1. Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other:
the one as master, the other as man
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington
Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1816. He was one of the most
noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to avoid
attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little was
known, except that he was as a polished man the world. People said that he
resembled Byron, -at least that his head was Byronic; but he was a
bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without
growing old.
Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg
was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the
counting-rooms of the "City;" no ships ever came into London docks of
which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been
entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's
Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of
Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical
Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a
gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned
societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations
of the Royal Institution or the London Institution, the Artisans
'Association or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in
fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English
capital, from the Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly
for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple
enough.
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit.
His checks were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which
was always flush.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could
not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last person
to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the
contrary, avaricious; for whenever he knew that money was needed for a
noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quickly, and
sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men.
He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn
manner. His daily habits were quite open to observation; but whatever he
did was so exactly the same thing that he had always done before, that the
wits of the curious were fairly puzzled.
Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world
more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to
have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few
clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as
to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true probabilities,
and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events
justify his predictions. He must have travelled everywhere, at least in
the spirit.
It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself
from London for many years. Those who were honored by a better
acquaintance with him than the rest declared that nobody could pretend to
have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading the
papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a silent
one, harmonized with his nature; but his winnings never went into his
purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg played, not to
win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his eyes a contest, a
struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless, unwearying struggle,
congenial to his tastes.
Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may
happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends, which
is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Saville Row,
whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to serve him. He
breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours mathematically fixed in the
same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members,
much less bringing a guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight,
only to retire at once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the
Reform provides for its favored members. He passed ten hours out of the
twenty-four in Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When
he chose to take a walk, it was with a regular step in the entrance hall
with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome
supported by twenty red porphyry lonic columns, and illumined by blue
painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined, all the resources of the
club -its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy -aided to crowd his
table with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest
waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the
viands in special porcelain, and the finest linen; club decanters, of a
lost mold, contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret;
while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great
cost from the American lakes.
If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed
that there is something good in eccentricity!
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly
comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little
from the sole domestic; but Phileas Fogg required him to be almost
superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he had
dismissed James Forster, because that youth had brought him shaving-water
at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six; and he was
awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between eleven and
half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his arm-chair, his feet close
together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his
knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a
complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the
days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr. Fogg
would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair to the
Reform.
A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where
Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant,
appeared.
"The new servant," said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name
is John?"
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the new-comer, "Jean
Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural
aptness for going out at one business into another. I believe I'm honest,
monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an
itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard, and
dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics,
so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a sergeant fireman
at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years
ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a
valet here in England. Finding myself out of place, and hearing that
Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the
United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in hope of living with him a
tranquil life, and forgetting even the name of Passepartout."
"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg. "You are well
recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?"
"Yes, monsieur."
"Good. What time is it?"
"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an
silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible-"
"You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention the
error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m., this
Wednesday, October 2nd, you are in my service."
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master
going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James Forster,
departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the house in Saville
Row.
2. Passepartout is convinced that he has at last found his ideal
"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people
at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much
visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.
During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been
carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age,
with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his hair and
whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather
pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest
degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a quality of those who
act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg
seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann
has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his
daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly
regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg, was, indeed, exactitude
personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very
hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves
are expressive of the passions.
He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and
was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step
too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he made
no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He
was the agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet
always reached his at the exact moment.
He lived alone, and so to speak, outside of every social relation;
and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and
that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.
As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had
abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had
in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no
means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere, with a bold gaze and a
nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face,
lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round
head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were
blue, his complexion rubicund, his figure almost portly and well built,
his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the
exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for
while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of
arranging Minerva's tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of
dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his
toilet.
It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would
agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant
would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required; experience
alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in
his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so far he had failed to
find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could
not take root in any of these; with chagrin he found his masters
invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country,
or on the look-out for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry,
Member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns,
was too often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders.
Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served,
ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which being ill received, he
took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant,
and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither
travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be
the place he was after. He presented himself, and was accepted, as has
been seen.
At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the
house in Saville Row. He began its inspection without delay, scouring it
from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion pleased
him; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed by gas,
which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the
second story, he recognized at once the room which he was to inhabit, and
he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded
communication with the lower stories; while on the mantel stood an
electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating
the same second at the same instant. "That's good, that'll do," said
Passepartout to himself.
He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon
inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It
comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the morning,
exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past eleven, when he
left the house for the Reform Club, -all the details of service, the tea
and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at
thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before
ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from
half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical
gentleman retired.
Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each
pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of
year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing; and
the same system was applied to the masters shoes. In short, the house in
Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest
under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness, comfort, and
method idealized. There was no study, nor were there books, which would
have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the Reform two libraries, one
of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his
service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to
defy fire as well as burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor
hunting weapons anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and
peaceable habits.
Having scrutinized the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands,
a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is just
what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I! What a
domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don't mind serving
a machine."
3. A conversation takes place which seems likely
to cost Phileas Fogg dear
Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,
and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and
seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and
seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall
Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired at
once to the dining room, the nine windows of which open upon a tasteful
garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn coloring, and
took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been
laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side-dish, a broiled fish with
Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms, a
rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole
being washed down with several cups of tea, for which the Reform is
famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one, and directed his steps towards
the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly framed
paintings. A flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut
with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation.The
perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four,
whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour.
Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg reappeared in the
reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six.
Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to
the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr.
Fogg's usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan
and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier
Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England; -all rich and highly
respected personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of
English trade and finance.
"Well, Ralph," said Thomas Flanagan, "what about that robbery?"
"Oh," replied Stuart, "the bank will lose the money."
"On the contrary," broke in Ralph, "I hope we may put our hands on
the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports
of America and the Continent, and he'll be a clever fellow if he slips
through their fingers."
"But have you got the robber's description?" asked Stuart.
"In the first place, he is no robber at all," returned Ralph,
positively.
"What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no
robber?"
"No."
"Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then."
"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."
It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his
newspaper, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into
the conversation. The affair which formed its subject, and which was town
talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package of
bank notes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been taken
from the principal cashier's table, that functionary being at the moment
engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of
course he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the
Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the
public. There are neither guards nor gratings to protect its treasures;
gold, silver, bank notes are freely exposed, at the mercy of the first
comer. A keen observer of English customs relates that, being in one of
the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the curiosity to examine a gold
ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He took it up, scrutinized it,
passed it to his neighbor, he to the next man, and so on until the ingot,
going from hand to hand, was transferred to the end of a dark entry; nor
did it return to its place for half an hour. Meanwhile, the cashier had
not so much as raised his head. But in the present instance things had not
gone so smoothly. The package of notes not being found when five o'clock
sounded from the ponderous clock in the "drawing office," the amount was
passed to the account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was
discovered, picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre,
Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered
reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the sum that might be
recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those who
arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was at once
entered upon.
There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said,
that the thief did not belong to professional band. On the day of the
robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and with a
well-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying room,
where the crime was committed. A description of him was easily procured,
and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits, of whom Ralph was
one, did not despair of his apprehension. The papers and clubs were full
of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of
a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was especially agitated, several
of its members being Bank officials.
Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to
be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly stimulate
their zeal and activity. But Stuart was far from sharing this confidence;
and as they placed themselves at the whist-table, they continued to argue
the matter. Stuart and Flanagan played together, while Phileas Fogg had
Fallentin for his partner. As the game proceeded the conversation ceased,
excepting between the rubbers, when it revived again.
"I maintain," said Stuart, "that the are in favor of the thief who
must be a shrewd fellow."
"Well, but where can he fly to?" asked Ralph. "No country is safe for
him."
"Pshaw!"
"Where could he go, then?"
"Oh, I don't know that. The world is big enough."
"It was once," said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone. "Cut, sir," he
added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.
The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its
thread.
"What do you mean by 'once'? Has the world grown smaller?"
"Certainly," returned Ralph. "I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has
grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly than
a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief will be
more likely to succeed."
"And also why the thief can get away more easily."
"Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart," said Phileas Fogg.
But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand was
finished, said eagerly: "You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that
the world has grown smaller. So, because you can go round it in three
months-"
"In eighty days," interrupted Phileas Fogg.
"That is true, gentlemen," added John Sullivan. "Only eighty days,
now that the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian
Peninsula Railway, has been opened. Here is the estimate made by the Daily
Telegraph:
From London to Suez
via Mont Cenis and Brindisi, by rails and steamboats - 7 days
Suez to Bombay, by steamer 13
Bombay to Calcutta, by rail 3
Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer 13
Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer 6
Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer 22
San Francisco to New York, by rail 7
New York to London, by steamer and rail 9
TOTAL 80 days
"Yes, in eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement made a
false deal. "But that doesn't take into account bad weather, contrary
winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on."
"All included," returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the
discussion.
"But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails," replied
Stuart; "suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage vans, and scalp
the passengers!"
"All included," calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the
cards, "Two trumps."
Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on:
"You are right theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically -"
"Practically also, Mr. Stuart."
"I'd like to see you do it in eighty days."
"It depends on you. Shall we go?"
"Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such
a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible."
"Quite possible, on the contrary," returned Mr. Fogg.
"Well, make it, then!"
"The journey round the world in eighty days?"
"Yes."
"I should like nothing better."
"When?"
"At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense."
"It's absurd!" cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the
persistency of his friend. "Come, let's go on with the game."
"Deal over again, then," said Phileas Fogg. "There's a false deal."
Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put it
down again.
"Well, Mr. Fogg," said he, "it shall be so: I will wager the four
thousand on it."
"Calm yourself, my dear Stuart," said Fallentin."It's only a joke."
"When I say I'll wager," returned Stuart, "I mean it."
"All right," said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued,
"I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring's which I will willingly
risk upon it."
"Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental
delay!"
"The unforeseen does not exist," quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
"But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least
possible time in which the journey can be made."
"A well-used minimum suffices for everything."
"But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from
the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again."
"I will jump -mathematically."
"You are joking."
"A true Englishman doesn't joke when he is talking about so serious a
thing as a wager," replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly. "I will bet twenty
thousand pounds against any one who wishes that I will make the tour of
the world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred and twenty hours, or
a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?"
"We accept," replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan,
and Ralph, after consulting each other.
"Good," said Mr. Fogg. "The train leaves for Dover at a quarter
before nine. I will take it."
"This very evening?" asked Stuart.
"This very evening," returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and consulted
a pocket almanac, and added, "As today is Wednesday, the second of
October, I shall be due in London, in this very room of the Reform Club,
on Saturday, the twenty-first of December, at a quarter before nine p.m.;
or else the twenty thousand pounds, now deposited in my name at Baring's
will belong to you, in fact and in right, gentlemen. Here is a check for
the amount."
A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six
parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical composure. He
certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty thousand
pounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might have to
expend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to say
unattainable, project. As for his antagonists, they seemed much agitated;
not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had some scruples
about betting under conditions so difficult to their friend.
The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so
that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.
"I am quite ready now," was his tranquil response. "Diamonds are
trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen."
4. Phileas Fogg astounds Passepartout, his servant
Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends,
Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.
Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his
duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the
inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to
rule, he was, not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was
not the right hour.
"Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
Passepartout made his appearance.
"I've called you twice," observed his master.
"But it is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.
"I know it; I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten
minutes."
A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout's round face; clearly he had
not comprehended his master.
"Monsieur is going to leave home?"
"Yes," returned Phileas Fogg. "We are going round the world."
Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his
hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with astonishment.
"Round the world!" he murmured.
"In eighty days," responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment to
lose."
"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head
from right to left.
"We'll have no trunks; only a carpetbag, with two shirts and three
pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We'll buy our clothes on
the way. Bring down my mackintosh and travelling-cloak, and some stout
shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!"
Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to
his own room, fell into a chair; and muttered: "That's good, that is! And
I, who wanted to remain quiet!"
He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.
Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool! Was this a joke,
then? They were going to Dover; good. To Calais; good again. After all,
Passepartout, who had been away from France five years, would not be sorry
to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they would go as far as
Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a
gentleman so chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt -but, then, it
was none the less true that he was going away, this hitherto so domestic
person!
By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpetbag,
containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still troubled
in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended to Mr.
Fogg.
Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a
red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and General
Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers
and railways. He took the carpetbag, opened it, and slipped into it a
goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever he might
go.
"You have forgotten nothing?" asked he.
"Nothing, monsieur."
"My mackintosh and cloak?"
"Here they are."
"Good. Take this carpetbag," handing it to Passepartout. "Take good
care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds
were in gold, and weighed him down.
Master and man then descended, the street door was double-locked, and
at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing
Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes past
eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after
paying the cabman was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar woman
with child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered
with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her
shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, approached, and mournfully asked for
alms.
Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and
handed them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman. I'm glad that I
met you;" and passed on.
Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master's
action touched his susceptible heart.
Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr.
Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five
friends of the Reform.
"Well, gentlemen," said he, "I'm off, you see; and if you will
examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I
have accomplished the journey agreed upon."
"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph,
politely. "We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honor."
"You do not forget when you are due in London again?" asked Stuart.
"In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a
quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."
Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class
carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle
screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.
The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas
Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout,
not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the
carpetbag, with its enormous treasure.
Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout
suddenly uttered a cry of despair.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Alas! In my hurry -I-I forgot -"
"What?"
"To turn off the gas in my room!"
"Very well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn...
at your expense."
5. A new species of funds, unknown to the moneyed men,
appears on 'Change
Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London would
create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the bet spread
through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic of conversation to
its members. From the Club it soon got into the papers throughout England.
The boasted "tour of the world" was talked about, disputed, argued with as
much warmth as if the subject were another Alabama claim. Some took sides
with Phileas Fogg, but the large majority shook their heads and declared
against him; it was absurd, impossible, they declared, that the tour of
the world could be made, except theoretically and on paper, in this
minimum of time, and with the existing means of travelling. The Times,
Standard, Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other highly
respectable newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg's project as madness; the Daily
Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general thought him
a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for having accepted a wager
which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.
Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question,
for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columns
devoted to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classes of
readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler sex,
espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the Illustrated
London News came out with his portrait, copied from a photograph in the
Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared to say, "Why
not, after all? Stranger things have come to pass."
At last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the
bulletin of the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question
from every point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the
enterprise.
Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle
imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of
departure and which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his
success. He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains at the
designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were relatively moderate;
but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and the United
States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon accomplishing his
task? There were accidents to machinery, the liability of trains to run
off the line, collisions, bad weather, the blocking up by snow, -were not
all these against Phileas Fogg? Would he not find himself, when travelling
by steamer in winter, at the mercy of the winds and fogs? Is it uncommon
for the best ocean steamers to be two or three days behind time? But a
single delay would suffice to fatally break the chain of communication;
should Phileas Fogg once miss, even by an hour, a steamer, he would have
to wait for the next, and that would irrevocably render his attempt vain.
This article made a great deal of noise, and being copied into all
the papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.
Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of
a higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament.
Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavy
wagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the betting books
as if he were a race horse. Bonds were issued, and made their appearance
on 'Change; "Phileas Fogg bonds" were offered at par or at a premium, and
a great business was done in them. But five days after the article in the
bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, the demand began to
subside: "Phileas Fogg" declined. They were offered by packages, at first
of five, then of ten, until at last nobody would take less than twenty,
fifty, a hundred!
Lord Albermarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only
advocate of Phileas Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened to his
chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of the
world, if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds on Phileas
Fogg. When the folly as well as the uselessness of the adventure was
pointed out to him, he contented himself with replying, "If the thing is
feasible, the first to do it ought to be an Englishman."
The Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against
him, and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one; and a
week after his departure, an incident occurred that deprived him of
backers at any price.
The commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o'clock
one evening, when the following telegraphic despatch was put into his
hands: -
SUEZ TO LONDON.
ROWAN, COMMISSIONER OF POLICE,
SCOTLAND YARD.
I'VE FOUND THE BANK ROBBER PHILEAS FOGG. SEND
WITHOUT DELAY WARRANT OF ARREST TO BOMBAY.
FIX, DETECTIVE.
The effect of this despatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman
disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph, which was
hung with those of the rest of the members of the Reform Club was minutely
examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature' the description of the
robber which had been provided to the police. The mysterious habits of
Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden departure; and
it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round the world on the pretext
of a wager, he had no other end in view than to elude the detectives, and
throw them off his track.
6. Fix, the detective, betrays a very natural impatience
The circumstances under which this telegraphic despatch about Phileas
Fogg was sent were as follows:-
The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsula and Oriental
Company, built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and
five hundred horsepower, was due at eleven o'clock a.m. on Wednesday, the
9th of October, at Suez. The Mongolia plied regularly between Brindisi and
Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers belonging
to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour between Brindisi
and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and Bombay.
Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling village
-now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing town. One was
the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies of the English
Government, and the unfavorable predictions of Stephenson, was in the
habit of seeing, from his office window, English ships daily passing to
and fro on the great canal, by which the old roundabout route from England
to India by the Cape of Good Hope was abridged by at least a half. The
other was a small, slight-built personage, with a nervous, intelligent
face, and bright eyes peering out from under eyebrows which he was
incessantly twitching. He was just now manifesting unmistakable signs of
impatience, nervously pacing up and down, and unable to stand still for a
moment. This was Fix, one of the detectives who had been despatched from
England in search of the bank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch
every passenger who arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be
suspicious characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the
criminal, which he had received two days before from the police
headquarters at London. The detective was evidently inspired by the hope
of obtaining the splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and
awaited with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the
steamer Mongolia.
"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind?"
"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul. "She was bespoken yesterday at
Port Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft. I
repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by the
company's regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of speed."
"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"
"Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she
left there Saturday at five p.m. Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not be
late. But really I don't see how, from the description you have, you will
be able to recognize your man, even if he is on board the Mongolia."
"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, then
recognizes them. You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling. I've arrested
more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and if my thief is on board,
I'll answer for it, he'll not slip through my fingers."
"I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."
"A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds! We don't
often have such windfalls. Burglars are getting to be so contemptible
nowadays! A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"
"Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope
you'll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy. Don't you see,
the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to an
honest man?"
"Consul," remarked the detective dogmatically, "great robbers always
resemble honest folks. Fellows who have rascally faces have only one
course to take, and that is to be honest; otherwise they would be arrested
off-hand. The artistic thing is, to unmask honest countenances; it's no
light task, I admit, but a real art."
Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.
Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors
of various nations, merchants, ship brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to
and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected. The weather was
clear, and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town loomed above the
houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier, some two thousand yards
long, extended into the roadstead. A number of fishing smacks and coasting
boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient galleys, were
discernible on the Red Sea.
As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit,
scrutinized the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.
It was now half-past ten.
"The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.
"She can't be far off now," returned his companion.
"How long will she stop at Suez?"
"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen hundred
and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and she
has to take in a fresh coal supply."
"And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"
"Without putting in anywhere."
"Good," said Fix. "If the robber is on board, he will no doubt get
off at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some
other route. He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in India,
which is English soil."
"Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd. An
English criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than
anywhere else."
This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and
meanwhile the consul went away to his office. Fix, left alone, was more
impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on board
the Mongolia. If he had indeed left London intending to reach the New
World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was less watched
and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic. But Fix's
reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp whistles, which
announced the arrival of the Mongolia. The porters and fellahs rushed down
the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the shore to go and meet the
steamer. Soon her gigantic hull appeared passing along between the banks,
and eleven o'clock struck as she anchored in the road. She brought an
unusual number of passengers, some of whom remained on deck to scan the
picturesque panorama of the town, while the greater part disembarked in
the boats, and landed on the quay.
Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure
which made its appearance. Presently one of the passengers, after
vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters, came
up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English consulate,
at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have visaed. Fix
instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance read the
description of its bearer. An involuntary motion of surprise nearly
escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical with that
of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.
"Is this your passport?" asked he.
"No, it's my master's."
"And your master is -"
"He stayed on board."
"But he must go to the consul's in person, so as to establish his
identity."
"Oh, is that necessary?"
"Quite indispensable."
"And where is the consulate?"
"There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a house
two hundred steps off.
"I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to
be disturbed."
The passenger bowed to I and returned to the steamer.
7. Once more demonstrates the uselessness of passports
as aids to detectives
The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the
consul's office, where he was at once admitted to the presence of that
official.
"Consul," said he, without preamble. "I have strong reasons for
believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated
what had just passed concerning the passport.
"Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see the
rascal's face; but perhaps he won't come here, that is, if he is the
person you suppose him to be. A robber doesn't quite like to leave traces
of his flight behind him; and besides, he is not obliged to have his
passport countersigned."
"If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."
"To have his passport visaed?"
