Author's note: I apologize so much for this being an overdue update. Real life has kept me so busy since the last update! Again, thanks to all of you for being patient, and for sticking with this long story that has turned into an epic! It is nearing the end, I swear!

Thanks JScorpio

Chapter 70 Parole And Misbehavior

November-December 1781 New York ...

General Charles O'Hara hurried down Wall Street in New York to the residence where four of his cavalry officers had been billeted during their parole. The brigadier carried the message for them that Earl Cornwallis needed to see them right away.

He finally arrived at the home, a modest one which had been confiscated from a rebel sympathizer years before when New York was first occupied by the British. It was a three story, single room wide row home, in the style of some of the homes in London.

General O'Hara knocked at the door. It was opened swiftly by an older woman with a cross look on her face.

"Good evening, Ma'am. I'm General Charles O'Hara," he greeted cordially, "Is General Tavington in?"

"No," she answered flatly.

"I see. How about Colonel Tarleton?"

"No—they're all gone."

"When are they due back?" asked the general.

"I don't know," the housekeeper replied, "They don't check in with me, and they never seem to make an early evening of it."

"Did they leave word where they went?"

"No."

"Do you have any idea where they may be?", O'Hara asked, now growing concerned, needing to find the men and hoping they weren't up to trouble like the rumours that had made their way back to Lord Cornwallis.

"There is a pub, 'The Fox and Hare Tavern'," the servant began, "which they talk a lot of, so I assume they must frequent it. It's a couple of blocks over and around the corner."

"Thank you," the officer answered.

"If they aren't at the tavern," informed the housekeeper, "then just look for the trail of empty liquor bottles, discarded women, angry men, and unpaid debts. Follow that and you'll surely find them at the end of it!"

"Unpaid debts….," O'Hara echoed, cringing as he did.

"Yes. Why those two red haired fellows already owe money all over the city, word is," she declared. "You ain't the only one that's been to this door looking for them!"

Charles O'Hara closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was as his superior Cornwallis had suspected: his officers had been behaving badly while on parole. One of the most specific conditions of the parole of the British officers was for the officers to remain on good behavior.

"And none of those officers have paid me in days," the housekeeper commented, breaking the general's thoughts.

With that, O'Hara reached into his own pocket and retrieved a couple of coins. "Here you go ma'am," he said as he placed two sovereigns in the woman's hand. "The Crown always pays its debts. His Majesty most appreciates you taking care of his noble officers."

"Noble?" she scoffed. "King George needs to put leashes on those soldiers! They seem to have forgotten their manners!"

The officer once again reached into his pocket and found another coin. He handed the woman the silver piece with a nervous and awkward smile. "Uh…for your trouble….ma'am."

With that, General O'Hara tipped his hat to the woman, turned, and headed down the street. As he did, the cavalry officer's housekeeper called after him.

"Good Luck, Sir. I'm sure there will be trouble wherever you find them."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

About ten minutes later, General O'Hara arrived at the Fox and Hare Pub. He was greeted by what was a broken chair, laying in pieces on the sidewalk in front of the establishment. It had obviously been thrown through the broken window in front. He could hear the shouts of angry men inside. He closed his eyes, and sighed, feeling in his gut that he'd found the officers he was looking for.

He hesitated outside for a moment, trying to find the courage to go into the place. Just as he did, Major George Hanger appeared in the window, hanging his upper body out of it, trying to suck in some fresh air.

Inside a brawl was going on between the local colonials and a certain four dragoon officers. Apparently, a running bar tab had not been paid by one of the officers and was called in today by the barkeep. Also, one of the locals recognized Major Hanger as the man who had skipped out of a card game the other night owing money.

"Major, I need to see General Tavington," O'Hara yelled above the din.

Major Hanger pushed himself up off the windowsill and looked back into the bar. He could see Tavington throwing punches at some of the locals.

George looked back at the general and answered, slurring his words. "Uh…..he's busy right now."

"What about Colonel Tarleton, then?", asked the general.

Hanger once again looked back into the pub. He spotted Banastre Tarleton. The colonel was being held against the wall by two large colonials, while another showered the man with punches.

