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Round the World in Eighty
Days
By
Jules Verne
In
which Phileas Fogg and Passe-partout accept, relatively, the
positions
of Master and Servant.
In
the year of grace One thousand eight hundred and seventy-two, the
house
in which
most
eccentric members of the Reform Club, though it always appeared
as if
he were very anxious to avoid remark. Phileas had succeeded to
the
house of one of
predecessor,
no one knew anything of Fogg, who was impenetrable,
though
a brave man and moving in the best society. Some people
declared
that he resembled Byron--merely in appearance, for he was
irreproachable
in tone--but still a Byron with whiskers and moustache:
an
impassible Byron, who might live a thousand years and not get old.
A
thorough Briton was Phileas Fogg, though perhaps not a Londoner. He
was
never seen on the Stock Exchange, nor at the Bank of England, nor
at
any of the great City houses. No vessel with a cargo consigned to
Phileas
Fogg ever entered the
appointment.
He had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court. He
had
never pleaded at the Chancery Bar, the Queen's Bench, the
Exchequer,
or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He was not a merchant, a
manufacturer,
a farmer, nor a man of business of any kind. He was not
in
the habit of frequenting the Royal Institution or any other of the
learned
societies of the metropolis. He was simply a member of the
"Reform,"
and that was all!
If
anyone ever inquired how it was that he had become a member of the
club,
the questioner was informed that he had been put up by the
Barings,
with whom he kept his account, which always showed a good
balance,
and from which his cheques were regularly and promptly
honoured.
Was
Phileas Fogg a rich man? Unquestionably. But in what manner he had
made
his money even the best-informed gossips could not tell, and Mr.
Fogg
was the very last person from whom one would seek to obtain
information
on the subject. He was never prodigal in expenditure, but
never
stingy; and whenever his contribution towards some good or
useful
object was required he gave cheerfully, and in many cases
anonymously.
In
short, he was one of the most uncommunicative of men. He talked
little,
and his habitual taciturnity added to the mystery surrounding
him.
Nevertheless, his life was simple and open enough, but he
regulated
all his actions with a mathematical exactness which, to the
imagination
of the quidnuncs, was in itself suspicious.
Had
he ever travelled? It was very probable, for no one was better
informed
in the science of geography. There was apparently no
out-of-the-way
place concerning which he had not some exclusive
information.
Occasionally, in a few sentences, he would clear away the
thousand-and-one
rumours which circulated in the club concerning some
lost
or some nearly-forgotten traveller; he would point out the true
probabilities;
and it really appeared as if he were gifted with second
sight,
so correctly were his anticipations justified by succeeding
events.
He was a man who must have been everywhere--in spirit at
least.
One
thing at any rate was certain, viz. that he had not been absent
from
footing
used to declare that no one had ever seen him anywhere else
but
on his way to or from his club. His only amusement was a game of
whist,
varied by the perusal of the daily papers. At whist, which was
a
game peculiarly fitted to such a taciturn disposition as his, he was
habitually
a winner; but his gains always were expended in charitable
objects.
Besides, it was evident to everyone that Mr. Fogg played for
the
game, not for the sake of winning money. It was a trial of skill
with
him, a combat; but a fight unaccompanied by fatigue, and one
entailing
no great exertion, and thus suiting him "down to the
ground!"
No
one had ever credited Phileas Fogg with wife or child, which even
the
most scrupulously honest people may possess; nor even had he any
near
relatives or intimate friends, who are more rare in this world.
He
lived alone in his house in Saville Row, and no one called upon
him,
or at any rate entered there. One servant sufficed for him. He
took
all his meals at his club, but he never shared a table with any
of
his acquaintance, nor did he ever invite a stranger to dinner. He
only
returned home to sleep at midnight precisely, for he never
occupied
any one of the comfortable bedrooms provided by the "Reform"
for
its members. Ten hours of the four-and-twenty he passed at home,
partly
sleeping, partly dressing or undressing. If he walked, it was
in
the entrance-hall with its mosaic pavement, or in the circular
gallery
beneath the dome, which was supported by twenty Ionic columns.
Here
he would pace with measured step. When he dined or breakfasted,
all
the resources of the club were taxed to supply his table with the
daintiest
fare; he was waited upon by the gravest black-coated
servants,
who stepped softly as they ministered to his wants upon a
special
porcelain service and upon the most expensive damask. His wine
was
contained in decanters of a now unobtainable mould, while his
sherry
was iced to the most excellent point of refrigeration of the
If
existence under such circumstances be a proof of eccentricity, it
must
be confessed that something may be said in favour of it.
The
house in Saville Row, without being luxurious, was extremely
comfortable.
Besides, in accordance with the habits of the tenant, the
service
was reduced to a minimum. But Phileas Fogg exacted the most
rigid
punctuality on the part of his sole domestic--something
supernatural
in fact. On this very day, the 2nd of October, Fogg had
given
James Forster notice to leave, because the fellow had actually
brought
up his master's shaving-water at a temperature of eighty-four
instead
of eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit; and Phileas was now looking
out
for a successor, who was expected between eleven and half-past.
Phileas
Fogg was seated in his arm-chair, his feet close together at
the
position of "attention;" his hands were resting on his knees, his=
body
was drawn up; with head erect he was watching the clock, which,
by a
complexity of mechanism, told the hours, minutes, seconds, the
days
of the week, and the month and year. As this clock chimed
half-past
eleven, Mr. Fogg, according to custom, would leave the house
and
walk down to his club.
Just
then a knock was heard at the door of the room, and James
Forster,
the outgoing servant, appeared and announced, "The new young
man"
for the place.
A
young fellow of about thirty entered and bowed.
"You
are a Frenchman, and your name is John, eh?" inquired Phileas
Fogg.
"Jean,
sir, if you have no objection," replied the newcomer. "Jean
Passe-partout,
a surname which clings to me because I have a weakness
for
change. I believe I am honest, sir; but to speak plainly, I have
tried
a good many things. I have been an itinerant singer; a rider in
a
circus, where I used to do the trapeze like Leotard and walk the
tight-rope
like Blondin; then I became a professor of gymnastics; and,
finally,
in order to make myself useful, I became a fireman in
and
bear on my back to this day the scars of several bad burns. But it
is
five years since I left
domestic
life I became a valet in
situation,
and having heard that you, sir, were the most punctual and
regular
gentleman in the
that
I shall be able to live a quiet life and forget my name of
Jack-of-all-trades--Passe-partout!"
"Passe-partout
suits me," replied Mr. Fogg. "I have heard a very good
character
of you, and you have been well recommended. You are aware of
my
conditions of service?"
"Yes,
sir."
"Very
well. What o'clock do you make it?"
"Twenty-two
minutes past eleven," replied the valet, as he consulted
an
enormous silver watch.
"You
are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
"Excuse
me, sir, that is impossible!"
"You
are four minutes too slow. Never mind, it is enough to note the
error.
Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes past eleven o'clock
in
the forenoon upon this 2nd of October, 1872, you are in my
service!"
As he
spoke, Phileas Fogg rose from his chair, took up his hat, put it
on
his head as an automaton might have done, and left the room without
another
word.
Passe-partout
heard the street-door shut; it was his new master who
had
gone out. Shortly afterwards he heard it shut again--that was his
predecessor,
James Forster, departing in his turn.
Passe-partout
was then left alone in the house in Saville Row.
Passe-partout
is convinced that he has attained the object of his
ambition.
"Faith,"
muttered Passe-partout, who for the moment felt rather in a
flutter;
"faith, I have seen creatures at Madame Tussaud's quite as
lively
as my new master."
Madame
Tussaud's "creatures" are all of wax, and only want the power
of
speech.
During
the short period that Passe-partout had been in Mr. Fogg's
presence,
he had carefully scrutinised his future master. He appeared
to be
about forty years of age, with a fine face; a tall and well-made
man,
whose figure was not too stout. He had light hair and whiskers, a
clear
brow, a somewhat pale face, and splendid teeth. He appeared to
possess
in a very marked degree that attribute which physiognomists
call
"repose in action," a faculty appertaining to those whose motto
is "Deeds, not words." Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear and steady<= o:p>
eye,
he was the perfect type of those cool Englishmen whom one meets
so
frequently in the
so
wonderfully portrayed. Mr. Fogg gave one the idea of being
perfectly
balanced, like a perfect chronometer, and as well regulated.
He
was, in fact, the personification of exactness, which was evident
in
the very expression of his hands and feet; for amongst men, as
amongst
the lower animals, the members are expressive of certain
passions.
Phileas
Fogg was one of those mathematical people who, never in a
hurry,
and always ready, are economical of their movements. He never
made
even one step too many; he always took the shortest cut; he never
wasted
a glance, nor permitted himself a superfluous gesture. No one
had
ever seen him agitated or moved by any emotion. He was the last
man
in the world to hurry himself, but he always arrived in time. He
lived
quite alone, and, so to speak, outside the social scale. He knew
that
in life there is a great deal of friction; and as friction always
retards
progress, he never rubbed against anybody.
As for
Jean, who called himself Passe-partout, he was a Parisian of
the
Parisians. He had been for five years in England
service
in
vain
sought for such a master as Mr. Fogg.
Passe-partout
was not one of those Frontii or Mascarilles, who, with
high
shoulders and snubbed noses, and plenty of assurance, are nothing
more
than impudent dunces; he was a good fellow, with a pleasant face,
somewhat
full lips, always ready to eat or to kiss, with one of those
good
round heads that one likes to see on the shoulders of one's
friends.
He had bright blue eyes, was somewhat stout, but very
muscular,
and possessed of great strength. He wore his hair in a
somewhat
tumbled fashion. If sculptors of antiquity were aware of
eighteen
ways of arranging the hair of Minerva, Passe-partout knew but
one
way of doing his, namely, with three strokes of a comb.
We
will not go as far as to predict how the man's nature would accord
with
Mr. Fogg's. It was a question whether Passe-partout was the exact
sort
of servant to suit such a master. Experience only would show.
After
having passed his youth in such a vagabond manner, he looked
forward
to some repose.
Having
heard of the proverbial method and coolness of the English
gentleman,
he had come to seek his fortune in
present
time fate had been adverse. He had tried six situations, but
remained
in none. In all of them he had found either a whimsical, an
irregular,
or a restless master, which did not suit Passe-partout. His
last
master, the young Lord Longsferry, M.P., after passing the
evening
in the Haymarket, was carried home on the policemen's
shoulders.
Passe-partout, wishing above all things to respect his
master,
remonstrated in a respectful manner; but as his expostulations
were
so ill received, he took his leave. It was at that time that he
heard
Phileas Fogg was in search of a servant, and he presented
himself
for the situation. A gentleman whose life was so regular, who
never
stayed away from home, who never travelled, who never was absent
even
for a day, was the very master for him, so he presented himself
and
was engaged, as we have seen.
Thus
it came to pass that at half-past eleven o'clock, Passe-partout
found
himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He immediately
commenced
to look about him, and search the house from cellar to
garret.
This well-arranged, severe, almost puritanical house pleased
him
very much. It appeared to him like the pretty shell of a snail;
but a
snail's shell lighted and warmed with gas would serve for both
those
purposes. He soon discovered the room he was to occupy, and was
quite
satisfied. Electric bells and indiarubber speaking-tubes put him
into
communication with the rooms, below. Upon the chimney-piece stood
an
electric clock, which kept time exactly with that in Phileas Fogg's
bedroom.
"This
will suit me exactly," said Passe-partout to himself.
He
also remarked in his room a notice fixed above the clock. It was
the
programme of his daily duties. It included the whole details of
the
service from eight o'clock in the morning, the hour at which Mr.
Fogg
invariably arose, to half-past eleven, when he left the house to
breakfast
at the Reform Club. It comprised everything--the tea and
toast
at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at
thirty-seven
minutes past nine, and his attendance at his master's
toilet
at twenty minutes to ten, and so on. Then from half-past eleven
a.m.
until midnight, when the methodical Fogg retired to bed,
everything
was noted down and arranged for. Passe-partout joyfully set
himself
to study the programme and to master its contents.
Mr.
Fogg's wardrobe was well stocked and wonderfully arranged. Every
pair
of trousers, coat, or waistcoat bore a number, which was also
noted
in a register of entries and exits, indicating the date on
which,
according to the season, the clothes were to be worn. There
were
even relays of shoes and boots.
In
fact, in this house in Saville Row, which had been a temple of
disorder
in the days of the illustrious but dissipated
cosiness
reigned supreme. There was no library and no books, which
would
have been useless to Mr. Fogg, since there were two
reading-rooms
at the Reform Club. In his bedroom was a small safe,
perfectly
burglar and fire proof. There were no firearms nor any other
weapons
in the house; everything proclaimed the owner to be a man of
peaceable
habits.
After
having examined the house thoroughly, Passe-partout rubbed his
hands
joyously, a genial smile overspread his rounded face, and he
muttered:
"This
suits me completely. It is the very thing. We understand each
other
thoroughly, Mr. Fogg and I. He is a thoroughly regular and
domestic
man, a true machine. Well, I am not sorry to serve a
machine."
In
which a Conversation arises which is likely to cost Phileas Fogg
dear.
Phileas
Fogg left home at half-past eleven, and having placed his
right
foot before his left exactly five hundred and seventy-five
times,
and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six
times,
he arrived at the Reform Club in
went
up to the dining-room and took his place at his usual table,
where
his breakfast awaited him. The meal was composed of one
"side-dish,"
a delicious little bit of boiled fish, a slice of
underdone
roast beef with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart,
and
some
excellent
tea, for which the Reform Club is celebrated.
At
forty-seven minutes after twelve he rose from table and went into
the
drawing-room; there the servant handed him an uncut copy of The
Times,
which Phileas Fogg folded and cut with a dexterity which
denoted
a practised hand. The perusal of this journal occupied him
till
a quarter to four, and then The Standard sufficed till
dinner-time.
This repast was eaten under the same conditions as his
breakfast,
and at twenty minutes to six he returned to the saloon and
read
The Morning Chronicle.
About
half an hour later, several of Mr. Fogg's friends entered the
room
and collected round the fireplace. These gentlemen were his usual
partners
at whist, and, like him, were all inveterate players.
They
comprised Andrew Stuart, an engineer; the bankers, John Sullivan
and
Samuel Fallentin; Thomas Flanagan, the brewer; and Gauthier Ralph,
one
of the directors of the Bank of England;--all rich, and men of
consequence,
even in that club which comprised so many men of mark.
"Well,
Ralph," asked Thomas Flanagan, "what about this robbery?"
"The
bank must lose the money," replied Stuart.
"On
the contrary," replied Ralph, "I am in hopes that we shall be abl=
e
to
put our hand upon the thief. We have detectives in
him
to escape the clutches of the law."
"Then
you have the robber's description, of course," said Andrew
Stuart.
"In
the first place he is not a thief at all," replied Ralph
seriously.
"What
do you mean? Is not a man a thief who takes away fifty-five
thousand
pounds in bank-notes?"
"No,"
replied Ralph.
"He
is then a man of business, I suppose?" said Sullivan.
"The
Morning Chronicle assures me he is a gentleman."
This
last observation was uttered by Phileas Fogg, whose head rose up
from
the sea of papers surrounding him, and then Phileas got up and
exchanged
greetings with his acquaintances.
The
subject of conversation was a robbery, which was in everyone's
mouth,
and had been committed three days previously--viz. on the 29th
of
September. A pile of bank-notes, amounting to the enormous sum of
fifty-five
thousand pounds, had been stolen from the counter at the
Bank
of
The
astonishing part of the matter was that the robbery had been so
easily
accomplished, and as Ralph, who was one of the deputy-governors,
explained,
that when the fifty-five thousand pounds were stolen, the
cashier
was occupied in carefully registering the receipt of three
shillings
and sixpence, and of course could not have his eyes in every
direction
at once.
It
may not be out of place here to remark, which in some measure may
account
for the robbery, that the Bank of England trusts greatly in
the
honesty of the public. There are no guards, or commissionaires, or
gratings;
gold, silver, and notes are all exposed freely, and, so to
speak,
at the mercy of the first-comer. No one's honesty is suspected.
Take
the following instance, related by one of the closest observers
of
English customs. This gentleman was one day in one of the parlours
of
the Bank, and had the curiosity to take up and closely examine a
nugget
of gold weighing seven or eight pounds, which was lying on the
table.
Having examined the ingot, he passed it to his neighbour, he to
the
next man; and so the gold went from hand to hand quite down to the
dark
entry, and was not returned for quite half an hour, and all the
time
the bank official had not raised his head.
But
on the 29th of September things did not work so nicely; the pile
of
bank-notes was not returned; and when the hands of the magnificent
clock
in the drawing-office pointed to the hour of five, at which time
the
bank is closed, the sum of fifty-five thousand pounds was written
off
to "profit and loss."
When
it was certain that a robbery had been committed, the most
skilful
detectives were sent down to Liverpool and
principal
ports, also to
of a
reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the amount
recovered.
In the meantime, inspectors were appointed to observe
scrupulously
all travellers arriving at and departing from the several
seaports.
Now
there was some reason to suppose, as The Morning Chronicle put
it,
that the thief did not belong to a gang, for during the 29th of
September
a well-dressed gentlemanly man had been observed in the
bank,
near where the robbery had been perpetrated. An exact
description
of this person was fortunately obtained, and supplied to
all
the detectives; and so some sanguine persons, of whom Ralph was
one,
believed the thief could not escape.
As
may be imagined, nothing else was talked about just then. The
probabilities
of success and failure were warmly discussed in the
newspapers,
so it was not surprising that the members of the Reform
Club
should talk about it, particularly as one of the deputy-governors
of
the bank was present.
Ralph
did not doubt that the search would be successful because of the
amount
of the reward, which would probably stimulate the zeal of the
detectives.
But Andrew Stuart was of a different opinion, and the
discussion
was continued between these gentlemen during their game of
whist.
Stuart was Flanagan's partner, and Fallentin was Fogg's. While
they
played they did not talk; but between the rubbers the subject
cropped
up again.
"Well,"
said Stuart, "I maintain that the chances are in favour of the
thief,
who must be a sharp one."
"But,"
replied Ralph, "there is no place a fellow can go to."
"Oh,
come!"
"Well,
where can he go to?"
"I
can't tell," replied Stuart; "but the world is big enough, at any=
rate."
"It
used to be," said Phileas Fogg, in an undertone. "Cut, if you
please,"
he added, handing the cards to Flanagan.
Conversation
was then suspended, but after the rubber Stuart took it
up
again, saying:
"What
do you mean by 'used to be?' Has the world grown smaller, then?"
"Of
course it has," replied Ralph. "I am of Mr. Fogg's opinion; the
world
has grown smaller, inasmuch as one can go round it ten times
quicker
than you could a hundred years ago. That is the reason why, in
the
present case, search will be more rapid, and render the escape of
the
thief easier."