"Yes. Passports are only good for annoying honest folks and aiding
the flight of rogues. I assure you it will be quite the thing for him to
do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."
"Why not? If the passport is genuine, I have no right to refuse."
"Still I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest
him from London."
"Ah, that's your lookout. But I cannot-"
The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was
heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the servant
whom Fix had met on the quay. The other, who was his master, held out his
passport with the request that the consul would do him the favor to visa
it. The consul took the document and carefully read it, whilst Fix
observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes from a corner of
the room.
"You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the
passport.
"I am."
"And this man is your servant?"
"He is; a Frenchman, named Passepartout."
"You are from London?"
"Yes."
"And you are going-"
"To Bombay."
"Very good, sir. You know that a visa is useless, and that no
passport is required?"
"I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by your
visa, that I came by Suez."
"Very well, sir."
The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he
added his official seal. Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly bowed,
and went out, followed by his servant.
"Well?" queried the detective.
"Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the
consul.
"Possibly; but that is not the question. Do you think, consul, that
this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber whose
description I have received?"
"I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions-"
"I'll make certain of it," interrupted Fix. "The servant seems to me
less mysterious than the master; besides, he's a Frenchman, and can't help
talking. Excuse me for a little while, consul."
Fix started off in search of Passepartout.
Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the
quay, gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the Mongolia in boat,
in descended to his cabin. He took up his notebook, which contained the
following memoranda:
"Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8:45 p.m.
"Reached Paris, Thursday, October 3rd, at 7:20 a.m.
"Left Paris, Thursday, at 8:40 a.m.
"Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6:35 a.m
"Left Turin, Friday, at 7:20 a.m.
"Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday, October 5th, at 4 p.m.
"Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.
"Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m.
"Total of hours spent, 158 1/2, or, in days, six days and a half."
These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,
indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the stipulated
and actual arrivals at each principal point, -Paris, Brindisi, Suez,
Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York,
and London, -from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December; and giving a
space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered on arrival of
each locality. This methodical record thus contained an account of
everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was behindhand or
in advance of his time. On this Wednesday, October 9th, he noted his
arrival at Suez, and observed that he had as yet neither gained nor lost.
He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never once thinking of
inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who are wont to see
foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics.
8. Passepartout, talks rather more, perhaps, than is prudent
Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on
the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to see
anything.
"Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is your
passport visaed?"
"Ah, it's you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout. "Thanks,
yes, the passport is all right."
"And you are looking about you?"
"Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"
"Yes."
"In Egypt?"
"Certainly, in Egypt."
"And in Africa?"
"In Africa."
"In Africa!" repeated Passepartout. "Just think, monsieur, I had no
idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris was
between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in the
morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the windows
of a car, and in a driving rain! How I regret not having seen once more
Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"
"You are in a great hurry, then?"
"I am not, but my master is. By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts. We came away without trunks, only with a carpetbag."
"I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."
"Really, monsieur, you are very kind."
And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they
went along.
"Above all," said he, "don't let me lose the steamer."
"You have plenty of time; it's only twelve o'clock."
Passepartout pulled out his big watch. "Twelve!" he exclaimed; "why
it's only eight minutes before ten."
"Your watch is slow."
"My watch? A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather! It doesn't vary five minutes in the year, it's a
perfect chronometer, look you."
"I see how it is," said Fix. "You have kept London time, which is two
hours behind that of Suez. You ought to regulate your watch at noon in
each country."
"I regulate my watch? Never!"
"Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."
"So much the worse for the sun, monsieur. The sun will be wrong,
then!"
And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture. After a few minutes' silence, Fix resumed: "You left London
hastily, then?"
"I rather think so! Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off."
"But where is your master going?"
"Always straight ahead. He is going round the world."
"Round the world?" cried Fix.
"Yes, and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager; but, between us,
I don't believe a word of it. That wouldn't be common sense. There's
something else in the wind."
"Ah! Mr.Fogg is a character, is he?"
"I should say he was."
"Is he rich?"
"No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand-new bank notes
with him. And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either: he has
offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to
Bombay well in advance of time."
"And you have known your master a long time?"
"Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."
The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited
detective may be imagined. The hasty departure from London soon after the
robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his eagerness to reach distant
countries; the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet, -all confirmed
Fix in his theory. He continued to pump poor Passepartout, and learned
that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who lived a solitary
existence in London, was said to be rich, though no one knew whence came
his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in his affairs and habits.
Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land at Suez, but was really
going on to Bombay.
"Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.
"Pretty far. It is a ten days' voyage by sea."
"And in what country is Bombay?"
"India."
"In Asia?"
"Certainly."
"The deuce! I was going to tell you, -there's one thing that worries
me, -my burner!"
"What burner?"
"My gas burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this
moment burning -at my expense. I have calculated, monsieur, that I lose
two shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I
earn; and you will understand that the longer our journey-"
Did Fix pay any attention to Passepartout's trouble about the gas It
is not probable. He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his companion
to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss the steamer, and
hurried back to the consulate. Now that he was fully convinced, Fix had
quite recovered his equanimity.
"Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt. I have spotted my
man. He passes himself off as an odd stick, who is going round the world
in eighty days."
"Then he's a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on
returning to London after putting the police of the two continents off his
track."
"We'll see about that," replied Fix.
"But are you not mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken."
"Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had
passed through Suez?"
"Why? I have no idea; but listen to me."
He reported in a few words the most important parts of his
conversation with Passepartout.
"In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this
man. And what are you going to do?"
"Send a despatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be despatched
instantly to take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my rogue to India,
and there, on English ground, arrest him politely, with my warrant in my
hand, and my hand on his shoulder."
Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective
took leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph office, hence he
sent the despatch which we have seen to the London police office. A
quarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small bag in his hand,
proceeding on board the Mongolia; and ere many moments longer, the notable
steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea.
9. The Red Sea and the Indian Ocean prove propitious
to the designs of Phileas Fogg
The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and
ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one
hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it. The Mongolia,
thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so rapid
was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that time. The
greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for India -some
for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the nearest route
thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula. Among the
passengers was a number of officials and military officers of various
grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British forces, or
commanding the Sepoy troops and receiving high salaries ever since the
central government has assumed the powers of the East India Company; for
the sub-lieutenants get L280, brigadiers, L2400, and generals of division,
L4000. What with the military men, a number of rich young Englishmen on
their travels, and the hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed
quickly on the Mongolia. The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables
at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies
scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were whiled
away, when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.
But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like most
long and narrow gulfs. When the wind came from the African or Asian coast,
the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearful ly. Then the ladies
speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing and dancing
suddenly ceased. Yet the good ship ploughed straight on, unretarded by
wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. What was Phileas Fogg
doing all this time? It might be thought that, in his anxiety, he would be
constantly watching the changes of the wind, the disorderly raging of the
billows -every chance, in short, which might force the Mongolia to slacken
her speed, and thus interrupt his journey. But if he thought of these
possibilities, he did not betray the fact by any outward sign.
Always the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no
incident could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers, and
seldom having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through
the memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not care
to recognize the historic towns and villages which, along its borders,
raised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and betrayed no fear of
the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always spoke of
with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never ventured without
propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices. How did this eccentric
personage pass his time on the Mongolia? He made his four hearty meals
every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling and pitching on the
part of the steamer; and he played whist indefatigably, for he had found
partners as enthusiastic in the game as himself. A tax-collector, on the
way to his post at Goa; the Rev. Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at
Bombay; and a brigadier-general of the English army, who was about to
rejoin his brigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr. Fogg,
played whist by the hour together in absorbing silence.
As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped seasickness, and took his
meals conscientiously in the forward cabin. He rather enjoyed the voyage,
for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in the scenes
through which they were passing, and consoled himself with the delusion
that his master's whim would end at Bombay. He was pleased, on the day
after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging person with whom he had
walked and chatted on the quays.
"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person with his
most amiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to
guide me at Suez?"
"Ah! I quite recognize you. You are the servant of the strange
Englishman-"
"Just so, Monsieur-"
"Fix."
"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm charmed to find you on
board. Where are you bound?"
"Like you, to Bombay."
"That's capital! Have you made this trip before?"
"Several times. I am one of the agents of the Peninsula Company."
"Then you know India?"
"Why -yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.
"A curious place, this India?"
"Oh, very very curious. Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, snakes, elephants! I hope you will have ample time to see the
sights."
"I hope so, Monsieur Fix. You see, a man of sound sense ought not to
spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the
world in eighty days! No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will
cease at Bombay."
"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural
tone in the world.
"Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea air."
"But I never see your master on deck."
"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."
"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty
days may conceal some secret errand -perhaps a diplomatic mission?"
"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would
I give half-a-crown to find out."
After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of
chatting together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man's
confidence. He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale in
the steamer barroom, which Passepartout never failed to accept with
graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows.
Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th,
Mocha, surrounded by its ruined walls whereon date trees were growing, was
sighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee fields.
Passepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and thought
that, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked like an
immense coffee cup and saucer. The following night they passed through the
Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic "The Bridge of Tears," and
the next day they put in at Steamer Point, northwest of Aden Harbor, to
take in coal. This matter of fuelling steamers is a serious one at such
distances from the coal mines; it costs the Peninsula Company some eight
hundred thousand pounds a year. In these distant seas, coal is worth three
or four pounds sterling a ton.
The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse
before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer
Point to coal up. But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect
Phileas Fogg's programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching Aden
on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived there on the evening
of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.
Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport
again visaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them. The visa procured, Mr. Fogg
returned on board to resume his former habits; while Passepartout,
according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of
Somalis, Banyai, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the
twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden. He gazed with wonder upon the
fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian Ocean,
and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at work, two
thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.
"Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on
returning to the steamer. "I see that it is by no means useless to travel,
if a man wants to see something new." At six p.m. the Mongolia slowly
moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on the Indian Ocean.
She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to reach Bombay, and the
sea was favorable, the wind being in the northwest, and all sails aiding
the engine. The steamer rolled but little, the ladies, in fresh toilets,
reappeared on deck, and the singing and dancing resumed. The trip was
being accomplished most successfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with
the congenial companion which chance had secured him in the person of the
delightful Fix. On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight
of the Indian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board. A range of
hills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms which
adorn Bombay came distinctly into view. The steamer entered the road
formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past four she hauled up at
the quays of Bombay.
Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber of
the voyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured
all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a brilliant
victory.
The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from
London, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column of
gains.
10. Passepartout is only too glad to get off
with the loss of his shoes
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its
base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India,
embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread
unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The
British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger
portion of this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at
Calcutta, governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a
lieutenant-governor at Agra.
But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred
thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one hundred
and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion of India is still
free from British authority; and there are certain ferocious rajahs in the
interior who are absolutely independent. The celebrated East India Company
was all-powerful from 1756, when the English first gained a foothold on
the spot where now stands the city of Madras, down to the time of the
great Sepoy insurrection. It gradually annexed province after province,
purchasing them of the native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed
the governor-general and his subordinates, civil and military. But the
East India Company has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in
India directly under the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country,
as well as the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous
methods of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy
coaches; now, fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great
railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its
route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days. This
railway does not run in a direct line across India. The distance between
Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one thousand to
eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road increase this
distance by more than a third.
The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as
follows: -Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the
continent opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs
thence northeast as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent
territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,
meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little, and,
descending southeastward by Burdivan and the French town of Chandernagor,
has its terminus at Calcutta.
The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at
exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.
Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the
steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to be
at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which beat
to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to the
passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay -its famous city hall, its
splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques, synagogues,
its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malebar Hill with its with
its two polygonal towers -he cared not a straw to see them. He would not
deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or the mysterious
hypogea, concealed southeast from the docks, or those fine remains of
Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the island of Salcette.
Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg
repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner. Among
the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended a certain
giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.
Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,
found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord, and on his
appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"
"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."
"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"
"Mew, my lord! what, a rabbit mew! I swear to you-"
"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were
formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals. That was a good time."
"For the cats, my lord?"
"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone on
shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the
headquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a London
detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs
relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had
arrived from London. It had not reached the office; indeed, there had not
yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely disappointed, and tried to
obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay police. This the
director refused, as the matter concerned the London office, which alone
could legally deliver the warrant. Fix did not insist, and was fain to
resign himself to await the arrival of the important document; but he was
determined not to lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he stayed
in Bombay. He did not doubt for a moment, any more than Passepartout, that
Phileas Fogg would remain there, at least until it was time for the
warrant to arrive.
Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on
leaving the Mongolia, than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay
as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended at
least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He began to ask
himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in good
earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him, despite his
love of repose, around the world in eighty days!
Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a
leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many
nationalities -Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, banyas with round
turbans, Sindis with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and
long-robed Armenians -were collected. It happened to be the day of a
Parsee festival. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster -the most
thrifty, civilized, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among
whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay -were celebrating
a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows, in the midst of
which Indian dancing girls, clothed in rose-colored gauze, looped up with
gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect modesty, to the sound of
viols and the clanging of tambourines. It is needless to say that
Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with staring eyes and gaping
mouth, and that his countenance was that of the greenest booby imaginable.
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him
unconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seen the
Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps
towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on
Malebar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its
interior. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to
enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in
without first leaving their shoes outside the door. It may be said here
that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a
disregard of the practices of the native religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple
tourist, and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin
ornamentation which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found
himself sprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three
enraged priests, who forthwith fell upon him, tore off his shoes, and
began to beat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was
soon upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his
long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of his
toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could carry him,
he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd in the
streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and
having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed
breathlessly into the station.
Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was
really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He had
resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if
necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an
obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words to
Mr. Fogg.
"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg, coldly,
as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed
his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering another
carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
"No, I'll stay," muttered he. "An offence has been committed on
Indian soil. I've got my man."
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed
out into the darkness of the night.
11. Phileas Fogg secures a curious means
of conveyance at a fabulous price
The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number
of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo merchants, whose
business called them to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode in the same
carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a seat opposite
to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's whist partners
on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps at Benares. Sir Francis
was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatly distinguished himself in
the last Sepoy revolt. He made India his home, only paying brief visits to
England at rare intervals; and was almost as familiar as a native with the
customs, history, and character of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg,
Phileas Fogg, who was not travelling, but only describing a circumference,
took no pains to inquire into these subjects; he was a solid body,
traversing an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the laws of
rational mechanics. He was at this moment calculating in his mind the
number of hours spent since his departure from London, and, had it been in
his nature to make a useless demonstration, would have rubbed his hands
for satisfaction. Sir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his
travelling companion -although the only opportunity he had for studying
him had been while he was dealing the cards, and between two rubbers -and
questioned himself whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold
exterior, and whether Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of
nature. The brigadier-general was free to mentally confess, that, of all
the eccentric persons he had ever met, none met, none was comparable to
this product of the exact sciences.
Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design of going
round the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out; and the
general only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity, and a lack of sound
common sense. In the way this strange gentleman was going on, he would
leave the world without having done any good to himself or anybody else.
An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaducts and
the island of Salcette, and had got into the open country. At Callyan they
reached the junction of the branch line which descends towards
southeastern India by Kandallah and Pounah; and, passing Pauwell, they
entered the defiles of the mountains, with their basalt bases, and their
summits crowned with thick and verdant forests. Phileas Fogg and Sir
Francis Cromarty exchanged a few words from time to time, and now Sir
Francis, reviving the conversation, observed, "Some years ago, Mr. Fogg,
you would have met with a delay at this point, which would probably have
lost you your wager."
"How so, Sir Francis?"
"Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, which
the passengers were obliged to cross in palanquins or on ponies to
Kandallah, on the other side."
"Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the least," said
Mr. Fogg. "I have constantly foreseen the likelihood of certain obstacles."
"But, Mr. Fogg," pursued Sir Francis, "you run the risk of having
some difficulty about this worthy fellow's adventure at the pagoda."
Passepartout, his feet comfortably wrapped in his travelling blanket, was
sound asleep, and did not dream that anybody was talking about him. "The
Government is very severe upon that kind of offence. It takes particular
care that the religious customs of the Indians should be respected, and if
your servant were caught-"
"Very well, Sir Francis," replied Mr. Fogg; "if he had been caught he
would have been condemned and punished, and then would have quietly
returned to Europe. I don't see how this affair could have delayed his
master."
The conversation fell again. During the night the train left the
mountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next day proceeded over the
flat, well-cultivated country of the Khandeish, with its straggling
villages, above which rose the minarets of the pagodas. This fertile
territory is watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams, mostly
tributaries of the Godavery.
Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realize that he
was actually crossing India in a railway train. The locomotive, guided by
an English engineer and fed with English coal, threw out its smoke upon
cotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations, while the steam
curled in spirals around groups of palm trees, in the midst of which were
seen picturesque bungalows, viharis (a sort of abandoned monasteries), and
marvellous temples enriched by the exhaustless ornamentation of Indian
architecture. Then they came upon vast tracts extending to the horizon,
with jungles inhabited by snakes and tigers, which fled at the noise of
the train; succeeded by forests penetrated by the railway, and still
haunted by elephants which, with pensive eyes, gazed at the train as it
passed. The travellers crossed, beyond Malligaum, the fatal country so
often stained with blood by the sectaries of the goddess Kali. Not far off
rose Ellora, with its graceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad, capital
of the ferocious Aureng-Zeb, now the chief town of one of the detached
provinces of the kingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts that Feringhea,
the Thuggee chief, king of the stranglers, held his sway. These ruffians,
united by a secret bond, strangled victims of every age in honor of the
goddess Death, without ever shedding blood; there was a period when this
part of the country could scarcely be travelled over without corpses being
found in every direction. The English Government has succeeded in greatly
diminishing these murders, though the Thuggees still exist, and pursue the
exercise of their horrible rites.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor, where
Passepartout was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with
false pearls, in which, with evident vanity, he proceeded to incase his
feet. The travellers made a hasty breakfast, and started off for
Assurghur, after skirting for a little the banks of the small river Tapty,
which empties into the Gulf of Cambray, near Surat.
Passepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie. Up to his
arrival at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journey would end
there; but now that they were plainly whirling across India at full speed,
a sudden change had come over the spirit of his dreams. His old vagabond
nature returned to him; the fantastic ideas of his youth once more took
possession of him. He came to regard his master's project as intended in
good earnest, believed in the reality of the bet, and therefore in the
tour of the world, and the necessity of making it without fail within the
designated period. Already he began to worry about possible delays, and
accidents which might happen on the way. He recognized himself as being
personally interested in the wager, and trembled at the thought that he
might have been the means of losing it by his unpardonable folly of the
night before. Being much less cool-headed than Mr. Fogg, he was much more
restless, counting the days passed over, uttering maledictions when the
train stopped, and accusing it of sluggishness, and mentally blaming Mr.
Fogg for not having bribed the engineer. the engineer. The worthy fellow
was ignorant that, while it was possible by such means to hasten the rate
of a steamer, it could not be done on the railway.
The train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains, which
separate the Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards evening. The next day Sir
Francis Cromarty asked Passepartout what time it was; to which, on
consulting his watch, he replied that it was three in the morning. This
famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich meridian, which was
now some seventy-seven degrees westward, was at least four hours slow. Sir
Francis corrected Passepartout's time, whereupon the latter made the same
remark that he had done to Fix; and upon the general insisting that the
watch should be regulated in each new meridian, since he was constantly
going eastward, that is in the face of the sun, and therefore the days
were shorter by four minutes for each degree gone over, Passepartout
obstinately refused to alter his watch, which he kept at London time. It
was an innocent delusion which could harm no one.
The train stopped, at eight o'clock, in the midst of a glade some
fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows and
workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted,
"Passengers will get out here!"
Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but
the general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of this forest
of dates and acacias.
Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily returned,
crying, "Monsieur, no more railway!"
"What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.
"I mean to say that the train isn't going on."
The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed
him, and they proceeded together to the conductor.
"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.
"At the hamlet of Kholby."
"Do we stop here?"
"Certainly. The railway isn't finished."
"What! Not finished?"
"No. There's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to
Allahabad, where the line begins again."
"But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."
"What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken."
"Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," returned Sir Francis,
who was growing warm.
"No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know that they
must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to
Allahabad."
Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout would willingly have knocked
the conductor down, and did not dare to look at his master.
"Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg, quietly, we will, "if you please, look
about look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."
"Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."
"No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."
"What! You knew that the way-"
"Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or
later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days
which I have already gained to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta for
Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall reach
Calcutta in time."
There was nothing to say to so confident a response.