"Uh….he's tied up as well," answered a drunken Hanger.

A frustrated General O'Hara then walked into the pub. He looked about to see his best officers fighting the local colonials. There was broken glass and furniture strewn about. The officer saw Major Wilkins, who was in a corner trying to hold off a man with his sword.

O'Hara tried yelling to his cavalry officers but apparently his voice could not be heard above the noise. The brigadier, frustrated over the whole situation, calmly removed his pistol from its holster. He then fired a shot into the ceiling.

The fighting and noise within the establishment immediately stopped. Ban was let go from being held against the wall. He fell to the floor on all fours and began coughing, trying to catch his breath.

"Shall I call for the constable?," the general asked curtly.

An obviously alarmed man vaulted over the bar and ran up to General O'Hara. The officer figured the man to be the barkeeper, and that he was afraid for the police to come.

"That won't be necessary sir," he declared. "But if you please, if you know these redcoat officers, please take them with you. They cause trouble every time they come in here."

"Why don't you just ban then from coming in here, then?", asked the General.

"I can't sir," the barman replied. "I need their business!"

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

General O'Hara soon gathered his cavalry officers and left. They painted a picture of wretchedness as they walked down the street. Their uniforms were torn and bloodied, and their neatly queued hair was coming loose from the plait braids, or had escaped altogether and hung loosely about their shoulders.

"Really, gentlemen," the General began, "The way you are acting is a disgrace! It is no way for esteemed officers of the Crown to conduct themselves, especially in front of these…..peasants."

The cavalry officers said nothing as they walked along behind the general, still nursing their wounds. O'Hara glared back at them. Then his expression changed to surprise as he stopped in his tracks. Tavington, Wilkins, and Tarleton, tired and beaten, kept walking around the stopped officer, only wanting to find chairs to flop down into.

"Aren't any of you concerned that Major Hanger is lying face down in the gutter?," asked O'Hara as he stood over the obviously passed out officer.

Wilkins stopped walking, said nothing, and turned back, taking a few steps over to the unconscious major. He reached down and picked the diminutive officer up. He slung him across his shoulders, gripping the younger soldier's arm and leg.

"You'd better sober him up before he sees the general," suggested O'Hara.

"No need," offered Banastre. "He'll feel better in a few moments after he wakes up—or throws up."

"Sir," began Tavington, "I'm a little puzzled as to why the Earl would send his top general to fetch us."

"Yeah," Ban agreed. "That's an aide-de-camp's duty."

O'Hara gave both men a sharp look, then answered them. "Well the Lord General is a little short of aide-de-camps. The lower ranking adjutants were sent to the rebel prison."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

A few moments later, the motley looking bunch stood before General Lord Cornwallis in his office. The earl had the good fortune to be ensconced in one of the finest mansions in all of New York.

Lord Cornwallis looked at the roughed up officers before him, then spoke his mind. "Well, I guess the rumors are true," he declared. "I can see that the devil has made good use of your idle hands."

All four of the officers began speaking at once, seeming to forget their ranks. The two married officer's strain from worry over their wives at home alone, Wilkins' wondering about his wife giving birth and how she and the baby were faring, and the fact that both had been away from their plantation businesses for so long had finally broken them. They vented their frustration here.

"Sir, in me and General Tavington's defense," Wilkins began, only to be drowned out by Ban.

"Sir it wasn't our fault," Ban said. "We were just minding our own business in the pub having a few ales—"

"Tav and I have done nothing since we have been on parole but save your two asses!," Wilkins shouted at Tarleton.

"Yes—you both owe money all over town and can't cover your debts!" William yelled.

"Yes! Your gambling debts and bar tabs," Wilkins defended. "We can't go anywhere in town without being accosted!"

"We don't have it as good as the two of you wealthy plantation owners," Ban shot back.

"Bloody Hell!," Tavington retorted. "Your families are as well off as ours—they just don't want to cover your debts anymore."

"You've used up all the women in town," Wilkins remarked. "Treated them all like whores."

"They're all strumpets!," Ban pointed out. "Their only concerns are to make 'lobster kettles' of themselves."

George Hanger had said nothing up to this point. He was weaving with drunkenness, being held up by the others. Suddenly, he bent over and vomited at the feet of General Cornwallis.

