Penny Dreadfuls, 1916 · page 40 of 400
Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil: A Young Virginian in the Revolution — page 40: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
# Page Analysis This is a page of running prose from a Victorian penny dreadful novel titled "Tom Anderson, Dare-Devil" (page 24). The text consists of two narrative passages: the first is a lengthy dialect monologue describing a drill sergeant named Peake brutally training militia in intense heat, and the second shifts to a scene where a character named Tom notices a spy watching through a fireplace. A character named Ishmael confronts the intruder, who reveals himself as "Fool Billy," a deformed ten-year-old of mixed Shawnee and African descent. The passage employs heavy phonetic dialect and sensational melodramatic language typical of the genre.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
24 Tom ANDERSON, DareE-DEVIL Day! He loant him his sode. En’ he loant him dishyer vey coat! Peake? He drilled dem m'litia in er way dee’d no spe’unce uv. He drilled ’em up en’ he drilled ’em down. In two er three hours de men dee gittin’ stub’n. Peake hilt ’em to it. ‘Double-quick!’ he ’d call out, en’ give ’em ner three hunderd yards in de brilin’ sun. It wuz hot, lemme tell yer! But Peake wuk’d ’em lak hell-beatin’- tan-bark! Some wuz cussin’ en’ some wuz thowin-up — ez dee run! Peake cyard on lak dat part de mernewvers. Once in a while some feller he’d tek de sunstroke. Peake he’d yell out, ‘Sen’ fer de litter-bear’s.’ While dee wuz totin’ out dem had done drapped in de tracks, he would holler, ‘Fus’ rank, fire en’ fall down!’ Dee wuz overhet; dee win’ wuz gone; dee wuz mad “nuff ter bust. But dat boy nuver let up on dem mizzerbul m'litia tell de sun drapped down. Hear’m say Peake meks er honey uv er soldier, but he wuz a devil uv er drill-master!” His laughing eyes on the blaze, [om suddenly per- ceived that another pair of eyes— one eye, at least — was looking through the tottering column of smoke in the cavernous fireplace. Silently, he pointed to the spy. “Who dar?’? demanded Ishmael, sternly. The eye glittered through the smoke snakily. Ishmael pulled a pine-knot from the fire, and then there was a gleam of teeth at the hole in the chimney. “Tt me. Fool Billy.” “Well, I’Il say dis much,” dropping the pine-knot and winking at Tom, “ ’tain’t monners fer folks ter go roun’ punchin’ de chinkin’ out’n yuther folks’s chimbleys. Why ’n’t yer come roun’ ter de do’ — lak folks?” Next minute, enter Caliban. Sycorax, the witch, never mothered anything more monstrously ugly than Fool Billy. He was about ten, half Shawnee, half negro, and very small. ‘he pinched body supported a huge head, so dis- proportioned to the trunk that it was a weariness to the flesh of the unfortunate. He had the copper skin of the Shawnee, the wiry wool of the negro. The ogre mouth was full of “‘horse-teeth” with which Billy cracked hickory- EONMMICLOOOKS.e© m