It was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this
point. The papers were like some watches, which have a way of getting too
fast, and had been premature in their announcement of the completion of
the line. The greater part of the travellers were aware of this
interruption, and leaving the train, they began to engage such vehicles as
the village could provide -four-wheeled palkigharis, waggons drawn by
zebus, carriages that looked like perambulating pagodas, palanquins,
ponies, and what not.
Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village from
end to end, came back without having found anything.
"I shall go afoot," said Phileas Fogg.
Passepartout, who had now rejoined his master, made a wry grimace, as
he thought of his magnificent, but too frail Indian shoes. Happily he too
had been looking about him, and, after a moment's hesitation, said,
"Monsieur, I think I have found a means of conveyance."
"What?"
"An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but a
hundred steps from here."
"Let's go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg.
They soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within some high
pailings, was the animal in question. An Indian came out of the hut, and,
at their request, conducted them within the enclosure. The elephant, which
its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but for warlike purposes,
was half domesticated. The Indian had begun already, by often irritating
him, and feeding him every three months on sugar and butter, to impart to
him a ferocity not in his nature, this method being often employed by
those who train the Indian elephants for battle. Happily, however, for Mr.
Fogg, the animal's instruction in this direction had not gone far, and the
elephant still preserved his natural gentleness. Kiouni -this was the name
of the beast -could doubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and, in
default of any other means of conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him.
But elephants are far from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce;
the males, which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought,
especially as but few of them are domesticated. When, therefore, Mr. Fogg
proposed to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank. Mr. Fogg
persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour for the loan
of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty pounds? Refused also. Forty
pounds? Still refused. At each advance Passepartout jumped; but the Indian
declined to be tempted. Yet the offer was an alluring one, for, supposing
it took the elephant fifteen hours to reach Allahabad, his owner would
receive no less than six hundred pounds sterling.
Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed to
purchase the animal outright, and at first offered a thousand pounds for
him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a great bargain,
still refused.
Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to reflect
before he went any further; to which that gentleman replied that he was
not in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
was at stake, that the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and that
he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his value. Returning to
the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes, glistening with avarice, betrayed
that with him it was only a question of how great a price he could obtain,
Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen
hundred, two thousand pounds. Passepartout, usually so rubicund, was
fairly white with suspense.
At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
"What a price, good heaven!" cried Passepartout, "for an elephant!"
It only remained now to find a guide, which was comparatively easy. A
young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr.
Fogg accepted, promising so generous a reward as to materially stimulate
his zeal. The elephant was led out and equipped. The Parsee, who was an
accomplished elephant driver, covered his back with a sort of saddlecloth,
and attached to his flanks a pair of curiously uncomfortable howdahs.
Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some bank notes which he extracted
from the famous carpetbag, a proceeding that seemed to deprive poor
Passepartout of his vitals. Then he offered to carry Sir Francis to
Allahabad, which the brigadier gratefully accepted, as one traveller the
more would not be likely to fatigue the gigantic beast. Provisions were
purchased at Kholby, and while Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took the howdahs
on either side, Passepartout got astride the saddlecloth between them. The
Parsee perched himself on the elephant's neck, and at nine o'clock they
set out from the village, the animal marching off through the dense forest
of palms by the shortest cut.
12. Phileas Fogg and his companions venture across
the Indian forests, and what ensued
In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of the
line where the railway was still in process of being built. This line,
owing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia mountains, did not pursue
a straight course. The Parsee, who was quite familiar with the roads and
paths in the district, declared that they would gain twenty miles by
striking directly through the forest.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in the
peculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swift
trotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee; but
they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talking little, and
scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As for Passepartout, who
was mounted on the beast's back, and received the direct force of each
concussion as he trod along, he was very careful, in accordance with his
master's advice, to keep his tongue from between his teeth, as it would
otherwise have been bitten off short. The worthy fellow bounced from the
elephant's neck to his rump, and vaulted like a clown on a springboard;
yet he laughed in the midst of his bouncing, and from time to time took a
piece of sugar out of his pocket, and inserted it in Kiouni's trunk, who
received it without in the least slackening his regular trot.
After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hour
for rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at a neighboring
spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs round about him. Neither
Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and both descended with a
feeling of relief. "Why, he's made of iron!" exclaimed the general, gazing
admiringly on Kiouni.
"Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing a
hasty breakfast.
At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soon
presented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf palms succeeded
the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty shrubs, and
sown with great blocks of syenite. All this portion of Bundelcund, which
is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by a fanatical
population, hardened in the most horrible practices of the Hindoo faith.
The English have not been able to secure complete dominion over this
territory, which is subjected to the influence of rajahs, of rajahs, whom
it is almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible mountain
fastnesses.The travellers several times saw bands of ferocious Indians,
who, when they perceived the elephant striding across country, made angry
and threatening motions. The Parsee avoided them as much as possible. Few
animals were observed on the route; even the monkeys hurried from their
path with contortions and grimaces which convulsed Passepartout with
laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy
servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant, when he got to
Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell him, or
set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some consideration.
Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a present of Kiouni, he
would be very much embarrassed; and these thoughts did not cease worrying
him for a long time.
The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the
evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined
bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an equal
distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few
dry branches, and I he warmth was very grateful. The provisions purchased
at Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The
conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave place
to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept standing,
bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree. Nothing occurred
during the night to disturb the slumberers, although occasional growls
from panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the silence; the more
formidable beasts made no cries or hostile demonstration against the
occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept heavily, like an honest
soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout was wrapped in uneasy dreams
of the bouncing of the day before. As for Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as
peacefully as if he had been in his serene mansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to
reach Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part
of the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni,
resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the Vindhias,
and towards noon they noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on the
Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoided inhabited
places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which lies along the
first depressions of the basin of the great river. Allahabad was now only
twelve miles to the northeast.They stopped under a clump of bananas, the
fruit of which, as healthy as bread and as succulent as cream, was amply
partaken of and appreciated.
At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended
several miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had
not as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the
point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming
restless, suddenly stopped.
It was then four o'clock.
"What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
"I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to
a confused murmur which came through the thick branches.
The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant
concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout was
all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The Parsee
jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and plunged into
the thicket. He soon returned, saying,-
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent their
seeing us, if possible."
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the
same time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready to
bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight become necessary;
but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful would pass
without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which they were wholly
concealed.
The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and
now droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.
The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred
paces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious ceremony
were easily distinguished through the branches. First came the priests,
with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace robes. They were
surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a kind of lugubrious
psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the tambourines and cymbals;
while behind them was drawn a car with large wheels, the spokes of which
represented serpents entwined with each other. Upon the car, which was
drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus, stood a hideous statue with four
arms, the body colored a dull red, with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair,
protruding tongue, and lips tinted with betel. It stood upright upon the
figure of a prostrate and headless giant.
Sir Francis, recognizing the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali;
the goddess of love and death."
"Of death, perhaps," murmured back Passepartout, "but of love -that
ugly old hag? Never!"
The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.
A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado around the
statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence their
blood issued drop by drop -stupid fanatics, who, in the great Indian
ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut. Some
Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental apparel, and leading a
woman who faltered at every step, followed. This woman was young, and as
fair as a European. Her head and neck, shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and
toes, were loaded down with jewels and gems, -with bracelets, earrings,
and rings; while a tunic bordered with gold, and covered with a light
muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her form.
The guards who followed.the young woman presented a violent contrast
to her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, long
damasceened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was the body
of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a rajah, wearing,
as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of tissue of silk and
gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and the magnificent weapons
of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians and a rearguard of capering
fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the noise of the instruments; these
closed the procession.
Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and
turning to the guide, said, "A suttee."
The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in the
depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally cries were
heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked, "What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned tomorrow at the
dawn of day."
"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his
indignation.
"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."
"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the
least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and
that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"
"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India,"
replied Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories,
and especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the
Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."
"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"
"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And if she were not, you
cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from her
relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty allowance
of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as an unclean
creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog. The prospect of
so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures to the sacrifice
much more than love or religious fanaticism. Sometimes, however, the
sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires the active interference of
the Government to prevent it. Several years ago, when I was living at
Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the governor to be burned along
with her husband's body; but, as you may imagine, he refused. The woman
left the town, took refuge with an independent rajah, and there carried
out her self-devoted purpose."
While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several
times, and now said, "The sacrifice which will take place tomorrow at dawn
is not a voluntary one."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"
observed Sir Francis.
"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and
opium."
"But where are they taking her?"
"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the
night there."
"And the sacrifice will take place-"
"Tomorrow, at the first light of dawn."
The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon
his neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with
a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and turning to Sir Francis
Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."
"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
"I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."
"Why, you are a man of heart!"
"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."
13. Passepartout receives a new proof that fortune
favors the brave
The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps
impracticable. Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and
therefore the success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found
in Sir Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.
As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be
proposed. His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul,
under that icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.
There remained the guide: what course would he adopt Would he not
take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was necessary
to be assured of his neutrality.
Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.
"Officer," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a
Parsee. Command me as you will."
"Excellent," said Mr. Fogg.
"However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall
risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."
"That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg. "I think we must wait till
night before acting."
"I think so," said the guide.
The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said,
was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a wealthy
Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English education in that
city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would be thought an
European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was married against her
will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing the fate that awaited
her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the rajah's relatives, who
had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice from which it seemed she
could not escape.
The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the
elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached as
quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a copse some
five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well concealed; but
they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs distinctly.
Then they discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was
familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the young
woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while the whole
party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it safer to
attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be determined at the
moment and the place themselves; but it was certain that the abduction
must be made that night, and not when, at break of day, the victim was led
to her funeral pyre. Then no human intervention could save her.
As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a
reconnoissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just
ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the
drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be
possible to slip between them to the temple itself.
The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood,
and in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream,
whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of wood,
on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was to be
burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above the trees in
the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.
"Come!" whispered the guide.
He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by
his companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of
the wind in the branches.
Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up
by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,
motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with the
dead. Men, women, and children lay together.
In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed
indistinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the rajah,
lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to and fro
with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching within.
The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance
to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be
attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered
colloquy.
"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may
also go to sleep."
"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an
observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by
the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of the
pagoda.
They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,
and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be counted
on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the walls of the
pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the priests were
watching by the side of their victim assiduously as were the soldiers at
the door.
After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a roundabout
way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached the wall about
half-past twelve, without having met any one; here there was no guard, nor
were there either windows or doors.
The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the
darkness.
It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their pocket
knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood, which could
be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had been taken out,
the rest would yield easily.
They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks, so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a cry
was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly by
other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide stopped.
Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common prudence urged them
to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They
again hid themselves in the wood, and waited till the disturbance,
whatever it might be, ceased, holding themselves ready to resume their
attempt without delay. But, awkwardly enough, the guards now appeared at
the rear of the temple, and there installed themselves, in readiness to
prevent a surprise.
It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party,
thus interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim: how,
then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout was
beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The tranquil
Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.
"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.
"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.
"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."
"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and-"
"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last
moment."
Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes.
What was this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a
rush for the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly
snatch her from her executioners
This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was
such a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this
terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where they
were able to observe the sleeping groups.
Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches
of a tree, was revolving an idea which had at first struck him like a
flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.
He had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he
repeated, "Why not, after all? It's a chance, -perhaps the only one; and
with such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a
serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the
ground.
The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach
of day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering
multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries arose;
the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda swung open,
and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst of which Mr.
Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed, having shaken off the
of intoxication to be striving to escape from her executioner. Sir
Francis' heart throbbed; and convulsively seizing Mr. Fogg's hand, found
in it an open knife. Just at this moment the crowd began to move. The
young woman had again fallen into a stupor, caused by the fumes of hemp,
and passed among the fakirs, who escorted her with their wild, religious
cries.
Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the
crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the stream,
and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the rajah's
corpse. In the semiobscurity they saw the victim, quite senseless,
stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was brought, and the
wood, soaked with oil, instantly took fire.
At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in
an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he had
quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed. A cry of
terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves, terror-stricken,
on the ground.
The old rajah was not dead then, since he rose of a sudden, like a
spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in the
midst of in the midst of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly
appearance.
Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay
there, with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and
behold such a prodigy.
The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr. Fogg
and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and Passepartout
was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.
The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in
an abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"
It was Passepartout himself who had slipped upon the pyre in the
midst of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had
delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing his
part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the general
terror.
A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods,
and the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and
noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat, apprised them
that the trick had been discovered.
The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and
the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction had
taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the soldiers, who
fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter rapidly increased the
distance between them, and ere long found themselves beyond the reach of
the bullets and arrows.
14. Phileas Fogg descends the whole length of the beautiful
valley of the Ganges without ever thinking of seeing it
The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout
laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow's
hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which from him, was high
commendation to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the
affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with a
"queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,
Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse of
a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young Indian
woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing, and now,
wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the howdahs.
The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was
advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after
leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at seven
o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete prostration.
The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but the drowsiness
which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off Sir Francis, who was
familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced by the fumes of
hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But he was more disturbed
at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas Fogg that, should
Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall again into the hands of
her executioners. These fanatics were scattered throughout the country,
and would, despite the English police, recover their victim at Madras,
Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only be safe by quitting India forever.
Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and the
interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach
Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be able
to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next day,
October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in one of the waiting rooms of the
station, whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various
articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master
gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, and found
himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the "City of God," one of
the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the two sacred
rivers Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract pilgrims from every
part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according to the legends of the
Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma's agency, it descends
to the earth.
Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a
good look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has
since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and
Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to
frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty jew,
who sold second-hand articles, and from whom from whom he purchased a
dress of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for
which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returned
triumphantly to the station.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda
began gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine
eyes resumed all their soft Indian expression.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen
of Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:-
"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious
contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and
freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama, the
god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest reflections and
a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of Himalaya, in the black
pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter
between her smiling lips like dewdrops in a passion flower's breast. Her
delicately formed ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and
tender as the lotus bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest
pearls of Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and
supple waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her
rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower
displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of her
tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand
of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to
Aouda, that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of
the phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not
exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her
bringing up.
The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded
to pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing
more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master
owed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in the
adventure at Pillaji, and if he should be caught afterwards by the
Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni, also,
must disposed of what should be done with the elephant, which had been so
dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg had already determined this question.
"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and
devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would
you like to have this elephant? He is yours."
The guide's eyes glistened.
"Your honor is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your
debtor."
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout; "take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him several
lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout
around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.
Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which
replaced him gently on the ground.
Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were whirling
at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles, and was
accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman fully
recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself in this
carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and with
travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions first set about
fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis narrated to
her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which Phileas Fogg had
not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and recounting the happy
sequel of the venture, the result of Passepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg
said nothing; while Passepartout, abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't
worth telling."
Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than
words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips. Then,
as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and recalled
the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.
Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and
offered, in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she
might remain safely until the affair was hushed up -an offer which she
eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation, who
was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an
English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends
assert that this city is built on the site of ancient Casi, which, like
Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth; though the
Benares of today, which the Orientalists call the Athens of India, stands
quite unpoetically on the solid earth. Passepartout caught glimpses of its
brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of desolation to the place,
as the train entered it.
Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he was
rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade adieu
to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all him expressing the hope that he would
come that way again in a less original but more profitable fashion. Mr.
Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The parting of Aouda, who did not
forget what she owed to Sir Francis, betrayed more warmth; and, as for
Passepartout, he received a hearty shake of the hand from the gallant
general.
The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley
of the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had
glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains clothed
in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles peopled
with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still thickly leaved
forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the sacred river, and
groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and chilly air, were
performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were fervent Brahmins,
the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being Vishnu, the solar god,
Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural forces, and Brahma, the supreme
ruler of priests and legislators. What would divinities think of India,
anglicized as it is today, with steamers whistling and scudding along the
Ganges, frightening the gulls which float upon its surface, the turtles
swarming along its banks, and the faithful dwelling upon its borders?
The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the
steam concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely
discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles southwestward from Benares, the
ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its famous
rosewater factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on the left
bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a large
manufacturing and trading place, where is held the principal opium market
of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is as English as
Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries, edge tool factories,
and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke heavenward.
Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the
roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before locomotive; and
the marvels of Bengal, Golconda, ruined Gour, Murshedabad, the ancient
capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town of Chandernagor, where
Passepartout would have been proud to see his country's flag flying, were
hidden from their view in the darkness.
Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for
Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of
October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was
therefore neither behindhand nor ahead of time. The two days gained
between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the journey
across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg regretted
them.
15. The bag of bank notes disgorges some thousands
of pounds more
The train entered the station, and Passepartout, jumping out first,
was followed by Mr. Fog, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in
order comfortably settled for the voyage. He was unwilling to leave her
while they were still on dangerous ground.
Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman pointing to
Passepartout.
"Yes."
"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped
him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
"She may," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a "palki-gari," a
sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took
their places and were driven away. No one spoke during the twenty minutes
which elapsed before they reached their destination. They first passed
through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its miserable, dirty
huts, and squalid population; then through the "European town," which
presented a relief in its bright brick mansions, shaded by cocoanut trees
and bristling with masts, where, although it was early morning, elegantly
dressed horsemen and handsome equipages were passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which, however,
did not have the appearance of a private mansion. The policeman having
requested his prisoners -for so, truly, they might be called -to descend,
conducted them into a room with barred windows, and said, "You will appear
before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a
chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg, "Sir,
you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive this
treatment; it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible. It
was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee. The
complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge. There
was some mistake. Moreover, he would not in any event abandon Aouda, but
would escort her to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively, that Passepartout could not help muttering
to himself, "Parbleu, that's certain! Before noon we shall be on board."
But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall. It was
evidently courtroom, and a crowd of Europeans and natives already occupied
the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite
the desks of the magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after, Judge
Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered. He proceeded to
take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it hurriedly on his
head.
"The first case," said he; then, putting his hand to his head, he
exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a
clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the
big clock over the judge seemed to go round with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?"
"Present!" responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two
days on the trains from Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the
right-"
"Have you been ill-treated?"
"Not at all."
"Very well; let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests
entered.
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were
going to burn our young lady."
The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against Phileas
Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a place held
consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."
"You admit it?"
"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,
what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand
what was said.
"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where
they were on the point of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the
pagoda of Malebar Hill, at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very
shoes, which he left behind him."
Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.
"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape him.
The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair
at Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.
Fix, the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had
consulted the priests of Malebar Hill. Knowing that the English
authorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanor, he promised
them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to Calcutta by the
next train. Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of the young widow,
Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before Mr. Fogg and his
servant, the magistrates having been already warned by a despatch to
arrest them, should they arrive. Fix's disappointment when he learned that
Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in Calcutta, may be imagined. He
made up his mind that the robber had stopped somewhere on the route and
taken refuge in the southern provinces. For twenty-four hours Fix watched
the station with feverish anxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr.
Fogg and Passepartout arrive, accompanied by a young woman, whose presence
he was wholly at a loss to explain. He hastened for a policeman; and this
was how the party came to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied
the detective ensconced in a corner of the courtroom, watching the
proceedings with an interest easily understood; for the warrant had failed
to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash
exclamation, which the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally
and sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man
Passepartout has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malebar
Hill, at Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout
to imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness
of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the
act was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and as
the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his paid
servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a fine of one
hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could
be detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant
to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence ruined his master. A
wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a precious fool,
had gone into that abominable pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the
least concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being
pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and
said, "I offer bail."
"You have that right," returned the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the
judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one
thousand pounds.
"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank bills
from the carpetbag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on the
clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison,"
said the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."
"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout,
angrily.
"Ah, these are pretty shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to
him. "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the
crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes that the robber would
not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him, but would decide
to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on Mr. Fogg's traces. That
gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon landed on one of the
quays.
The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbor, its signal of
departure hoisted at the masthead. Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr. Fogg
was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage and push
off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet in disappointment.
"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end of the
world if necessary; but at the rate he is going on, the stolen money will
soon be exhausted."
The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of the
elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than five
thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum recovered from
the bank robber, promised to the detectives, was rapidly diminishing.
16. Fix does not seem to understand in the least
what is said to him
The Rangoon - one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats
plying in the Chinese and Japanese seas - was a screw steamer, built of
iron, weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines
of four hundred horsepower. She was as fast, but not as well fitted up, as
the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board of
her as Phileas Fogg could have wished. However, the trip from Calcutta to
Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred miles, occupying
from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not difficult to please.
During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude for
what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her, apparently at
least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner betraying the
slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the watch that nothing
should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He visited her regularly each day at
certain hours, not so much to talk himself as to sit and hear her talk. He
treated her with the strictest politeness, but with the precision of an
automaton, the movements of which had been arranged for this purpose.
