Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 214: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

CHAPTER XXIII CHARLESTON THE prison-ship was lying off Sullivan’s Island, two miles down the river. Old Rory — as he was familiarly called from Charleston to St. Augustine — hired a row- boat, and Tom took the oars. He reviewed the situation with some misgivings. What if Rory had not the pull on red tape that he had on a Scotch dagger? Rory — God bless him!— would not stick at taking a seat at the King’s council-table — being a McIntosh! ‘How are we to get along without a permit, Major?” ‘“Dinna fash yoursel’ aboot that, laddie. Nae need tae trouble my Lord Rawdon’s secretary aboot sma’ matters. Roderick McIntosh is a Royalist and an officer of His Mayjesty’s Militia. Mairover, I hae a word frae The McIntosh, whilk’s as gude as gold. It’s been vurry usefu’ to me, aboot Chairleston,”’ — extending one of the noble- man’s cards. A few words in French were penciled on it. “T canna richtly tell ye what the fule French says, lad; but there’s virtue in’t.”’ “To be sure. Sir Atneas has written here, ‘Courtesies to the bearer will place Sir Aineas McIntosh under obliga- tions.” Rory’s eyes “goggled” like a goblin’s. “Hear til him read it! Tammie,’— anxiously, — “ye hae na a Pair-r-ris education, too?” : “Not a bit of it.” ‘The Lord be thankit!”’ “We Southern fellows have tutors, always; and go to Oxford or Cambridge, usually. The war has cut Troupe and me out of all that — the English university course, I mean.” “Ye hae had unco advantages, Daur-Deevil.” ECONMMICL OOO KSs(e@) m