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A Master of Fortune by Hyne

A MASTER ... OF FORTUNE

Being Further Adventures of Captain Kettle

BY

CUTCLIFFE HYNE

Author of "Captain Kettle," "The Stronger Hand," "The Lost Continent," etc.

ILLUSTRATED BY STANLEY L. WOOD

1898

[Illustration: ATTIRED IN HIGH RUBBER THIGH BOOTS AND LEATHER-BOUND BLACK OILSKINS. Frontispiece.]

[Illustration]

CONTENTS

CHAPTER I. IN QUARANTINE.

CHAPTER II. THE LITTLE WOODEN GOD WITH THE EYES.

CHAPTER III. A QUICK WAY WITH REBELS.

CHAPTER IV. THE NEW REPUBLIC.

CHAPTER V. THE LOOTING OF THE "INDIAN SHERIFF".

CHAPTER VI. THE WIRE-MILKERS.

CHAPTER VII. THE DERELICT.

CHAPTER VIII. To CAPTURE AN HEIRESS.

CHAPTER IX. A MATTER OF JUSTICE.

CHAPTER X. DAGO DIVERS.

CHAPTER XI. THE DEAR INSURED.

CHAPTER XII. THE FIRE AND THE FARM.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Attired in high rubber thigh boots and leather-bound black oilskins (Frontispiece).

He came and stood with one foot on Kettle's breast in the attitude of a conqueror.

The little army could only march in single file.

"You insolent little blackguard, you dare to speak to me like that!"

He picked up the man and sent him after the knife.

"I'm a British subject".

Out of the middle of these spectators jumped the mild, delicate Hamilton.

Strangers came up and wrung Kettle's unwilling hand.

Dedication

TO CAPTAIN OWEN KETTLE

My dear Kettle,--

With some considerable trepidation, I venture to offer you here the dedication of your unauthorized biography. You will read these memoirs, I know, and it is my pious hope that you do not fit the cap on yourself as their hero. Of course I have sent you along your cruises under the decent disguise of a purser's name, and I trust that if you do recognize yourself, you will appreciate this nice feeling on my part. Believe me, it was not entirely caused by personal fear of that practical form which I am sure your displeasure would take if you caught any one putting you into print. Even a working novelist has his humane moments; and besides if I made you more recognizable, there might be a more dangerous broth stirred up, with an ugly international flavor. Would it be indiscreet to bring one sweltering day in Bahia to your memory, where you made play with a German (or was he a Scandinavian?) and a hundredweight drum of good white lead? or might one hint at that little affair which made Odessa bad for your health, and indeed compelled you to keep away from Black Sea ports entirely for several years? I trust, then, that if you do detect my sin in making myself without leave or license your personal historian, you will be induced for the sake of your present respectability to give no sign of a ruffled temper, but recognize me as part of the cross you are appointed to bear, and incidentally remember my forbearance in keeping so much really splendid material (from my point of view) in snug retirement up my sleeve.


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