A Master of Fortune

A Master of Fortune, by Cutcliffe
Hyne,

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Title: A Master of Fortune
Author: Cutcliffe Hyne
Release Date: June 8, 2004 [eBook #12556]
Language: English
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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.
Finally, let me remind you that I made no promises not to publish, and
that you did. Not only were you going to endow the world with a book
of poems, but I was to have a free copy. This has not yet come; and if,
for an excuse, you have published no secular verse, I am quite willing
to commute for a copy of the Book of Hymns, provided it is suitably
inscribed.
C.J.C.H.
OAK VALE, BRADFORD, June 27, 1899.
CHAPTER I
IN QUARANTINE
"The pay is small enough," said Captain Kettle, staring at the blue
paper. "It's a bit hard for a man of my age and experience to come
down to a job like piloting, on eight pound a month and my grub."
"All right, Capt'n," replied the agent. "You needn't tell me what I know
already. The pay's miserable, the climate's vile, and the bosses are

beasts. And yet we have more applicants for these berths on the Congo
than there are vacancies for. And f'why is it, Capt'n? Because there's no
questions asked.