Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 218 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 218: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from the novel *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* (page 200). The text depicts an emotionally charged prison-ship encounter where a prisoner receives news that his son Captain Anderson is safe at the surrender of the Capital. After exchanging courtesies with Major Roderick McIntosh, the prisoner and his visitor part ways. The narrative then follows characters named Rory and Tom as they travel to Lord Rawdon's Headquarters, accompanied by a piper playing "Who'll be King but Charlie." The passage concludes with a Scots-dialect description of a wealthy Charleston woman who hosts British officers in her seized home despite her Rebel sympathies.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
200 Tom ANDERSON, Dare-DEVIL guard him! Can you give me any news of my eldest son?” . ‘Captain Anderson was at home on leave, at the sur- render of the Capital. He is safe’? — as Tom believed. Those thrilling, yearning eyes! The half-breed shivered. Was he recognized? His lines! — His lines! The prisoner was expressing his gratitude to the messenger. “Your thanks are due this gentleman, a friend of your son’s: Major Roderick McIntosh, of His Majesty’s Militia.” Salutations; and the prisoner responded that the name of McIntosh was respected in the Southern army. “Sir A‘neas McIntosh, with his own sword, preserved the life of a Southern officer at Savannah —”’ A nod from the subaltern. The galley swung off. The half-breed shouted, “Vive la cartel!’’ The interview — how difficult and tremulous! — was over. Rory was stirred to admiration by Tom’s self-control. “He went white an’ red ilka time ye opened ye mouth, lad. His heart cried after ye; but his een gied his heart the lee!” But Tom could not speak. Hark! from the decks of the prison-ship a stentorian voice 1s borne across the water: “ Down! Rebels, down!’ They were vanishing from the decks now; down into the hold they went, and went, and went. Not one ragged, feeble fellow in sight now. The hatchway was closed. Sir George Claiborne’s piper was waiting on the wharf. To the strains of “Who’ll be King but Charlie” they set out for my Lord Rawdon’s Headquarters. Rory liked to magnify his importance by appearing daily at the rendez- vous for all the British officers in the city. “Ane o’ the quality — nae reecher nor mair resolute Rebel in Chairleston than she — has thretty o’ our officers billeted upon her. Her hoose was seized for Officers’ Quarters. But she winna gie in. Hauds her groun’ an’ sits at the head o’ her ain table ilka meal. Twenty nig- gers, men an’ hizzies, wait on my Lord Rawdon. The sil- ver platters an’ tankards are a sight to see. Ou, aye! ECOMMICOOOKSn(©) m