Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 290: what you’re looking at

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

272 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL The clang of the jail gong was followed by the appear- ance of the jailer — with him a liveried negro groom. “Wot’s hall this rete?) we demanded of Hodge. “Markiss ’e ’s give horders,”’ returned Hodge, unmoved by the bluster of the Bridgetown constable. Dr. Macglashan rapped the lid of his snuffbox. A rap on Dr. Saunders Macglashan’s snuffbox never went for nothing. It was charged with significance. It discovered rottenness with a woodpecker s long roll of alarum. “Your prisoner’s a white man, Simmons. Look out!” “Whiter White! My soul ’n ’ body, Doctor. Hi just left ‘Iggins hup town. *E’s sold this boy to Mr. Knatchbull. Hi came down hin Mr. Knatchbull’ : gig, with Mr. Knatch- bull’s hown groom, ‘ere. Hi ’ave ‘Iggins’ S writing ere. Hall reg’lar. Read wot hit says, sir.’ The bit of paper bore a few words. Jailer Simons will release my nigger feller, tom, to his mas- ter, Rich’d Knatchbull, Esq. Horwoop Hiccins. Macglashan coughed, dryly. “Dick’s bought a pig in a poke, whilk he’ll sune see.” “Do your duty, then, jailer,’ said the Marquis instantly. “Turn the prisoner over to Mr. Knatchbull’s groom. As he’s Mr. Knatchbull’s property, no man may dare lay the lash on his back but by Mr. Knatchbull’s orders.” “Your Lordship his hexactly right. Hi release ’im. Go a’ead with this boy. ‘lake ’1m to ’1is master, you ’ear?”’ The Marquis’s eye shone like a greyhound’s straining at his leash. “Never mind, Andrew,’’—to the black groom, — “you may go. I'll take this young man uptown, in Mr. Knatchbull’s gig.” And directly, every eye opened wide at the sight of the young nobleman speeding a big raw-boned gigster under the cocoa palms, with a “plantation-hand” in the gig. CORNICE HOOKS n(€O) m