Aouda did not quite know what to make of him, though Passepartout had
given her some hints of his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by
telling her of the wager which was sending him round the world. After all,
she owed Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the
exalting medium of her gratitude.
Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India. Many
of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing in
cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet by
the English government. Aouda was a relative of this great man, and it was
his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong. Whether she
would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr. Fogg essayed to
calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything would be
mathematically- he used the very word -arranged. Aouda fastened her great
eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya," upon him; but the
intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem at all inclined to
throw himself into this lake.
The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favorable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming
above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores, but the savage
Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not, as has been
asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.
The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.
Vast forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa,
and tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful
outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the
coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire. The varied landscape
afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and the Rangoon
rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which give access to the China
seas.
What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to
country, doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at
Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that, if
the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong Kong; and
he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage. It would have
been difficult to explain why he was on board without awaking
Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay. But necessity
impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance with the worthy
servant, as will be seen.
All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centered on Hong Kong;
for the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to
take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the robber
would probably escape him forever. Hong Kong was the last English ground
on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan, America offered to Fogg
an almost certain refuge. If the warrant should at last make its
appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him and give him into the hands
of the local police, and there would be no further trouble. But beyond
Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no avail; an extradition warrant
would be necessary, and that would result in delays and obstacles, of
which the rascal would take advantage to elude justice.
Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he
spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or it
will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I should
delay his departure. I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed at
Calcutta: if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost. Cost what it may,
I must succeed! But how shall I prevent his departure, if that should turn
out to be my last resource?"
Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his master
really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was very
certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid of being
himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an ally of the
detective. But this method was a dangerous one, only to be employed when
everything else had failed. A word from Passepartout to his master would
ruin all. The detective was therefore in a sore strait. But suddenly a new
idea struck him. The presence of Aouda on the Rangoon, in company with
Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for reflection.
Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay and
Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone into the
interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel? Fix was fairly
puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked elopement;
and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he determined to make
use of the supposed intrigue. Whether the young woman was married or not,
he would be able to create such difficulties for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong,
that he could not escape by paying any amount of money.
But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before anything
could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.
Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the
Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer stopped
at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong. He finally
resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to question
Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk; and, as there
was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.
It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.
Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The detective
rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and exclaimed,
"You here, on the Rangoon?"
"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really
astonished Passepartout, recognizing his crony of the Mongolia. "Why, I
left you at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong! Are you
going round the world too?"
"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong -at least for some
days."
"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed. "But
how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
"Oh, a trifle of sea sickness, -I've been staying in my berth. The
Gulf of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how
is Mr. Fogg?"
"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time! But,
Monsieur Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what
was said.
Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the
Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds, the
rescue, the arrest and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the restoration
of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who was familiar with the
last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all that Passepartout
related; and the latter was charmed to find so interested a listener.
"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
"Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection of
one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."
"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment. "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"
"Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass on
board the Rangoon."
17. What happened on the voyage from Singapore to Hong Kong
The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this
interview, though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his
companion to divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a
glimpse of that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually
confined himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according
to his inveterate habit, took hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance
kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It was really
worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent person,
whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board the Mongolia,
who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his destination, and now
turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was following Mr. Fogg's tracks
step by step. What was Fix's object? Passepartout was ready to wager his
Indian shoes -which he religiously preserved -that Fix would also leave
Hong Kong at the same time with them, and probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber around
the globe. But as it is in human nature to attempt the solution of every
mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an explanation of Fix's
movements, which was in truth far from unreasonable. Fix, he thought,
could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's friends at the Reform Club, sent to
follow him up, and to ascertain that he really went round the world as had
been agreed upon.
"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness. "He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite the
thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honorable a man! Ah,
gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing
to his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the
part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had the
chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray his
real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, October 30th, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a. m., to receive coal, having
gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg
noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who
betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them
cautiously, without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing
in his sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no
mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park
checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn by
a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda into
the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of clove trees
whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower. Pepper plants
replaced the prickly hedges of European fields; sago bushes, large ferns
with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of this tropical clime; while
nutmeg trees in full foliage filled the air with a penetrating perfume.
Agile grinning bands of monkeys skipped about in the trees, nor were
tigers wanting in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the to town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical fruits
and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely followed by the
detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes -a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark brown color outside and a bright
red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords gourmands
a delicious sensation -was was waiting for them on deck. He was only too
glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very gracefully for
them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbor, and in
hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests inhabited by the
most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view. Singapore
is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of Hong Kong, which
is a little English colony near the Chinese coast. Phileas Fogg hoped to
accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be in time for the steamer
which would leave on the 6th of November for Yokohama, the principal
Japanese port.
The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen, Malays,
and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the southwest, and thus
aided the steamer's progress. The captain as often as possible put up his
sails, and under the double action of steam and sail, the vessel made
rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China. Owing to the
defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual precautions became
necessary in unfavorable weather; but the loss of time which resulted from
this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout out of his senses, did not
seem to affect his master in the least. Passepartout blamed the captain,
the engineer, and the crew, and consigned all who were connected with the
ship to the land where the pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas,
which was remorselessly burning at his expense in Saville Row, had
something to do with his hot impatience.
"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
Hong Kong?"
"A very great hurry!"
"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
"Terribly anxious."
"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it."
"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had
the Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But how
could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet, in
speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his
tongue.
"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone; "shall we be so unfortunate
as to lose you when we get to Hong Kong ?"
"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps-"
"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to Bombay,
and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from America to
Europe is only a step."
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene
as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted in chaffing
him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.
"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."
"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to
his reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his
master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or not?
Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these things over
in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then persuading himself
that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then undecided what course it
was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved
to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it practicable to
arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave that last
foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell Passepartout all.
Either the servant was the accomplice of his master, and in this case the
master knew of his operations, and he should fail; or else the servant
knew nothing of the robbery, and then his interest would be to abandon the
robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile
Phileas Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit around the world,
regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet there was
near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star, which might
have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart. But no! the charms
of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great surprise; and the
disturbances, if they existed, would have been more difficult to calculate
than those of Uranus which led to the discovery Neptune.
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas Fogg,
though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless. As to the
sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was clearly
no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in perpetual
reveries.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the screw
out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves; and this made
Passepartout indignant.
"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are not
going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should blow
up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
18. Phileas Fogg, Passepartout and Fix go each
about his business
The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage. The wind,
obstinately remaining in the northwest, blew a gale, and retarded the
steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily, and the passengers became impatient
of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised before their path. A
sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall knocking the
vessel about with fury, and the waves running high. The Rangoon reefed all
her sails, and even the rigging proved too much, whistling and shaking
amid the squall. The steamer was forced to proceed slowly, and the captain
estimated that she would reach Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and
more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty hours,
by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost inevitably
cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve manifested neither
impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm were a part of his
programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed to find him as calm as
he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves. Each
day filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable that Fogg
would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong: and now the heavens
themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls. It mattered not
that they made him seasick-he made no account of this inconvenience; and
whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his spirit bounded with
hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious
weather. Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to
be at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and
steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were to
come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made him
furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience. Poor
fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction, for, had he
betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained himself from
personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed the
captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how
long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the
barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout shook
it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor maledictions
could prevail upon it to change its mind.
On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened
its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favorable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails were unfurled,
and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The time lost could not,
however, be regained. Land was not signalled until five o'clock on the
morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th. Phileas Fogg was
twenty-four hours behindhand, and the Yokohama steamer would of course be
missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama; but
he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope which still
remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to Fix, who
-the sly rascal! tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg would be in
time if he took the next boat; but this only put Passepartout in a
passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave Hong
Kong for Yokohama.
"At high tide tomorrow morning," answered the pilot.
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced
the pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"The Carnatic."
"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till tomorrow."
"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the
saloon.
Passepartout clasped the polot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won
him this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbor of Hong Kong. At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay,
and the passengers were going ashore.
Chance had strangely favored Phileas Fogg, for, had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left on
the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been obliged
to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg was, it is
true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not seriously
imperil the remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not sail
until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four hours
late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily regained in
the voyage twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found himself, then,
about twenty-four hours behindhand, thirty-five days after leaving London.
The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next
morning. Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business
there, which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired
to the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her cousin
Jejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel until his
return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, everyone
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee merchant.
Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jejeeh had left China
two years before, and, retiring from business with an immense fortune, had
taken up his residence in Europe -in Holland, the broker thought, with the
merchants of which country he had principally traded. Phileas Fogg
returned to the hotel, begged a moment's conversation with Aouda, and,
without more ado, apprised her that Jejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but
probably in Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said,
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."
"But I cannot intrude-"
"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!"
"Monsieur."
"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious
to him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master's order.
19. Passepartout takes a too great interest
in his master, and what comes of it
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English
by the treaty of Nanking, after the war of 1842; and the colonizing genius
of the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent
port. The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is
separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on the
opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for and now the
greater part of the transportation of Chinese goods finds its depot at the
former place. Docks, hospitals, wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government
house, macadamized streets give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in
Kent or Surrey transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other modes
of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans who
passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed to him not unlike
Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed everywhere
the evidence of English supremacy. At the Victoria port he found a
confused mass of ships of all nations, English, French, American, and
Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas,
tankas, and flower boats, which formed so many floating parterres.
Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the natives who seemed very
old and were dressed in yellow. On going into a barber's to get shaved, he
learned that these ancient men were all at least eighty years old, at
which age they are permitted to wear yellow, which is the Imperial color.
Passepartout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he
was not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The detective seemed
very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the
Reform Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not
perceived that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed, good
reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him. The warrant had
not come! It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now
reach Hong Kong for several days; and this being the last English
territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless he could
manage to detain him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go on
with us as far as America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your berth."
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs on
the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that very
evening, and not next morning as had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I will
go and let him know."
Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout
all. It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg
several days longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion
into a tavern which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they found
themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of which was a
large camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons lay upon this bed
in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were arranged about the room
some thirty customers were drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy;
smoking, the while, long red clay pipes stuffed with little balls of opium
mingled with essence of rose. From time to time one of the smokers,
overcome with the narcotic, would slip under the table, whereupon the
waiters, taking him by the head and feet, carried and laid him upon the
bed. The bed already supported twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking house haunted by
those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures, to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the amount
of one million four hundred thousand pounds -thousands devoted to one of
the most despicable vices which afflict humanity! The Chinese government
has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by stringent laws. It passed
gradually from the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved, to
the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested. Opium is
smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women, in the Celestial
Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the victims cannot dispense with it,
except by suffering horrible bodily contortions and agonies. A great
smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day; but he dies in five years.
It was in one of these dens that Fix and Passepartout in search of a
friendly glass, found themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly
accepted Fix's invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some
future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted about
the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea that Fix
was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were empty, however,
he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the time of the sailing
of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
tomorrow; I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's
face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything-"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have put
themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared -fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If you'll
help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honor, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as well
waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and
more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes a
wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here
to interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some time
ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout again emptying his glass.
The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before
he spoke again. What should he do Passepartout's mistake seemed sincere,
but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that the servant was
not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice,
he will help me."
He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong; so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me, me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an
agent of the members of the Reform Club-"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and
the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for securing your
innocent complicity."
"But why?"
"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured. Here is this description; it answers
exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his
fist. "My master is the most honorable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in bank notes. And
yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between
his hands, and did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg, the
saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet how many
presumptions there were against him! Passepartout essayed to reject the
suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not wish to
believe that his master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but
as yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to
London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong-"
"I! But I-"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true -if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for -which I deny -I have
been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and I
will never betray him -not for all the gold in the world. I come from a
village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."
"Yes; let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of
the liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from
his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium lay
upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He took it, put
it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head, becoming
heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the time of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he
will have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
20. Fix comes face to face with Phileas Fogg
While these events were passing at the opium house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly
escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them. It was all very well
for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with a
carpetbag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under such
conditions. He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity, and
invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who was
confused by his patience and generosity,-
"It is in the interest of my journey -a part of my programme."
The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a
sumptuously served table d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with her
protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest. Mr.
Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of the Times
and Illustrated London News.
Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have
been not to see his servant return at bed time. But, knowing that the
steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did not
disturb himself about the matter. When Passepartout did not appear the
next morning, to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying the
least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpetbag, calling
Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high
tide, the Carnatic would leave the harbor. Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the
palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half an
hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark. Mr. Fogg then
learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before. He had expected
to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was forced to give up
both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his face, and he merely
remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam; nothing more."
At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively
approached. It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not,
like me, sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"
"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honor-"
"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."
"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.
"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
"Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
"Yes, sir."
"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic,
its repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated
time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
another steamer."
As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained at
Hong Kong a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive, and
fortune at last favored the representative of the law. His horror may be
imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But there are
other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the harbor of Hong
Kong."
And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the
docks in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed; it
seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread. Chance,
however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had hitherto served
so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about the docks, with the
determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to carry him to Yokohama;
but he could only find vessels which were loading or unloading, and which
could not therefore set sail. Fix began to hope again.
But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted by
a sailor on one of the wharves.
"Is your honor looking for a boat?"
"Have you a boat ready to sail?"
"Yes, your honor; a pilot boat -No. 43 -the best in the harbor."
"Does she go fast?"
"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
"Yes."
"Your honor will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
"No; for voyage."
"A voyage?"
"Yes; will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is
your honor joking?"
"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
"I am sorry," said the sailor, "but it is impossible."
"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of
two hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
"Are you in earnest?"
"Very much so."
The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the fear
of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid,
would you, madam?"
"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg
"Well, your honor," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time of
year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is sixteen
hundred and sixy miles from Hong Kong."
"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"It's the same thing."
Fix breathed more freely.
"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
Fix ceased to breathe at all.
"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast, which
would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and would aid
us."
"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg. "I must take the American steamer at
Yokohama, and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
"Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it starts
from Shanghai."
"You are sure of that?"
"Perfectly."
"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good luck
and a southwest wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those eight
hundred miles to Shanghai."
"And you could go-"
"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up."
"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"
"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
"Would you like some earnest-money?"
"If it would not put your honor out-"
"Here are two hundred pounds on account. Sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage-"
"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favor."
"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
servant's disappearance.
"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot boat
the others directed their course to the police station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left of money to
be spent in the search for him. The same formalities having been gone
through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having stopped at the
hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there, they returned to
the wharf.
It was now three o'clock; and pilot boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanized iron work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride taken
by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her two masts leaned a trifle
backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib and standing-jib,
and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she seemed capable of
brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by gaining several
prizes in pilot-boat races. The crew of the Tankadere was composed of John
Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who were familiar with the
Chinese seas. John Bunsby himself, a man forty-five or thereabouts,
vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly expression of the eye, and energetic
and self-reliant countenance, would have inspired confidence in the most
timid.
Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged out in
the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the center was a table
provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined, but neat.
"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to
Fix, who bowed without responding.
The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.
"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
one!"
The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past
three. Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at
the quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant, whom
he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an explanation
the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have ensued. But the
Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was still lying under the
stupefying influence of the opium.
John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.
21. The master of the "Tankadere" runs great risk
of losing a reward of two hundred pounds
This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture, on a craft
of twenty tons, and at that season of the year. The Chinese seas are
usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and especially
during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.
It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his
passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he we
would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent even
to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby believed in the Tankadere,
which rode on the waves like a sea gull; and perhaps he was not wrong.
Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong
Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favorable winds, conducted herself
admirably.
"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the
open sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."
"Trust me, your honor. We are carrying all the sail the wind will let
us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going into
port."
"It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."
Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a
sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters. The young woman,
who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out upon the
ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had ventured in so
frail a vessel. Above her head rustled the white sails, which seemed like
great white wings. The boat, carried forward by the wind, seemed to be
flying in the air.
Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon. Clouds
were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the heavens.
The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these
seas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not uncommon
occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock would
shatter the gallant little craft.
Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation. He kept apart
from his fellow travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes; besides,
he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favors he had accepted. He
was thinking, too, of the future. It seemed certain that Fogg would not
stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for San Francisco; and
the vast extent of America would insure him impunity and safety. Fogg's
plan appeared to him the simplest in the world. Instead of sailing
directly from England to the United States, like a common villain, he had
traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to gain the American
continent more surely; and there, after throwing the police off his track,
he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune stolen from the bank. But,
once in the United States, what should he, Fix, do? Should he abandon this
man? No, a hundred times no! Until he had secured his extradition, he
would not lose sight of him for an hour. It was his duty, and he would
fulfil it to the end. At all events, there was one thing to be thankful
for: Passepartout was not with his master; and it was above all important,
after the confidences Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should
never have speech with his master.
Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did not
seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have embarked
on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's opinion, who
regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom she owed so
much. They might then find him at Yokohama; for if the Carnatic was
carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he had been on
board.
A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have
been prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the
heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The Tankadere bore sail
admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was prepared
for high speed in case of a gale.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been
already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots. The pilot
and crew remained on deck all night.
At sunrise the next day, which was November 8th, the boat had made
more than one hundred miles. The log indicated a mean speed of between
eight and nine miles. The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was
accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If the wind held as it was,
the chances would be in her favor. During the day she kept along the
coast, where the currents were favorable; the coast, irregular in profile,
and visible sometimes the clearings, was at most five miles distant. The
sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off land -a fortunate
circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing to its small tonnage,
by a heavy surge on the sea.
The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
southwest. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within two
hours, as the wind freshened up anew.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea,
ate with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which
he accepted with secret chagrin. To travel at this man's expense and live
upon his provisions was not palatable to him. Still, he was obliged to
eat, and so he ate.
When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "Sir,"
-this "sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid
collaring this "gentleman," -"sir, you have been very kind to give me a
passage on this boat. But, though my means will not admit of my expending
them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share-"
"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.
"But, if I insist-"
"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a
reply. "This enters into my general expenses."
Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and going forward, where he
ensconced himself, off did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.
Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high
hope. He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai in
time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it. The crew
set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be gained. There
was not a sheet which was not tightened, not a sail which was not
vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at the helm.
They worked as desperately as if they were contesting the Royal Yacht
regatta.
By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been
accomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be able
to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his journal; in which
case, the only misadventure which had overtaken him since he left London
would not seriously affect his journey.
The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the
island of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night,
crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very rough in the straits, full
of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the chopping waves broke her
course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.
At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed
to predict a gale. The barometer announced a speedy change, the mercury
rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the southeast, raised
long surges which indicated a tempest. The sun had set the evening before
in a red mist, in the midst of the phosphorescent scintillations of the
ocean.
John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low voice
to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honor?"
"Of course."
"Well, we are going to have a squall."
"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.
"South. Look! a typhoon is coming up."
"Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward."
"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing more
to say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less advanced
season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist, would
have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but in the
winter equinox, it was to be feared that it would burst upon them with
great violence.
The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the
pole masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows. A
single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib, so
as to hold the wind from behind. Then they waited.
John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat bouncing
in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix, nor Aouda
consented to leave the deck.
The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock.
With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a
wind an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To compare her speed
to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be below the
truth.
The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to theirs.
Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these mountains of water
which rose behind her; but the adroit management of the pilot saved her.
The passengers were often bathed in spray, but they submitted to it
philosophically. Fix cursed it, no doubt; but Aouda, with her eyes
fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed her, showed herself
worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm. As for Phileas Fogg, it
seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his programme.
Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the
north; but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down
from the northwest. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook
and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence. At night
the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the approach of
darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings. He thought
awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken speed. After
a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think, your honor,
that we should do well to make for one of the ports on the coast."
"I think so too."
"Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?"
"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.
"And that is-"
"Shanghai."
The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely
realize so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well -yes!
Your honor is right. To Shanghai."
So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.
The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did
not founder. Twice it would have been all over with her, if the crew had
not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but did not utter a
complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from the violence
of the waves.
Day reappeared. The tempest still with with undiminished fury; but
the wind now returned to the southeast. It was a favorable change, and the
Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though the waves
crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks which would
have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time the coast was
visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in sight. The Tankadere
was alone upon the sea.
There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more
distinct as the sun descended toward the horizon. The tempest had been as
brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a
little, and take some repose.
The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed boat was very good. The next morning at dawn they
espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that they were not
one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only one day to
traverse them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at Shanghai, if he did
not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had there been no storm, during
which several hours were lost, they would be at this moment within thirty
miles of their destination.