"Your
lead, Mr. Stuart," said Fogg.
But
the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and he again returned to
the
subject.
"I must say, Mr. Ralph," he continued, "that you have found an easy<= o:p>
way
that the world has grown smaller, because one now go round it in
three
months."
"In
eighty days only," said Phileas Fogg.
"That
is a fact, gentlemen," added John Sullivan. "You can make the
tour
of the world in eighty days, now that the section of the Great
Indian
Peninsular Railway is opened between Rothal and
here
is the estimate made by The Morning Chronicle:
days.
Hong
Kong to
Total
. . . 80 days."
"Yes,
eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who, being absorbed in his
calculations,
made a mis-deal; "but that estimate does not take inter
consideration
bad weather, head-winds, shipwreck, railway accidents,
&c."
"They
are all included," remarked Fogg, as he continued to play, for
this
time the conversation did not cease with the deal.
"Even
if the Hindoos or Indians take up the rails? Suppose they stop
the
trains, pillage the baggage-waggons, and scalp the travellers?"
"All
included," replied Fogg quietly. "Two trumps," he added, as =
he
won
the tricks.
Stuart,
who was "pony," collected the cards, and said: "No doubt you=
are
right in theory, Mr. Fogg, but in practice--"
"In
practice too, Mr. Stuart."
"I
should like to see you do it."
"It
only rests with you. Let us go together."
"Heaven
forbid," cried Stuart; "but I will bet you a cool four
thousand
that such a journey, under such conditions, is impossible."
"On
the contrary, it is quite possible," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Well,
then, why don't you do it?"
"Go
round the world in eighty days, do you mean?"
"Yes."
"I
will."
"When?"
"At
once; only I give you warning I shall do it at your expense."
"Oh,
this is all nonsense," replied Stuart, who began to feel a little
vexed
at Fogg's persistence; "let us continue the game."
"You
had better deal, then; that was a mis-deal."
Andrew
Stuart took up the cards, and suddenly put them down again.
"Look
here, Mr. Fogg," he said; "if you like, I will bet you four
thousand."
"My dear Stuart," said Fallentin, "don't be ridiculous; it is only a<= o:p>
joke."
"When
I say I will bet," said Stuart, "I mean it."
"All
right," said Mr. Fogg; then, turning towards the others, he said:
"I
have twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring's. I will willingly
risk
that sum."
"Twenty
thousand pounds!" exclaimed Sullivan; "why, the slightest
accident
might cause you to lose the whole of it. Anything
unforeseen--"
"The
unforeseen does not exist," replied Fogg simply.
"But,
Mr. Fogg, this estimate of eighty days is the very least time in
which
the journey can be accomplished."
"A
minimum well employed is quite sufficient."
"But
to succeed you must pass from railways to steamers, from steamers
to
railways, with mathematical accuracy."
"I
will be mathematically accurate."
"Oh,
this is a joke!"
"A
true Englishman never jokes when he has a stake depending on the
matter.
I bet twenty thousand against any of you that I will make the
tour
of the world in eighty days or less; that is to say, in nineteen
hundred
and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen thousand two
hundred
minutes. Will you take me?"
"We
do," replied the others, after consultation together.
"Very
well, then," said Fogg, "the
go by
it."
"This
evening?" said Stuart.
"Yes,
this evening," replied Fogg. Then, referring to a pocket
almanack,
he added: "This is Wednesday, the 2nd of October; I shall be
due
in
quarter
to nine in the evening, or, in default, the twenty thousand at
Baring's,
to my credit, will be yours, gentlemen. Here is my cheque
for
that sum."
A
memorandum of the conditions of the bet was made and signed by all
parties
concerned. Phileas Fogg was as cool as ever. He had certainly
not
bet to win the money, and he had only bet twenty thousand pounds,
half
of his fortune, because he foresaw that he would probably have to
spend
the other half to enable him to carry out this difficult if not
actually
impossible feat. His opponents appeared quite agitated, not
on
account of the value of their stake, but because they had some
misgivings
and scruples about betting under such conditions.
Seven
o'clock struck, and it was suggested that the game should stop,
while
Mr. Fogg made his preparations for the journey.
"I
am always ready," replied this impassible gentleman, as he dealt
the
cards. "Diamonds are trumps," he added; "your lead, Mr.
Stuart."
In
which Phileas Fogg astonishes Passe-partout.
At
twenty-five minutes past seven, Phileas Fogg, having won twenty
guineas
at whist, took leave of his friends and left the club. At ten
minutes
to eight he reached home.
Passe-partout,
who had conscientiously studied his programme, was
astonished
to see Mr. Fogg appear at such an unusual hour, for,
according
to all precedent, he was not due in Saville Row till
midnight.
Phileas
Fogg went straight up to his room and called for
Passe-partout.
Passe-partout
did not reply. It was evident this could not refer to
him,
it was not time.
"Passe-partout,"
cried Mr. Fogg again, but without raising his voice;
"this
is the second time I have called you," said Mr. Fogg.
"But
it is not midnight," replied Passe-partout, producing his watch.
"I
know that," replied Fogg, "and I do not blame you. We start for
A
sort of grimace contracted the Frenchman's round face; he evidently
did
not understand.
"Are
you going out, sir," he asked.
"Yes,"
replied his master; "we are going around the world."
Passe-partout
at this announcement opened his eyes to their greatest
extent,
held up his arms, and looked the picture of stupefied
astonishment.
"Around
the world!" he muttered.
"In
eighty days," replied Mr. Fogg; "so we have not a moment to
lose."
"But
the luggage," said Passe-partout, who was wagging his head
unconsciously
from side to side.
"We
want no luggage; a carpet-bag will do. Pack up two night-shirts
and
three pairs of socks, and the same for yourself. We will buy what
we
want as we go along. Bring my mackintosh and travelling-cloak down
with
you, and a couple of pairs of strong boots, although we shall
have
little or no walking. Look alive."
Passe-partout
wished to speak, but could not He left his master's
bedroom,
and went upstairs to his own, fell into a chair, and
exclaimed:
"Well,
this is coming it pretty strong, and for me too, who wanted to
be
quiet!"
Mechanically
he set about making preparations for departure. Around
the
world in eighty days! Had he engaged himself with a maniac? No--it
was
only a joke. But they were going to
good.
After all, he did not object to that very much, for it was five
years
since he had seen his native land. Perhaps they would even go on
to
a
gentleman so economical of his steps would stop there; but on the
other
hand, this hitherto very domestic gentleman was leaving home.
That
was a fact.
At
eight o'clock Passe-partout had packed the small bag which now
contained
his master's luggage and his own, and in a very troubled
frame
of mind he quitted his room, closed the door carefully, and went
downstairs
to Mr. Fogg.
That
gentleman was quite ready. Under his arm he carried a copy of
"Bradshaw's
Continental Guide." He took the small bag from
Passe-partout,
opened it, and placed therein a bulky roll of
bank-notes,
which will pass in any country.
"You
are sure you have not forgotten anything?" he asked.
"Quite
sure, sir."
"You
have my mackintosh and travelling-cloak?"
"Here
they are, sir."
"All
right, take the bag;" and Mr. Fogg handed it back to the man.
"You
had better take care of it," he added, "there are twenty thousand=
pounds
in it."
Passe-partout
nearly let the bag fall, as if it were weighted with the
twenty
thousand pounds in gold.
Master
and man went downstairs together; the door was shut and
double-locked.
Phileas called a cab from the bottom of Saville Row,
and
drove to Charing Cross Station. It was twenty minutes past eight
when
they reached the railway. Passe-partout jumped out. His master
followed,
and paid the cabman. At this moment a poor beggar-woman,
carrying
a baby, looking very miserable with her naked feet and
tattered
appearance, approached Mr. Fogg, and asked for alms.
Mr.
Fogg drew from his waistcoat-pocket the twenty guineas he had won
at
whist, and handing them to the beggar-woman, said: "Take these, my
good
woman. I am glad I have met you." He then entered the station.
This
action of his master brought the tears into Passe-partout's
susceptible
eyes. Mr. Fogg had risen in his estimation. That eccentric
individual
now told him to take two first-class tickets for
as he
turned round he perceived his five friends from the Reform Club.
"Well,
gentlemen, you see I am about to start, and the visas on my
passport
on my return will convince you that I have performed the
journey."
"Oh,
Mr. Fogg," replied Gauthier Ralph politely, "that is quite
unnecessary.
We believe you to be a man of your word."
"All
the better," was Fogg's reply.
"You
won't forget when you have to come back," observed Stuart.
"In
eighty days," replied Mr. Fogg. "On Saturday, the 21st day of
December,
1872, at forty-five minutes past eight in the evening. Au
revoir,
gentlemen."
At
twenty minutes to nine Phileas Fogg and his servant took their
places
in the train. At 8.45 the engine whistled and the train
started.
The
night was dark, and a fine rain was falling. Mr. Fogg was
comfortably
settled in his corner, and did not say a word.
Passe-partout,
still rather in a state of stupefaction, mechanically
gripped
the bag with the bank-notes.
But
scarcely had the train rushed through Sydenham, than Passe-partout
uttered
a cry of despair.
"What
is the matter with you?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Oh
dear me! In my hurry I quite forgot--"
"What?"
"I
forgot to turn the gas off in my room!"
"Very well, my lad," replied Mr. Fogg coolly, "then it must burn while<= o:p>
we
are away--at your expense."
In
which a New Kind of Investment appears on the Stock Exchange.
When
Phileas Fogg quitted
would
create a great sensation. The report of the bet spread from the
club
to outsiders, and so to all the newspapers in the
This
question of going round the world in eighty days was commented
upon,
discussed, and dissected, and argued as much as the
Claims
had been. Some agreed with Phileas Fogg, but the majority were
against
him. To accomplish the tour in fact was an impossibility,
under
the present system of communication. It was sheer madness.
The
Times, The Standard, The Morning Chronicle, and twenty other
respectable
journals gave their verdict against Mr. Fogg. The Daily
Telegraph
was the only paper that to a certain extent supported him.
Phileas
Fogg was generally looked upon as a maniac, and his friends at
the
Reform Club were much blamed for having taken up the wager, which
only
betrayed the want of brain of its proposer.
Extremely
passionate but logical articles were written upon the
question.
We all know the interest that the English take in any
geographical
problem, and readers of every class devoured the columns
in
which Mr. Fogg's expedition was debated.
For
the first few days some bold spirits, principally women, espoused
his
cause, particularly when The Illustrated London News published
his
portrait, and certain gentlemen went so far as to say: "Well, why
should
he not after all? More extraordinary things have happened."
These
were chiefly readers of The Daily Telegraph, but they very
soon
felt that that journal itself began to waver.
On
the 7th of October a long article appeared in the proceedings of
the
Royal Geographical Society, the writer of which treated the
question
from all points of view, and clearly demonstrated the
futility
of the enterprise. According to that article, everything was
against
the traveller--all obstacles material and physical were
against
him. In order to succeed, it was necessary to admit miraculous
concordance
in the hours of the arrival and departure of trains and
ships--a
concordance which could not and did not exist. In
perhaps
he might be able to reckon upon the punctuality of trains, but
when
three days are occupied in crossing
traversing
the American continent, how was it possible that he could
count
upon absolute success? Were not accidents to machinery, runnings
off
the rails, collisions, bad weather, or snowdrifts all against
Phileas
Fogg? On board ship in winter-time he would be at the mercy of
hurricanes
or contrary winds. Even the best steamers of the
transoceanic
lines experience a delay of sometimes two or three days.
Now,
if only one such delay occurred, the chain of communication would
be
irreparably severed. If Phileas Fogg lost a steamer by only a few
hours,
he would be obliged to wait for the following boat; and that
fact
alone would imperil the success of the whole undertaking.
This
article made a great sensation. It was copied into almost all the
papers,
and the "shares" of Phileas Fogg fell in proportion.
For
the first few days after his departure a good deal of money was
laid
on the success or failure of the enterprise. Everyone knows that
people
in
public
all went into the speculation. Phileas Fogg became a sort of
favourite,
as in horse-racing. He was of a certain value on the Stock
Exchange.
Fogg bonds were offered at par or at a premium, and enormous
speculations
were entered into. But five days after his departure,
subsequently
to the appearance of the article above quoted, the bonds
were
at a discount, and they were offered to anybody who would take
them.
One
supporter was still left to him, and that the paralytic Lord
would
have given his whole fortune to have made the tour of the world,
even
in ten years, and he had laid fifty thousand pounds on Phileas
Fogg;
and when people explained to him at the same time the folly and
uselessness
of the expedition, he would merely reply: "If the thing
can
be done, the first man to do it ought to be an Englishman."
Now
as things were, the partisans of Phileas Fogg were becoming fewer
by
degrees and beautifully less. Everybody, and not without reason,
was
against him. People would only take fifty or even two hundred to
one,
when, seven days after his departure, a quite unexpected incident
deprived
him of support at any price. In fact, at nine o'clock on the
evening
of the seventh day, the Chief Inspector of Metropolitan Police
received
the following telegram:
"From
Fix, Detective,
To
Rowan, Commissioner of
I
have traced the bank-robber, Phileas Fogg. Send immediately
authority
for arrest to Bombay.--Fix."
The
effect of this despatch was immediately apparent. The honourable
man
gave place to the "bank-robber." His photograph, deposited in the=
Reform
Club with those of other members, was narrowly scrutinised. It
appeared
to be, feature by feature, the very man whose description had
been
already furnished to the police. People now began to recollect
Fogg's
mysterious manner, his solitary habits, and his sudden
departure.
He must be the culprit, and it was evident that under the
pretext
of a voyage round the world, under shelter of a ridiculous
bet,
he had no other end in view but to throw the detectives off the
scent.
In
which Fix, the Detective, betrays some not unnatural Impatience.
The
circumstances under which the foregoing telegram had been
despatched
were as follows:
On
Wednesday, the 29th of October, the Peninsular and Oriental
Company's
steamer
This
vessel made the passage between
her
usual speed is ten knots an hour between
nine
and a half between
Pending
the arrival of the
up
and down the quay in the midst of the crowd of natives and visitors
who
thronged the little town, which, thanks to the enterprise of M. de
Lesseps,
was becoming a considerable place. One of these men was the
British
Consular Agent at
English
Government, and the unfavourable opinion of Stephenson the
engineer,
beheld daily English ships passing through the canal, thus
shortening
by one-half the old route to
The
other was a small thin man with a nervous intelligent face.
Beneath
his long eyelashes his eyes sparkled brightly, and at that
moment
he was displaying unquestionable signs of impatience, moving
hither
and thither, quite unable to keep still for one moment.
This
man was Fix, the English detective, who had been sent out in
consequence
of the bank robbery. He carefully scrutinised every
traveller,
and if one of them bore any resemblance to the culprit he
would
be arrested. Two days previously, Fix had received from
the
description of the criminal. It was that of the well-dressed
person
who had been observed in the bank.
The
detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining the
large
reward offered, and was awaiting the arrival of the
with
much impatience accordingly.
"So
you say that the steamer is never behind its time," remarked Mr.
Fix
to the Consul.
"No,"
replied the other. "She was signalled off
and
the length of the Canal is nothing to such a vessel as she is. I
repeat
that the
allowance
granted by the Government for every advance of twenty-four
hours
on the regulation time."
"Does
she come from
"Yes,
direct. She takes the Indian mails on board there. She left on
Saturday
afternoon at five o'clock. So be patient She will not be
late.
But I really do not see how you will be able to recognise your
man
from the description you have, even Supposing he be on board."
"One
knows him by instinct more than by feature," replied Fix; "by
scent,
as it were, more than sight. I have had to do with more than
one
of these gentlemen in my time, and if the thief be on board I
guarantee
he will not slip through my fingers."
"I
hope you will catch him--it is a big robbery."
"First-rate,"
replied Fix enthusiastically; "fifty-five thousand
pounds.
We don't often have such a windfall as that. These sort of
fellows
are becoming scarce. The family of Jack Sheppard has died
out--people
get 'lagged' now for a few shillings."
"You
speak like an enthusiast, Mr. Fix," replied the Agent, "and I
hope
you will succeed, but I fear under the circumstances you will
find
it very difficult. Besides, after all, the description you have
received
might be that of a very honest man."
"Great
criminals always do resemble honest men," replied the detective
dogmatically.
"You must understand that ruffianly-looking fellows
would
not have a chance. They must remain honest or they would be
arrested
at once. It is the honest appearance that we are obliged to
unmask;
it is a difficult thing, I confess, and one that really is an
art."
It
was evident that Mr. Fix thought a good deal of his profession.
Meanwhile
the bustle on the quay increased. Sailors of all nations,
merchants,
porters, and fellahs were crowding together. The steamer
was
evidently expected shortly.
It
was a beautiful day and the east wind cooled the air. The rays of
the
sun lighted up the distant minarets of the town. Towards the south
the
long jetty extended into the roadstead. A crowd of fishing-boats
dotted
the waters of the
some
ships of the ancient build of galleys.
Fix
kept moving about amongst the crowd, scrutinising professionally
the
countenances of its component members.
It
was half-past ten o'clock.
"This
steamer is not coming," he said, as he heard the clock strike.
"It
can't be far off," said the Consul.
"How
long will she stop at
"Four
hours, to take her coal on board. From
thirteen
hundred and ten miles, so she is to take in a good supply."
"And
from
"Direct,
without breaking bulk."
"Well,"
said Fix, "if the thief has taken this route, and by this
steamer,
it will no doubt be his little game to land at
reach
the Dutch or French possessions in
must
know very well that he would not be safe in
British
territory."
"I
don't think he can be a very sharp fellow," replied the Consul,
"for
The
Consul having thus given the detective something to think about,
went
away to his office close by. The detective, now alone, became
more
and more impatient, as he had some peculiar presentiment that the
robber
was on board the
the
intention to gain the new world, the route via
open
to observation, or more difficult to watch than the
route,
would naturally be the one chosen.
The
detective was not left long to his reflections. A succession of
shrill
whistles denoted the approach of the steamer. The whole crowd
of
porters and fellahs hurried towards the quay in a manner somewhat
distressing
for the limbs and clothes of the lookers-on. A number of
boats
also put off to meet the
Her
immense hull was soon perceived passing between the banks of the
Canal,
and as eleven o'clock was striking she came to an anchor in the
roadstead,
while a cloud of steam was blown off from her
safety-valves.
There
were a great number of passengers on board. Some of them
remained
upon the bridge, admiring the view, but the greater number
came
ashore in the boats, which had put off to meet the vessel.
Fix
carefully examined each one as they landed. As he was thus
employed,
one of the passengers approached him, and vigorously pushing
aside
the fellahs who surrounded him, inquired of the detective the
way
to the British Consul's office; at the same time, the passenger
produced
his passport, upon which he desired, no doubt, to have the
British
visa.