The Earl remained calm. He spoke in a patronizing tone. "Do you feel better now, Major?

"Yes sir," Hanger answered while wiping his mouth with his handkerchief. "Thank you, sir."

"Well shall we move this meeting into the outer vestibule now that Major Hanger saw fit to redecorate my office with his vomit?" Cornwallis asked.

The group of officers moved into the outer room. The Earl continued on speaking with the bunch.

"Gentlemen, enough!", Lord Cornwallis began. "I've had complaints from residents and business owners all over New York. Your misbehavior is putting our fragile parole agreement with the rebels at risk."

The Earl heaved a sigh, then went on. "Really, men. You are my finest officers, and I include the late Major Bordon in that as well. But, you can't seem to stay out of trouble both on and off duty!"

"Now, I've learned more about parole terms", the Earl said, changing the subject. "We are to stay here a few more days. The lot of us from England, they will be deporting us back there. Wilkins, since you are a colonial loyalist, they are sending you to Nova Scotia."

"They can't do this to us!," Wilkins protested. "We have wives and plantations in South Carolina. My wife has given birth for all I know and have no idea as to whether she and my child are well or did not survive it. I'm anxious to get home."

"Yes. And although I am from England and still have family there, I am married to a colonial and of course, want and need to stay here," Tavington spoke up. "We have established businesses there. We can't go anywhere. They can't make us!"

"No! They CAN do this to us," Cornwallis corrected. "They don't want us staying here—living among them. They want us gone. Your abominable misconduct both on and off duty has not helped things."

"I won't go! I refuse," Tavington said.

"I'm with him," Wilkins affirmed.

"I'm afraid you don't have a choice," the Lord General confirmed. "When the ship leaves, you will be on it!"

After the men were dismissed, they walked along the sidewalks back to their temporary residence. Colonel Tarleton lagged behind, helping a still quite drunken Major Hanger to walk. This allowed a little distance between the pair of married officers, and the bachelor officers. It also gave Tavington and Wilkins a few moments to privately discuss a plan of action—their next step. Both men were adamant that they would not leave their wives and homes in South Carolina just for a parole agreement.

"Look, those two can mess about all they like," Tavington said in a low voice, turning to Wilkins as they walked along, "they've got no ties. But we've got to look for some way to get home, even if it means breaking parole."

"Yes, I agree," Wilkins said. "Let's start quietly looking around and putting the word out discreetly and maybe we can come up with something."

"In the meantime," Tavington added, "let's keep this between us only. Tell no one—especially either of those two back there. Who knows which drunken and slack jaw would reveal our plans and kill our chances to get home."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

In the days following the meeting with General Cornwallis, Hanger and Tarleton continued their carefree whoring and gambling while Tavington and Wilkins were out scouring the city of New York looking for a scheme to get them back home. Within a few days, Wilkins found a strong possibility for a passage home to South Carolina.

James entered the residence one afternoon with a Jesuit priest in tow, surprising Tavington. William stood immediately, showing some respect for the clergyman.

"Hello father," he said, then pulled Jim aside and whispered, "What's with the priest?"

"I believe he is our way back to South Carolina," answered James. "He has a group that may be able to smuggle us out."

"Oh," Will answered.

"He's French and speaks no English," Wilkins informed. "I'll speak to him for both of us."

Jim had learned French on a couple of visits to France with his father years ago when the elder Wilkins was looking for advice in his winery business. Though not fluent, he had enough grasp of the language to carry on a halfway faltering conversation with apologies.

He asked the priest and Tavington to join him upstairs where they could discuss details privately. They moved upstairs to the bedroom that had the larger table in it, and were embarrassed to find Major Hanger and Colonel Tarleton up there, on the beds with women. They were engaged in various stages of fondling with some items of clothing already missing.

Wilkins cleared his throat, getting the two officers' attention. The men and their women immediately stopped what they were doing and began throwing the missing apparel back on as quickly as they could, embarrassed to have been caught doing this in the presence of a clergyman.

"Uh…yes," Tarleton said, trying to save face, "That is an example of how a lewd man will try to seduce you. Hello father. We are educating these virgins to the dangers of lascivious living."