The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it. All
sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five
miles Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish that
distance. All on board feared that it could not be done; and
everyone-Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted -felt his heart beat with
impatience. The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour, and
the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious breeze,
coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became smooth. Still,
the Tankadere was so light and her fine sails caught the fickle zephyrs so
well, that, with the aid of the current, John Bunsby found himself at six
O'clock not more than ten miles from the mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai
itself is situated at least twelve miles up the stream. At seven they were
still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward
of two hundred pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He
looked at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole
fortune was at this moment at stake.
At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of
smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American steamer,
leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.
"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
desperate jerk.
"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.
A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for
making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as the
pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg said,
"Hoist your flag!"
The flag was run up at halfmast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would
change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot boat.
"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon resounded
in the air.
22. Passepartout finds out that, even at the antipodes,
it is convenient to have some money in one's pocket
The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th
of November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan. She carried
a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers. Two staterooms in the
rear were, however, unoccupied, -those which had been engaged by Phileas
Fogg.
The next day a passenger, with a half-stupefied eye, staggering gait,
and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to
totter to a seat on deck.
It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:
-Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved for the
smokers. Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed idea,
the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the stupefying influence of
the narcotic. The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off his torpor, and
he hurried from the abode of drunkenness. Staggering and holding himself
up by keeping against the walls, falling down and creeping up again, and
irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he kept crying out, "The
Carnatic! the Carnatic !"
The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.
Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he
crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was
moving off Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this sort of
scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin, and
Passepartout did not wake until they were one hundred and fifty miles away
from China. Thus he found himself the next morning on the deck of the
Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea breeze. The pure air
sobered him. He began to collect his senses, which he found a difficult
task; but at last he recalled the events of the evening before, Fix's
revelation, and the opium house.
"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably
drunk! What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not missed the steamer,
which is the most important thing."
Then, as Fix occurred to him: -"As for that rascal, I hope we are
well rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us
on board the Carnatic. A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of
robbing the Bank of England! Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than I am
a murderer."
Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master? Would it do to
tell the part the detective was playing? Would it not be better to wait
until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an agent
of the metropolitan police had been following him round the world, and
have a good laugh over it? No doubt; at least, it was worth considering.
The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologize for his singular
behavior.
Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the
rolling of the steamer, to the after-deck. He saw no one who resembled
either his master or Aouda. "Good!" muttered he; "Aouda has not got up
yet, and Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist."
He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout had
only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's stateroom. The
purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of Fogg.
"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently. "He is a tall
gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young lady-"
"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser. "Here is a
list of the passengers; you may see for yourself."
Passepartout scanned the list, his master's name was not upon it. All
at once an idea struck him.
"Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"
"Yes."
"On the way to Yokohama."
"Certainly."
Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;
but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.
He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He remembered
that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed
his master of that fact, and that he had not done so. It was his fault,
then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer. Yes, but it was
still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate him from his
master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled him into getting
drunk! He now saw the detective's trick; and at this moment Mr. Fogg was
certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself perhaps arrested and
imprisoned! At this thought Passepartout tore his hair. Ah, if Fix ever
came within his reach, what a settling of accounts there would be!
After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to
study his situation. It was certainly not an enviable one. He found
himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got there? His
pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling -not so much as a penny.
His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he had five or
six days in which to decide upon his future course. He fell to at meals
with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and himself. He helped
himself as generously as if Japan were a desert, where nothing to eat was
to be looked for.
At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama. This
is an important way-station in the Pacific, where all the mail steamers,
and those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and the
Oriental islands, put in. It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and at but a
short distance from that second capital of the Japanese Empire, and the
residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the Mikado, the
spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own. The Carnatic anchored
at the quay near the custom house, in the midst of a crowd of ships
bearing the flags of all nations.
Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the
Sons of the Sun. He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for his
guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama. He found
himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses having low
fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he caught glimpses
of neat peristyles. This quarter occupied, with its streets, squares,
docks and warehouses, all the space between the "promontory of the Treaty"
and the river. Here, as at Hong Kong and Calcutta, were mixed crowds of
all races, -Americans and English, Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants
ready to buy or sell anything. The Frenchman felt himself as much alone
among them as if he had dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.
He had, at least, one resource, -to call on the French and English
consuls at Yokohama for assistance. But he shrank from telling the story
of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of his master:
and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other means of aid. As
chance did not favor him in the European quarter, he penetrated that
inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if necessary, to push on to
Yeddo.
The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess
of the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about. There
Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a
singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and reeds,
temples shaded by immense cedar trees, holy retreats where were sheltered
Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable streets,
where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked children, who
looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens, and who were
playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish cats, might
have been gathered.
The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house
officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac, and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes,
and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in silken doublets,
hauberks, and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all ranks
-for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it is
despised in China -went hither and thither in groups and pairs.
Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple
civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts,
slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper color to
a dead white, but never yellow, like Chinese, from whom the Japanese
widely differ. He did not fail to observe the curious equipages -carriages
and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and litters made of bamboo;
nor the women -whom he thought not especially handsome, -who took little
steps with their little feet, whereon they wore canvas shoes, straw
sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who displayed tight-looking eyes,
flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened, and gowns crossed with silken
scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind, -an ornament which the modern
Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from the dames of Japan.
Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley
crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the
jewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the
restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea houses, where the
odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from the
fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking houses, where they were
puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a very fine,
stringy tobacco. He went on till he found himself in the fields, in the
midst of vast rice plantations. There he saw dazzling camellias expanding
themselves, with flowers which were giving forth their last colors and
perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees; and within bamboo enclosures,
cherry, plum and apple trees, which the Japanese cultivate rather for
their blossoms than their fruit, and which queerly fashioned grinning
scarecrows protected from the sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other
voracious birds. On the branches of the cedars were perched large eagles;
amid the foliage of the weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on
one leg; and on every hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a
multitude of cranes, which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to
their minds symbolize long life and prosperity.
As he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among the
shrubs.
"Good!" said he; "I'll have some supper."
But, on smelling them, he found that they were odorless.
"No chance there," thought he. The worthy fellow had certainly taken
good care to eat as hearty a breakfast as possible before leaving the
Carnatic; but as he had been walking about all day, the demands of hunger
were becoming importunate. He observed that the butchers' stalls contained
neither mutton, goat, nor pork; and knowing also that it is sacrilege to
kill cattle, which are preserved solely for farming, he made up his mind
that meat was far from plentiful in Yokohama, -nor was he mistaken; and in
default of butcher's meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild boar
or deer, a partridge, or some quails, some game or fish, which, with rice,
the Japanese eat almost exclusively. But he found it necessary to keep up
a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he craved till the following
morning. Night came, and Passepartout re-entered the native quarter, where
he wandered through the streets, lit by vari-colored lanterns, looking on
at the dancers who were executing skilful steps and boundings, and the
astrologers who stood in the open air with their telescopes. Then he came
to the harbor, which was lit up by the rosin torches of the fishermen, who
were fishing from their boats.
The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of
which, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,
Passepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling
crowd. Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to
himself, "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"
23. Passepartout's nose becomes outrageously long
The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself
that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did so
the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have starved
first. Now or never he must utilize the strong, if not melodious voice
which nature had bestowed upon him. He knew several French and English
songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be lovers of
music, since they were forever pounding on their cymbals, tam-tams, and
tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.
It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and
the audience, prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not,
possibly, pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features.
Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was
sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well
dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck him to change his garments
for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he might also get a
little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of hunger. The resolution
taken, it remained to carry it out.
It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered in a
native dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange. The man
liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his shop
accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban, faded
with long use. A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled in his
pocket.
"Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"
His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea
house of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to
breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.
"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my
head. I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese. I must
consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which shall not retain
the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."
It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave
for America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of
his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he would find some means of
going on. The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand seven
hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New World.
Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed
his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them, his project,
which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more
formidable to his mind. What need would they have of a cook or servant on
an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him, dressed as
he was? What references could he give?
As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets. This
placard, which was in English, read as follows:
(See illustration.)
"The United States!" said Passepartout; "that's just what I want!"
He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the
Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large
cabin, adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of
which were designed to represent, in violent colors and without
perspective, a company of jugglers.
This was the Honorable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of mountebanks,
jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts, who, according to
the placard, was giving his last performances before leaving the Empire of
the Sun for the States of the Union.
Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.
"What do you want want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first
took for a native.
"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.
"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick gray beard which
hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient and faithful,
have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment, -and here they
are," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as
large as the strings of a bass viol.
"So I can be of no use to you?"
"None."
"The devil! should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"
"Ah!" said the Honorable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese
than I am a monkey! Why are you dressed up in that way?"
"A man dresses as he can."
"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"
"Yes; a Parisian of Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality
should cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is
true, -but not any better than the Americans do."
"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You
see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign
parts French clowns."
"Ah!"
"You are pretty strong, eh?"
"Especially after a good meal."
"And you can sing?"
"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in
the streets.
"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your
left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"
"Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of
his younger days.
"Well, that's enough," said the Honorable William Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
Passepartout had at last found something to do. He was engaged to act
in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not a very dignified position,
but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Mr. Batulcar,
was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the deafening instruments of a
Japanese orchestra resounded at the door. Passepartout, though he had not
been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated to lend the aid of
his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human pyramid,"
executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This great attraction was to
close the performance.
Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators,
comprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women, and
children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and into the
boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a position inside and were
vigorously performing on their gongs, tam-tams, flutes, tambourines,
bones, and immense drums.
The performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be
confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.
One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick
of the butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with the
odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words, which composed a
compliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some lighted
candles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his lips and
relit again without interrupting for an instant his juggling. Another
reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning top; in his
hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of their own in
their interminable whirling; they ran over pipestems, the edges of sabres,
wires, and even hairs stretched across the stage; they turned around on
the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo ladders, dispersed into all the
corners, and produced strange musical effects by the combination of their
various pitches of tone. The jugglers tossed them in the air, threw them
like shuttlecocks with wooden battledores, and yet they kept on spinning;
they put them into their pockets, and took them out still whirling as
before.
It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the
acrobats and gymnasts. The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels,
etc., was executed with wonderful precision.
But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a
show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.
The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage of
the god Tingou. Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages, they bore
upon their shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what especially
distinguished them was the long noses which were fastened to their faces,
and the uses which they made of them. These noses were made of bamboo, and
were five, six, and even ten feet long, some straight, others curved, some
ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon them. It was upon these
appendages fixed tightly on their real noses, that they performed their
gymnastic exercises. A dozen of these sectaries of Tingou lay flat upon
their backs, while others, dressed to represent lightning rods, came and
frolicked on their noses, jumping from one to another, and performing the
most skilful leapings and somersaults.
As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which fifty
Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut. But, instead of
forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders, the artists were to
group themselves on top of the noses. It happened happened the performer
who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had quitted the troupe, and
as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were necessary,
Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.
The poor fellow really felt sad when -melancholy reminiscence of his
youth! -he donned his costume, adorned with vari-colored wings, and
fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet long. But he cheered
up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to eat.
He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who were
to compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut. They all stretched
themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the ceiling. A second
group of artists disposed themselves on these long appendages, then a
third above these, then a fourth, until a human monument reaching to the
very cornices of the theatre soon arose on top of the noses. This elicited
loud applause, in the midst of which the orchestra was just striking up a
deafening air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was lost, one of the
lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human monument was
shattered like a castle built of cards!
It was Passepartout's fault. Abandoning his position, clearing the
footlights without the aid of his wings, and clambering up to the
right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators, crying,
"Ah, my master! my master!"
"You here?"
"Myself."
"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honorable Mr. Batulcar,
furious with rage. He demanded damages for the "breakage" of the pyramid;
and Phileas Fogg appeased him by giving him a handful of bank notes.
At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and
nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.
24. Mr. Fogg and party cross the Pacific Ocean
What happened when the pilot boat came in sight of Shanghai will be
easily guessed. The signals made by the Tankadere had been seen by the
captain of the Yokohama steamer, who, espying the flag at halfmast, had
directed his course towards the little craft. Phileas Fogg, after paying
the stipulated price of his passage to John Bunsby, and rewarding that
worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds, ascended
the steamer with and they started at once for Nagasaki and Yokohama.
They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of
November. Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic, where
he learned, to Aouda's great delight, and perhaps to his own, though he
betrayed no emotion, that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived on
her the day before.
The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening,
and it became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay.
Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after
wandering through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding his
missing servant. Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at last led
him into the Honorable Mr. Batulcar's theatre. He certainly would not have
recognized Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank's costume; but the
latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the gallery. He could
not help starting, which so changed the position of his nose as to bring
the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the stage.
All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what
had taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the Tankadere,
in company with one Mr. Fix.
Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name. He
thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what
had taken place between the detective and himself; and in the account he
gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having been overtaken
by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.
Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then
furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in harmony
with his position. Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off his nose and
parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him which recalled the
sectary of the god Tingou.
The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco
belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the General
Grant. She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand five hundred
tons, well equipped and very fast. The massive walking beam rose and fell
above the deck; at one end a piston rod worked up and down; and at the
other was a connecting rod which, in changing the rectilinear motion to a
circular one, was directly connected with the shaft of the paddles. The
General Grant was rigged with three masts, giving a large capacity for
sails, and thus materially aiding the steam power. By making twelve miles
an hour, she would cross the Pacific in twenty days. Phileas Fogg was
therefore justified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd
of December New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th, -thus gaining
several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.
There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them
English, many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to
California, and several East Indian officers, who were spending their
vacation in making the tour of the world. Nothing of moment happened on
the voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles, rolled but
little, and the "Pacific" almost justified its name. Mr. Fogg was as calm
and taciturn as ever. His young companion felt herself more and more
attached to him by other ties than gratitude; his silent but generous
nature impressed her more than she thought; and it was almost
unconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did not seem to have the
least effect upon her protector. Aouda took the keenest interest in his
plans, and became impatient at any incident which seemed likely to retard
his journey.
She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the
state of the lady's heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics, he
never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg's honesty, generosity, and
devotion. He took pains to calm Aouda's doubts of a successful termination
of the journey, telling her that the most difficult part of it had passed,
that now they were beyond the fantastic countries of Japan and China, and
were fairly on their way to civilized places again. A railway train from
San Francisco to New York, and a transatlantic steamer from New York to
Liverpool, would doubtless bring them to the end of this impossible
journey round the world within the period agreed upon.
On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed
exactly one half of the terrestrial globe. The General Grant passed, on
the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth meridian, and was at
the very antipodes of London. Mr. Fogg had, it is true, exhausted
fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to complete the tour, and
there were only twenty-eight left. But, though he was only halfway by the
difference of meridians, he had really gone over two-thirds of the whole
journey; for he had been obliged to make long circuits from London to
Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to Singapore, and from Singapore
to Yokohama. Could he have followed without deviation the fiftieth
parallel, which is that of London, the whole distance would only have been
about twelve thousand miles; whereas he would be forced, by the irregular
methods of locomotion, to traverse twenty-six thousand, of which he had,
on the 23rd of November, accomplished seventeen thousand five hundred. And
now the course was a straight one, and Fix was no longer there to put
obstacles in their way!
It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made a
joyful discovery. It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had
insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on
regarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false and
unreliable. Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands, he
found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship's chronometers. His
triumph was hilarious. He would have liked to know what Fix would say if
he were aboard!
"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout, "about
the meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed! moonshine more likely!
If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time one would
keep! I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself by my watch!"
Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been
divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have no
reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then, instead of
as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning, indicate nine o'clock in
the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight, -precisely the
difference between London time and that of the one hundred and eightieth
meridian. But if Fix had been able to explain this purely physical effect,
Passepartout would not have admitted, even if he had comprehended it.
Moreover, if the detective had been on board at that moment, Passepartout
would have joined issue with him on a quite different subject, and in an
entirely different manner.
Where was Fix at that moment?
He was actually on board the General Grant.
On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he
expected to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the English
consulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest. It had followed
him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic on which steamer he himself
was supposed to be. Fix's disappointment may be imagined when he reflected
that the warrant was now useless. Mr. Fogg had left English ground, and it
was now necessary to procure his extradition!
"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not good
here, but it will be in England. The rogue evidently intends to return to
his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his track. Good! I
will follow him across the Atlantic. As for the money, heaven grant there
may be some left! But the fellow has already spent in travelling, rewards,
trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts of charges, more than five thousand
pounds. Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!"
His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was
there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived. To his utter amazement, he
recognized Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise. He quickly
concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and hoped
-thanks to the number of passengers -to remain unperceived by Mr. Fogg's
servant.
On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the
forward deck. The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped him
by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans, who
immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a perfect
volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French over English
pugilistic skill.
When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and
comforted. Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at his
adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"
"For this time -yes."
"Then let me have a word with you."
"But I-"
"In your master's interest."
Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he
quietly followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the
passengers.
"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix. "Good! I expected it. Now,
listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's adversary. I am now
in his game."
"Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"
"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal. Sh! don't budge, and
let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my
interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived. I did
everything I could to keep him back. I sent the Bombay priests after him,
I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and I made
him miss the Yokohama steamer."
Passepartout listened, with closed fists.
"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.
Well, I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to keep
obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in his
path. I've changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for my
interest to change it. Your interest is the same as mine; for it is only
in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service of a
criminal or an honest man."
Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that
he spoke with entire good faith.
"Are we friends?" asked the detective.
"Friends? -no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps. At the
least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you."
"Agreed," said the detective quietly.
Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered
the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.
Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.
25. A slight glimpse is had of San Francisco
It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout
set foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the
floating quay upon which they disembarked. These quays, rising and falling
with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels.
Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities,
and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which
ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were also heaped up the
products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chile, Peru, Brazil,
Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.
Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent,
thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine style;
but, tumbling upon some wormeaten planks, he fell through them. Put out of
countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon the New World,
he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the innumerable cormorants and
pelicans that are always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew
noisily away.
Mr. Fogg, reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the
first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o'clock
p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the California capital.
Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda entered it,
while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and they set out for
the International Hotel.
From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity
the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic
churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses, the
numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horsecars, and upon the sidewalks, not
only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was
surprised at all he saw. San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of
1849 -a city of banditti, assassins, and incendiaries, who had flocked
hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a paradise of outlaws, where they
gambled with gold dust, a revolver in one hand and a bowie knife in the
other; it was now a great commercial emporium.
The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the
streets and avenues, which cut each other at right angles, and in the
midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond appeared
the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial Empire in a toy
box. Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were rarely to be seen;
but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of
nervously active, gentlemanly looking men. Some of the streets -especially
Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what Regent Street is to
London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New York
-were lined with splendid and spacious stores, which exposed in their
windows the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to
him as if he had left England at all.
The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of
restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried beef,
oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their purses.
Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was drunk. This
seemed "very American" to Passepartout. The hotel refreshment rooms were
comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing themselves at a table,
were abundantly served on diminutive plates by Negroes of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going out, he met
Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking the
train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt's revolvers. He
had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and
Pawnees. Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution but told him to do as he
thought best, and went on to the consulate.
He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when "by the
greatest chance in the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly
taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific
together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix felt honored to behold
once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and as his business
recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the in such
pleasant company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honor would be his; and the detective -who
was determined not to lose sight of him -begged permission to accompany
them in their walk about San Francisco -a request which Mr. Fogg readily
granted.
They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd
was collected; the sidewalks, street, horsecar rails, the shop doors, the
windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people. Men were
going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers were floating
in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.
"Hurrah for Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"
It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. the crowd.
There may be danger in it."
"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political, are
still blows."
Fix smiled at this remark; and in order to be able to see without
being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a flight
of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street. Opposite them, on
the other side of the street, between a coal wharf and a petroleum
warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the open air, towards
which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.
For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to nominate
some high official -a governor or member of Congress? It was not
improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.
Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass. All
the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to
disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries -an energetic way, no doubt,
of casting a vote. The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags wavered,
disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters. The undulations of the
human surge reached the steps, while all the heads floundered on the
surface like a sea agitated by a squall. Many of the black hats
disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to have diminished
in height.
"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama, despite
the fact that that is settled."
"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg simply.
"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honorable Mr. Camerfield and the Honorable Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene
with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all
was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and
excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used as
offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction. Thumps were
exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had been
blocked up in the crowd. Boots and shoes went whirling through the air,
and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers mingling in the
din. The rout approached the stairway, and flowed over the lower step. One
of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but the mere lookers-on could
not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had gained the upper hand.
"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious
that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back
to London. "If there is any question about England in all this, and we
were recognized, I fear it would go hard with us."
"An English subject-" began Mr. Fogg.