Fix
mechanically took the passport, and mastered its contents at a
glance.
His hand shook involuntarily. The description on the passport
agreed
exactly with the description of the thief.
"This
passport does not belong to you?" he said to the passenger.
"No,"
replied the man addressed; "it is my master's."
"And
where is your master?"
"He
is on board."
"But,"
replied the detective, "he must come himself to the Consul's
office
to establish his identity."
"Oh,
is that necessary?"
"Quite
indispensable."
"Where
is the office?"
"In
the corner of the square yonder," replied the detective,
indicating
a house about two hundred paces off.
"Well
then, I will go and fetch my master; but I can tell you he won't
thank
you for disturbing him."
So
saying, the passenger saluted Fix, and returned on board the
steamer.
Which
once more shows the Futility of Passports where Policemen are
concerned.
The
detective quickly traversed the quay once more in the direction of
the
Consul's office. At his particular request he was at once ushered
into
the presence of the official.
"I
beg your pardon," he said to the Consul abruptly, "but I have gre=
at
reason
to believe that my man is really on board the
And
then Mr. Fix related what had passed between him and the servant.
"Good,"
replied the Consul; "I should not be sorry to see the rascal's
face
myself; but perhaps he will not present himself here if the case
stands
as you believe it does. No thief likes to leave a trace behind
him;
and moreover, the visa to the passport is not necessary."
"If
he is the sharp fellow he ought to be, he will come," replied Mr.
Fix.
"To
have his passport examined?"
"Yes.
Passports are no use, except to worry honest people and to
facilitate
the escape of rogues. I have no doubt whatever that this
fellow's
passport will be all right; but I hope you will not visé it
all
the same."
"Why
not? If the passport is all regular I have no right to refuse my
visa,"
replied the Consul.
"Nevertheless,
I must keep the fellow here until I have received the
warrant
of arrest from
"Ah,
Mr. Fix, that is your business," said the Consul; "for my part
I
must--"
The
Consul did not conclude the sentence. At that moment a knock was
heard,
and the servant introduced two strangers, one of whom was the
servant
who had lately interviewed the detective on the quay. The
newcomers
were master and servant. The former handed his passport to
the
Consul, and laconically requested him to attach his visa.
The
Consul took the passport and examined it narrowly, while Fix from
a
corner devoured the stranger with his eyes. When the Consul had
perused
the document, he said:
"You
are Phileas Fogg?"
"Yes,"
replied that gentleman.
"And
this man is your servant?"
"Yes;
he is a Frenchman named Passe-partout."
"You
have come from
"Yes."
"And
you are bound--whither?"
"To
"Very
well, sir. You are aware, perhaps, that this formality is
unnecessary,
even useless. We only require to see the passport."
"I
know that," replied Fogg; "but I want you to testify to my presen=
ce
at
"Very
well, sir, so be it," replied the Consul, who thereupon attested
the
passport. Mr. Fogg paid the fee, and bowing formally, departed,
followed
by his servant.
"Well,
what do you think, sir?" said the detective.
"I
think he looks a perfectly honest man," replied the Consul.
"That
may be," said Fix; "but that is not the point. Do you not
perceive
that this cool gentleman answers in every particular to the
description
of the thief sent out?"
"I
grant you that; but you know all descriptions--"
"I
will settle the business," replied Fix. "It strikes me that the
servant
is more get-at-able than the master. Besides, he is a
Frenchman,
and cannot help chattering. I will return soon, sir." As he
finished
speaking, the detective left the Consul's office in search of
Passe-partout.
Meanwhile,
Mr. Fogg, having left the Consul's house, proceeded down to
the
quay. There he gave his servant some instructions, and then put
off
in a boat to the
his
note-book, he made the following entries:
Left
Reached
Arrived
at
Left
Arrived
at
Embarked
on
Reached
Total
of hours occupied in the journey, 158-1/4, or 6-1/2 days.
Mr.
Fogg made these entries in a journal ruled in columns, commencing
on
the 2nd of October, and so on to the 21st of December, which
indicated
respectively the month, the day of the month, and the day of
the
week, as well as the days at which he was due at the principal
places
en route--as, for instance,
Liverpool,
upon
the stipulated time could be entered against each place. This
methodical
arrangement of dates showed Mr. Fogg whether he was in
advance
or behindhand, and contained all necessary information.
So on
that occasion, Wednesday, the 9th of October, was recorded as
the
day of his arrival at
had
neither gained nor lost so far.
He
then had his luncheon sent into his cabin. It did not occur to him
to go
and look at the town; he was one of those gentlemen who are
quite
content to see foreign countries through the eyes of their
servants.
In
which Passe-partout talks a little more than he ought to have done.
It
was not very long before Fix rejoined Passe-partout on the quay.
The
latter was looking about him, as he did not feel he was debarred
from
seeing all he could.
"Well,
my friend," said Fix, as he came up to him, "has your passport
been
viséd all right?"
"Ah!
it is you," replied the valet. "I am much obliged to you. Yes,
everything
was in order."
"And
now you are seeing something of the place, I suppose?"
"Yes,
but we are going on so fast that it seems to me like a dream.
And
so we are in
"Yes,
you are."
"In
"In
"And
in
"Yes,
in
"Well
now," replied Passe-partout, "I could scarcely believe it. In
Africa,
actually in
that
we should go beyond Paris, and all I saw of that beautiful city
was
from 7.20 a.m. to 8.40, between the terminus of the Northern
Railway
and the terminus of the
windows
of a fiacre as we drove through the rain. I am very sorry for
it. I
should like to have seen Pére La Chaise and the Circus in the
Champs
Elysées again."
"You
are in a very great hurry then?" said the detective.
"No,
I am not in the least hurry," replied Passe-partout. "It is my
master.
By-the-way, I must buy some shirts and a pair of shoes. We
came
away without any luggage except a small carpet-bag."
"I
will take you to a bazaar where you will find everything you want."
"Really,
sir," replied Passe-partout, "you are extremely
good-natured."
So
they started off together, Passe-partout talking all the time.
"I
must take very good care I do not lose the steamer," said he.
"Oh,
you have plenty of time," replied Fix; "it is only twelve
o'clock."
Passe-partout
drew out his great watch. "Twelve o'clock," said he.
"Nonsense.
It is fifty-two minutes past nine."
"Your
watch is slow," replied Fix.
"Slow,
my watch slow; why this watch has come to me from my
grandfather.
It is an heirloom, and does not vary five minutes in a
year.
It is a regular chronometer."
"I
see how it is," replied Fix; "you have got
about
two hours slower than
watch
at twelve o'clock in every country you visit."
"Not
a bit of it," said Passe-partout, "I am not going to touch my
watch."
"Well,
then, it won't agree with the sun."
"I
can't help that. So much the worse for the sun; it will be wrong
then."
And the brave fellow put his watch back in his pocket with a
contemptuous
gesture.
After
a few minutes' pause, Fix remarked, "You must have left
very
suddenly?"
"I
believe you. Last Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, Mr. Fogg came
home
from his club, and in three-quarters of an hour afterwards we
started."
"But
where is your master going to?"
"Straight
ahead--he is going round the world."
"Going
round the world!" exclaimed Fix.
"Yes,
in eighty days. He says it is for a wager, but between
ourselves,
I don't believe a word of it. It is not common-sense. There
must
be some other reason."
"This
master of yours is quite an original, I should think."
"Rather,"
replied the valet.
"Is
he very rich?"
"He
must be; and he carries a large sum with him, all in new
bank-notes.
He never spares expense. He promised a large reward to the
engineer
of the
time."
"Have
you known your master long?"
"Oh dear no," replied Passe-partout. "I only entered his service the<= o:p>
very
day we left."
The
effect which all these replies had upon the suspicious nature of
the
detective may be imagined.
The
hurried departure from
large
sum in bank-notes, the haste to reach
of an
eccentric bet, all confirmed Fix, and not unnaturally, in his
previously
conceived ideas. He made up his mind to pump the Frenchman
a
little more, and make certain that the valet knew no more concerning
his
master than that he lived alone in
rich,
though no one knew from whence his fortune was derived, and that
he
was a very mysterious man, etc. But at the same time. Fix felt sure
that
Phileas Fogg would not land at
"Is
"Pretty
well. It is ten days' steaming from here."
"And
whereabouts is
"It
is in
"In
"Naturally."
"The
devil! I was going to say that there is something on my mind, and
that
is my burner."
"What
burner?"
"Why,
my gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off when I left
and
which is still alight at my expense. Now I have calculated that I
lose
two shillings every four-and-twenty hours, which is just sixpence
more
than my wages. So you see that the longer our journey is--"
It is
not very likely that Fix paid much attention to this question of
the
gas; he was thinking of something else. The pair soon reached the
bazaar,
and leaving his companion to make his purchases. Fix hastened
back
to the Consul's office, and now that his suspicions were
confirmed
he regained his usual coolness.
"I
am quite certain now," he said to the Consul, "that this is our
man.
He wishes to pass himself off as an eccentric person who wants to
go
round the world in eighty days."
"He
is a very sharp fellow, and he probably counts on returning to
"Well,
we shall see," replied Fix.
"But
are you sure you are right?" asked the Consul once more.
"I
am sure I am not mistaken."
"Well
then, how do you account for the fellow being so determined upon
proving
he had been here by having his passport viséd?"
"Why--Well,
I can't say," replied the detective; "but listen a
moment."
And then in as few words as possible he communicated the
heads
of his conversation with Passe-partout.
"Well,
I must confess that appearances are very much against him,"
replied
the Consul. "Now what are you going to do?"
"I
shall telegraph to
of
arrest may be immediately transmitted to
embark
in the
As he
coolly finished this explanation, the detective bowed to the
Consul,
walked to the telegraph-office, and there despatched the
message
we have already seen.
A
quarter of an hour later, Mr. Fix, carrying his light baggage and
well
furnished with money, embarked on board the
short
time afterwards the vessel was ploughing her way at full speed
down
the
In
which the Red Sea and the
Phileas
Fogg.
The
distance between
miles,
and the steamers are allowed one hundred and thirty-eight hours
to do
it in. The
seemed
likely to bring her to her destination considerably before
time.
The
majority of the passengers from
some
for
peninsula
it is not necessary to go round by
Amongst
the passengers were many military officers and civil servants
of
every degree. The former included officers of the regular as well
as
the Indian army, holding lucrative appointments, for the
sub-lieutenants
get two hundred and eighty; brigadiers, two thousand
four
hundred; and generals, four thousand pounds a year.
Society,
therefore, on board the
purser
feasted them sumptuously every day. They had early breakfast,
then
tiffin at two o'clock, dinner at half-past five, and supper at
eight;
and the tables groaned beneath the variety of dishes. The
ladies
on board changed their toilettes twice a day, and there was
music
and dancing when the weather was sufficiently favourable to
admit
of those amusements.
But
the
all
long and narrow gulfs. When the wind blew broadside on, the
pianos
were silent, singing and dancing ceased. But notwithstanding
the
wind and the sea, the vessel, urged by her powerful screw, dashed
onward
to the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.
And
what was Phileas Fogg doing all this time? Perhaps it may be
supposed
that he was anxious and restless, thinking of the contrary
winds
and the speed of the ship, which was likely to be retarded by
the
storm, and so compromise the success of his undertaking. At any
rate,
whether he did or did not concern himself with these things, he
never
betrayed the least anxiety on the subject. He was as taciturn
and
impassible as ever; a man whom no eventuality could surprise. He
did
not appear to be any more interested than one of the ship's
chronometers.
He was rarely seen on deck. He troubled himself very
little
about the
the
greatest incidents in the history of mankind. He never cared to
look
at the towns standing out in relief against the sky. He had no
fear
of the dangers of the
Strabo,
Arian, Artemidorus, etc., have always written with horror, and
upon
which sailors of those days never dared to venture without first
making
a propitiatory sacrifice.
How
then did this eccentric gentleman occupy his time, cooped up in
his
cabin? In the first place he regularly ate his four meals a day,
for
neither pitching nor rolling had the least effect upon his
appetite.
And he played whist, for he had made the acquaintance of
some
lovers of the game as enthusiastic as himself, a collector of
revenue
en route to
returning
to
These
three were as madly devoted to whist as Mr. Fogg himself, and
they
spent whole days silently enjoying it.
As
for Passe-partout, he had also escaped sea-sickness, and ate his
meals
with pleasing regularity and in a conscientious manner, worthy
of
imitation. The voyage after all did not displease him; he had made
up
his mind; he gazed at the scenery as he went along, enjoyed his
meals,
and was fully persuaded that all this absurd business would
come
to an end at
The
day after their departure from
Passe-partout
was by no means ill-pleased to meet upon deck the person
who
had been so civil to him in
"I'm sure I cannot be mistaken," he said. "Have I not the pleasure of<= o:p>
meeting
the gentleman who was so polite to me at
"Ah
yes, I remember you now. You are the servant of that eccentric
Englishman."
"Exactly.
Mr.--"
"Fix,"
replied the detective.
"Mr.
Fix," continued Passe-partout, "I am delighted to find you on
board.
Whither are you bound?"
"Like
yourself, to
"All
the better. Have you ever made this voyage before?"
"Frequently.
I am an agent of the P. and O. Company."
"Oh,
then you know
"Well,
yes," replied Fix, who did not wish to commit himself.
"It
is a curious part of the world, isn't it?"
"Very
much so. There are mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers,
serpents, and dancing-girls. It is to be hoped that you will
have
time to see the country."
"I
hope so too, Mr. Fix. You must be aware that a man can hardly be
expected
to pass his whole existence in jumping from the deck of a
steamer
into a train, and from the train to another steamer, under the
pretence
of going round the world in eighty days. No; all these
gymnastics
will end at
"Is
Mr. Fogg quite well?" asked Fix, politely.
"Quite
well, thank you. So am I. I eat like an ogre. I suppose that is
the
effect of the sea-air."
"I
never see your master on deck."
"No,
he has no curiosity whatever."
"Do
you know, Mr. Passe-partout, that I fancy this pretended journey
round
the world in eighty days is only a cover for a more important
object,
a diplomatic mission perhaps?"
"Upon
my word, Mr. Fix, I know nothing about it, I declare; and what
is
more, I would not give half-a-crown to know!"
After
this, Passe-partout and Fix frequently chatted together; the
detective
doing all in his power to draw the valet out, whenever
possible.
He would offer the Frenchman a glass of whisky or bitter
beer,
which the latter accepted without ceremony, and pronounced Fix a
perfect
gentleman.
Meantime
the steamer plunged and ploughed on her way rapidly. Mocha
was
sighted on the 13th, surrounded by its ruined walls, above which
some
date-palms reared their heads. Beyond extended immense coffee
plantations.
Passe-partout was delighted to gaze upon this celebrated
town,
and fancied that it and its ruined walls bore a great
resemblance
to a gigantic cup and saucer.
During
the following night the
Bab-el-Mandeb,
which means the Gate of Tears, and the following day
they
came to Steamer Point, to the N.W. of Aden harbour, where the
supply
of coal was to be shipped.
It is
no light task to provide the steamers with coal at such a
distance
from the mines, and the P. and O. Company expend annually no
less
a sum than eight hundred thousand pounds on this service. Depots
have
to be established at distant ports, and the coal costs more than
three
pounds a ton.
The
she
could reach
hours
at Steamer Point to complete her coaling. But this delay was not
at
all detrimental to the plans of Phileas Fogg. It had been foreseen.
Besides,
the
made
that port on the evening of the 14th, so there was a gain of
about
fifteen hours.
Mr.
Fogg and his servant went ashore. The former wished to have his
passport
viséd. Fix followed him unnoticed. The formality of the
visé
having been accomplished, Phileas Fogg returned on board to his
game
of whist.
Passe-partout,
as usual, lounged about amongst the mixed races which
make
up the inhabitants of
eastern
engineers
were still at work, two thousand years after Solomon's
craftsmen.
"Very
curious, very curious indeed," thought Passe-partout, as he
returned
on board. "It is worth travelling if one can see something
new
each time."
At
six p.m. the
to
make the passage to
nor'-west
wind; so the sails were hoisted to aid the screw.
The
ship being thus steadied, the lady passengers took the opportunity
to
reappear in fresh toilettes, and dancing and singing were again
indulged
in. The voyage continued under most favourable conditions.
Passe-partout
was delighted that he had such a pleasant companion as
Fix.
On
Sunday, the 20th of October, about mid-day, they sighted the coast
of
Hindostan. Two hours later the pilot came on board. A long range of
hills
cut the sky-line, and soon palm-trees began to show themselves.
The mail
steamer ran into the roadstead formed between the islands of
Salsette,
Colaba, Elephanta, and Butcher, and at half-past four
o'clock
the vessel came alongside the quay.
Phileas
Fogg was just finishing his thirty-third rubber for that day.
His
partner and he had succeeded in scoring a "treble," and thus
terminated
the voyage with a stroke of luck.
The
had
actually arrived on the 20th; so Mr. Fogg had really gained two
days
upon the estimated period, and he entered the "profit"
accordingly
in the column of his diary set apart for that purpose.
In
which Passe-partout thinks himself lucky in escaping with only the
Loss
of his Shoes.
Everybody
is aware that the
area
of one million four hundred thousand square miles, in which the
unequally-distributed
population numbers one hundred and eighty
millions.
The British Government rules absolutely over the greater
portion
of this immense tract of country. The Governor-General resides
at
and
British
square
miles, and a population of one hundred to one hundred and ten
millions;
so there is still a large portion of
in
fact, there are rajahs in the interior who wield absolute
authority.
From
the year 1756 to the great Sepoy Mutiny, the East India Company
was
the supreme authority in
under
the rule of the English Crown. The manners and customs of
are
in a continual state of change. Till lately, travelling was only
by
antiquated modes of conveyance, but now steamers cover the
and
the railways have opened up the country, and one can go from
peninsula
in a direct line. As the crow flies, the distance from
would
not occupy three days in accomplishing that distance; but the
journey
is lengthened at least one-third of that distance by the loop
the
line describes up to
The
Great Indian Peninsula Railway line is as follows: leaving
Island,
it crosses Salsette, reaches the mainland at Tannah, crosses
the
Western Ghauts, thence runs north-east to Burhampoor, skirts the
independent
turning
eastward, meets the Ganges at
again,
the line descends in a south-easterly direction, by Burdivan
and
Chandernagore, to the terminal station at
It
was half-past four p.m. when the
o'clock.
Mr.
Fogg took leave of his colleagues of the whist-table, and going
ashore,
gave his servant orders concerning a few necessary purchases,
enjoining
him to be at the railroad station before eight o'clock, and
then,
at his own regular pace, he started for the Consul's office.
He
saw nothing of the sights of
library,
the forts, the docks, the cotton market, the bazaars,
mosques,
&c., were all disregarded. Elephanta was ignored, and the
grottos
of Salsette unexplored by Phileas Fogg.
