Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 281 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 281: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful titled "A Mulatto from the Rebel Plantations" (page 263). The text describes a slave auction where Tom, a formerly enslaved Virginian man, is being sold on the auction block. The auctioneer attempts to generate buyer interest by having Tom play a banjo after a prospective buyer (Dick Knatchbull) expresses dissatisfaction with Tom's appearance and asks where "that boy that sings" is. The auctioneer plans to use Tom's musical talent to manipulate the crowd of approximately three hundred potential buyers.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A MuLaTro FROM THE REBEL PLANTATIONS 263 cabin-boy that ever shipped on the Atlantic. For Tom’s sake he condescended to a ship’s basin! All of this he managed to tell Tom in the noise of the bidding. Gangs of field hands had been sold. Next came mechanics and house servants. Dick Knatchbull said a word to Higgins. This scion of the rich Codrington family was a customer worth having. He bought droves of “boys.” “This minute, sir,” the trader answered ob- sequiously. Ihe auctioneer tapped Tom on the shoulder. The Virginian had undergone a sort of sea change. His hair was shaved, like a convict’s. He had been given a shirt and trousers of white cottonade. Feet, and legs to the _ knee, were bare. Unhesitatingly he obeyed the summons and stepped upon the block. Lean as a hyena but lumi- nous with vitality he was. Around him was a jumble of humanity, Dutch and English faces. There were nearly three hundred men, idlers and buyers. They stared curi- ously. [here was a speculative pause. A guttural voice sawed every ear. “Gott! A nigger mit an eye of a wild buffalo!” The auctioneer twisted his lower jaw from side to side, with an automatic movement. He was “blue lightning,” as everybody knew. It was a critical moment. This high- priced “‘yeller feller’? did not seem to “take” with the crowd. The “speckerlaters’”’ nudged one another and grinned. Somebody was audible. “Looks dange’ous!”’ “Have to keep him in the calaboose.” Dick Knatchbull’s drawl was distinct. ““That’s not the fellow I saw on deck, you know. Where’s that boy that sings? I won’t stand here in the sun all day.” “Very one, Mr. Knatchbull. Very same, sir, asking your pardon. Here! Hand that banjo here.”” And the old banjo was passed over the heads of the crowd. The auctioneer saw his way to a great stroke of business. Moreover, he wanted to exercise his ability to mould a big crowd like a handful of putty. “Gentlemen, one word! This boy, Tom, is the best- trained, likeliest, handiest, most accomplished valet ever e@naicbooks (C(O)