"Yes," Hanger spoke up, carrying on the ruse. He turned to the two trollops with them. "You two should strive to keep your maidenheads intact…..Oh, and say your prayers every night."

"You two can stop the act," Tavington said, rolling his eyes. "He doesn't speak English."

"Take your harlots and get the Hell out for an hour or so," Wilkins requested sharply.

"Certainly you can find some back alley in which to fuck them," William said.

One of the strumpets spoke up to Tavington and Wilkins. "Well, when we're finished with them, would you like us to come back and take care of you two?"

"I'm afraid the bulk of what money we have left is going to be employed elsewhere," Wilkins informed.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

After an hour of discussions in French with the Jesuit priest, he gave the two officers a handshake and left with a smile on his face. A few moments after the minister's departure, Tavington and Wilkins sat back down at the table and talked about the scheme.

"So let me get this straight," William began, "We have to buy him a wagon and make a sizeable donation to the nuns to start their mission in Georgia just to travel with him and the nuns out of New York?"

"Yes," Jim answered, "Not to mention I have to send him the best wine from my winery for a year."

"Christ! I thought priests took a vow of poverty?" swore William, "He's cleaned us out of all of our money!"

"As head of a parish, he must be a business man as well."

"Businessman? Try brigand!," exclaimed Tavington. "He plundered us like a pirate!"

"You didn't think we were going to get back to South Carolina on charity and good will, did you?," Wilkins asked.

"Well, let's see," William thought aloud, "If I call in my debts from Tarleton and Hanger alone, that should cover the cost of a Conestoga."

"Sir, you know that money is gone. You'll never see it again."

"Yes—I'm afraid you're right," agreed General Tavington.

"I've got a business associate here in New York that could possibly loan us what we don't have," explained Wilkins. "He knows that our money is tied up back home and knows that we will make good on the loan."

"Yes, you know I am good for the money when I get back to the plantation. Melanie says we are doing well."

"Hmph!," Wilkins retorted. "Your late father-in-law's plantation always did do well!"

With that, the two officers heard a door slam downstairs, then footsteps coming up the stairs. They saw George and Banastre enter the room without the two women who'd been in their company just an hour before. Both younger men had glum looks on their faces.

Tavington leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, resting it on his fingers laced together. A mischievous smile crossed his face as he greeted to two younger officers. "Well, what happened to the Virgin Mary and St. Ann?"

"The pastor spoilt their moods," George answered.

As both men plopped down in the other chairs at the table, they looked suspiciously at Wilkins and Tavington.

"Why would you two bring a priest here, in this sacred spot where you know we bring our women," asked Ban in a smart tone.

Wilkins answered, remembering his pact with William not to tell anyone of their plans lest they get spoiled. "We've converted to Catholicism and had to go to confession."

Tarleton knew better than the attempt at humor Wilkins gave to deflect the question. He decided to pry a bit further. "No…..No…..You two have something planned," he said pointing an accusing finger across the table at his fellow officers.

With that, William came out of his reclining position to lean forward over the table. He shot a harsh, menacing, look of threat to both the younger officers across from him, warning them with his eyes and face not to ask any more questions about the subject. "No….Ban. We have no plans at all."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

A few days into December, while still on parole, Wilkins, Tavington, Hanger, and Tarleton were enjoying a leisurely stroll through a nearby park. It was a mild day, not as cold at the previous days, and the men had been stir crazy to get outside other than just walking between home and taverns and brothels.

From where they stood in their group on a side path, they looked over and saw two very well dressed colonial regular officers walking along the main promenade. Something about one of the men caught their attention. They finally realized that they recognized him from Yorktown.

"Hey—isn't that the same son of a bitch that is one of General Washington's adjutants," Ban asked aloud to all present.

" I believe so," answered George. "Isn't he the one we had words with in Yorktown in the prison enclosure?"

"Yes. That's him. Colonel Laurens was his name," Tavington recalled, never forgetting the haughty, assured expression on the man's face as he called back to the group when they were restraining Banastre after they'd been snubbed for dinner with the colonial officers.

"He said we'd lied about Melanie's rape," Tavington said angrily.