After
leaving the consulate, he walked calmly to the railroad station
and
dined. The proprietor of the hotel particularly recommended "a
native
rabbit." Phileas accepted the dish as put before him, but found
it
horrible.
He
rang the bell. The landlord was sent for.
"Is
that a rabbit?" inquired Mr. Fogg.
"Yes,
my lord, a jungle rabbit."
"Has
that rabbit never mewed, do you think?"
"Oh,
my lord, a jungle-rabbit mew! I swear--"
"Don't
swear," said Fogg calmly, "and remember that formerly cats were
sacred
animals in
"For
the cats, my lord?"
"And
perhaps for travellers too," said Fogg, as he proceeded with his
dinner.
Soon
afterwards Mr. Fix landed, and his first act was to go to the
police-office.
He said who and what he was, and stated his business
and
how matters stood regarding the robbery. Had any warrant been
forwarded?
No, nothing of the kind had been received, and of course it
could
not have reached
departure.
Fix
was disappointed. He wanted the Commissioner to grant him a
warrant
on the spot, but the request was refused. The business was the
Home
Government's affair, not his, and he could not issue the warrant.
This
red-tapeism is quite British style. Fix of course did not insist,
and
made up his mind to await the arrival of the warrant. But he
resolved
not to lose sight of the robber meanwhile. He had no doubt
whatever
that Fogg would remain some time in
also
Passe-partout's notion--and the warrant would probably arrive
before
the criminal left the town.
But
it was now evident to Passe-partout that his master intended to
push
on from
journey
was not to end at
at
any rate, and perhaps even farther still. Passe-partout then began
to
think that perhaps the bet was really the object, and that fate had
indeed
condemned him, with all his wish for rest, to journey around
the
world in eighty days.
However,
having purchased some necessary articles, he walked about the
streets
of
of
all nationalities; Persians, wearing pointed caps; Buntryas, with
round
turbans; Scindees, with square caps; Armenians, in their flowing
robes;
Parsees, with black mitres. It was a Parsee festival that day.
These
Parsees are followers of Zoroaster, and are the most industrious,
most
intelligent, and most civilised of the native races, and to which
the
majority of the
of
religious carnival was being held; there were processions, and
numbers
of dancing-girls clad in gauzy rose-coloured garments, who
danced
modestly and gracefully to the sound of the tom-tom and viols.
Passe-partout,
as may be imagined, drank in all these sights and
sounds
with delight; and his expression at the unusual spectacle was
that
of the greatest astonishment.
Unfortunately,
his curiosity very nearly compromised the object of his
master's
journey. He wandered on, after watching the carnival, on his
way
to the station; but seeing the splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill, he
thought
he would like to go in. He was quite unaware of two things:
first,
that certain pagodas are closed to all Christians, and even the
believers
can only obtain admittance by leaving their shoes or
slippers
at the doors of the temple. The British Government,
respecting
the native creed, severely punishes anyone attempting to
violate
the sanctity of the native mosques or temples.
But
Passe-partout, innocent of harm, tourist-like, went in, and was
admiring
the pagoda and the lavish ornamentation of the interior, when
he
suddenly found himself sprawling on his back on the pavement Over
him
stood three angry men, who rushed upon him, tore off his shoes,
and
began to pommel him soundly, uttering savage cries as they did so.
The
agile Frenchman was quickly upon his feet again, and with a couple
of
well-directed blows of his fists upset two of his adversaries, who
were
much encumbered in their long robes; then, rushing out of the
temple,
he quickly distanced the remaining Hindoo and evaded him in
the
crowd.
At
five minutes to eight he presented himself at the railroad station,
without
his hat and shoes and minus the parcel in which all his
purchases
were wrapped. Fix was there on the platform. Having tracked
Fogg,
he perceived that that worthy was about to leave
Fix
made up his mind to go with him as far as
beyond
if necessary. Passe-partout did not notice the detective, who
kept
in the shade; but the policeman heard the recital of the valet's
adventures,
which Passe-partout told to his master in a few sentences.
"I
trust this will not happen again," replied Fogg, quietly, as he
took
his seat in the carriage.
The
poor lad, quite upset and minus his hat and shoes, took his place
also
without replying.
Fix
was getting into another compartment, when suddenly a thought
struck
him, and he muttered:
"No,
I will remain. An offence has been committed upon Indian ground.
I've
got my man!"
At
that moment the engine uttered a piercing whistle, and the train
moved
out into the night.
Showing
how Phileas Fogg purchased a "Mount" at a Fabulous Price.
The
train started punctually, carrying the usual complement of
travellers,
including officers of the civil and military classes and
merchants.
Passe-partout was seated near his master, a third traveller
had
secured a corner opposite.
This
gentleman was General Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's
whist-party
on board the
command
at
Sir
Francis was a tall fair specimen of the British officer, about
fifty
years old. He had greatly distinguished himself during the
Mutiny.
He had been in
occasional
visits to his native country. He was a well-informed man,
and
would willingly have imparted any information he possessed, had
Phileas
Fogg chosen to apply to him. But the latter did nothing of the
kind.
He never travelled. He merely made a track across country. He
was a
heavy body, describing an orbit around the terrestrial globe,
according
to certain mechanical laws. At that time he was actually
engaged
in calculating how many hours had passed since he left
and
he would have rubbed his hands joyfully, had he been one of those
people
who indulge in these needless enthusiastic demonstrations.
Sir
Francis Cromarty had already noticed the eccentricity of his
companion
while at whist, and had questioned seriously whether a human
heart
actually beat beneath that cold envelope of flesh, whether Fogg
really
possessed a soul alive to the beauties of nature, and subject
to
human failings and aspirations. That was what puzzled the gallant
soldier.
None of the many original characters which it had been his
fortune
to encounter had, in any way, resembled this product of the
action
of exact science upon humanity.
Phileas
Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis the object of his
journey
round the world, nor the conditions under which he had
undertaken
it. The general saw nothing in this wager but the
eccentricity
of its surroundings, and the want of transire
benefaciendo
which ought to guide any reasonable man. If this
extraordinary
man went on in this manner all his life, he would
finally
quit the world, having done absolutely nothing for his own
benefit
or for that of others.
An
hour after leaving
the
line from Salsette to the mainland. At Callyan station they left
the
branch-line to Kandallah and
Panwell.
Here they traversed the gorges of the Western Ghauts,
composed
of trap and basaltic rocks, the highest summits of which are
crowned
with thick trees.
Sir
Francis Cromarty and Phileas Fogg occasionally exchanged a few
words,
and at one time the general picked up the thread of
conversation
by remarking:
"A
few years ago, Mr. Fogg, you would have experienced a considerable
impediment
to your journey here, and would most likely have
compromised
your success."
"How
do you mean, Sir Francis?"
"Because
the railway did not go beyond the base of these mountains,
and
it was then necessary to make the journey in palanquins or on
ponies
as far as Kandallah on the opposite slope."
"Such
an interruption would not in any way have disarranged my plans,"
replied
Mr. Fogg. "I have taken precautions against certain
obstacles."
"Nevertheless,
Mr. Fogg, you very nearly had an awkward bit of
business
on hand in consequence of yonder fellow's adventure."
Passe-partout
was fast asleep, with his feet well muffled up in the
railway-rug,
and was quite unconscious that he was the subject of
conversation.
"The
British Government is extremely strict, and with reason, upon any
such
offences," continued Sir Francis. "Above everything, it considers=
that
the religious feelings of the native races should be respected,
and
if your servant had been arrested--"
"Well,"
interrupted Mr. Fogg, "well. Sir Francis, suppose he had been
taken
and condemned and punished, he might have returned quietly to
master."
And
then the conversation again languished. During the night the train
crossed
the mountains, passed Nassik, and next day, the 21st October,
it
traversed a comparatively flat district of Kandish. The
well-cultivated
country was sprinkled with villages, above which the
minarets
of the pagodas took the place of the English church-spires.
Numerous
tributaries of the Godavery watered this fertile territory.
Passe-partout
awoke and looked about him. He could not at first
believe
that he actually was crossing
I. P.
Railway. It appeared quite incredible, but it was none the less
real.
The locomotive, driven by an English engineer and fed with
English
coal, puffed its steam over coffee, cotton, clove, and pepper
plantations.
The smoke curled around the palm-trees, amid which
picturesque
bungalows were frequently visible, and "viharis," a sort
of
abandoned monasteries, as well as a few temples enriched with
wonderful
Indian architecture, were here and there apparent. Farther
on,
they passed immense tracts of land extending as far as the eye
could
reach, and jungles in which serpents and tigers fled scared at
the
roar and rattle of the train; then succeeded forests through which
the
line passed, the abode of elephants which, with pensive gaze,
watched
the speeding train.
During
the forenoon our travellers traversed the blood-stained
district
beyond Malligaum, sacred to the votaries of the goddess Kâli.
Not
far from this arose the minarets of Ellora and its pagodas, and
the
famous Aurungabad, the capital of the ferocious Aurung-Zeb, now
the
chief town of one of the detached kingdoms of the Nizam. It was in
this
country that Feringhea, chief of the Thugs--the King of
Stranglers--exercised
sway. These assassins, united in an invisible
and
secret association, strangled, in honour of the goddess of death,
victims
of every age without shedding blood, and in time there was
scarcely
a place where a corpse was not to be found. The English
Government
has succeeded in checking very considerably these wholesale
massacres,
but Thugs still exist and pursue their horrible vocation.
At
half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampore, and Passe-partout
succeeded
in obtaining a pair of slippers decorated with false pearls,
which
he wore with evident conceit.
The
passengers ate a hurried breakfast, and the train again started
for
Assinghur, skirting for a moment the river Tapy, a small stream
which
flows into the Gulf of Cambay, near
It
may now not be out of place to record Passe-partout's reflections.
Until
his arrival at
would
not be continued farther. But now that he was being carried
across
wandering
returned in full force. The fantastic ideas of his youthful
days
came back to him again; he took his master's projects quite
seriously;
he began to believe in the wager, and consequently in the
tour
of the world to be completed in that maximum of eighty days which
must
not on any account be exceeded. Even now he was beginning to feel
anxious
about possible delays and accidents en route. He felt
interested
in winning, and trembled when he considered that he had
actually
compromised the whole thing by his stupidity on the previous
day.
So he was much more restless than Mr. Fogg, because less
phlegmatic.
He counted over and over again the days that had already
passed
since he had started, cursed at the stoppages at stations,
found
fault with the slow speed, and in his heart blamed Mr. Fogg for
not
having "tipped" the engine-driver. He quite overlooked the fact
that,
though such a thing was possible on board a steamer, it was out
of
question on a railroad where the time of the trains is fixed and
the
speed regulated.
Towards
evening they penetrated the defiles of the mountains of
Sutpoor,
which separate the
Bundelcund.
Next
day, the 22nd, Passe-partout replied, to a question of Sir
Francis
Cromarty, that it was three a.m., but, as a matter of fact,
this
wonderful watch was about four hours slow, as it was always kept
at
Greenwich time, which was then nearly seventy-seven degrees west,
and
the watch would of course get slower and slower.
Sir
Francis corrected Passe-partout's time, respecting which he made a
remark
similar to that made by Mr. Fix. He endeavoured to convince the
valet
that he ought to regulate his watch by each new meridian, and as
he
was still going east the days became shorter and shorter by four
minutes
for every degree. But all this was useless. Whether the
headstrong
fellow understood the general or not, he certainly did not
alter
his watch, which was steadily kept at
it
was a delusion which pleased him and hurt nobody.
At
eight o'clock in the morning the train stopped about fifteen miles
from
Rothal, at a place where there were many bungalows and huts
erected.
The guard passed along the line, crying out, "All change
here!"
Phileas
Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty, who did not appear to
understand
this unexpected halt.
Passe-partout,
not less astonished, leaped down, and in a moment or
two
returned, exclaiming, "There is no railway beyond this place,
sir."
"What
do you mean?" inquired Sir Francis.
"I
mean that the train does not go any farther."
The
general immediately got out. Phileas Fogg followed quietly. Both
these
gentlemen accosted the guard.
"Where
are we?" asked Sir Francis.
"At
the
"Why
do we stop here?"
"Because
the line is not finished beyond."
"Not
finished! How is that?"
"There
are about fifty miles yet to be laid between this point and
"The
papers announced the line complete."
"I
cannot help that, sir; the papers were mistaken."
"But
you book people 'through' from
Francis,
who was waxing angry.
"Certainly
we do; but it is an understood thing that the passengers
provide
their own conveyance between Kholby and
Sir
Francis was furious. Passe-partout would have liked to have
knocked
the guard down, if he had been able. He did not dare to look
at
his master.
"We
had better get on, Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg; "we must get to
"It
strikes me that this delay will upset your arrangements
considerably,
Mr. Fogg," replied Sir Francis.
"Oh
dear no! all this has been discounted," replied Fogg.
"What!
did you know that the line was unfinished?"
"No;
but I was quite sure that some obstacles would crop up to retard
me.
Nothing is yet lost I have two days in reserve. The steamer does
not
leave
only
the 22nd, and we shall reach
What
could be urged against such an assured reply as this? It was only
too
evident that the railway ceased at that point. Newspapers are so
fond
of anticipating, and in this case they had been decidedly
premature
in announcing the completion of the line. The majority of
the
passengers had been made aware of the existing state of things,
and
provided themselves with conveyance accordingly, whatever they
could obtain--"palkigharies" with four wheels, waggons drawn by zebus,<= o:p>
a
sort of brahma ox, palanquins, ponies, &c. So it happened that there
was
nothing left for Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty.
"I
shall walk," said Phileas Fogg. Passe-partout, who was close to his
master,
made a very expressive grimace when he gazed at his elegant
but
very thin slippers. Fortunately he had made a discovery, but
hesitated
a little to announce it.
"Sir,"
he said at length, "I think I have found means for our
transport."
"What
is it?"
"An
elephant. It belongs to a native who lives close by."
"Let
us go and see this animal," said Mr. Fogg. Five minutes later Sir
Francis
and Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Passe-partout, reached the hut,
which
was surrounded by a palisade. In the hut resided the native;
inside
the palisade the elephant lived. The former introduced the new
arrivals
to the latter, at their particular request.
They
found that the animal was half domesticated; it had originally
been
purchased for a fighting elephant, not for carrying purposes.
With
this end in view, the owner had begun to alter the naturally
placid
disposition of the beast by irritating him, and getting him
gradually
up to that pitch of fury called "mutsh" by the Hindoos, and
this
is done by feeding the elephant on sugar and butter for three
months.
This at first sight would appear scarcely the treatment likely
to
conduce to such an object, but it is successfully employed.
Fortunately,
however, for Mr. Fogg, the elephant in question had not
been
subjected to this treatment for a very long time, and the "mutsh"=
had
not appeared.
Kiouni--for
so was the animal called--was no doubt quite competent to
perform
the journey required, and in the absence of other conveyance,
Phileas
Fogg determined to hire him.
But
elephants in
scarce.
The males, which only are suited to the circus training, are
much
in request. They seldom breed when in a domesticated state, so
they
can only be procured by hunting. They are, therefore, the objects
of
much solicitude, and when Mr. Fogg asked the owner what he could
hire
his elephant for, the man declined point-blank to lend him at
all.
Fogg
persisted, and offered ten pounds an hour for the beast! It was
refused.
Twenty? Still refused. Forty? Declined with thanks.
Passe-partout
actually jumped at each "bid." But the native would not
yield
to the temptation.
Nevertheless
the price tendered was a handsome one. Supposing that the
elephant
took fifteen hours to reach
to
six hundred pounds!
Phileas
Fogg, without betraying the least irritation, then proposed to
the
owner that he should sell the animal outright, and offered one
thousand
pounds for him.
But
the Hindoo declined; perhaps he thought he would make more by so
doing.
Sir
Francis Cromarty then took Mr. Fogg aside, and requested him to
reflect
ere he bid higher. Mr. Fogg replied that he was not in the
habit
of acting on impulse, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
depended
upon the accomplishment of the journey, that the elephant was
absolutely
necessary, and if he paid twenty times the value of the
animal,
it must be had.
So
Mr. Fogg returned to the Indian, who perceived it was only a
question
of asking. Phileas offered in quick succession twelve
hundred,
fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, and finally two thousand
pounds.
Passe-partout, usually so ruddy, was now pale with emotion. At
two
thousand pounds the native yielded. "I declare by my slippers,
that's
a pretty price for an elephant!" exclaimed Passe-partout.
This
business over, there was nothing but to obtain a guide. That was
easily
done. A young and intelligent-looking Parsee offered his
services.
Mr. Fogg engaged him, and promised him a good reward, which
would
naturally increase his intelligence.
The
elephant was got ready without delay. The Parsee was quite skilled
in
the business of a "mahout." He placed a sort of saddle on the
elephant's
back, and at each end of it he fixed a small howdah.
Mr.
Fogg paid the native the two thousand pounds in bank-notes, which
he
took from the inexhaustible carpet-bag. Passe-partout writhed as
they
were paid over. Then Mr. Fogg offered Sir Francis Cromarty a seat
on
the elephant, which the general gratefully accepted. One traveller
more
or less would not signify to such an animal.
Provisions
were purchased. Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg each occupied a
howdah,
while Passe-partout sat astride between them. The Parsee
seated
himself upon the elephant's neck, and at nine o'clock they
quitted
the village, the elephant taking a short cut through the thick
palm-forest.
Showing
what happened to Phileas Fogg and his Companions as they
traversed
the
The
guide, hoping to shorten the journey, kept to the left of the
railroad
line, which would be carried in a circuitous manner through
the
acquainted
with all the byways, declared that twenty miles would be
saved
by striking directly across the forest; so the party yielded.
Sir
Francis and Mr. Fogg, buried up to their necks in the howdahs, got
terribly
shaken by the rough trotting of the elephant, which was urged
by
the driver. But they put up with the inconvenience with true
British
self-restraint; they spoke but seldom and scarcely looked at
each
other.
Passe-partout
was obliged to be very careful not to keep his tongue
between
his teeth, else it would have been bitten off, so unmercifully
was
he jogged up and down. The brave fellow, sometimes thrown forward
on
the animal's neck, sometimes upon the croup, performed a series of
vaulting
movements something like a circus clown on the
"spring-board."
But all the time he joked and laughed at the
somersaults
he performed so involuntarily; occasionally he took out a
lump
of sugar from his pocket and handed it to Kiouni, who took it in
his
trunk without slackening his pace for a second.
After
proceeding thus for a couple of hours, the driver called a halt
and
gave the elephant an hour's rest. The animal ate all the branches
and
shrubs in the vicinity, as soon as he had quenched his thirst at a
neighbouring
spring. Sir Francis did not complain of this delay; he
was
terribly bruised. Mr. Fogg did not appear any more discomposed
than
if he had only got out of bed.
