Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 215 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 215: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Charleston, Page 197 This is running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful serial. The page depicts a scene in Charleston harbor where a character in disguise converses with an old Scotchman about local geography and ships. A man named Roderick discusses the harbor's channels and sandbars, points out a slave ship called the Nancy Ireson, and makes cryptic remarks about a ship's skipper. The passage concludes with Rory spotting an approaching official—"the Commandant"—in a galley, suggesting imminent danger or confrontation for the disguised protagonist.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
CHARLESTON 197 “The best people on God’s earth raised me. They tried to make a man of me. | ought to be a pretty decent sort of beast. If you could see my grandmother — well, you’d think I ought to have the world by the tail, with a downhill pull! Instead, here | am with a dyed skin, cropped hair, — like an indentured servant, ora prison-bird, — in borrowed clothes, and standing a ‘mighty good chance of being hanged.” And he flashed upon Rory a pair of eyes that had no laughter in them. “Hout, tout! bairn. Ye are bould enow to play your pairt. Dinna complain at onything in Chairleston, an’ ye can snap your fingers at the gallows.” “Tell me something about the harbor.” ‘“Aweel, ye ken there’s a sandbar whilk lies across the ~ mouth o’ the bay. Four channels plough the bar: there’s the north channel; the Overall, whilk is the middle ane; the ship channel, —seventeen foot o’ water at high tide ;— an’ Lawford’s channel, whilk gangs aroond the southern end o Sullivan’s Island, where the fort is they ca’ Moultrie.” “Look, sir! The Nancy Ireson.”’ Thereupon Roderick again dropped into Gaelic. “Sma’ blame til ye, laddie, for reeskin the shairk to slip awa frae the slaver. Look at the decks o’ her. Swarmin’ wi niggers pit oot to sun, to keep ’em alive.” “Higgins could hardly recognize me — even through a glass — in this rig,’ but a cold wind seemed to blow along hisnerves. He turned his back upon the ill-omened vessel. The old Scotchman looked stern. “Dinna think the skipper o’ that insecteevorous brig wull pit his foot aboot ye. I wad stick my dirk in his ribs.” The decks of the prison-ship were hardly less crowded than the slaver’s, but with white men. [hey were exer- cising, sunning their blankets, patching their rags. Ihe dip of oars in their wake on the smooth floor of the water, —the harbor was calm as a lake,—and they were over- hauled by a ship’s galley. In it, a Personage and six sailors. Rory muttered in excitement: “‘Haud your oar, Tammie. Here’s the Commandant himsel’!”’ CORNICMOOO® SS (E) im