He was surprised as he could still move all his limbs.

William got to his feet slowly and tried to shake the cobwebs out of his head. He looked around the fighting, still disoriented, searching for Martin. When he regained his bearings, he finally spotted the Ghost before him, aiming his gun straight at him. William straightened up and stood tall, bracing himself with courage to get shot, and unafraid to take the bullet.

Martin’s bullet tore through Tavington’s upped left arm, causing him to groan aloud. He was secretly relieved that it had only hit his arm and missed the other vital targets.

With weapon in hand. Will raised his sword and the two men charged at each other. Martin and Tavington fought hard with each other. Each man could see the other wearing down, but neither would give up. They parried, sliced, stabbed, punched, and lunged with veteran experience and strength. Even with a bullet wound and some blade slice injuries, Tavington still fought like a man possessed.

Before he knew, he had cut Martin down with a mighty blow. He had the advantage and couldn’t resist taunting the Ghost about it.

“Kill me before the war is over, will you,” he teased, recalling these same words Benjamin had vowed to him that day at Fort Carolina. Tavington continued, panting and nearly breathless with fatigue as he did. “It seems that you are not the better man!”

William drew his sabre backwards and swung it with all his strength to behead the rebel leader kneeling before him. What William hadn’t seen was that Benjamin had managed to pickup a musket with bayonet still attached. In mid swing, Martin made a lightning fast turn and impaled Colonel Tavington upon the thing.

William felt tremendous pain, then realized he had just been stabbed. He looked at Benjamin Martin in wide eyed surprise, still unable to believe what had just happened.

Martin had him by the collar with the point of another bayonet in his hand against Will’s throat. William had lost his strength incredibly fast and was unable to fight back. He prepared himself to die.

“No,” said Martin. “My son’s were better men.” He then plunged the blade into Tavington’s throat, severing his windpipe. The Ghost walked away, leaving Tavington impaled helplessly upon the instrument of torture. William knew instantly that his deathbed would be the bayonet and battlefield.

Ready to die and unafraid, William surrendered without a fight to death. His last thoughts were of his wife and daughter, and how happy he’d been these last months. He didn’t have the strength left to smile at the thoughts.

Colonel William Tavington closed his eyes, gasped his last breath, and the world went black.