"He
is a man of iron!" exclaimed the general, as he gazed at his
companion
admiringly.
"Of
hammered iron," replied Passe-partout, who was preparing a hasty
breakfast.
At
noon the driver gave the signal for departure. The country soon
became
very wild. The dense forest was succeeded by groves of dates
and
palms; then came extensive arid plains dotted here and there with
bushes,
and sprinkled with immense blocks of syenite. The whole of
this
region of Bundelcund, which is seldom traversed, is inhabited by
a
fanatical people inured to the most fearful practices of the
Hindoos.
The English Government has scarcely yet entirely obtained the
control
over this region, which is ruled by rajahs, who are very
difficult
to bring to book from their almost inaccessible mountain
fastnesses.
Many times the travellers noticed bands of fierce natives,
who
gesticulated angrily at perceiving the swift-footed elephant pass
by;
and the Parsee took care to give them all a wide berth. They
encountered
very few wild animals; even monkeys were not numerous, and
they
fled away with grimaces and gestures, which amused Passe-partout
very
much indeed.
One
reflection, however, troubled Passe-partout exceedingly, and that
was
how would his master dispose of the elephant when they reached
The
price of conveyance, added to the purchase-money, would be
ruinous.
Would he sell the beast or set him free? No doubt the animal
deserved
some consideration. Suppose Mr. Fogg made him, Passe-partout,
a
present of the elephant? He would feel very much embarrassed. So
these
considerations worried the valet not a little.
At
eight o'clock they had crossed the principal heights of the Vindhia
chain,
and at a ruined bungalow upon the southern slope of the
mountains
our travellers halted again.
The
distance traversed was about twenty-five miles, and they had still
as
far to go to reach
lighted
by the Parsee was very acceptable, and the travellers made an
excellent
supper of the provisions they had purchased at Kholby. The
intermittent
conversation soon gave way to steady snoring. The guide
kept
watch by the elephant, which slept outside, supported by the
trunk
of an enormous tree.
Nothing
happened to disturb the party during the night. Now and then
the
growls of wild animals, or the chattering of monkeys, broke the
silence,
but nothing more terrible was heard, and the larger animals
did
not disturb the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis Cromarty
"lay
like a warrior taking his rest." Passe-partout, in a restless
sleep,
appeared to be practising the gymnastics he had executed on the
elephant's
back. As for Mr. Fogg, he slept as peacefully as if he were
in
his quiet bed in Saville Row.
At
six o'clock they resumed their journey. The guide hoped to reach
portion
of the eight-and-forty hours already saved since the
commencement
of the trip.
They
descended the last slopes of the Vindhias. The elephant resumed
his
rapid pace. Towards mid-day the guide passed round the village of
Kallenger
on the Cani, one of the small affluents of the
appeared
to avoid all inhabited places, feeling more secure in the
deserted
tracts.
north-easterly
direction. They halted once more under a banana-tree,
the
fruit of which, as wholesome as bread and "as succulent as cream,"=
;
as
they said, was highly appreciated by our travellers.
At
two o'clock they entered a dense forest, which they had to traverse
for
some miles. The guide preferred to travel in the shade of the
woods.
So far at any rate they had encountered nothing unpleasant, and
there
was every reason to suppose that the journey would be
accomplished
without accident, when the elephant, after a few
premonitory
symptoms, stopped suddenly.
It
was then four o'clock in the afternoon.
"What
is the matter?" asked Sir Francis Cromarty, putting his head up
over
the top of his howdah.
"I
don't know, sir," replied the Parsee, listening intently to a
confused
murmuring sound which came through the thickly-interlacing
branches.
Soon
the sound became more defined. One might have fancied it was a
concert
at a great distance; composed of human voices and brass
instruments
all performing at once. Passe-partout was all eyes and
ears.
Mr. Fogg waited patiently without uttering a word.
The
Parsee leaped down, fastened the elephant to a tree, and plunged
into
the thick underwood. In a few moments he came back, exclaiming:
"A
procession of Brahmins is coming this way! Let us hide ourselves if
we
can."
As he
spoke he loosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, bidding
the
travellers to stay where they were. He was ready to remount should
flight
be necessary, but he thought that the procession would pass
without
noticing the party, for the thick foliage completely concealed
them.
The
discordant sounds kept approaching--a monotonous kind of chant,
mingled
with the beating of tom-toms and the clash of cymbals. The
head
of the procession soon became visible beneath the trees about
fifty
paces off, and Mr. Fogg and his party easily distinguished the
curious
individuals who composed it.
The
priests, wearing mitres and long robes trimmed with lace, marched
in
front. They were surrounded by a motley crowd of men, women, and
children,
who were chanting a sort of funeral hymn, broken at
intervals
by the sound of the various instruments. Behind these came,
on a
car (the large wheels of which, spokes and all, were ornamented
with
the similitude of serpents), a hideous figure drawn by four
richly-caparisoned
zebus. This idol had four arms, the body was
painted
a dusky red, with staring eyes, matted hair, a protruding
tongue,
and lips tinted with henna and betel. Round its neck was hung
a
necklace of skulls, and it was girt with a zone of human hands; it
stood
upright upon the headless trunk of a giant figure.
Sir
Francis Cromarty recognised the idol at once.
"That
is the goddess Káli," he whispered; "the goddess of love a=
nd
of
death."
"Of
death I can understand, but not of love," muttered Passe-partout;
"what
a villainous hag it is!"
The
Parsee signed to him to hold his tongue.
Around
the idol a number of fakirs danced and twirled about.
These
wretches were daubed with ochre, and covered with wounds, from
which
the blood issued drop by drop; absurd idiots, who would throw
themselves
under the wheels of Juggernaut's chariot had they the
opportunity.
Behind
these fanatics marched some Brahmins, clad in all their
oriental
sumptuousness of garb, dragging a woman along, who faltered
at
each step.
This
female was young, and as white as a European. Her head, neck,
shoulders,
ears, arms, hands, and ankles were covered with jewels,
bracelets,
or rings. A gold-laced tunic, over which she wore a thin
muslin
robe, revealed the swelling contours of her form.
Behind
this young woman, and in violent contrast to her, came a guard,
armed
with naked sabres and long damascened pistols, carrying a dead
body
in a palanquin.
The
corpse was that of an old man clothed in the rich dress of a
rajah;
the turban embroidered with pearls, the robe of silk tissue and
gold,
the girdle of cashmere studded with diamonds, and wearing the
beautiful
weapons of an Indian prince.
The
musicians brought up the rear with a guard of fanatics, whose
cries
even drowned the noise of the instruments at times. These closed
the
cortége.
Sir
Francis Cromarty watched the procession pass by and his face wore
a
peculiarly saddened expression. Turning to the guide, he said:
"Is
it a suttee?"
The
Parsee made a sign in the affirmative, and put his fingers on his
lips.
The long procession wended its way slowly amongst the trees, and
before
long the last of it disappeared in the depths of the forest.
The
music gradually died away, occasionally a few cries could be
heard,
but soon they ceased, and silence reigned around.
Phileas
Fogg had heard what Sir Francis had said, and as soon as the
procession
had passed out of sight, he said:
"What
is a suttee?"
"A
suttee," replied the general, "is a human sacrifice--but a
voluntary
one. That woman you saw just now will be burned to-morrow
morning
at daylight."
"The
scoundrels!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who could not repress his
indignation.
"And
that dead body?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Is
that of her husband--a prince," replied the guide. "He was an
independent
rajah in Bundelcund."
"Do
you mean to say that these barbarous customs still obtain in
emotion
whatever. "In
the greater portion of "these
sacrifices do not take place; but we have no authority in the savage
districts, one of the principal of which is Bundelcund. The entire
district north of the Vindhia range is the theatre of pillage and
murder." "Poor
creature," exclaimed Passe-partout; "burned alive!" "Yes,"
continued the general, "burned alive; and if she was not, you have
no idea to what a wretched condition she would be reduced by her relatives.
They would shave off her hair, feed her very scantily upon rice,
and hold no communication with her, for she would be regarded as unclean,
and would die like a dog. The prospect of such treatment, even
more strongly than affection or religious fanaticism, often urges the
widows to submit themselves to suttee. Sometimes, however, the act is
really voluntary, and energetic interference by the Government is necessary
to prevent it. Some years ago, when I was in widow
asked the governor's leave to be burned with her late husband's body.
As you may imagine, he refused her request. Then the disconsolate
widow left the town, took refuge with an independent rajah,
and burned herself, to the satisfaction of all concerned." As
the general proceeded, the guide nodded in assent to the truthfulness
of the relation, and when the speaker had finished, the Parsee
said: "But
the suttee to take place to-morrow is not voluntary." "How
do you know?" "Everyone
in Bundelcund knows that," replied the guide. "Yet
the unfortunate woman offered no resistance," said Sir Francis Cromarty. "Because
she was drugged with hemp and opium," replied the Parsee. "But
whither are they taking her?" "To
the Pagoda of Pillaji, two miles away from here. There she will pass
the night, and wait for the hour appointed for the sacrifice." "And
the sacrifice will take place?" "At
dawn to-morrow." As he
spoke, the guide led forth the elephant and clambered up to his seat
on its neck; but just as he was about to whistle to the animal to proceed,
Mr. Fogg stopped him, and said to Sir Francis Cromarty, "Suppose
we save this woman?" "Save
her!" exclaimed the general. "I
have still twelve hours to spare," continued Fogg; "I can devote<=
o:p> that
time to the purpose." "Well,
I declare you are a man with a heart in the right place," cried Sir
Francis. "Sometimes
it is," replied Mr. Fogg, smiling grimly, "when I have time!" Showing
how Passe-partout perceives once again that Fortune favours the
Brave. The
project was a difficult one and a bold, almost impossible to carry out.
Mr. Fogg was about to risk his life, or at least his liberty, and consequently
the success of his undertaking; but, nevertheless, he hesitated
not a moment. Besides, he found in Sir Francis Cromarty a sturdy
ally. Passe-partout also was at their disposal; he was quite ready,
and his opinion of his master was rising every moment. He possessed
a heart, after all, beneath that cold exterior. Passe-partout
was beginning to love Mr. Fogg. The
guide remained. What course would he take in this business? He would
probably side with the natives. At any rate, if he would not assist,
his neutrality must be assured. Sir
Francis put the question to him plainly. "Your
honour," replied the man, "I am a Parsee. The woman is a Parsee also.
You may dispose of me as you wish." "Good,"
replied Sir Francis. "But,"
continued the guide, "you must remember that not only do we risk
our lives in this affair, but we may be horribly tortured if we are
taken alive. So take care." "We
have made up our minds to run the risk," said Mr. Fogg. "I think<=
o:p> we
had better wait till nightfall before we act." "I
think so too," said the guide, who then proceeded to give his employers
some information respecting the lady. He said she was a Parsee,
a celebrated Indian beauty, daughter of one of the richest merchants
in her
manners and tastes were all European. Her name was Aouda. She was, moreover,
an orphan, and had been married against her will to the rajah.
She had only been three months wed. Knowing the fate that awaited
her, she had attempted to escape, but was immediately retaken; and
the rajah's relatives, who were desirous, from motives of interest,
for her death, had devoted her to the suttee, which now appeared
inevitable. These
particulars only served to confirm Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous resolve. It was then decided that the guide should take
them as near to the pagoda as possible without attracting attention. In
about half an hour the elephant was halted in the brushwood about five
hundred yards from the temple, which was not visible; but the shouts
of the fanatics were distinctly audible. The
best manner of releasing the intended victim was then discussed. The
guide was acquainted with the pagoda in which he declared the young
woman was imprisoned. Was it possible to enter by one of the doors,
when all the band of priests, etc., were wrapped in a drunken sleep?
or, should they enter through a hole in the wall? This could only
be decided when they reached the pagoda. But one thing was very certain,
and that was that the deed must be done at night, and not at daybreak,
when the victim was being led to the sacrifice. Then human aid
would be powerless to save her. So
the party waited till night. At about six o'clock in the evening it would
be dark, and then they would make a reconnaissance. The last cries
of the fakirs would by that time be hushed. The Hindoos would by that
time, according to custom, be wrapped in the intoxicating arms of "bang"--liquid
opium mixed with hemp; and it would be possible to glide
past them into the temple. The
whole party, guided by the Parsee, then advanced stealthily through
the forest. After ten minutes' creeping beneath the branches of the
trees, they reached a rivulet, whence, by the glare of the torches,
they were enabled to distinguish the funeral pyre, composed of
the fragrant sandal-wood, and already saturated with perfumed oil. Upon
this pile lay the dead body of the deceased prince, which was to be
burned with his widow. A hundred paces from the pyre was the pagoda,
the minarets of which uprose beyond the tops of the surrounding
trees. "Come
on," whispered the guide. With
increasing caution the Parsee, followed by his companions, glided silently
amongst the tall grasses. The murmur of the breeze through the
trees was the only sound that broke the silence. The
Parsee soon halted on the border of the clearing. Some torches lit up
the space. The ground was covered with groups of tipsy sleepers, and
bore a great resemblance to a battle-field strewn with dead bodies.
Men, women, and children lay all together. Some drunken individuals
still staggered about here and there. In the background the
temple loomed amid the thick trees. But greatly to the disappointment
of the guide, armed rajpoots kept watch by torchlight upon
the doors, in front of which they paced up and down with naked swords.
No doubt the priests within were equally vigilant. The
Parsee advanced no farther. He perceived at once that it was impossible
to force an entrance to the temple, and he led his companions
back again. Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg also understood that no
more could be done in that direction. They stopped and consulted together
in undertones. "Let
us wait a little," whispered the brigadier. "It is only eight o'clock.
Those sentries may go to sleep later." "That
is possible, certainly," said the Parsee. So
they all lay down under the trees and waited. The
time passed very slowly. At intervals the guide would go forward and
reconnoitre. But the guards were always there; the torches burned brightly
still, and an uncertain glimmer penetrated through the windows
of the temple from the inside. They
waited until nearly midnight. There was no change in the situation.
The sentries were sleepless, and it became evident that they
intended to keep watch all night. They were probably quite sober. It
now became necessary to try another plan and to cut through the walls
of the pagoda. There was then the chance of finding the priests awake
inside, watching their intended victim as closely as the soldiers
guarded the door. After
a final consultation, the guide expressed himself ready to proceed.
Mr. Fogg, Sir Francis, and Passe-partout followed. They made a
long detour with the intention of approaching the pagoda from behind.
About half-past twelve they gained the walls without having encountered
anyone. Evidently no watch was kept at the side, but it was
equally evident that there was neither window nor door at the back. The
night was dark. The moon, then in her last quarter, appeared scarcely
above the horizon, and was covered frequently by thick clouds.
The trees also served to render the darkness more profound. It was
enough to have reached the wall, an opening must be discovered or made.
To accomplish this, Mr. Fogg and his companions had nothing but their
pocket-knives. Fortunately, the temple walls were only composed of
bricks and wood, which would not be very hard to cut through. Once the
first brick had been taken out, the rest was easy. They
set about the work immediately, and as noiselessly as possible. The
Parsee and Passe-partout worked away to loosen the bricks in a space
about two feet wide. The labour was continued, and they were getting
on capitally, when a cry was heard from the interior of the temple,
and was immediately succeeded by others from the outside. Passe-partout
and the guide ceased working. Had they been heard, and had
the alarm been given? Common prudence necessitated a retreat, which
was effected in company with Sir Francis Cromarty and Phileas Fogg.
They ensconced themselves again beneath the trees to wait until the
alarm, if it were an alarm, had subsided, and ready in that event to
resume their operations. But, alas! the guards now completely surrounded
the pagoda and prevented all approach. It would be difficult
to depict the disappointment of these four men at this unfortunate
contretemps. As they were prevented from approaching the victim,
how could they hope to save her? Sir Francis Cromarty clenched his
hands, Passe-partout was almost beside himself, and even the guide had
some difficulty in preserving his self-restraint. The impassible Phileas
Fogg alone preserved his equanimity. "I
suppose we may as well go away now?" whispered Sir Francis Cromarty. "That's
all we can do," the guide assented. "Don't
be in a hurry," said Mr. Fogg. "It will suit me well enough if we
reach "But
what do you expect to do if we remain here?" said Sir Francis. "It
will be daylight in a couple of hours, and--" "We
may get a chance at the last moment." The
brigadier would have liked to have been able to read the expression
of Mr. Fogg's face. What was he thinking about, this cool-headed
Englishman? Would he, at the last moment, throw himself upon
the burning pile, and snatch her from the clutches of her executioners
openly? Such
a proceeding would have been the height of folly, and no one could
for a moment imagine that Mr. Fogg was so foolhardy as that. Nevertheless,
Sir Francis consented to wait the dénouement of this terrible
scene. But the guide led the party to the edge of the clearing,
where, from behind a thicket, they could observe all the proceedings.
Meanwhile, Passe-partout had been hatching a project in his
busy brain, and at last the idea came forth like a flash of lightning.
His first conception of the notion he had repudiated as ridiculously
foolish, but at length he began to look upon the project as
feasible. "It is a chance," he muttered, "but perhaps the on=
ly
one with
such bigoted idiots." At any rate he wriggled himself to the end of
the lowest branch of a tree, the extremity of which almost touched the
ground. The
hours passed slowly on, and at length some faint indications of day
became visible in the sky. But it was still quite dark in the neighbourhood
of the pagoda. This
was the time chosen for the sacrifice. The sleeping groups arose as if
the resurrection had arrived. The tom-toms sounded. Chants and cries
were once more heard. The sublime moment had come! Just
then the doors of the pagoda were opened, and a strong light flashed
out from the interior. The victim could be perceived being dragged
by two priests to the door. It appeared to the spectators that the
unhappy woman, having shaken off the effects of her enforced intoxication,
was endeavouring to escape from her executioners. Sir Francis
Cromarty was deeply agitated, and seizing Mr. Fogg's hand convulsively
he perceived that the hand grasped an open knife. The
crowd now began to move about. The young woman had been again stupefied
with hemp-fumes, and passed between the lines of fakirs who escorted
her, uttering wild cries as they proceeded. Phileas
Fogg and his companions followed on the outskirts of the crowd.
