Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 216 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 216: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* (page 198). The text depicts a dramatic scene in which a character named Rory, presenting credentials from Sir Æneas McIntosh, approaches a prison-ship to secure a brief interview with Major Audley Anderson, a captured Rebel officer from Washington's army. Though initially denied by the Commandant due to prison-fever restrictions, Rory succeeds in obtaining permission for a five-minute supervised meeting. The passage builds suspense as they row toward the vessel, with Rory maintaining studied composure while awaiting the Major's arrival.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
198 Tom ANDERSON, DarE-DEVIL “Not Lord Rawdon?”’ “Na, na. The Commandant o’ the prison-ship.” And now Rory amazed Anderson. Hesitation would have ill become a McIntosh. He rose to his feet with the suré-footedness of a man “usen”’ to a canoe, — the center of gravity never perplexed Rory except “whiles” around a mess-table, — presenting as big a bulk of red and gold as the Personage himself, and bared his brave gray head to the sun with no small self-respect. The half-breed at the oar went unnoticed. In his broadest Scotch Rory made himself known, and his errand. “I hae credentials frae Sir Atneas McIntosh, wha will be under obligations for your gude offices, Commandant.” What a blow to Tom’s hopes that shake of the official head. They had been annoyed, aboard, with prison-fever. To avoid contagion visitors were no longer allowed: regu- lations very stringent. The two boats were not an oar’s length apart. Rory extended The McIntosh’s card under the very eyes of Authority. “I wad be glad to ken that Major Audley Anderson, Rebel officer, 0’ Washington’s airmy, is no on the sick list?”’ “God knows, sir,” gruffly. He stared at the card. “If he’s on his legs the prisoner will be permitted five minutes’ interview; under guard. An officer will fetch him. Any urbanity to a friend of Sir Auneas — yes, yes. My compli- ments to him.” The sailors doubled to their oars. The galley shot away — toward the “floating hell.’ Coming! He was coming! Rory kept his eyes fixed studiously on the ship rocking on the swell of the tide as gently as a lily on a pond. ‘““Whilk ane o’ ’em a’ winna pull off his bonnet to The McIntoshr Now I hae tamed the Commandant, ye maun do the claverin’, laddie.”’ “God bless you, Major!” They were within a rifle-shot of the vessel now. He stared, with bated breath. Hundreds, and hundreds, and EONMMICLOOOKS.(6© m