He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on
the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were
frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found
themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape. The torrent of
men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible. Phileas Fogg
and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their fair
companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself with the
weapons which nature has placed at the end of every Englishman's arm, but
in vain. A big brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face, and broad
shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched
fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have given a crushing blow, had not
Fix rushed in and received it in his stead. An enormous bruise immediately
made its appearance under the detective's silk hat, which was completely
smashed in.
"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
ruffian.
"Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"
"When you please."
"What is your name?"
"Phileas Fogg. And yours?"
"Colonel Stamp Proctor."
The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got
upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not
seriously hurt. His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal
parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians which fit less
compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had escaped unharmed, and
Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue bruise.
"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of
the crowd.
"No thanks are necessary," replied Fix; "but let us go."
"Where?"
"To a tailor's."
Such a visit was indeed, opportune. The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and
Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the
contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they were once
more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but
Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his countenance
resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy, but
an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.
Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their
luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was getting in, Mr. Fogg
said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?"
"No."
"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be treated
in that way, without retaliating."
The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr. Fogg
was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at
home, fight abroad when their honor attacked.
At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found
the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg called a
porter, and said to him, "My friend, was there not some trouble today in
San Francisco?"
"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets."
"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."
"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr.Fogg.
"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."
Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.
26. Phileas Fogg and party travel by the Pacific Railroad
"From Ocean to Ocean" -so say the Amerians; and these four words
compose the general designation of the "great trunk line" which crosses
the entire width of the United States. The Pacific Railroad is, however,
really divided into two distinct lines: the Central Pacific, between San
Francisco and Ogden, and the Uion Pacific, between Ogden and Omaha. Five
main lines connect Omaha with New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal
ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and
eighty-six miles. Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a
territory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts, and a large
tract which the Mormons, after they were driven from Illinois in 1845,
began to colonize.
The journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly, under
the most favorable conditions, at least six months. It is now accomplished
in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress,
who wished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road between
the forty-first and forty-second parallels. President Lincoln himself
fixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was at once
commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor did the rapidity
with which it went on injuriously affect its good execution. The road
grew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day. A locomotive, running on
the rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid on
the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put in position.
The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in lowa, Kansas,
Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes along the left bank of
the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern branch, follows
its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the Wahsatch
Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt Lake City, the
Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley, across the American
Desert, Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and descends, via
Sacramento, to the Pacific, -its grade, even on the Rocky Mountains, never
exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would enable
Phileas Fogg -at least, so he hoped -to take the Atlantic steamer at New
York on the 11th for Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight wheels,
and with no compartments in the interior. It was supplied with two rows of
seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on either side of an
aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms. These platforms
were found throughout the train, and the passengers were able to pass from
one end of the train to the other. It was supplied with saloon cars,
balcony cars, restaurants, and smoking cars; theatre cars alone were
wanting, and they will have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars,
who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating in
the aisles.
The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was already night,
cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which seemed to
threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly; counting the stoppages,
it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a sufficient
speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its designated time.
There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the
passengers were overcome with sleep. Passepartout found himself beside the
detective; but he did not talk to him. After recent events, their
relations with each other had grown somewhat cold; there could no longer
be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them. Fix's manner had not changed;
but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to strangle his former
friend on the slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,
which happily coul not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen from the
windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke of the locomotive
had a grayish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that the
time for going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes the car was
transformed into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back,
bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system, berths
were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had soon at his disposition a
comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick curtains. The sheets
were clean and the pillows soft. It only remained to go to bed and sleep
which everybody did while the train sped on across the State of
California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.
The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting-point, extends
eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line from San Francisco to
Sacramento runs in a northeasterly direction, along the American River,
which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and twenty miles between
these cities were accomplished in six hours, and towards midnight, while
fast asleep, the travellers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw
nothing of that important place, the seat of the State government, with
its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin,
Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada. Cisco was
reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was
transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the
picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were
steaming. The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now
approaching the mountain sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding
abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed
to have no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a weird
light, with its sharp bell, and its cow catcher extended like a spur,
mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and
cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to violate
nature taking the shortest cut from one point to another. The train
entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about nine o'clock,
going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno, where there was a
delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and
kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the
extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places
in the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
they passed along; the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,
and the creeks with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great herd
of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a movable dam.
These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often form an
insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands of them
have been seen passing over the track for hours together, in compact
ranks. The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the road is
once more clear.
This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock, a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo
encumbered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to clear
the way with its cow catcher; but the mass of animals was too great. The
buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now and then
deafening bellowings. There was no use of interrupting them, for, having
taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and change their
course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could contain.
The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms;
but Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry,
remained in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please
the buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to
discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.
"What a country!" cried he. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by
in a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel! Parbleu! I
should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme! And
here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this herd
of beasts!"
The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise.
He would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow catcher;
but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked, the
train would inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then have
been helpless.
The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by
greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession of buffaloes
lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track was clear. The
last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails, while the first
had already disappeared below the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the
Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the region of
the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.
27. Passepartout undergoes, at a speed of twenty
miles an hour, a course of Mormon history
During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran southeasterly
for about fifty: miles; then rose an equal distance in a northeasterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take
the air. The weather was cold, the heavens gray, but it was not snowing.
The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring of gold, and
Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value in pounds
sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by a
strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.
This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustaches, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black
waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He might
have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the train to the
other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice written in manuscript.
Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated
that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his
presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism, in car No.
117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who were
desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the religion of
the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.
"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of Mormonism
except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one
hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice,
ensconced themselves in car No. 117. Passepartout took one of the front
seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.
At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated
voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that Joe
Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the
persecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will
also make a martyr of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary?"
No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his anger
arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually subjected. The
government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in reducing these
independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself master of Utah, and
subjected that territory to the laws of the Union, after imprisoning
Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy. The disciples of the
prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and resisted, by words at
least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch, as is seen, was trying to
make proselytes on the very railway trains.
Then, emphasizing his words with his loud voice and frequent
gestures, he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how
that, in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the
annals of the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Morom; how,
many centuries later, a translation of this precious book, which was
written in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, Junior, a Vermont farmer,
who revealed himself as a mystical prophet in and how, in short, the
celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave him
the annals of the Lord.
Several of the audience, not being much interested in the
missionary's narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his
lecture, related how Smith, Junior, with his father, two brothers, and a
few disciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day" which, adopted not
only in America, but in England, Norway and Germany, counts many artisans,
as well as men engaged in the liberal professions, among its members; how
a colony was established in Ohio, a temple erected there at a cost of two
hundred thousand dollars, and a town built at Kirkland; how Smith became
an enterprising banker, and received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus
scroll written by Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew
gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers. But this did
not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of Joseph
Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave him a coat
of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards, more and
honored than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the chief of a flourishing
colony of three thousand disciples, and his pursuit thence by outraged
Gentiles, and retirement into the far West.
Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who
was listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that, after long
persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and 1839 in founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand
souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief; that
he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency of the
United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at Carthage,
he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men disguised in
masks.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the
assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Young, his successor,
left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in the midst of
that fertile region, directly on the route of the emigrants who crossed
Utah on their way to California, the new colony, thanks to the polygamy
practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond expectation.
"And this," added Elder William Hitch,- "this is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the Union
invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been
imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force? Never!
Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio, driven from
Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some independent territory
on which to plant our tents. And you, my brother," continued the Elder,
fixing his angry eye upon his single auditor, "will you not plant yours
there, too, under the shadow of our flag?"
"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from
the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and
towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt
Lake. Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this interior
sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows an American
Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags in large
strata, encrusted with white salt, -a superb sheet of water, which was
formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having encroached with the
lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth and increased its
depth.
The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated
three miles eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite different from Lake
Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea, it
contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its water is
solid matter, its specific weight being 1170, and, after being distilled,
1000. Fishes are of course unable to live in it, and those which descend
through the Jordan, the Weber, and other streams, soon perish.
The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are
mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields of
wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild rose,
clumps of acacias and milkwort, would have been seen six months later. Now
the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.
The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six
hours. Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this
strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the
Union, like a checkerboard, "with the sombre sadness of right angles," as
Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints could not
escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the Anglo-Saxons.
In this strange country, where the people are certainly not up to the
level of their institutions, everything is done "squarely," -cities,
houses, and follies.
The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about the
streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs of
the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but the prophet's
mansion, the courthouse, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with verandas
and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias, palms, and
locusts. A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded the town; and
in the principal street were the market and several hotels adorned with
pavilions. The place did not seem thickly populated. The streets were
almost deserted, except in the vicinity of the Temple, which they only
reached after having traversed several quarters surrounded by palisades.
There were many women, which was easily accounted for by the "peculiar
institution" of the Mormons; but it must not be supposed that all the
Mormons are polygamists. They are free to marry or not, as they please;
but it is worth noting that it is mainly the female citizens of Utah who
are anxious to marry, as, according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies
are not admitted to the possession of its highest joys. These poor
creatures seemed to be neither well off nor happy. Some -the more
well-to-do, no doubt -wore short, open black silk dresses, under a hood or
modest shawl; others were habited in Indian fashion.
Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon. His
common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him a terrible
thing to have to guide so many wives at one( across the vicissitudes of
life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the Mormon paradise,
with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the glorious Smith, who
doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful place, to all
eternity. He felt decidedly repelled from such a vocation, and he imagined
-perhaps he was mistaken -that the fair ones of Salt Lake City cast rather
alarming glances on his person. Happily, his stay there was but brief. At
four the party found themselves again at the station, took their places in
the train, and the whistle sounded for starting. Just at the moment,
however, that the locomotive wheels began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!"
were heard.
Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who
uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was breathless with
running. Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers. He
rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train, and fell
exhausted into one of the seats.
Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken flight
after an unpleasant domestic scene.
When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to
ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he
had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward,"one, and
that was enough!"
28. Passepartout does not succeed in making
anybody listen to reason
The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for
an hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred miles
from San Francisco. From this point it took an easterly direction towards
the jagged Wahsatch Mountains. It was in the section included between this
range and the Rocky Mountains that the American engineers found the most
formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the government
granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile, instead of
sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains. But the
engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its difficulties by
winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks. One tunnel only,
fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to arrive at the
great basin.
The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at the
Great Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve, descending
towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of the
waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific. There were many creeks in
this mountainous region, and it was necessary to cross Muddy Creek, Green
Creek, and others, upon culverts.
Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on, while Fix
longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious than
Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and accidents, and
set foot on English soil.
At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station,
and twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the valley
of Bitter Creek throughout. The next day, December 7th, they stopped for a
quarter of an hour at Green River station. Snow had fallen abundantly
during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had half melted, and did
not interrupt their progress. The bad weather, however, annoyed
Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by blocking the wheels of the
cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr. Fogg's tour.
"What an idea!" he said to himself. "Why did my master make this
journey in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good season to increase
his chances?"
While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky and
the depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears from a
totally different cause.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up
and down the platforms; and among these Aouda recognized Colonel Stamp
Proctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San
Francisco meeting. Not wishing to be recognized, the young woman drew back
from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery. She was attached to
the man who, however coldly, gave her daily evidences of the most absolute
devotion. She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth of the sentiment with
which her protector inspired her, which she called gratitude, but which,
though she was unconscious of it, was really more than that. Her heart
sank within her when she recognized the man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner
or later, to call to account for his conduct. Chance alone, it was clear,
had brought Colonel Proctor on this train; but there he was, and it was
necessary, at all hazards, that Phileas Fogg should not perceive his
adversary.
Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep, to tell Fix and
Passepartout whom she had seen.
"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix. "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg, he has got to deal with me! It
seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
"And besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him, colonel
as he is."
"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man. Should he
Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which might have
terrible results. He must not see him."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might
ruin all. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be delayed,
and-"
"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen
of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. Well, if my
master does not leave this car during those four days, we may hope that
chance will not bring him face to face with this confounded American. We
must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."
The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up, and was looking
out of the window. Soon after Passepartout, without being heard by his
master or Aouda, whispered to the detective, "Would you really fight for
him?"
"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed
determined will, "to get him back, living, to Europe!"
Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame,
but his confidence in his master remained unbroken.
Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a
meeting between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult task,
since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious. The
detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few moments,
he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that we are
passing on the railway."
"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the
steamers."
"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cards
nor partners."
"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold on all the
American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays-"
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I know whist. It is part of
an English education."
"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game. Well, here
are three of us, and a dummy-"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad to resume
his favorite pastime, -even on the railway.
Passepartout was despatched in search of the steward, and soon
returned with two packs of cards, some pins, counters, and a shelf covered
with cloth.
The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well, and
even received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg. As for the
detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being matched against his
present opponent.
"Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge.
At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of
the waters at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four
feet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by the
track in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about two hundred
miles, the travellers at last found themselves on one of those vast plains
which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so propitious for
laying the iron road.
On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams, branches of
the North Platte River, already appeared. The whole northern and eastern
horizon was bounded by the immense semicircular curtain which is formed by
the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the highest being Laramie
Peak. Between it and the railway extended vast plains, plentifully
irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs of the mountainous mass which
extends southward to the sources of the Arkansas River, one of the great
tributaries of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of
Fort Halleck, which commands that section; and in a few more hours the
Rocky Mountains were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that no
accident would mark the journey through this difficult country. The snow
had ceased falling, and the air became crisp and cold. Large birds,
frightened by the locomotive, rose and flew off in the distance. No wild
beast appeared on the plain. It was a desert in its vast nakedness.
After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his
partners had just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard, and
the train stopped. Passepartout put his head out of the door, but saw
nothing to cause the delay; no station was in view.
Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get
out; but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant, "See
what is the matter."
Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers had
already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor. The train had
stopped before a red signal which blocked the way. The engineer and
conductor were talking excitedly with a signalman, whom the stationmaster
at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place, had sent on before. The
passengers drew around and took part in the discussion, in which Colonel
Proctor, with his insolent manner, was conspicuous. Passepartout, joining
the group, heard the signalman say, "No! you can't pass! The bridge at
Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bear the weight of the train."
This was a suspension bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile
from the place where they now were. According to the signalman, it was a
ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it was
impossible to risk the passage. He did not in an way exaggerate the
condition of the bridge. It may be taken for granted that, rash as the
Americans usually are, when they are prudent there is good reason for it.
Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here, I
imagine, and take root in the snow?"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a
train, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow in less than
six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor. "Besides it will take us as long
as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."
"And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.
"That's impossible. The creek is swelled by the rains. It is a rapid,
and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a
ford."
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway
company and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was not
disinclined to make common cause with him. Here was an obstacle, indeed,
which all his master's bank could not remove.
There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who, without
reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge fifteen miles over
a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and protested, and would
certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's attention, if he had not been
completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what
had occurred, and, with hanging head he was turning towards the car, when
the engineer -a true Yankee, named Forster -called out, "Gentlemen,
perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."
"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"On the bridge."
"With our train?"
"With our train."
Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.
"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.
"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the very
highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."
"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.
But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the
engineer's proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and
found the plan a very feasible one. He told stories about engineers
leaping their trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full
steam; and many of those present avowed themselves of the engineer's mind.
"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.
"Eighty! ninety!"
Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to
get over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too
American. "Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, and it
does not even occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud to one of
the passengers, the engineer's plan seems to me a little dangerous, but-"
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but a
simple idea-"
"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders,
"as the engineer assures us that we can pass."
"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would
be more prudent-"
"What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed to
excite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
"I know-I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more
prudent, since that word displeases you, at least more natural-"
"Who! What! What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.
The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid! Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman can
be as American as they!"
"All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately. "But they
can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us to
cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would any one have
acknowledged its justice. The passengers resumed their places in the cars.
Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed. The whist
players were quite absorbed in their game.
The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the
steam, backed the train for nearly a mile -retiring, like a jumper, in
order to take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to move
forward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became
frightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston
worked up and down twenty strokes to the second. They perceived that the
whole train, rushing on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour, hardly
bore upon the rails at all.
And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge. The
train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other, and the engineer
could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond the station. But
scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge, completely
ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.
29. Certain incidents are narrated which are only
to be met with on American railroads
The train pursued its course that evening without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyenne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.The
road here attained the highest elevation of the journey, eight thousand
and ninety-one feet above the level of the sea. The travellers had now
only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains, levelled by nature. A
branch of the "grand trunk" led off southward to Denver, the capital of
Colorado. The country round about is rich in gold and silver, and more
than fifty thousand inhabitants are already settled there.
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San
Francisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights more would
probably bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet behindhand.
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole
Creek ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the
territories Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven, passed
near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch of the
Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the
23rd of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge. Two powerful
locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst whom was Thomas
C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this point; cheers were
given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation Indian battle,
fireworks were let off, and the first number of the Railway Pioneer was
printed by a press brought on the train. Thus was celebrated the
inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty instrument of progress and
civilization, thrown across the desert, and destined to link together
cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle of the locomotive,
more powerful than Amphion's lyre, was about to bid them rise from
American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three
hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before reaching
Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings of the southern branch of
the Platte River, on its left bank. At nine the train stopped at the
important town of North Platte, built between the two arms of the river,
which rejoin each other around it and form a single artery, -a large
tributary whose waters empty into the Missouri a little above Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one -not even
the dummy -complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by winning
several guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself a
not less eager whist player than Mr. Fogg. During the morning, chance
distinctly favored that gentleman. Trumps and honors were showered up his
hands.
Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of
playing a spade, when a voice behind him said, "I should play diamond."
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel
Proctor.
Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognized each other at once.
"Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel; "it's you who
are going to play a spade!"
"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the
ten of spades.
"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds," replied Colonel Proctor,
in an insolent tone.
He made a movement as if to seize the card which had been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."
"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.
"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the Colonel.
Aouda turned and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg's arm, and
gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the
American, who was staring insolently at his opponent. But Fix got up, and
going to Colonel Proctor, said, "You forget that it is I with whom you
have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but struck!"
"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine, and
mine only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should
not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."
"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever
weapon you choose."
Aouda in vain attempted retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective
endeavor to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished to throw the colonel
out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him. Phileas Fogg
left the car, and the American followed him upon the platform.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, "I am in a great hurry to get
back to Europe, and delay whatever will be greatly to my disadvantage."
"Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San
Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I had
completed the business which called me to England."
"Really!"
"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"
"Why not ten years hence?"
"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg, "and I shall be at the
place of meeting promptly."
"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor. "Now or never!"
"Very good. You are going to New York?"
"No."
"To Chicago?"
"No."
"To Omaha?"
"What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?"
"No," replied Mr. Fogg.
"It's the next station. The train will be there in an hour, and will
stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several revolver shots could be
exchanged."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg. "I will stop at Plum Creek."
"And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.
"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as
usual. He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never
to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a
request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed the
interrupted game with perfect calmness.
At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they were
approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix, went
out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a pair of
revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the
platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But just as
the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor hurried
up, and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"
"Why not?" asked the colonel.
"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."
"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
"I am sorry," said the conductor, "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."
The train started.
"I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor. "Under any
other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you. But, after
all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go along?"
"That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman," said the
colonel, in a jeering tone.
"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the
conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"
So muttering, he followed his master.
The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through
the cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only occupied by a
dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would not be
so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen had an
affair of honor to settle. The passengers granted the request with
alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.
The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for
their purpose. The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle, and
fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily arranged. Mr. Fogg and
Colonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled revolvers, entered
the car. The seconds, remaining outside, shut them in. They were to begin
firing at the first whistle of the locomotive. After an interval of two
minutes, what remained of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.
Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple that Fix
and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack. They
were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly savage cries
resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which certainly did not issue
from the car where the duellists were. The reports continued in front and
the whole length of the train. Cries of terror proceeded from the interior
of the cars.
Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted
their prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous. They
then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than
once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them had, according
to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping the train, with the
ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop. The Sioux were armed with
guns, from which came the reports, to which the passengers, who were
almost all armed, responded by revolver shots.
The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the
engineer and stoker with blows from their muskets. A Sioux chief, wishing
to stop the train, but not knowing how to work the regulator, had opened
wide instead of closing the steam valve, and the locomotive was plunging
forward with terrific velocity.
The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like
enraged monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting
hand to hand with the passengers. Penetrating the baggage car, they
pillaged it, throwing the trunks out of the train. The cries and shots
were constant.
The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars were
barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried along at a
speed of a hundred miles an hour.
Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself, like
a true heroine, with a revolver, which she shot through the broken windows
whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had fallen mortally
wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell upon the
rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers, shot or stunned, lay
on the seats.
It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for
ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the
train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was a garrison,
was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux would be
masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station beyond.