Two minutes later they reached the bank of the stream, and stopped
about fifty paces from the funeral pyre, upon which the corpse was
extended. In the dim religious light, they could perceive the outline
of the victim close beside her deceased husband. A
lighted torch was then quickly applied to the pile of wood, which, saturated
with oil, was instantly in a blaze. Sir Francis Cromarty and the
guide had to exert all their strength to restrain Mr. Fogg, who, in
his generous indignation, appeared about to rush upon the blazing pile. But
just as Phileas Fogg had succeeded in throwing them off, a change came
o'er the scene. A cry of terror rose from the natives, and they bowed
themselves to the earth in indescribable terror. The
old rajah was not dead after all; there he was standing upright upon
the fiery funeral pile, clasping his young wife in his arms; ready
to leap from amid the smoke into the midst of the horror-stricken
crowd. The fakirs, the guards, the priests were all seized
with superstitious fear, and lay, faces to the earth, not daring
to lift their eyes to behold such a stupendous miracle. The
resuscitated man was thus practically quite close to the place where
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty were standing with the guide. "Let
us be off," exclaimed the "spectre." It
was only Passe-partout, who had, unperceived, gained the pyre under cover
of the smoke, and had rescued the young lady from certain death. It
was Passe-partout himself who, thanks to his happy audacity, was enabled
to pass unharmed through the terrified assemblage. In an
instant the four friends had disappeared in the woods, and the elephant
was trotting rapidly away. But very soon the loud cries and the
clamour that arose told them that the trick had been discovered, and a
bullet whizzed by as an additional confirmation. For there upon the
blazing pile lay the rajah's corpse; and the priests quickly understood
that a rescue had been so far successfully accomplished. They
immediately dashed into the forest, accompanied by the soldiers, who
fired a volley; but the fugitives had got away, and in a few moments
more were out of reach of arrows and bullets both. In
which Phileas Fogg descends the charming Valley of the without
noticing its Beauties. The
rash attempt had proved successful. An hour later, Passe-partout was
laughing at the result of his venturous plan. Sir Francis Cromarty had
shaken hands with him. His master had said, "Well done!" which from
him was high commendation indeed. To which expressions of approbation,
Passe-partout had replied that all the credit of the affair
belonged to his master. His own share in it had been an absurd notion
after all; and he laughed again when he thought that he, Passe-partout,
the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant of the fire brigade, had actually
played the part of spouse of a beautiful young lady, the widow
of an embalmed rajah! As
for the young lady herself, she was still insensible, and quite unconscious
of all that was passing or had lately passed. Wrapped up in a
railroad-rug, she was now reclining in one of the howdahs. Meanwhile
the elephant, guided with unerring care by the Parsee, was progressing
rapidly through the still gloomy forest. After an hour's ride,
they arrived at an extensive plain. At seven o'clock they halted.
The young lady was still quite unconscious. The guide poured some
brandy down her throat, but she remained insensible for some time afterwards.
Sir Francis Cromarty, who was aware that no serious evil effects
supervened from the inhalation of the fumes of hemp, was in no way
anxious about her. But
if her restoration to consciousness was not a subject of anxiety to
the brigadier, he was less assured respecting her life in the future.
He did not hesitate to tell Mr. Fogg that if Madame Aouda remained
in executioners.
Those fanatics were scattered everywhere through the peninsula,
and there was not a doubt that, despite the English police, the
Hindoos would claim their victim, no matter in what presidency she might
endeavour to take refuge. And in support of his assertion, Sir Francis
instanced a similar case which had recently taken place. His opinion,
therefore, was that she would only be in absolute safety when she
quitted Mr.
Fogg replied that he would consider the matter, and give his opinion
later. About
ten o'clock the guide announced that they were close to railroad,
and in about four-and-twenty hours they would reach Kong
steamer, which was to sail at noon on the 25th of October. The young
woman was safely bestowed in a private waiting-room, while Passe-partout
was hurriedly despatched to purchase various necessary articles
of clothing, etc, for her use. His master supplied the funds for
the purpose. Passe-partout
hastened away, and ran through the streets of inasmuch
as it is built at the junction of the two holy streams of the Ganges
and the the
peninsula. We are also told that the heaven,
whence, owing to the influence of Bramah, it condescends to earth. While
he made his purchases diligently, Passe-partout did not forget to
look about him and see something of the city. It was at one time defended
by a splendid fort, which has since become the State prison. Commerce
and business no longer occupy their former places in he
would have met in the
shop of an old Jew clothesman--a crusty old man he was too. From him
he purchased a tweed dress, a large cloak, and a magnificent otter-skin
pelisse which cost seventy-five pounds. With these garments he
returned in triumph to the railway station. Mrs.
Aouda had by that time partly recovered consciousness. The influence
of the drug administered by the priests was passing away by degrees,
and her bright eyes were once again resuming their soft and charming
Indian expression. The
poet-king, Uçaf Uddaul, celebrating the charms of the Queen of Ahundnagara,
thus sings: "Her
shining locks, parted in the centre of her forehead, set off the harmonious
contours of her white and delicate cheeks, all glowing in their
freshness. Her ebon brows have the shape and power of the bow of Kama,
the god of love; and beneath her silken lashes, her dark eyes swim
in liquid tenderness, as in the sacred lakes of the reflected
the celestial light. Her glittering, even, pearl-like teeth shine
between the smiling lips as the dewdrops in the half-closed petals
of the passion-flower. Her tiny ears, with curves divine, her small
hands, her little feet, tender as the buds of lotus, sparkle with
the pearls of displays
the curving outline of the hips, and swelling bosom, where youth
in all its loveliness expands its perfect treasures. Beneath the tunic-folds
the limbs seem formed within a silver mould by the god-like
hand of Vicvarcarnia, the immortal sculptor." Without
exactly comparing Mrs. Aouda with the foregoing description, it
may be stated that she was a most charming woman, in the fullest acceptation
of the term. She spoke English with fluency and purity, and
the guide had only stated the truth when he had averred that the Parsee
lady had been transformed by her education. The
train was about to start; Mr. Fogg was paying the Parsee guide his hire
as agreed--not a farthing in excess. This business-like arrangement
rather astonished Passe-partout, when he recalled all they owed
to the guide's devotion. In fact, the Parsee had risked his life voluntarily
by engaging in the affair at Pillaji, and if he should be caught
by the Hindoos he would very likely be severely dealt with. There
was still Kiouni, however. What was to be done with the elephant,
which had cost so much? But Phileas Fogg had already made up his
mind on that point. "Parsee,"
said he to the guide, "you have been most useful and devoted to
us. I have paid for your services, but not for your devotion. Would you
like to have the elephant? If so, he is yours." The eyes of the guide
sparkled. "Your
honour is giving me a fortune!" he exclaimed. "Take
him," replied Mr. Fogg, "and then I shall still be in your debt." "Hurrah!"
cried Passe-partout; "take him, my friend. Kiouni is a fine animal;"
and going up to the beast, he gave him some pieces of sugar, saying,
"Here, Kiouni, take this, and this." The
elephant gave vent to some grunts of satisfaction, and then seizing
Passe-partout by the waist with his trunk, he lifted him up. Passe-partout,
not in the least afraid, continued to caress the animal,
which replaced him gently on the ground, and to the pressure of
the honest Kiouni's trunk, Passe-partout responded with a kindly blow. Some
short time after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passe-partout
were seated with Mrs. Aouda, who occupied the best place in a
comfortable compartment of the train, which was speeding towards two
hours, and in that time the young lady had quite recovered from the
drugs she had inhaled. Her astonishment at finding herself in the train,
dressed in European garments, and with three travellers utterly unknown
to her, may be imagined. Her
companions in the first place showed her every attention, even to the
administration of a few drops of liqueur, and then the general told
her what had happened. He particularly dwelt upon the devotedness of
Phileas Fogg, who had risked his life to save hers, and upon the termination
of the adventure, of which Passe-partout was the hero. Mr. Fogg
made no remark whatever, and Passe-partout looked very bashful, and
declared it was not worth speaking of. Mrs.
Aouda thanked her deliverers effusively by tears at least as much as by
words. Her beautiful eyes even more than her lips expressed her gratitude.
Then her thoughts flew back to the suttee, and as she remarked
she was still on Phileas
Fogg, guessing her thoughts, hastened to reassure her, and quietly
offered to escort her to till
the affair had blown over. This offer the lady moat gratefully accepted,
for--curiously enough--a relative of hers, a Parsee like herself,
was then residing at merchants
of that British settlement. At
half-past twelve the train stopped at state
that this town is built upon the site of the ancient Casi, which was
at one time suspended between heaven and earth, like Mahomet's coffin.
But in these practical days, Athens
of India, rests prosaically upon the ground, and Passe-partout caught
many a glimpse of brick houses and numerous clay huts, which gave
the place a desolate appearance, without any local colour. Sir
Francis Cromarty had now reached his destination; the troops he was
to command were encamped a few miles to the north of the town. He took
farewell of Phileas Fogg, wished him every success, and expressed a
hope that he would continue his journey in a more profitable and less
original manner. Mr. Fogg gently pressed his companion's hand. Mrs.
Aouda was more demonstrative; she could not forget what she owed to
Sir Francis Cromarty. As for Passe-partout, he was honoured with a hearty
shake of the general's hand, and was much impressed thereby. So they
parted. From
Benares the railway traverses the valley of the travellers
had many glimpses of the varied country of Behar, the hills covered
with verdure, and a succession of barley, wheat, and com fields,
jungles full of alligators, neat villages, and thick forests. Elephants
and other animals were bathing in the sacred river, as were also
bands of Hindoos of both sexes, who, notwithstanding the advanced season
of the year, were accomplishing their pious ablutions. These devotees
were declared enemies of Buddhism, and were strict Brahmins, believing
in Vishnu, the sun god; Shiva, the personification of nature;
and Brahma, the head of priests and rulers. But how do Brahma, Shiva,
and Vishnu regard India, now completely Anglicised, with hundreds
of steamers darting and screaming along the holy waters of the
Ganges, frightening the birds and beasts and faithful followers of the
gods dwelling along the banks? The
landscape passed rapidly by, and was occasionally hidden by the stream.
The travellers could now discern the fort of Chunar, twenty miles
south-west of Benares; then Ghazipore and its important rose-water
manufactories came in sight; then they caught a glimpse of the
tomb of Lord Cornwallis, which rises on the left bank of the river;
then the fortified town of Buxar; Patna, the great commercial city
and principal opium-market of India; Monghir, an European town, as
English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its foundries, factories, and
tall chimneys vomiting forth volumes of black smoke. Night
fell, and still the train rushed on, in the midst of the roaring and
growling of wild animals, which fled from the advancing locomotive.
Nothing could of course then be seen of those wonders of Bengal,
Golconda, the ruins of Gom, and Morschabad, Burdwan, the ancient
capital, Hooghly, Chandernagore, in French territory, where Passe-partout
would have been glad to see his country's ensign. At
last, at seven o'clock in the morning, they reached Calcutta. The steamer
for Hong Kong was not to leave till mid-day, so Phileas Fogg had
still five hours to spare. According
to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th October--twenty-three
days from London; and at Calcutta he was as arranged.
He had neither gained nor lost so far. Unfortunately, the two
days he had had to spare he spent as we have seen while crossing the
peninsula; but we must not suppose that Phileas Fogg regretted his actions
for a moment. In
which the Bag of Bank-notes is lightened by some Thousands of Pounds
more. Passe-partout
was the first to alight from the train; Mr. Fogg followed,
and helped out his fair companion. Phileas had counted upon proceeding
directly to the steamer, so as to settle Mrs. Aouda comfortably
on board. He was unwilling to leave her so long, as she was
on such dangerous ground. As
Mr. Fogg was leaving the station a policeman approached him, and said,
"Mr. Phileas Fogg, is it not?" "It
is," replied Phileas. "And
this is your servant?" continued the policeman, indicating Passe-partout. "Yes." "Will
you be so good as to follow me?" Mr.
Fogg did not appear in the least degree surprised. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and to an Englishman the law is sacred.
Passe-partout, like a Frenchman, wanted to argue the point, but
the policeman touched him with his cane, and his master made him a sign
to obey. "This
young lady can accompany us?" said Mr. Fogg. "Certainly,"
replied the policeman. Mr.
Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout were then conducted to a "palkighari,"
a sort of four-wheeled carriage, holding four people, and
drawn by two horses. They drove away, and no one spoke during the twenty
minutes' drive. The
carriage passed through the "Black Town," and then through the European
quarter, which, with its brick houses, well-dressed people, and
handsome equipages, presented a marked contrast to the native town.
The carriage stopped before a quiet-looking house, which, however,
did not appear to be a private mansion. The policeman directed
his prisoners--for so we may term them--to alight, and conducted
them to a room, the windows of which were barred. "At
half-past eight," he said, "you will be brought before Judge Obadiah."
He then went out and locked the door. "So
we are prisoners," exclaimed Passe-partout, dropping into a chair. Mrs.
Aouda, turning to Mr. Fogg, said tearfully: "Oh sir, pray do not think
of me any longer. It is on my account that you have been arrested.
It is for having saved me." Phileas
Fogg calmly replied that such a thing was not possible. It was quite
out of the question that they could be arrested on account of the
suttee. The complainants would not dare to present themselves. There
must be some mistake, and Mr. Fogg added that in any case he would
see the young lady safe to Hong Kong. "But
the steamer starts at twelve o'clock," said Passe-partout. "We
shall be on board before that," replied the impassible Fogg. This
was said so decidedly that Passe-partout could not help muttering,
"That's all right then, we shall be on board in time no doubt."
But in his soul he was not so very certain of it. At
half-past eight the door opened, the policeman entered, and conducted
the friends into an adjoining room. This was the court, and was
pretty well filled by Europeans and natives. The three companions were
allotted seats on a bench lacing the magistrate's desk. Judge Obadiah,
followed by the clerk, entered almost immediately. He was a fat,
round-faced man. He took down a wig from a nail and put it on. "Call
the first case," he began, but immediately putting his hand to his
head he said, "This is not my wig." "The
fact is, your honour, it is mine," replied the clerk. "My
dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can you expect a judge to administer justice
in a clerk's wig?" The
exchange was made. All this time Passe-partout was boiling over with
impatience, for the hands of the clock were getting on terribly fast
towards noon. "Now,
then, the first case," said the judge. "Phileas
Fogg," called out the clerk. "Here
I am." "Passe-partout." "Here." "Good,"
said the judge. "For
two days we have been awaiting you." "But
of what do you accuse us?" cried Passe-partout impatiently. "You
are going to hear," said the judge quietly. "Your
honour," said Mr. Fogg, "I am a British citizen, and I have the right--" "Have
you not been properly treated?" asked the judge, "Oh
yes, but--" "Very
well, then. Call the plaintiffs." As
the judge spoke the door opened, and three Hindoo priests were introduced
by an usher. "It
is that, after all," muttered Passe-partout. "Those are the fellows
that wanted to burn our young lady." The
priests stood erect before the judge, and the clerk read aloud the complaint
of sacrilege against Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused
of having defiled a place consecrated to the Brahmin religion. "You
hear the charge," said the judge to Phileas Fogg. "Yes,
your honour," replied the accused, looking at his watch, "and I confess
it." "You
admit it?" "I
admit it, and I wait to see what these priests in their turn will confess
respecting their doings at the Pagoda of Pillaji." The
priests looked at each other. They evidently did not understand the
reference. "Of
course," cried Passe-partout impetuously, "at the Pagoda of Pillaji,
where they were about to burn their victim." The
priests looked stupefied, and the judge was almost equally astonished. "What
victim?" he asked. "To burn whom? In Bombay?" "Bombay!"
exclaimed Passe-partout. "Of
course. We are not talking of the Pagoda of Pillaji but of the Pagoda
of Malabar Hill at Bombay." "And
as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the shoes of the profaner=
of
the temple;" and he placed a pair of shoes upon the desk as he spoke. "My
shoes!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was surprised into this incautious
admission. One
can imagine the confusion which ensued. The incident at the pagoda in
Bombay had been quite forgotten by both master and man, and it was on
account of that that they were both detained. The
detective Fix had seen at once the advantage he could derive from that
contretemps; so, delaying his departure for twelve hours, he consulted
with the priests at Malabar Hill and had promised them a large
reward, knowing very well that the English Government would punish
with extreme severity any trespass of such a description. Then he
had sent the priests by train on the track of the offenders. Owing to
the time spent by Phileas Fogg and his party in releasing the young widow
from the suttee, Fix and the Hindoo priests had reached Calcutta first,
but in any case Mr. Fogg and his servant would have been arrested
as they left the train in consequence of a telegraphic despatch
which had been forwarded to Calcutta by the authorities. The disappointment
of Fix may be imagined when he heard on his arrival that
Fogg had not reached Calcutta. He thought that his victim had stopped
at one of the intermediate stations, and Had taken refuge in the
southern provinces. For four-and-twenty hours Fix had restlessly paced
the railway station at Calcutta. What was his joy when that very morning
he perceived his man descending from the train in company with a
lady whose presence he could not account for. He had immediately directed
a policeman to arrest Mr. Fogg, and that is how the whole party
came to be brought before Judge Obadiah. If
Passe-partout had been less wrapped up in his own business he would have
noticed the detective seated in the corner of the court, watching the
proceedings with an interest easy to be understood, for at Calcutta,
as heretofore, he still wanted the warrant to arrest the supposed
thief. But
Judge Obadiah had noticed the avowal, which Passe-partout would have
given the world to recall. "So
the facts are admitted," said the judge. "They
are," replied Fogg coldly. "Well,"
continued the judge, "inasmuch as the English law is intended to
protect rigorously, and without distinction, all religions in India,
and as this fellow, Passe-partout, has confessed his crime, and is
convicted of having violated with sacrilegious feet the Pagoda of Malabar
Hill at Bombay during the day of the 20th of October, the said Passe-partout
is condemned to fifteen days' imprisonment and to pay a fine
of three hundred pounds." "Three
hundred pounds!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was scarcely conscious
of anything but the amount of the fine. "Silence!"
shouted the usher. "And,"
continued the judge, "seeing that it is not proved that this sacrilege
was connived at by the master, but as he must be held responsible
for the acts and deeds of his servant, the said Phileas Fogg
is sentenced to eight days' imprisonment and a fine of one hundred
and fifty pounds. Usher, call the next case." Fix,
in his corner, rubbed his hands to his satisfaction. Phileas Fogg detained
eight days at Calcutta! This was fortunate, by that time the warrant
would have arrived from England. Passe-partout was completely dumbfoundered.
This conviction would ruin his master. His wager of twenty
thousand pounds would be lost; and all because he, like an idiot,
had gone into that cursed pagoda. But
Phileas Fogg was as cool and collected as if he were in no way concerned
in the matter. At the moment the usher was calling on the next
cause, Phileas rose and said, "I offer bail." "That
is within your right," said the judge. Fix's
blood ran cold; but he revived again, when he heard the judge say,
that as the prisoners were strangers, a bail of a thousand pounds each
would be necessary. So it would cost Mr. Fogg two thousand pounds,
if he did not put in an appearance when called upon. "I
will pay the money now," said that gentleman; and from the bag which
Passe-partout still held, he drew bank-notes for two thousand pounds,
and placed them on the clerk's desk. "This
sum will be restored to you, when you come out of prison," said the
judge. "Meantime you are free on bail." "Come
along," said Phileas Fogg to his servant. "But
I suppose they will give me back my shoes?" said Passe-partout angrily. They
gave him back his shoes. "They have cost us pretty dearly," he muttered,
"more than one thousand pounds apiece, without counting the inconvenience
to myself;" and with the most hang-dog appearance, Passe-partout
followed his master, who had offered his arm to the young
lady. Fix was still in hopes that his prey would not abandon such
a sum as two thousand pounds; so he followed Mr. Fogg closely. Phileas
took a fly, and the whole party were driven down to the quays. Half-a-mile
from the pier the Rangoon was moored, the "blue-peter" at
the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking, so Mr. Fogg had an hour to
spare. Fix saw him put off in a boat, with Mrs. Aouda and his servant.
