Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 304 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 304: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful serial titled *Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil* (page 286). The text depicts a social gathering on a terrace in Barbados where an American named Tom charms the company by singing. A character named Dick resents Tom's status and makes scornful remarks about him being a beggar who should labor in cane-fields. Tension escalates when Dick and a woman named Aimée exchange bitter remarks; she breaks a guitar string and he mutters cynically. The passage concludes with Bishop Coleridge reflecting that he cannot foresee the dramatic consequences to come, followed by a brief exchange about shark lifespans.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
286 Tom ANDERSON, DaARE-DEVIL ship as soon as I may without discredit to you or myself,” said om. That night there was more talk on the terrace. Lady Amy brought out her guitar and tried to sing Tom’s tunes. The American had the most wonderful voice she had ever heard in Barbados. “He’s a very charming boy,” declared Bishop Coleridge. “They call him the Marquis of Carabas down in the town,” De la Jonquiére said, laughing. “Fellow has a fine presence,’ somebody rejoined. “Jove! You are talking about the beggar as if he were a white man,” scoffed Dick. “Ought to be shoveling sea- mud for my Guadeloupe cane-fields this minute.” “Don’t be grumpy, Dick. Listen. He sang like this: — ‘Oh, there’s many a change in the wind that blows, An’ there’s many a change in the sea; There’s many a change in them blue eyes o’ yours, But there ain’ no change in me.”’ Dick stooped to pick up her fan, muttering under his breath, “God knows there’s none in me!”’ She gave a whimpering cry. She’d snapped a string, and it stung her cheek. ‘iG can’t sing like the Marquis of Carabas,”’ petu- antly. “And I can’t talk like the Marquis de la Jonquiére,”’ said Dick with a quassia-bitter smile. “‘So we are sur- passed, Aimée.”’ Bishop Coleridge shook his head. Here was a drama un- folding under his eyes which promised movement enough to make His Lordship shiver. Well for the Bishop of Barbados that he could not foresee the terrific final act! Well for each one of us that we cannot see the Skeleton Stage Manager at our elbow, waiting to signal “Curtain!” “Unaka, how long does a shark live?” “Heap moons,” with a gesture that piled up “moons” as high as Mount Hillaby. ECONNIE DOOLKS (E(0)