The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and
fell. At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five
minutes, we are lost!"
"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the
car.
"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."
Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door
unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car; and while
the struggle continued, and the balls whizzed across each other over his
head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience, and with amazing
agility worked his way under the cars, holding on to the chains, aiding
himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes, creeping from one car to
another with marvellous skill, and thus gaining the forward end of the
train.
There, suspended by one hand between the baggage car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the traction,
he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking bar, had not a
violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train, now detached from the
engine, remained a little behind, whilst the locomotive rushed forward
with increased speed.
Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved for
several minutes; but the brakes were worked, and at last they stopped,
less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the
Sioux had not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train
entirely stopped.
But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman, whose
devotion had ust saved them.
30. Phileas Fogg simply does his duty
Three passengers - including Passepartout - had disappeared. Had they
been killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It
was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one
of the men most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had
entered his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded
passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the
fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the arm.
But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down Aouda's
cheeks.
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were
stained with blood. From the tires and spokes hung ragged pieces of flesh.
As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red trails were
visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in the south, along the banks of
Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without
speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner, ought
he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? "I will find
him, living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.
"Ah, Mr. -Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them
with tears.
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself, he
pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him lose the
steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But as he
thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his
soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station, should
the Sioux attack it.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have
disappeared."
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do
you propose to pursue the Sioux?"
"That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain. "These
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
unprotected."
"The lives of three men are question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
"Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
"I don't know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."
"Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly. "I will go alone."
"You, sir!" cried Fix coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the
Indians?"
"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish, -him to whom
every one present owes his life? I shall go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched in
spite of himself. "No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!" he added,
turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to
pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their
head. "Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
"Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favor, you will
remain in with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me-"
A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face. Separate himself
from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step! Leave him
to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and,
despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on within him,
he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.
"I will stay," said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpetbag, went off with the sergeant
and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the soldiers, "My
friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you, if we save the
prisoners."
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting room, and there she waited alone, thinking
of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas Fogg.
He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all without
hesitation, from duty, in silence.
Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his
agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon resumed
his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had been guilty in
letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had just followed around
the world, was permitted now to separate himself from him! He began to
accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were director of police,
administered to himself a sound lecture for his greenness.
"I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it. He has
gone, and won't come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my
pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?
Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"
So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly.
He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his confidences.
What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg across the vast
white plain; it did not seem impossible that he might overtake him.
Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon, under a new sheet,
every imprint would be effaced.
Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to
abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station, and
pursue his journey homeward in peace.
Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long
whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow, preceded by
a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger through the mist,
which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was expected from the east
neither had there been time for the succor asked for by telegraph to
arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco was not due till the next
day. The mystery was soon explained.
The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,
was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its
route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious engineer
and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming low for want
of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally stopped an hour
after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither the engineer nor the
stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some time in their swoon, had
come to themselves. The train had then stopped. The engineer, when he
found himself in the desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood
what had happened. He could not imagine how the locomotive had become
separated from the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind
was in distress.
He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on to
Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the Indians
might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he began to rebuild the
fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the locomotive
returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was which was
whistling in the mist.
The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at
the head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly
interrupted.
Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the engineer, "Are you going to start?"
"At once, madam."
"But the prisoners -our unfortunate fellow travellers-"
"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the engineer. "We are already
three hours behind time."
"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"
"Tomorrow evening, madam."
"Tomorrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait-"
"It is impossible," responded the engineer. "If you wish to go,
please get in."
"I will not go," said Aouda.
Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there
was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to
leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start, and
he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence held
him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not stir. The
conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled him. He wished
to struggle on to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel
Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the train.
The buzzing of the overheated boiler was heard, and the steam was escaping
from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train started, and soon
disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies of the densely
falling snow.
The detective had remained behind.
Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been thought
asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the waiting room,
going to the end of the platform, and peering through the tempest of snow,
as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon around her, and to
hear, if possible, some welcome sound. She heard and saw nothing. Then she
would return, chilled through, to issue out again after the lapse of a few
moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they
be? Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with them,
or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort was
anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As night
approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became intensely cold.
Absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither flight of bird nor passing
of beast troubled the perfect calm.
Through the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart stifled
with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains. Her imagination
carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers. What she suffered
through the long hours it would be impossible to describe.
Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep. Once a
man approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by
shaking his head.
Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disk of the sun
rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognize objects
two miles off Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward; in the south
all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.
The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to
take. Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first? Should
he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those already
sacrificed His hesitation did not last long, however. Calling one of his
lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a reconnoissance, when
gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The soldiers rushed out of the fort,
and half a mile off they perceived a little band returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions had
begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman had
felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up to
their relief All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed
the reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout, not
without reason, muttered to himself, "It must certainly be confessed that
I cost my master dear."
Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have
been difficult to analyze the thoughts which struggled within him. As for
Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own, too much
moved to speak.
Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought
should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the time
lost might be regained.
"The train! the train!" cried he.
"Gone," replied Fix.
"And when does the next train pass here?" asked Phileas Fogg.
"Not till this evening."
"Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.
31. Fix the defective considerably furthers
the interests of Phileas Fogg
Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time. Passepartout,
the involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate. He had ruined his
master!
At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him
intently in the face, said,-
"Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?"
"Quite seriously."
"I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix. "Is it absolutely
necessary that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o'clock
in the evening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool?"
"It is absolutely necessary."
"And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you
would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"
"Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left."
"Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve from twenty
leaves eight. You must regain eight hours. Do you wish to try to do so?"
"On foot?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No; on a sledge," replied Fix. "On a sledge with sails. A man has
proposed such a method to me."
It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose
offer he had refused.
Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix having pointed out the
man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went up
to him. An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was Mudge,
entered a hut built just below the fort.
There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two
long beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and
upon which there was room for five or six persons. A high mast was fixed
on the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a
large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist a
jib sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle. It was, in
short, a sledge rigged like a sloop. During the winter, when the trains
are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely rapid journeys
across the frozen plains from one station to another. Provided with more
sail than a cutter, and with the wind behind them, they slip over the
surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not superior to that of the
express trains.
Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this landcraft. The
wind was favorable, being fresh, and blowing from the west. The snow had
hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport Mr. Fogg
in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward run frequently to
Chicago and New York. It was not impossible that the lost time might yet
be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be rejected.
Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the
open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort
Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a
better route and under more favorable conditions. But Aouda refused to
separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her decision;
for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix was with him.
It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts. Was his
conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or did he still regard him as
an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world completed,
would think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps Fix's opinion of
Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but was nevertheless resolved to do
his duty, and to hasten the return of the whole party to England as much
as possible.
At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start. The passengers took
their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their travelling
cloaks. The two great sails were hoisted, and under the pressure re of the
wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a velocity of forty miles
an hour.
The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at
most two hundred miles. If the wind held good, the distance might
traversed in five hours; if no accident happened, the sledge might reach
Omaha by one o'clock.
What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together, could not
speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were going.
The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves. When the breeze
came, skimming the earth, the sledge seemed to be lifted off the ground by
its sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a straight line, and by a
turn of his hand checked the lurches which the vehicle had a tendency to
make. All the sails were up, and the jib was so arranged as not to screen
the brigantine. A topmast was hoisted, and another jib, held out to the
wind, added its force to the other sails. Although the speed could not be
exactly estimated, the sledge could not be going less than forty miles an
hour.
"If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there!"
Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach Omaha within the
time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.
The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line,
was as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen lake. The railroad
which ran through this section ascended from the southwest to the
northwest by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town, Schuyler,
and Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right bank of the Platte
River. The sledge, shortening this route, took the chord of the arc
described by the railway. Mudge was not afraid of being stopped by the
Platte River, because it was frozen. The road, then, was quite clear of
obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to fear, -an accident to
the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.
But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the
mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly. These lashings,
like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if vibrated by a
violin bow. The sledge slid along in the midst of a plaintively intense
melody.
"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.
These were the only words he uttered during the journey. Aouda,
cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from
the attacks of the freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face was as red
as the sun's disk when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled the
biting air. With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope again.
They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the morning, of the
and there were still some chances that it would be before the steamer
sailed for Liverpool.
Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the
hand. He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge, the
only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some presentiment,
he kept his usual reserve. One thing, however, Passepartout would never
forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr. Fogg had made, without
hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux. Mr. Fogg had risked his fortune
and his life. No! His servant would never forget that!
While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the
sledge flew fast over the vast carpet of snow. The creeks it passed over
were not perceived. Fields and streams disappeared under the uniform
whiteness. The plain was absolutely deserted. Between the Union Pacific
road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint Joseph it formed a
great uninhabited island. Neither village, station, nor fort appeared.
From time to time they sped by some phantomlike tree, whose white skeleton
twisted and rattled in the wind. Sometimes flocks of wild birds rose, or
bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious prairie wolves ran howling after the
sledge. Passepartout, revolver in hand, held himself ready to fire on
those which came too near. Had an accident then happened to the sledge,
the travellers, attacked by these beasts, would have been in the most
terrible danger; but it held on its even course, gained on the wolves, and
ere long left the howling band at a safe distance behind.
About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing
the Platte River. He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now
within twenty miles of Omaha. In less than an hour he left the rudder and
furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great impetus
the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its sails
unspread.
It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with
snow, said, "We have got there!"
Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by
numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!
Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and
aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge. Phileas
Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped,
and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.
The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important
Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock
Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.
A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the
station, and they only had time to get into the cars. They had seen
nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was not
to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.
The train passed rapidly across the State of lowa, by Council Bluffs,
Des Moines, and lowa City. During the night it crossed the Mississippi at
Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois. The next day, which was
the 10th, at four in the evening, it reached Chicago, already risen from
its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the borders of its
beautiful Lake Michigan.
Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are
not wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and
the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left at
full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no time to
lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like a
flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which had streets
and car tracks, but as yet no houses. At last the Hudson came into view;
and at a quarter past eleven in the evening of the 11th, the train stopped
in the station on the right bank of the river, before the very pier of the
Cunard line.
The China, for Liverpool, had started three quarters of an hour
before!
32. Phileas Fogg engages in a direct struggle with bad fortune
The China in leaving, seemed to have carried off Phileas Fogg's last
hope. None of the other steamers were able to serve his projects. The
Pereire of the French Transatlantic Company, whose admirable steamers are
equal to any in speed and comfort, did not leave until the 14th; the
Hamburg boats did not go directly to Liverpool or London, but to Havre;
and the additional trip from Havre to Southampton would render Phileas
Fogg's last efforts of no avail. The Inman steamer did not depart till the
next day, and could not cross the Atlantic in time to save the wager.
Mr. Fogg learned all this in consulting his Bradshaw, which gave him
the daily movements of the transatlantic steamers.
Passepartout was crushed; it overwhelmed him to lose the boat by
three quarters of an hour. It was his fault, for, instead of helping his
master, he had not ceased putting obstacles in his path! And when he
recalled all the incidents of the tour, when he counted up the sums
expended in pure loss and on his own account, when he thought that the
immense stake, added to the heavy charges of this useless journey, would
completely ruin Mr. Fogg, he overwhelmed himself with bitter
self-accusations. Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him; and, on leaving
the Cunard pier, only said, "We will consult about what is best tomorrow.
Come."
The party crossed the Hudson in the Jersey City ferryboat, and drove
in a carriage to the St. Nicholas Hotel, on Broadway. Rooms were engaged,
and the night passed, briefly to Phileas Fogg, who slept profoundly, but
very long to Aouda and the others, whose agitation did not permit them to
rest.
The next day was the 12th of December. From seven in the morning of
the 12th, to a quarter before nine in the evening of the 21st, there were
nine days, thirteen hours, and forty five minutes. If Phileas Fogg had
left in the China, one of the fastest steamers on the Atlantic, he would
have reached Liverpool, and then London, within the period agreed upon.
Mr. Fogg left the hotel alone, after giving Passepartout instructions
to await his return, and inform Aouda to be ready at an instant's notice.
He proceeded to the banks of the Hudson, and looked about among the
vessels moored or anchored in the river, for any that were about to
depart. Several had departure signals, and were preparing to put to sea at
morning tide; for in this immense and admirable port, there is not one day
in a hundred that vessels do not set out for every quarter of the globe.
But they were mostly sailing vessels, of which, of course, Phileas Fogg
could make no use.
He seemed about to give up all hope, when he espied, anchored at the
Battery, a cable's length off at most, a trading vessel, with a screw,
well-shaped, whose funnel, puffing a cloud of smoke, indicated that she
was getting ready for departure.
Phileas Fogg hailed a boat, got into it, and soon found himself on
board the Henrietta, iron-hulled, wood-built above. He ascended to the
deck, and asked for the captain, who forthwith presented himself. He was a
man of fifty, a sort of sea wolf, with big eyes, a complexion of oxidized
copper, red hair and thick neck, and a growling voice.
"The captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"I am the captain."
"I am Phileas Fogg, of London."
"And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."
"You are going to put to sea?"
"In an hour."
"You are bound for-"
"Bordeaux."
"And your cargo?"
"No freight. Going in ballast."
"Have you any passengers?"
"No passengers. Never have passengers. Too much in the way."
"Is your vessel a swift one?"
"Between eleven and twelve knots. The Henrietta, well known."
"Will you carry me and three other persons to Liverpool?"
"To Liverpool? Why not to China?"
"I said Liverpool."
"No!"
"No?"
"No. I am setting out for Bordeaux, and shall go to Bordeaux."
"Money is no object?"
"None."
The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
"But the owners of the Henrietta-" resumed Phileas Fogg.
"The owners are myself," replied the captain. "The vessel belongs to
me."
"I will freight it for you."
"No."
"I will buy it of you."
"No."
Phileas Fogg did not betray the least disappointment; but the
situation was a grave one. It was not at New York as at Hong Kong, nor
with the captain of the Henrietta as with the captain of the Tankadere. Up
to this time money had smoothed away every obstacle. Now money failed.
Still, some means must be found to cross the Atlantic on a boat,
unless by balloon, -which would have been venturesome, besides not being
capable of being put in practice. It seemed that Phileas Fogg had an idea,
for he said to the captain, "Well, will you carry me to Bordeaux?"
"No, not if you paid me two hundred dollars."
"I offer you two thousand."
"Apiece?"
"Apiece."
"And there are four of you?"
"Four."
Captain Speedy began to scratch his head. There were eight thousand
dollars to gain, without changing his route; for which it was well worth
conquering the repugnance he had for all kinds of passengers. Besides,
passengers at two thousand dollars are no longer passengers, but valuable
merchandise. "I start at nine o'clock," said Captain Speedy, simply. "Are
you and your party ready?"
"We will be on board at nine o'clock," replied, no less simply,
Mr.Fogg.
It was half-past eight. To disembark from the Henrietta, jump into a
hack, hurry to the St. Nicholas, and return with Aouda, Passepartout, and
even the inseparable Fix, was the work of a brief time, and was performed
by Mr. Fogg with the coolness which never abandoned him. They were on
board when the Henrietta made ready to weigh anchor.
When Passepartout heard what this last voyage was going to cost, he
uttered a prolonged "Oh!" which extended throughout his vocal gamut.
As for Fix, he said to himself that the Bank of England would
certainly not come out of this affair well indemnified. When they reached
England, even if Mr. Fogg did not throw some handfuls of bank bills into
the sea, more than seven thousand pounds would have been spent!
33. Phileas Fogg shows himself equal to the occasion
An hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse which marks the
entrance of the Hudson, turned the point of Sandy Hook, and put to sea.
During the day she skirted Long Island, passed Fire Island, and directed
her course rapidly eastward.
At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain vessel's
position. It might be thought that this was Speedy. Not the least in the
world. It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire. As for Captain Speedy, he was shut up
in his cabin under lock and key, and was uttering loud cries, which
signified an anger at once pardonable and excessive.
What had happened was very simple. Phileas Fogg wished to go to
Liverpool, but the captain would not carry him there. Then Phileas Fogg
had taken passage for Bordeaux, and during the thirty hours he had been on
board, had so shrewdly managed with his bank notes that the sailors and
stokers, who were only an occasional crew, and were not on the best terms
with the captain, went over to him in a body. This was why Phileas Fogg
was in command instead of Captain Speedy; why the captain was a prisoner
in his cabin; and why, in short, the Henrietta was directing her course
towards Liverpool. It was very clear, to see Mr. Fogg manage the craft,
that he had been a sailor.
How the adventure ended will be seen anon. Aouda was anxious, though
she said nothing. As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg's manoeuvre
simply glorious. The captain had said "between eleven and twelve knots,"
and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.
If, then -for there were "ifs" still -the sea did not become too
boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east, if no accident
happened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta might cross the three
thou sand miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days, between the
12th and the 21st of December. It is true that, once arrived, the affair
on board the Henrietta, added to that of the Bank of England, might create
more difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he imagined or could desire.
During the first days, they went along smoothly enough. The sea was
not very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the northeast, the
sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves like a
real transatlantic steamer.
Passepartout was delighted. His master's last exploit, the
consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never had the crew seen
so jolly and dexterous a fellow. He formed warm friendships with the
sailors, and amazed them with his acrobatic feats. He thought they managed
the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like heroes. His
loquacious good humor infected every one. He had forgotten the past, its
vexations and delays. He only thought of the end, so nearly accomplished;
and sometimes he boiled with impatience, as if heated by the furnaces of
the Henrietta. Often, also, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix, looking
at him with a keen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for
their old intimacy no longer existed.
Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going on.
The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg managing the
boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him. He did not know what
to think. For, after all, a man who began by stealing fifty-five thousand
pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix was not unnaturally
inclined to conclude that the Henrietta, under Fogg's command, was not
going to Liverpool at all, but to some part of the world where the robber,
turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself in safety. The conjecture
was at least a plausible one, and the detective began to seriously regret
that he had embarked in the affair.
As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his cabin;
and Passepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals, courageous as
he was, took the greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg did not seem even to know
that there was a captain on board.
On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland, a
dangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are frequent fogs
and heavy gales of wind. Ever since the evening before the barometer,
suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching change in the atmosphere;
and during the night the temperature varied, the cold became sharper, and
the wind veered to the southeast.
This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his
course, furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the
vessel's speed slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long waves of
which broke against the stern. She pitched violently, and this retarded
her progress. The breeze little by little swelled into a tempest, and it
was to be feared that the Henrietta might not be able to maintain herself
upright on the waves.
Passenpartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the
poor fellow experienced constant fright. But Phileas Fogg was a bold
mariner, and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept on
his course, without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta, when she
could not rise upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her deck, but
passing safely. Sometimes the screw rose out of the water, beating its
protruding end, when a mountain of water raised the stern above the waves;
but the craft always kept straight ahead.
The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been
feared; it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with a
speed of ninety miles an hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily, it
remained obstinately in the southeast, rendering the sails useless.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas Fogg's
departure from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been seriously
delayed. Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the worst
localities had been passed. In summer, success would have been well-nigh
certain. In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad season. Passepartout
said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret, and comforted himself with
the reflection that, if the wind failed them, they might still count on
the steam.
On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to Mr. Fogg, and began
to speak earnestly with him. Without knowing why -it was a presentiment,
perhaps -Passepartout became vaguely uneasy. He would have given one of
his ears to hear with the other what the engineer was saying. He finally
managed to catch a few words, and was sure he heard his master say, "You
are certain of what you tell me?"
"Certain, sir," replied the engineer. "You must remember that, since
we started, we have kept up hot fires in all our furnaces, and though we
had coal enough to go on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we haven't
enough to go with all steam from New York to Liverpool."
"I will consider," replied Mr. Fogg.
Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with mortal anxiety.
The coal was giving out! "Ah, if my master can get over that," muttered
he, "he'll be a famous man!" He could not help imparting to Fix what he
had overheard.
"Then you believe that we really are going to Liverpool?"
"Of course."
"Ass!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and turning on
his heel.
Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting the epithet,
the reason of which he could not for the life of him comprehend; but he
reflected that the unfortunate Fix was probably very much disappointed and
humiliated in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a false
scent around the world, and refrained.
And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt? It was difficult to
imagine. Nevertheless he seemed to have decided upon one, for that evening
he sent for the engineer, and said to him, "Feed all the fires until the
coal is exhausted."
A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta vomitted forth
torrents of smoke. The vessel continued to proceed with all steam on; but
on the 18th, the engineer, as he had predicted, announced that the coal
would give out in the course of the day.
"Do not let the fires go down," replied Mr. Fogg. "Keep them up to
the last. Let the valves be filled."
Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their position, called
Passepartout, and ordered him to go for Captain Speedy. It was as if the
honest fellow had been commanded to unchain a tiger. He went to the poop,
saying to himself, "He will be like a madman!"