The detective stamped with rage. "The
rascal!" he exclaimed; "he is going then. Two thousand pounds sacrificed.
He is as reckless as a thief. I will follow him to the end of
the world, if necessary; but at the rate he is going, the stolen money
will soon be spent." The
detective was not far wrong. In fact, since he had left London, what
with travelling expenses, "tips," the money paid for the elephant,
in fines, and in bail, Phileas Fogg had already disbursed more
than five thousand pounds, so that the percentage upon the sum likely
to be recovered by the detective (as he imagined) was growing small
by degrees and beautifully less. Fix
does not at all understand what is said to him. The CHAPTER XIII.
CHAPTER XIV.
.
Phileas Fogg would in that case be in time to catch the Hong.
Her rounded, supple waist, which hand may circle round,
CHAPTER XV.
CHAPTER XVI.
thousand
seven hundred and seventy tons, with engines of four hundred
horse-power.
She was as fast but not so comfortable as the Mongolia,
and
Mrs. Aouda was scarcely as well accommodated as Phileas Fogg would
have
wished. But as the voyage was only three thousand five hundred
miles,
that is to say eleven or twelve days' steaming, and the young
lady
was not difficult to please, it was no great matter.
During
the first portion of the voyage she became well acquainted with
Phileas
Fogg, and gave expression to her great gratitude on every
occasion.
That phlegmatic gentleman listened to her protestations with
the
most unmoved exterior, not an expression, not a movement evidenced
the
slightest emotion; but he took care that the young lady should
want
for nothing. He saw her at certain hours every day, if not to
talk,
at least to listen to her conversation; he exhibited towards her
the
greatest politeness, but the politeness of an automaton. Mrs.
Aouda
did not know what to think of him, though Passe-partout had
given
her a few hints about his eccentric master, and had told her of
the
wager about going round the world. Mrs. Aouda had rather ridiculed
the
idea, but after all did she not owe him her life? And Mr. Fogg
would
not lose by being regarded through the glasses of gratitude.
Mrs.
Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's explanation of her past
history.
She was, in fact, of the highest native caste.
Many
Parsee merchants had made great fortunes in cotton in India. One
of
them, Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, has been made a baronet by the
English
Government, and Mrs. Aouda was connected with this personage,
who
was then living in Bombay. It was a cousin of his whom she hoped
to
join at Hong Kong, and with whom she trusted to find protection.
She
could not say whether she would be received or not; but Mr. Fogg
told
her not to trouble herself, as all would come mathematically
square.
These were the words he used. It was uncertain whether the
young
lady quite understood him. She fixed her great eyes--"those eyes
as
limpid as the sacred lakes of the Himalayas"--upon him; but Mr.
Fogg
was as impassive as ever, and did not show any disposition to
throw
himself into those lakes.
The
first portion of the voyage passed very pleasantly. Everything was
favourable.
The Rangoon soon sighted the great Andaman, with its
picturesque
mountain called Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred
feet
high, a landmark for all sailors. They skirted the coast, but
they
saw none of the inhabitants. The appearance of the islands was
magnificent.
Immense forests of palm, teak, and gigantic mimosas
(tree-ferns),
covered the foreground of the landscape, while at the
back
rose the undulating profile of the hills. The cliffs swarmed with
that
species of swallows which build the edible nests so prized in
China.
But
the islands were soon passed, and the Rangoon rapidly steamed
towards
the Straits of Malacca, which give access to the Chinese Sea.
Now
what is Fix doing all this time? Having left instructions for the
transmission
of the warrant to Hong Kong, he had embarked on board the
Rangoon
without being perceived by Passe-partout, and was in hopes
to be
able to keep out of sight until the steamer should have reached
her
destination. In fact, it would be difficult to explain his
presence
on board without awakening the suspicions of Passe-partout,
who
thought him in Bombay. But fate obliged him to resume acquaintance
with
the lad, as we shall see later.
All
the aspirations and hopes of the detective were now centred in
Hong
Kong, for the steamer would not stop at Singapore long enough for
him
to do anything there. It was at Hong Kong that the arrest must be
made,
or the thief would escape, and, so to speak, for ever.
Hong
Kong, in fact, was English territory, but the last British
territory
which they would see on the route. Beyond that, China,
Japan,
and America would offer an almost secure asylum to Mr. Fogg. If
they
should find the warrant of arrest at Hong Kong, Fix could hand
Fogg
over to the local police, and have done with him. But after
leaving
the island a simple warrant would not be sufficient; a warrant
of
extradition would be necessary, which would give rise to delays of
all
kinds, and of which the criminal might take advantage and escape;
so if
he did not arrest him at Hong Kong, he might give up the idea
altogether.
"Now,"
said Fix to himself, "either the warrant will be at Hong Kong,
and I
shall arrest my man, or it will not be there; and this time I
must
delay his departure at any cost. I have failed both at Bombay and
Calcutta,
and if I make a mess of it at Hong Kong, my reputation is
gone.
I must succeed, at any cost; but what means shall I adopt to
stop
him if the worst comes to the worst?"
Fix
then, as a last resource, made up his mind to tell Passe-partout
everything,
and what sort of a man his master was, for he was not his
accomplice
evidently. Passe-partout would no doubt under those
circumstances
assist him (Fix). But in any case this was a dangerous
expedient,
and one not to be employed except under pressure. A hint
from
Passe-partout to his master would upset the whole thing at once.
The
detective, therefore, was very much embarrassed, and the presence
of
Mrs. Aouda on board gave him more food for thought. Who was this
woman?
and how did it happen that she was in Fogg's society? They must
have
met between Bombay and Calcutta, but at what place? Was it by
chance,
or had he purposely gone to seek this charming woman? for she
was
charming no doubt--Fix had seen as much in the court at Calcutta.
He
was puzzled, and began to think that perhaps there had been an
elopement.
He was certain of it. This idea now took complete
possession
of Fix, and he began to think what advantage he could gain
from
the circumstance: whether the young lady was married or not,
there
was still the elopement; and he might make it so unpleasant for
Mr.
Fogg at Hong Kong that he would not be able to get away by paying
money.
But
the Rangoon had to get to Hong Kong first, and could he wait?
for
Fogg had an unpleasant habit of jumping from one steamer to
another,
and might be far away before anything had been settled. The
thing
to do, therefore, was to give notice to the English authorities,
and
to signal the Rangoon before she arrived. This was not
difficult,
as the steamer stopped at Singapore, and he could telegraph
thence
to Hong Kong.
In
any case, before taking decisive action, he determined to question
Passe-partout.
He knew it was not difficult to make the lad talk, and
Fix
decided to make himself known. There was no time to lose, for the
steamer
would reach Singapore the following day.
That
afternoon, therefore. Fix left his cabin, and seeing
Passe-partout
on deck, the detective rushed towards him, exclaiming:
"What,
you on board the Rangoon?"
"Mr.
Fix, is it really you?" said Passe-partout, as he recognised his
fellow
voyager of the Mongolia. "Why, I left you at Bombay, and here
you
are on the way to Hong Kong. Are you also going round the world?"
"No,"
replied Fix, "I think of stopping at Hong Kong for a few days,
at
any rate."
"Ah!"
said Passe-partout, "but how is it I have not seen you on board
since
we left Calcutta?"
"The
fact is I have not been very well, and obliged to stay below. The
Bay
of Bengal does not suit me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how is
your
master, Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"Oh,
quite well, and as punctual to his time as ever; but Mr. Fix, you
do
not know that we have got a young lady with us."
"A
young lady?" repeated the detective, who pretended not to
understand
what was said.
Passe-partout
nodded, and immediately proceeded to give him the
history
of the business at the pagoda, the purchase of the elephant,
the
suttee, the rescue of Aouda, the judgment of the Calcutta court,
and
their release on bail. Fix, who was quite familiar with the last
incidents,
pretended to be ignorant of all, and Passe-partout was
quite
delighted to have such an interested listener.
"But,"
said Fix, when his companion had ceased, "does your master wish
to
carry this young lady to Europe?"
"By
no means, Mr. Fix, by no means. We are simply going to Hong Kong,
to
place her under the care of a relative of hers, a rich merchant
there."
"Nothing
to be done on that line," said the detective to himself, as
he
concealed his disappointment. "Come and have a glass of gin,
monsieur."
"With
all my heart, Mr. Fix; the least we can do is to have a friendly
glass
to our meeting on board the Rangoon."
What
happened on the Voyage between
After
that, Passe-partout and the detective met frequently, but the
latter
was very reserved and did not attempt to pump his companion
respecting
Mr. Fogg. He only encountered that gentleman once or twice,
for
he kept very much in the cabin, attending on Mrs. Aouda, or
engaged
in a game of whist.
As
for Passe-partout, he began to meditate very seriously upon the
curious
chance which had brought Mr. Fix once again on his master's
track,
and it certainly was somewhat astonishing. How was it that this
amiable,
good-natured gentleman, whom they had met first at Suez, and
on
board the Mongolia, who had landed at Bombay, where he said he
was
going to remain, was now on board the Rangoon bound for Hong
Kong,
and, in a word, following Mr. Fogg step by step--that was the
question?
It certainly was a most extraordinary coincidence, and what
did
Fix want? Passe-partout was ready to wager his Indian shoes, which
all
this time he had carefully preserved, that this man Fix would
leave
Hong Kong with them, and probably on board the same steamer.
If Passe-partout
had worried his head for a hundred years, he never
would
have hit upon the real object of the detective. It would never
have
occurred to him that Phileas Fogg was being tracked round the
globe
for a robbery. But as it is only human nature to find some
explanation
for everything, this is how Passe-partout interpreted
Fix's
unremitting attention, and after all it was not an unreasonable
conclusion
to arrive at. In fact, he made up his mind that Fix was an
agent
sent after Mr. Fogg by the members of the Reform Club, to see
that
the conditions of the wager were properly carried out.
"That's
it," repeated Passe-partout to himself, very proud of his
shrewdness.
"He is a spy these gentlemen have sent out. It is scarcely
a
gentlemanly thing to do, Mr. Fogg is so honourable and
straightforward.
Fancy sending a spy after us! Ah, gentlemen of the
Reform
Club, this shall cost you dearly."
Passe-partout,
quite delighted with the discovery, determined to say
nothing
to his master on the subject, lest he should be very justly
offended
at his opponents' distrust, but he determined to chaff Fix at
every
opportunity without betraying himself.
On
Wednesday, the 30th of October, the Rangoon entered the Straits
of
Malacca, which separate that peninsula from Sumatra, and at four
o'clock
the next morning the Rangoon, having gained half a day in
advance
of time, anchored at Singapore to coal.
Phileas
Fogg having noted the gain in his book, went ashore
accompanied
by Mrs. Aouda, who expressed a wish to land for a few
hours.
Fix,
who was very suspicious of Fogg's movements, followed without
being
noticed; and Passe-partout, who was secretly amused at the
detective's
manoeuvres, went about his usual business.
The
island of Singapore, though not grand or imposing, still has its
peculiar
beauties. It is a park traversed by pleasant roads. A
well-appointed
carriage took Phileas Fogg and Aouda through
palm-groves
and clove-plantations, various tropical plants perfumed
the
air, while troops of monkeys gambolled in the trees; the woods,
also,
were not innocent of tigers, and to those travellers who were
astonished
to learn why these terrible animals were not destroyed in
such
a small island, the reply would be that they swam across from the
mainland.
After
a couple of hours' drive, Mr. Fogg and Aouda returned to the
town
and went on board ship again, all the time followed by the
detective.
Passe-partout was awaiting them on deck; the brave fellow
had
purchased some beautiful mangoes, and was enabled to offer them to
Mrs.
Aouda, who received them gracefully.
At
eleven o'clock the Rangoon resumed her voyage and a few hours
later
Malacca had sunk below the horizon. They had about thirteen
hundred
miles to traverse to reach Hong Kong, and Phileas Fogg hoped
to
get there in six days, so as to be able to catch the steamer for
Yokohama
on the 6th of November.
The
weather, which had hitherto been very fine, changed with the last
quarter
of the moon. There was a high wind, fortunately favourable,
and a
very heavy sea.
The
captain set the sails at every opportunity, and the Rangoon,
under
these circumstances, made rapid progress. But in very rough
weather
extra precautions were necessary, and steam had to be reduced.
This
delay did not appear to affect Phileas Fogg in the least, but it
worried
Passe-partout tremendously. He swore at the captain, the
engineers,
and the company, and consigned all concerned to a warmer
climate
than Hong Kong. Perhaps the thought of the gas that was still
burning
in his room in London may have had something to do with his
impatience.
"You
seem in a great hurry to reach Hong Kong," said Fix to him one
day.
"I
am," replied Passe-partout. "You think Mr. Fogg is anxious to cat=
ch
the
steamer for Yokohama?"
"Very
anxious indeed."
"You
believe in this journey round the world, then?"
"Most
decidedly; don't you?"
"Not
a bit of it."
"You
are a sly one," replied Passe-partout with a wink.
This
remark rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Could the
Frenchman
have discovered who he was? He did not know what to do. But
how
could Passe-partout have found out his real object? And yet in
speaking
as he did, Passe-partout must certainly have had some
ulterior
motive.
On a
subsequent occasion the valet went still further, and said, half
maliciously:
"Well,
Mr. Fix, shall we be so unfortunate as to lose the pleasure of
your
society at Hong Kong?"
"Well,"
replied Fix, somewhat embarrassed, "I am not quite sure. You
see--"
"Ah,"
said Passe-partout, "if you would only come with us I should be
so
delighted. An agent of the company cannot stop halfway, you know.
You
were only going to Bombay, and here you are almost in China.
America
is not far off, and from America to Europe is but a step."
Fix
looked very hard at his companion, whose face was perfectly
innocent,
and laughed too. But Passe-partout was in the humour for
quizzing,
and asked him if he made much by his present business.
"Yes
and no," replied Fix, without flinching. "We have our good and
bad
times, but of course I do not travel at my own expense."
"Of
that I am quite sure," said Passe-partout, laughing.
Fix
then returned to his cabin, where he remained deep in thought.
Somehow
or another the Frenchman had found him out, but had he told
his
master? Was he his accomplice or not? And must the whole thing be
given
up? The detective passed many hours considering the matter in
all
its bearings, and was as undecided at the end as he had been at
the
beginning.
But
he retained his presence of mind, and resolved at length to deal
frankly
with Passe-partout, if he could not arrest Fogg at Hong Kong.
Either
the servant was an accomplice, knowing everything, and he would
fail;
or the servant knew nothing, and then his interest would be to
quit
the service of the criminal.
Such
was the state of affairs, and meantime Phileas Fogg appeared
perfectly
indifferent to everything. But nevertheless there was a
disturbing
cause not far off, which might be able to produce an
influence
on his heart; but no, Mrs. Aouda's charms had no effect, to
the
great surprise of Passe-partout.
Yes,
it certainly was a matter of astonishment to that worthy man, who
every
day read the lady's gratitude to his master in Mrs. Aouda's
eyes.
Phileas Fogg must certainly be heartless; brave he was no doubt,
but
sympathetic, no. There was no proof that the incidents of the
journey
had wakened any feelings in his breast, while Passe-partout
was
continually indulging in reverie.
One
day he was contemplating the working of the machinery, when a
pitch
of the vessel threw the screw out of the water. The steam roared
through
the valves, and Passe-partout exclaimed, indignantly: "The
escape
valves are not sufficiently charged! We make no way! That is
English
all over. Ah! if this were only an American ship--we might
blow
up, perhaps, but at any rate we should go quicker meantime."
In
which Phileas Fogg, Passe-partout, and Fix severally go each about
his
own business.
During
the latter part of the voyage the weather was very bad; the
wind
was blowing freshly--almost a gale--right in the teeth of the
very
much. In
fact, on the 3rd and 4th of November there was quite a tempest, and the
Rangoon was obliged to proceed slowly. All the sails were furled,
and the captain was of opinion that they would be twenty hours late
at Hong Kong, or perhaps more, if the storm lasted. Phileas
Fogg gazed at the turbulent sea as coolly as ever; he betrayed no
impatience, even though twenty hours' delay would upset his calculations,
by causing him to lose the Yokohama steamer. It seemed almost
as if the storm were part of his programme, and Mrs. Aouda, who sympathised
with him, was surprised to find him quite unmoved. But
Fix did not look upon these things with unconcern; he was very glad
that the storm had happened, and would have been delighted if the Rangoon
had been obliged to scud before the tempest. All these delays
were in his favour, because they tended towards detaining Mr. Fogg
at Hong Kong; he did not mind the sea-sickness he suffered, and while
his body was tortured, his spirit was exultant. But
Passe-partout was very much annoyed by this bad weather. All had gone
well till now. Everything had appeared to favour his master,
hitherto.
Steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam had united
to
assist him. Was it possible that the hour of misfortune had struck?
Passe-partout
felt as if the wager of twenty thousand pounds was to
come
out of his own purse. The storm exasperated him, the wind made
him
furious, and he would liked to have whipped this disobedient sea.
Poor
fellow! Fix all the time carefully concealed his personal
satisfaction,
for had Passe-partout perceived it, Fix would have had a
bad
time.
Passe-partout
remained on deck as long as the storm lasted, for it was
quite
impossible for him to go down below. He assisted the crew in
every
way in his power, and astonished the sailors by his activity. He
questioned
the captain, the officers, and the men hundreds of times as
to
their progress, and got laughed at for his pains. He wanted to know
how
long the tempest would last, and was referred to the barometer,
which
had evidently not made up its mind to rise; even when
Passe-partout
shook it, it would not change its mind.
At
last the storm subsided, and the wind veered round to the south,
which
was in their favour. Passe-partout regained his serenity as the
weather
improved. Sails were once more set on the Rangoon and she
resumed
her route at great speed, but she could not make up for lost
time.
It could not be helped, however, and land was not signalled till
five
o'clock on the morning of the 6th of November. The itinerary of
Phileas
Fogg showed that they ought to have arrived the day before, so
they
were twenty-four hours behindhand, and the Yokohama steamer would
be
missed.