"Who's that with him?", asked Tarleton. The group of British hadn't noticed that their colonial Tory friend and officer had wandered away from their group.

"Well, if it isn't James Wilkins," the older officer with Colonel Laurens called. "I last saw you in 1776 in the assembly in Charles Towne. You spoke out against the rebellion. Now you wear a redcoat uniform."

"Harry Burwell," Wilkins retorted. "You were there recruiting traitors. I was there protecting my business interests."

"It's General Burwell now," corrected the colonial officer. "And now you are here, an officer for the Crown, on parole in New York."

William, hearing all this, gave no warning to the officers around him and interrupted the exchange between Burwell and Wilkins. Tavington charged between them, grabbing Burwell by the collar and pinning him to a large oak tree nearby.

"Do you know who I am?," snarled William into the face of the officer, "I'm Melanie Prescott's husband."

Burwell was surprised by the blindside attack, but quickly recovered his composure. With no fear, he answered back to the man pinioning him to the tree. "Oh, so you're 'the Butcher of the Carolinas'."

He paused as Tavington still held him there, then went on boldly. "It wasn't enough for her to fuck Brutal Bordon but she had to invite the Butcher Tavington into her bed as well? Is Lord Cornwallis next since she is working her way up the chain of British command?"

"I should kill you right now," Tavington growled. "You raped my wife."

"Your wife is a liar," Burwell said as he shook himself loose from Tavington's grip.

About that time, the three British officers were pulling William away from Burwell, not wanting a confrontation with an Colonial regular General in so public of a place. After all, the crowd of local civilians that had gathered nearby watching had not escaped their notice.

Harry went on taunting the redcoat general. "She was the known mistress of one of your fellow married officers. She has become a loose and immoral woman. Why it is all over the countryside that no one wanted to do business with a woman of her reputation. She seduced me in an attempt to gain her freedom."

"That is a lie!," Tavington shouted, pointing accusingly at the colonial officer. "You have besmirched my wife's honor with your actions and falsehoods about her. I want satisfaction, sir!"

General Burwell knew that Tavington was now formally challenging him to an honor duel. Harry had heard the rumors of the superior shot and sabre of Tavington and did not want to be drawn into a match with the man.

"Don't be ridiculous, General," Burwell remarked. "This is war. I am not going to a duel over something that happened as a result of it."

With that, Burwell and Laurens turned and began to walk away. Harry was glad to have deflected the duel.

Wilkins spoke into the still steaming William's ear. "Don't, General. Don't mess up our parole with a duel that might prevent us from getting home later."

Tavington took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Then he turned to Wilkins. "Jim, I'm sure as a gentleman that you, more than anyone, understand that I have one last piece of business to attend to here in New York."

James Wilkins did understand honor, and knew it to be a matter of pride when it came to Tavington, his wife, and his plantation business. He didn't want anything sullying all that.

William, always the expert at provoking and manipulating people, turned up the heat and went after the colonial General.

"Burwell!," he called after him. "Did you know that your sister moaned like a whore when my officers ravished her? She was a very receptive piece of ass. Indeed—she was insatiable."

With that, Harry stopped. The group saw Laurens nudge the man, coaxing him to keep walking.

William, not one to give up the fight, continued. "I understand that she was cast out of Charles Towne society," he taunted. "And rightfully so. She belongs in a whorehouse."

General Burwell once again stopped in his tracks, turning in an instant back toward Tavington. He stalked back to the redcoat officer with purpose. "I accept your challenge for a duel. Laurens, how about you second me?"

"With honor, sir."

Wilkins spoke up immediately. "I'll be your second, William."

"No- I will," Tarleton trumped.

Wilkins gave the red haired colonel a confused look for it was well known that Tarleton hated duels and did not participate in them.

"I owe it to him," Banastre explained simply. He felt badly at having not been able to repay his monetary debts to William. The least he could do was second him in a duel.

With that, Colonels Laurens and Tarleton broke away from the group for a moment to plan the details of the duel. They decided to use pistols until first blood was drawn. They would meet at Siddons' meadow just outside the city at dawn.