In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb appeared on the poop
deck. The bomb was Captain Speedy. It was clear that he was on the point
of bursting. "Where are we?" were the first words his anger permitted him
to utter. Had the poor man been apoplectic, he could never have recovered
from his paroxysm of wrath.
"Where are we we?" he repeated, with purple face.
"Seven hundred and seventy miles to Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg,
with imperturbable calmness.
"Pirate!" cried Captain Speedy.
"I have sent for you, sir-"
"Pickaroon!"
"-Sir," continued Mr. Fogg, "to ask you to sell me your vessel."
"No! By all the devils, no!"
"But I shall be obliged to burn her."
"Burn the Henrietta!"
"Yes; at least the upper part of her. The coal has given out."
"Burn my vessel!" cried Captain Speedy, who could scarcely pronounce
the words. "A vessel worth fifty thousand dollars!"
"Here are sixty thousand," replied Phileas Fogg, handing the captain
a roll of bank bills. This had a prodigious effect on Andrew Speedy. An
American can scarcely remain unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand
dollars. The captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment, and
all his grudges against his passenger. The Henrietta was twenty years old;
it was a great bargain. The bomb would not go off after all. Mr. Fogg had
taken away the match.
"And I shall still have the iron hull," said the captain in a softer
tone.
"The iron hull and the engine. Is it agreed?"
"Agreed."
And Andrew Speedy, seizing the bank notes, counted them, and
consigned them to his pocket.
During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a sheet, and Fix
seemed on the point of having an apoplectic fit. Nearly twenty thousand
pounds had been expended, and Fogg left the hull and engine to the
captain, that is, near the whole value of the craft! It is true, however,
that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the bank.
When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him,
"Don't let this astonish you, sir. You must know that I shall lose twenty
thousand pounds, unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on the
evening of the 21st of December. I missed the steamer at New York, and as
you refused to take me to Liverpool -"
"And I did well!" cried Andrew Speedy; "for I have gained at least
forty thousand dollars by it!" He added, more sedately, "Do you know one
thing, Captain-"
"Fogg."
"Captain Fogg, you've got something of the Yankee about you."
And, having paid his passenger what he considered a high compliment,
he was going away, when Mr. Fogg said, "The vessel now belongs to me?"
"Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts,-all the wood,
that is."
"Very well. Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames pulled down,
and burn them."
It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up to the
adequate pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins, bunks, and the spare
deck were sacrificed. On the next day, the 19th of December, the masts,
rafts, and spars were burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the
fires. Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his might. There
was a perfect rage for demolition.
The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and top sides
disappeared on the 20th, and was now only a flat hulk. But on this day
they sighted the Irish coast and Fastnet Light. By ten in the evening they
were passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only twenty-four hours more in
which to get to London; that length of time was necessary to reach
Liverpool, with all steam on. And the steam was about to give out
altogether!
"Sir," said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply interested in Mr.
Fogg's project, "I really commiserate you. Everything is against you. We
are only opposite Queenstown."
"Ah," said Mr. Fogg, "is that place where we see the lights
Queenstown?"
"Yes."
"Can we enter the harbor?"
"Not under three hours. Only at high tide."
"Stay," replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in his features
that by a supreme inspiration he was about to attempt once more to conquer
ill fortune.
Queenstown is the Irish port at which the transatlantic steamers stop
to put off the mails. These mails are carried to Dublin by express trains
always held in readiness to start; from Dublin they are sent on to
Liverpool by the most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the
Atlantic steamers.
Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the same way. Instead
of arriving at Liverpool the next evening by the Henrietta, he would be
there by noon, and would therefore have time to reach London before a
quarter before nine in the evening.
The Henrietta entered Queenstown harbor at one o'clock in the
morning, it then being high tide; and Phileas Fogg, after being grasped
heartily by the hand by Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the
levelled hulk of his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it
for.
The party went on shore at once. Fix was greatly tempted to arrest
Mr. Fogg on the spot; but he did not. Why? What struggle was going on
within him? Had he changed his mind about "his man?" Did he understand
that he had made a grave mistake? He did not, however, abandon Mr. Fogg.
They all got upon the train, which was just ready to start, at halfpast
one; at dawn of day they were in Dublin; and they lost no time in
embarking on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon the waves,
invariably cut through them.
Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay, at twenty
minutes before twelve, December 21st. He was only six hours distant from
London.
But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon Mr. Fogg's
shoulder, and, showing his warrant, said, "You are really Phileas Fogg?"
"I am."
"I arrest you in the Queen's name!"
34. Phileas Fogg at last reaches London
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House,
and he was to be transferred to London, the next day. Passepartout, when
he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon Fix, had he not been
held back by some policeman. Aouda was thunderstruck at the suddenness of
an event which she could not understand. Passepartout explained to her how
it was that the honest and courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The
young woman's heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw
that she could attempt or do nothing to save her protector, wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whether
Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this
new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's errand from his master? When
Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr. Fogg?
If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix proof of
his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix would not
have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of his master,
only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout
wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the
Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious to see
Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was
about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Having arrived at
Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he had
till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club, that is,
nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to London was six
hours.
If any one, at this moment, had entered the Custom House he would
have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger,
upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow
failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Was he being
devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terrible because
contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible force, at the
last moment? No one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting -for what?
Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that the door of this
prison was closed upon him, that he would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon the
table, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escaped his lips, but
his look was singularly set and stern. The situation, in any event, was a
terrible one, and might be thus stated: If Phileas Fogg was honest, he was
ruined. If he was a knave, he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if there were
practicable outlet from his prison? Did he think of escaping from it?
Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But the door was
locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again,
and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where these words were
written, "December 21, Saturday, Liverpool," he added, "80th day, 11:40
a.m.," and waited.
The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg observed that his watch
was two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express
train, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before nine,
p.m. His forehead slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise outside,
then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's voice was audible, and
immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for an
instant.
The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who
hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He could not
speak. "Sir," he stammered, "sir -forgive me -a most unfortunate
resemblance -robber arrested three days ago -you -are free!"
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked him
steadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in
his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the
precision of a machine, knocked Fix down.
"Well hit!" cried Passepartout. "Parbleu! That's what you might call
a good application of English fists!"
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word.
He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout
left the Custom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments
descended at the station.
Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for
London. It was forty minutes past two. The express train had left
thirty-five minutes before.
Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway
arrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three
o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the
offer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and
his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and
this would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were
forced delays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus,
all the clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.
Having made the tour of the world, he was behindhand five minutes. He
had lost the wager!
35. Phileas Fogg does not have fo repeat his orders
to Passepartout twice
The dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised, the next day,
if they had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home. His doors and
windows were still closed; no appearance of change was visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout instructions to
purchase some provisions, and quietly went quietly went to his domicile.
He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity. Ruined! And by
the blundering of the detective! After having steadily traversed that long
journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, and still
found time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by a sudden
event which he could not have foreseen, and against which he was unarmed;
it was terrible! But a few pounds were left of the large sum he had
carried with him. There only remained of his fortune the twenty thousand
pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to his friends of the
Reform Club. So great had been the expense of his tour, that, even had he
won, it would not have enriched him; and it is probable that he had not
sought to enrich himself, being a man who rather laid wagers for honor's
sake than for the stake proposed. But this wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon; he knew what
remained for him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, who was
overwhelmed with grief at her protector's misfortune. From the words which
Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditating some serious project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resort to
the desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watch upon
his master, though he carefully concealed the appearance of so doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and had
extinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eighty days. He
had found in the letter box a bill from the gas company, and he thought it
more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he had been doomed to
bear.
The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep? Aouda did
not once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, like a faithful
dog, at his master's door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda's
breakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself. He desired Aouda to
excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time would be absorbed all
day in putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would ask
permission to have a few moments' conversation with the young lady.
Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to do but obey
them. He looked at his imperturbable master, and could scarcely bring his
mind to leave him. His heart was full, and his conscience tortured by
remorse; for he accused himself more bitterly than ever of being the cause
of the irretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg, and had
betrayed Fix's projects to him, his master would certainly not have given
the detective passage to Liverpool, and then-
Passepartout could hold in no longer.
"My master! Mr. Fogg!" he cried, "why do you not curse me? It was my
fault that-"
"I blame no one," returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness. "Go!"
Passepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom he
delivered his master's message.
"Madam," he added, "I can do nothing myself -nothing! I have no
influence over my master; but you, perhaps-"
"What influence could I have?" replied Aouda. "Mr. Fogg is influenced
by no one. Has he ever understood that my gratitude to him is overflowing?
Has he ever read my heart? My friend, he must not be left alone an
instant! You say he is going to speak with me this evening?"
"Yes, madam; probably to arrange for your protection and comfort in
England."
"We shall see," replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.
Throughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville Row was as if
uninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for the first time since he had lived in
that house, did not set out for his club when Westminster clock struck
half past eleven.
Why should he present himself at the Reform? His friends no longer
expected him there. As Phileas Fogg had not appeared in the saloon on the
evening before (Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine),
he had lost his wager. It was not even necessary that he should go to his
bankers for the twenty thousand pounds; for his antagonists already had
his check in their hands, and they had only to fill it out and send it to
the Barings to have the amount transferred to their credit.
Mr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason for going out, and so he remained
at home. He shut himself up in his room, and busied himself putting his
affairs in order. Passepartout continually ascended and descended the
stairs. The hours were long for him. He listened at his master's door, and
looked through the keyhole, as if he had a perfect right so to do, and as
if he feared that something terrible might happen at any moment. Sometimes
he thought of Fix, but no longer in anger. Fix, like all the world, had
been mistaken in Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty in tracking and
arresting him; while he, Passepartout-. This thought haunted him, and he
never ceased cursing his miserable folly.
Finding himself too wretched to remain alone, he knocked at Aouda's
door, went into her room, seated himself, without speaking, in a corner,
and looked ruefully at the young woman. Aouda was still pensive.
About half-past seven in the evening Mr. Fogg sent to know if Aouda
would receive him, and in a few moments he found himself alone with her.
Phileas Fogg took a chair, and sat down near the fireplace, opposite
Aouda. No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg returned was exactly the
Fogg who had gone away; there was the same calm, the same impassibility.
He sat several minutes without speaking; then, bending his eyes on
Aouda, "Madam," said he, "will you pardon me for bringing you to England?"
"I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart.
"Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg. "When I decided to bring
you far away from the country which was so unsafe for you, I was rich, and
counted on putting a portion of my fortune at your disposal; then your
existence would have been free and happy. But now I am ruined."
"I know it, Mr. Fogg," replied Aouda; "and I ask you, in my turn,
will you forgive me for having followed you, and who knows; -for having,
perhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?"
"Madam, you could not remain in India, and your safety could only be
assured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors could not
take you."
"So, Mr. Fogg," resumed Aouda, "not content with rescuing me a
terrible death, you thought yourself bound to secure my comfort in a
foreign land?"
"Yes, madam; but circumstances have been against me. Still, I beg to
place the little I have left at your service."
"But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"
"As for me, madam," replied the gentleman, coldly, "I have need of
nothing."
"But how do you look upon the fate which awaits you?"
"As I am in the habit of doing."
"At least," said Aouda, "want should not overtake a man like you.
Your friends-"
"I have no friends, madam."
"Your relatives-"
"I have no longer any relatives."
"I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no
heart to which to confide your griefs. They say, though, that misery
itself, shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne with patience."
"They say so, madam."
"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising, and seizing his hand, "do you wish at
once a kinswoman and friend? Will you have me for your wife?"
Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn. There was an unwonted light in
his eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips. Aouda looked into his face.
The sincerity, rectitude, firmness, and sweetness of this soft glance of a
noble woman, who could dare all to save him to whom she owed all, at first
astonished, then penetrated him. He shut his eyes for an instant, as if to
avoid her look. When he opened them again, "I love you!" he said, simply.
"Yes, by all that is holiest, I love you, and I am entirely yours!"
"Ah!" cried Aouda, pressing his hand to her heart.
Passepartout was summoned and appeared immediately. Mr. Fogg still
held Aouda's hand in his own; Passepartout understood, and his big, round
face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith.
Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend
Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone Parish, that evening.
Passepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never too late."
It was five minutes past eight.
"Will it be for tomorrow, Monday?"
"For Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.
"Yes; for Monday," she replied.
Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
36. Phileas Fogg's name is once more at a premium on 'Change
It is time to relate what a change took place in English public
opinion, when it transpired that the real bank robber, a certain James
Strand, had been arrested, on the 17th of December, at Edinburgh. Three
days before, Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being desperately
followed up by the police; now he was an honorable gentleman,
mathematically pursuing his eccentric journey round the world.
The papers resumed their discussion about the wager; all those who
had laid bets, for or against him, revived their interest, as if by magic;
the "Phileas Fogg bonds" again became negotiable, and many new wagers were
made. Phileas Fogg's name was once more at a premium on 'Change.
His five friends of the Reform Club passed these three days in a
state of feverish suspense. Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten,
reappear before their eyes! Where was he at this moment? The 17th of
December, the day of James Strand's arrest, was the seventy-sixth since
Phileas Fogg's departure, and no news of him had been received. Was he
dead? Had he abandoned the effort, or was he continuing his journey along
the route agreed upon? And would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of
December, at a quarter before nine in the evening, on the threshold of the
Reform Club saloon?
The anxiety in which, for three days, London society existed, cannot
be described. Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Phileas
Fogg. Messengers were despatched to the house in Saville Row morning and
evening. No news. The police were ignorant what had become of the
detective, Fix, who had so unfortunately followed up a false scent. Bets
increased, nevertheless, in number and value. Phileas Fogg, like a
racehorse, was drawing near his last turning point. The bonds were quoted,
no longer at a hundred below par, but at twenty, at ten, and at five; and
paralytic old Lord Albemarle bet even in his favor.
A great crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighboring streets
on Saturday evening; it seemed like a multitude of brokers permanently
established around the Reform Club. Circulation was impeded, and
everywhere disputes, discussions, and financial transactions were going
on. The police had great difficulty in keeping back the crowd, and as the
hour when Phileas Fogg was due approached, the excitement rose to its
highest pitch.
The five antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon of
the club. John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers, Andrew Stuart,
the engineer, Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of England, and
Thomas Flanagan, the brewer, one and all waited anxiously.
When the clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart got
up, saying, "Gentlemen, in twenty minutes the time agreed upon between Mr.
Fogg and ourselves will have expired."
"What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?" asked Thomas
Flanagan.
"At twenty-three minutes past seven," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and
the next does not arrive till ten minutes after twelve."
"Well, gentlemen," resumed Andrew Stuart, "if Phileas Fogg had come
in the 7.23 train, he would have got here by this time. We can therefore
regard the bet as won."
"Wait; don't let us be too hasty," replied Samuel Fallentin. "You
know that Mr. Fogg is very eccentric. His punctuality is well known; he
never arrives too soon, or too late; and I should not be surprised if he
appeared before us at the last minute."
"Why," said Andrew Stuart nervously, "if I should see him, I should
not believe it was he."
"The fact is," resumed Thomas Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was
absurdly foolish. Whatever his punctuality, he could not prevent the
delays which were certain to occur; and a delay of only two or three days
would be fatal to his tour."
"Observe, too," added John Sullivan, "that we have received no
intelligence from him, though there are telegraphic lines all along his
route."
"He has lost, gentlemen," said Andrew Stuart,- "he has a hundred
times lost! You know, besides, that the China -the only steamer he could
have taken from New York to get here in time -arrived yesterday. I have
seen a list of the passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg is not among
them. Even if we admit that fortune has favored him, he can scarcely have
reached America. I think he will be at least twenty days behindhand, and
that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool five thousand."
"It is clear," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and we have nothing to do but
to present Mr. Fogg's check at Barings tomorrow."
At this moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty minutes
to nine.
"Five minutes more," said Andrew Stuart.
The five gentlemen looked at each other. Their anxiety was becoming
intense; but, not wishing to betray it, they readily assented to Mr.
Fallentin's proposal of a rubber.
"I wouldn't give up my four thousand of the bet," said Andrew Stuart,
as he took his seat, "for three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine."
The clock indicated eighteen minutes to nine.
The players took up their cards, but could not keep their eyes off
the clock. Certainly, however secure they felt, minutes had never seemed
so long to them!
"Seventeen minutes to nine," said Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the
cards which Ralph handed to him.
Then there was a moment of silence. The great saloon was perfectly
quiet; but the murmurs of the crowd outside were heard, with now and then
a shrill cry. The pendulum beat the seconds, which each player eagerly
counted, as he listened, with mathematical regularity.
"Sixteen minutes to nine!" said John Sullivan, in a voice which
betrayed his emotion.
One minute more, and the wager would be won. Andrew Stuart and his
partners suspended their game. They left their cards, and counted the
seconds.
At the fortieth second, nothing. At the fiftieth, still nothing.
At the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed by
applause, hurrahs, and some fierce growls.
The players rose from their seats.
At the fifty-seventh second the door of the saloon opened; and the
pendulum had not beat the sixtieth second when Phileas Fogg appeared,
followed by an excited crowd who had forced their way through the club
doors, and in his calm voice, said, "Here I am, gentlemen!"
37. Phileas Fogg gained nothing by his tour around the world,
unless it were happiness
Yes; Phileas Fogg in person. The reader will remember that at five
minutes past eight in the evening, about five and twenty hours after the
arrival of the travellers in London, Passepartout had been sent by his
master to engage the services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in a certain
marriage ceremony, which was to take place the next day.
Passepartout went on his errand enchanted. He soon reached the
clergyman's house, but found him not at home. Passepartout waited a good
twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was
thirty-five minutes past eight. But in what a state he was! With his hair
in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never man was
seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over the sidewalk like
a waterspout.
In three minutes he was in Saville Row again, and staggered
breathless into Mr. Fogg's room.
He could not speak.
"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"My master!" gasped Passepartout, -"marriage -impossible-"
"Impossible?"
"Impossible -for tomorrow."
"Why so?"
"Because tomorrow -is Sunday!"
"Monday," replied Mr. Fogg.
"No -today -is Saturday."
"Saturday? Impossible!"
"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried Passepartout. "You have made a mistake of
one day! We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time; but there are only
ten minutes left!"
Passepartout had seized his master by the collar, and was dragging
him along with irresistible force.
Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without having time to think, left his
house, jumped into a cab, promised a hundred pounds to the cabman, and,
having run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached the Reform
Club.
The clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the
great saloon.
Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty
days!
Phileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!
How was that a man so exact and fastidious could have made this error
of a day? How came he to think that he had arrived in London on Saturday,
the twenty-first day of December, when it was really Friday, the
twentieth, the seventy-ninth day only from his departure?
The cause of the error is very simple.
Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting it, gained one day on his
journey, and this merely because he had travelled constantly eastward; he
would, on the contrary, have lost a day, had he gone in the opposite
direction, that is, westward.
In journeying eastward he had gone towards the sun, and the days
therefore diminished for him as many times four minutes as lie crossed
degrees in this direction. There are three hundred and sixty degrees on
the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty degrees,
multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four hours -that is,
the day unconsciously gained. In other words, while Phileas Fogg, going
eastward, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty times, his friends in
London only saw it pass the meridian seventy-nine times. This is why they
awaited him at the Reform Club on Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg
thought.
And Passepartout's famous family watch, which had always kept London
time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well as
the hours and minutes!
Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but as he had spent
nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was small. His
object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win money. He divided
the one thousand pounds that remained between Passepartout and the
unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no grudge. He deducted,
however, from Passepartout's share the cost of the gas which had burned in
his room for nineteen hundred and twenty hours, for the sake of
regularity.
That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said to
Aouda, "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"
"Mr. Fogg," replied she, "it is for me to ask that question. You were
ruined, but now you are rich again."
"Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you. If you had not
suggested our marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend
Samuel Wilson's, I should not have been apprised of my error, and-"
"Dear Mr. Fogg!" said the young woman.
"Dear Aouda!" replied Phileas Fogg.
It need not be said that marriage took place forty-eight hours after,
and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride away. Had he
not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honor?
The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped vigorously
at his master's door. Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked, "What's the matter,
Passepartout?"
"What is it, sir? Why, I've just this instant found out-"
"What?"
"That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight
days."
"No doubt," returned Mr. Fogg, "by not crossing India. But if I had
not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have been
my wife, and-"
Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.
Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the
world in eighty days. To do this, he had employed every means of
conveyance -steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading vessels,
sledges, elephants. The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed all
his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude. But what then? What
had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he brought back from
this long and weary journey?
Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who,
strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!
Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the
world?