The Butcher's Daughter

Chapter 20

New York

Prior to Charlestown's fall to the British...

The British term for a frequently visited place is a "haunt". There is some irony to this chosen word, of course, because each night that William walked from the barracks to the pub down the street, he felt like less of a man and more of a ghost. There, he would listen and observe from his favorite corner in the cavernous, brown taproom. The space was overflowing with sound and song, but the noise that surrounded him blurred into a pleasant buzz that successfully concealed the curses that he made into the bottom of his earthenware mug. His was a nearly nameless face amidst the legions of soldiers who passed through town and while the anonymity had its perks, he longed to be remembered by the select few who knew his name as something other than the seasick lad who punched Major Andre in the face on the voyage from England. But what? What sort of a name would Cornet Tavington make for himself before returning home from the colonies?

This question, among others, were carefully considered as the ale softly relaxed and contorted his mind. One evening, when he was still relatively new in town and had yet to blend in and become part of the pubs proverbial "furniture", the drink coaxed him back to the same trapped and panicked state of mind that he had entered into on the ship. In short, William needed to punch someone. Amidst the sea of petty gossipers, one voice always managed to stand out. No matter how low and hushed those words became, William could hear the complaints that Captain Bordon made about him as though they were a multitude of booming screams.

"He'll be the first to die in battle, to be sure," Bordon told the others at the bar with half concern and half mockery, "in a few year's time, Tavington will be a fine soldier, but for now his technique is no match for his ambition."

"It's a pity, too," Andre added, sitting his pretty arse on the stool beside his friend, "he doesn't have enough time to improve. To my understanding, our cavalry is-" the appearance of Tavington's hand on the surface of the table brought Andre's thought to a sudden halt. "Ah, it appears the little guppy has lost his way and is asking the sharks for directions. Piss pots are down the hall and to the right."

Of the group, William was the only sober one and he decided to use this to his advantage. He politely asked Bordon, who already had the grand total of five drinks under his belt, to step outside. The second that the burly captain obliged, with a stumble, I might add, the punches began to fly, giving the smaller of the two soldiers an edge. William had no intention of taking this conflict into the street, his plan was to humiliate Bordon in front of the cluster of high ranking officers and it seemed to work. That is, of course, until Andre intervened by pulling his pistol and aiming right between William's fiery eyes.

"That is enough, Tavington. You've had your fun," Andre could see out of the corner of his eye that Bordon was managing to pull himself up just fine and gave William his full attention, "I can read you like a book, soldier. If you're looking for a title for yourself other than an impulsive, cowardly pipsqueak who throws random punches at inebriated men, may I suggest... being less of an impulsive, cowardly pipsqueak who throws random punches at inebriated men?"

It wasn't so much this comment that cut to his core than the seemingly immediate recovery of Bordon, who returned to his seat and ordered another drink while ignoring William as if he were nothing more than an intruding child. "Captain Bordon?" He further imposed, garnering several sighs of annoyance from around the bar. "Titles are an interesting subject, don't you think? Certainly, I am not the only soldier in the pub who is curious about yours. Why don't you indulge us? How ever did a loyalist colonial, born and raised on some smelly farm in New Jersey, come to rise so high in the ranks? Hm? It would appear the subject of gossip doesn't only apply to," he snuck in a stabbing glare at Major Andre, "guppies like myself..."