General Burwell decided to leave Tavington with something to think about overnight. He walked up to the tall, redcoat officer and said his peace. "Know this one thing, General. She has her version of our coupling, and I have mine. But make no mistake that one thing is indisputable for I have several witnesses."

Tavington said nothing, letting Burwell "dig his own grave" in Will's eyes.

"Your wife came to orgasm with me, so she obviously enjoyed it," Burwell hissed. "My men heard her groans of pleasure outside of my tent."

Astonishingly, General Tavington kept himself under control. He spoke only to say, "Tomorrow."

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

The next morning just before dawn, the small group assembled in Siddons' meadow. Majors Wilkins and Hanger stood watching the two generals who stood back to back, through the early morning fog. The two seconds, Colonels Tarleton and Laurens stood by with pistols loaded and ready to shoot should anything happen to the primaries. John Siddons, the owner of the piece of land, began the count off.

The two officers began to walk away from each other. Twenty paces, then they were to turn and fire. On the order, both men turned and fired at virtually the same time with lightning fast speed.

Harry Burwell's shot just missed Tavington, who heard it cut the air, whizzing past his body. William's shot however, hit Burwell in the left arm, knocking the man off his feet and too the ground.

Tavington, the officer still standing after drawing first blood, raised his pistol into the air above his head. "Let all know that 'tis no lie that this officer assaulted my wife."

With that, William walked over to Burwell, who was holding his left arm in pain, still laying on the ground. Tavington knelt down next to the injured man and noticed a dagger in its scabbard on the side of his belt. Remembering what Bordon had told him over a year ago, that Burwell had used his knife handle one of the times he'd raped Melanie, he pulled the knife from the colonial officer's belt.

Burwell, still rocking his body in pain on the ground, managed to whisper to Tavington. "I'll always remember that you raped and ruined my sister."

William said nothing back to the injured man's comment. Instead, he looked intently and curiously at the dagger in his hand.

"Is this the knife you raped my wife with?," he asked Burwell sharply. "You spread her legs and shoved the handle into her womanhood, didn't you?"

When Burwell refused to answer, Tavington rammed it into Burwell's thigh, making the colonial officer scream out in agony. Will quickly pulled it out and threw the weapon to the ground.

"Yankee rubbish!" he spat at the prone rebel general.

~/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/~

NOTES:

"Lobster Kettle"- Redcoats were sometimes nicknamed "lobsters" because of the red of their coat as the same color of a cooked lobster (red). Women that slept with redcoats were said "to be making lobster kettles of themselves."

Conestoga: covered wagon

Colonel Burwell, in this story, has received a promotion to General between when he'd had Melanie Prescott Tavington abducted and the Yorktown battle.

Duels: Dueling is a practice done up until the late 19th century for a man's honor. It could be fought in whatever manner was agreed upon and to whatever point. The most common ways gentlemen fought duels were with pistols and swords, to first blood or death. Sometimes the participants would just fire a shot into the air, not aiming at the opponent, knowing that the honor was that they both showed up to something potentially deadly! A "second" in a duel is a person who "backs up" the primary participants, someone chosen to take over in case the primary is injured and can't continue, etc. Usually duels didn't get that far, but there are a few documented cases in which the seconds did continue on with the duel. Duels were against the law in a lot of places, so they were usually fought in some secret, out of the way meadow or field. And usually at Dawn, because the light was low to hide the duel, but also to make it harder to see your opponent.

Colonel Tarleton and Major Hanger on parole in New York after the loss at Yorktown: It is well documented that these two officers had "a swell time" on parole in New York, that they rather loved the city. They drank, gambled, and womanized until they had to get on the ship and return to England.

Banastre Tarleton in real life did abhor the practice of dueling and avoided them when he could.

I don't know that the colonials would have made the British officers who had married colonial women go back to England—with or without their wives—or not. I just added that for dramatic effect to make it more urgent for Tav and Wilky to "break parole" to go home and not be deported.

The bar brawl at the beginning of the chapter is an ode to the old movie "Gunga Din". It is much in the same manner as to where the three main characters of that story in the beginning are involved in a bar fight while someone on the street is asking for them, only to be told "He's busy right now", etc. That truly is a funny scene in that movie!