At
six o'clock the pilot came on board. Passe-partout longed to ask
the
man if the Yokohama steamer had sailed, but he preferred to nurse
his
hopes till the last moment. He had confided his troubles to Fix,
who,
sly fellow as he was, pretended to sympathise with him, and told
him
he would be in time if his master took the next steamer, a remark
which
put Passe-partout into a violent rage.
But
if he did not like to ask the pilot, Mr. Fogg, having consulted
his
Bradshaw, did not hesitate to inquire when the steamer left for
Yokohama.
"To-morrow,
at the morning's flood-tide," replied the pilot.
"Ah,
indeed," said Mr. Fogg, without manifesting any emotion.
Passe-partout
could have embraced the pilot for this information,
while
Fix would gladly have twisted his neck.
"What
is the name of the steamer?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"The
Carnatic," replied the pilot.
"Ought
she not to have sailed yesterday?"
"Yes;
but one of her boilers required repairing, so she will not start
till
to-morrow."
"Thank
you," replied Mr. Fogg, as he descended quietly to the cabin.
Passe-partout
wrung the pilot's hand, exclaiming, "Well, you are a
good
fellow."
Probably
to this day the pilot has not the slightest idea of what
Passe-partout
was driving at. He merely whistled, and went back to his
station
on the bridge to guide the steamer through a flotilla of
junks,
tankas, and fishing-boats, and a crowd of other vessels which
encumbered
the waters of Hong Kong.
At
one o'clock the steamer was alongside the quay, and the passengers
went
ashore.
On
this occasion it must be confessed that fortune had singularly
favoured
Phileas Fogg. But for the necessary repairs to her boilers,
the
Carnatic would have sailed on the 5th, and the travellers bound
for
Japan would have been obliged to wait for eight days for the next
steamer.
Mr. Fogg, it is true, was twenty-four hours behindhand, but
this
would not seriously affect his journey.
In
fact, the steamer which plied from Yokohama to San Francisco was
connected
with the Hong Kong boat, and would not start till the
arrival
of the latter; so, if he were twenty-four hours late at
Yokohama,
he would make it up in crossing the Pacific. At present,
however,
Phileas Fogg found himself twenty-four hours late during the
thirty-five
days since he quitted London.
The
Carnatic would sail the next morning at five o'clock, so Mr.
Fogg
had still sixteen hours to devote to Mrs. Aouda. He landed with
the
young lady upon his arm, and conducted her to the Club-house
Hotel,
where apartments were engaged for her accommodation. Mr. Fogg
then
went in search of her relatives, telling Passe-partout to remain
until
his return, so that the young lady might not feel herself quite
alone.
Mr.
Fogg made his way to the exchange, for he rightly conjectured that
such
a rich man as Jejeeb would be most likely heard of in that
direction.
The
broker to whom Mr. Fogg addressed himself knew the man for whom he
was
inquiring, but he had left China two years before, and gone to
live
in Holland, he thought; for he had principally traded with Dutch
merchants.
Phileas
Fogg returned to the hotel, and informed Mrs. Aouda that her
cousin
had left Hong Kong, and had gone to live in Holland.
Mrs.
Aouda made no reply for a moment; she passed her hand across her
brow,
and appeared lost in thought. At length, in a gentle voice, she
said,
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"Your
course is simple enough," he replied; "come on to Europe."
"But
I cannot intrude upon you."
"You
do not intrude in the least. Passe-partout."
"Sir."
"Go
to the Carnatic and secure three berths."
Passe-partout
was delighted to think that the young lady was going to
continue
her journey with them, for she had been very kind to him. He
accordingly
quitted the hotel to execute his master's orders
cheerfully.
Showing
how Passe-partout took too great an interest in his Master,
and
what came of it.
English
by the Treaty of Nankin, in 1843. In a few years the
colonising
enterprise of the British made of it an important city and
a
fine port--Victoria. The island is at the mouth of the Canton river,
sixty
miles only from Macao, upon the opposite bank. Hong Kong has
beaten
the other port in the struggle for commercial supremacy, and
the
greater traffic in Chinese merchandise finds its way to the
island.
There are docks, hospitals, wharfs, warehouses, a cathedral, a
Government
house, macadamised roads, &c., which give to Hong Kong as
English
an aspect as a town in Kent or Surrey, which had by some
accident
fallen to the antipodes.
Passe-partout,
with his hands in his pockets, wandered towards Port
Victoria,
gazing at the people as they passed, and admiring the
palanquins
and other conveyances. The city appeared to him like
Bombay,
Calcutta, and Singapore; or like any other town colonised by
the
English.
At
the port situated at the mouth of the Canton river was a regular
confusion
of ships of all nations, commercial and warlike: junks,
sempas,
tankas, and even flower-boats, like floating garden-borders.
Passe-partout
remarked several of the natives, elderly men, clothed in
nankeen;
and when he went to a barber's to be shaved, he inquired of
the
man, who spoke pretty good English, who they were, and was
informed
that these men were all eighty years of age, and were
therefore
permitted to wear the imperial colour, namely yellow.
Passe-partout,
without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
After
being shaved, he went to the quay from which the Carnatic was
to
start, and there he found Fix walking up and down, in a very
disturbed
manner.
"Ho,
ho!" thought Passe-partout, "this does not look well for the
Reform
Club;" and with a merry smile he accosted the detective without
appearing
to have noticed his vexation. Fix had indeed good reasons
for
feeling annoyed. The warrant had not arrived. No doubt it was on
its
way, but it was quite impossible it could reach Hong Kong for
several
days, and as this was the last British territory at which Mr.
Fogg
would touch, he would escape if he could not be detained somehow.
"Well,
Mr. Fix," said Passe-partout, "have you decided to come to
America
with us?"
"Yes,"
replied Fix, between his clenched teeth.
"Come
along, then," said Passe-partout, laughing loudly; "I knew you
could
not leave us. Come and engage your berth."
So
they went to the office, and took four places. But the clerk
informed
them that the Carnatic, having had her repairs completed,
would
sail that evening at eight o'clock, and not next morning, as
previously
announced.
"Very
good," said Passe-partout, "that will suit my master exactly. I
will
go and tell him."
And
now Fix determined to make a bold move. He would tell
Passe-partout
everything. This was perhaps the only way by which he
could
keep Phileas Fogg at Hong Kong.
As
they quitted the office. Fix offered his companion some
refreshment,
which Passe-partout accepted. They saw a tavern close by,
which
they entered, and reached a large well-decorated room, at the
end
of which was a large camp-bedstead furnished with cushions. On
this
lay a number of men asleep. About thirty people were seated at
small
tables drinking beer, porter, brandy, or other liquors; and the
majority
of drinkers were smoking long pipes of red clay filled with
little
balls of opium steeped in rose-water. From time to time a
smoker
would subside under the table, and the waiters would carry him
and
place him on the bed at the end of the room. There were about
twenty
of these stupefied smokers altogether.
Fix
and Passe-partout perceived that they had entered a smoking-house,
patronised
by those wretched idiots devoted to one of the most
injurious
vices of humanity--the smoking of opium, which the English
merchants
sell every year to the value of one million four hundred
thousand
pounds. The Chinese Government has vainly endeavoured by
stringent
laws to remedy the evil, but in vain. The habit has
descended
from the rich to the poorest classes, and now opium is
smoked
everywhere at all times by men and women, and those accustomed
to it
cannot do without it A great smoker can consume eight pipes a
day,
but he dies in five years.
It
was to one of these dens that Fix and Passe-partout had come for
refreshment;
the latter had no money, but accepted his companion's
treat,
hoping to return the civility at some future time. Fix ordered
two
bottles of port, to which the Frenchman paid considerable
attention,
while Fix, more cautious, watched his companion narrowly.
They
talked upon many subjects, and particularly respecting Fix's
happy
determination to sail in the Carnatic; and that put
Passe-partout
in mind that he ought to go and inform his master
respecting
the alteration in the time of the steamer's departure,
which,
as the bottles were empty, he proceeded to do.
"Just
one moment," said Fix, detaining him.
"What
do you want, Mr. Fix?"
"I
want to speak to you seriously."
"Seriously!"
exclaimed Passe-partout. "Well, then, let us talk
to-morrow,
I have no time to-day."
"You
had better wait," said Fix; "it concerns your master."
Passe-partout
looked closely at his companion, and as the expression
of
his face was peculiar he sat down again.
"What
have you got to say to me?" he said.
Fix
placed his hand on his companion's arm, and said, in a low voice,
"You
have guessed who I am, eh?"
"Rather,"
replied Passe-partout.
"Well,
then, I am going to tell you everything."
"Yes,
now that I know everything, my friend. That's pretty good.
However,
go on; but first let me tell you that those gentlemen have
sent
you on a wild-goose chase."
"It
is evident that you do not know how large the sum in question is,"
said
Fix.
"Oh
yes, but I do," said Passe-partout, "it is twenty thousand
pounds."
"Fifty-five
thousand," replied Fix, shaking the Frenchman's hand.
"What!"
exclaimed Passe-partout, "has Mr. Fogg risked fifty-five
thousand
pounds? Well, then, all the more reason we should not lose
any
time," he added, as he rose from his chair.
"Fifty-five
thousand pounds," continued Fix, pressing his companion
into
his seat again, as a flask of brandy was placed before them; "and
if I
succeed I shall get a percentage of two thousand pounds. If you
will
assist me I will give you five hundred."
"Assist
you!" exclaimed Passe-partout, as he stared wildly at the
detective.
"Yes,
assist me to keep Mr. Fogg here for some hours longer."
"What is that you say?" said Passe-partout. "Not content with tracking<= o:p>
my
master, do these gentlemen suspect his good face and wish to put
obstacles
in his way? I am ashamed of them."
"What
are you talking about?" said Fix.
"I
say it is a piece of meanness; they might just as well pick Mr.
Fogg's
pocket."
"That
is just the very thing we want to do."
"Then
it is a conspiracy, is it?" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was
getting
excited by the brandy which he unconsciously had swallowed, "a
regular
conspiracy; and they call themselves gentlemen and friends!"
Fix
began to feel very puzzled.
"Friends!"
exclaimed Passe-partout, "members of the Reform Club,
indeed!
Do you know, Mr. Fix, that my master is an honest man, and
when
he has made a bet he wins it fairly?"
"But
can you guess who I am?" said Fix, looking steadily at
Passe-partout.
"An
agent of the members of the club, whose business it is to hinder
my
master; and a dirty job it is, too; so although I have found you
out
long ago, I did not like to betray you to Mr. Fogg."
"Then
he knows nothing about it," said Fix quickly.
"Nothing,"
replied Passe-partout, emptying his glass once more.
The
detective passed his hand over his eyes and considered what he was
to
do. Passe-partout appeared sincere, and this rendered his plan all
the
more difficult; he evidently was not his master's accomplice. "He
will,
therefore, help me," said Fix to himself.
There
was no time to lose. At any risk Fogg must be stopped at Hong
Kong.
"Listen,"
said Fix, in a sharp tone; "I am not what you think me."
"Bah!"
said Passe-partout.
"I
am a detective, sent out by the police authorities in London."
"You
a detective?"
"Yes,
I can prove it. Here is my authority;" and drawing a paper from
his
pocketbook, he exhibited his instructions to the stupefied
Passe-partout,
who was unable to utter a word.
"This wager of Mr. Fogg's," continued Fix, "is merely to blindfold you<= o:p>
and
his colleagues at the Reform Club. He had a motive in securing
your
unconscious complicity."
"But
why?" said Passe-partout.
"For
this reason. On the 28th of last September, the sum of fifty-five
thousand
pounds was stolen from the Bank of England, by a person whose
description
is fortunately known. That description tallies exactly
with
Mr. Fogg's appearance."
"Absurd,"
exclaimed Passe-partout, striking the table with his fist;
"my
master is the most honest man in the world."
"What
do you know about it?" replied Fix. "You only entered his
service
on the day he left on a mad excursion, without luggage, and
carrying
an immense sum in bank-notes; and do you dare to maintain
that
he is an honest man?"
"Yes,
yes," repeated the other mechanically.
"Do
you wish to be arrested as an accomplice?"
Passe-partout
clutched his head with both hands; he was stupefied. He
did
not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg a robber! This
brave,
generous man, the rescuer of Aouda, a thief? And yet
circumstantial
evidence was strong. Passe-partout did not wish to
believe
it. He could not believe in his master's guilt.
"Well,
then, what do you want me to do?" he said, with an effort.
"Look
here," said Fix: "I have tracked Mr. Fogg so far, but as yet I
have
not received a warrant, which I asked to be sent from London. You
must
help me to keep your master in Hong Kong."
"But
I--"
"If
so, I will share with you the reward of two thousand pounds
promised
by the bank."
"Never!"
replied Passe-partout, who attempted to rise, but fell back
utterly
exhausted and stupefied.
"Mr.
Fix," he stammered, "even if you have told the truth, supposing
my
master is the thief you are searching for--which I deny--I have
been,
I am still in his service; he is kind and generous to me, and I
will
never betray him for all the gold in the world."
"You
refuse, then?"
"Absolutely."
"Well,
then," said Fix, "forget all I have said. And now let us have a
drink."
"Yes,
let us have another glass."
Passe-partout
felt that the liquor was overcoming him more and more.
Fix
having made up his mind that he must be separated from his master
at
any price, determined to finish the matter. On the table were some
pipes
of opium. Fix handed one of these to Passe-partout, who took a
few
puffs and fell back perfectly insensible.
"At
last," muttered Fix, as Passe-partout collapsed. "Mr. Fogg will
not
hear of the change of time for the sailing of the Carnatic, and
if
so, he will have to go without this infernal Frenchman."
Then
paying the score, he quitted the tavern.
Showing
how Fix and Fogg come face to face.
While
these events, which gravely compromised Mr. Fogg's future, were
passing,
that gentleman and Mrs. Aouda were walking through the town.
Since
she had accepted Mr. Fogg's escort to
make
some purchases for the voyage, for a lady could not travel with a
hand-bag,
as a gentleman might do. So she bought some necessary
clothing,
etc., and Mr. Fogg overcame all her excuses with his
characteristic
generosity.
"It
is in my own interest," he invariably replied; "a part of my
programme."
Having
purchased what they required, they returned to dinner at the
hotel
Mrs. Aouda subsequently retired to rest, leaving Mr. Fogg
reading
The Times and Illustrated News.
Had
Mr. Fogg been a man likely to be astonished at anything, he would
have
been surprised at the absence of his servant at bedtime; so
believing
that the steamer did not start for Yokohama till the
following
morning, he did not trouble himself; but Passe-partout did
not
appear when Mr. Fogg rang for him next morning, and then he learnt
that
his servant had not come in during the night. Without a word Mr.
Fogg
packed his bag, and sent to call Mrs. Aouda and for a palanquin.
It
was eight o'clock, and the Carnatic was to sail at high-water at
half-past
nine. Mr. Fogg and his companion got into the palanquin and
reached
the quay. Then, and not till then, they were informed that the
Carnatic
had left the previous evening.
Mr.
Fogg, who had made up his mind to find the steamer and the servant
both
awaiting him, was obliged to go without either. He showed no
anxiety,
merely remarking to Mrs. Aouda, "An incident of travel,
madam,
nothing more."
At
this moment, a man who had been watching them approached. It was
Fix.
He approached Mr. Fogg, and said:
"Were
you not one of the passengers on board the Rangoon yesterday,
as
well as myself?"
"Yes,
sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly; "but I have not the honour--"=
"Excuse
me, but I expected to find your servant here."
"Do
you know where he is?" asked the young lady quickly.
"What!"
exclaimed Fix, in feigned surprise, "is he not with you?"
"No,"
replied Mrs. Aouda, "he has been absent since yesterday. Perhaps
he
has sailed in the Carnatic."
"Without
you, madam?" said the detective. "You will excuse my
question,
but you counted on leaving in that steamer?"
"Yes,
sir."
"So
did I, madam; and I am terribly disappointed. The fact is, the
Carnatic
was ready for sea twelve hours sooner than was expected, and
now
we shall have to wait twelve days for another steamer."
Fix
was delighted as he said this. In eight days the warrant would
arrive.
His chances were good. But his disgust may be guessed when he
heard
Fogg say, in his usual calm tone, "I suppose there are other
ships
besides the Carnatic in Hong Kong harbour;" and offering his
arm
to Mrs. Aouda, he turned away towards the docks.
Fix
followed him in a dogged sort of manner. He appeared to be
attached
to Fogg by some invisible cord. But fortune had evidently
abandoned
Phileas Fogg. For three mortal hours he wandered about the
docks,
endeavouring to charter a vessel to take him to Yokohama; but
all
the ships were either loading or unloading, and could not go. The
detective's
spirits rose again.
But
Mr. Fogg was not discouraged. He made up his mind to continue his
search,
even if he had to cross to Macao. At length he was accosted by
a
sailor.
"Is
your honour looking for a boat?"
"Have
you a boat ready to sail?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"I
have. A pilot-boat, No. 43; the best in the harbour."
"Can
she sail fast?"
"She
can make eight or nine knots an hour, or more. Would you like to
see
her?"
"Yes."
"You
will be pleased, I am sure. Is it for a trip that you require
her?"
"Somewhat
more than that; for a voyage."
"A
voyage?"
"I
want you to take me to Yokohama."
The
sailor folded his arms and looked steadily at Mr. Fogg. "Is your
honour
serious?" he said.
"Yes.
I have lost the Carnatic, and I must be at Yokohama on the
14th,
at latest, to catch the steamer for San Francisco."
"I
am very sorry," replied the pilot, "but it is impossible."
"I
will give you a hundred pounds a day and a bonus of two hundred
pounds,
if you arrive in time."
"Are
you in earnest?" asked the pilot.
"Very
much so," replied Mr. Fogg.
The
pilot took a turn up and down the wharf; he looked out to sea, and
was
evidently struggling between his wish to get the money and his
fear
of venturing so far. Fix, all this time, was on tenter-hooks.
Mr.
Fogg turned to Mrs. Aouda, and asked her if she were afraid.
"Not
with you, Mr. Fogg," replied the young lady.
Just
then the pilot returned, twirling his hat in his hands.
"Well,
pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Well,
your honour," replied the pilot; "I cannot risk my life, or my
men,
or even you in such a voyage, in so small a ship, at this time of
year.
Besides, we could not get to Yokohama in time. It is one
thousand
six hundred and fifty miles away."
"Only
one thousand six hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"Oh,
it is all the same." Fix breathed again. "But," continued th=
e
pilot,
"we might manage it in another way."
Fix
scarcely dared to breathe.
"How
do you mean?" asked Fogg.
"By
going to Nagasaki, which is only eleven hundred miles, or to
Shanghai,
which is eight hundred. In the latter case we shall be able
to
keep close in-shore, and have advantage of the current."
"But,"
replied Fogg, "I must take the American mail steamer at
Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
"Well,
why not?" replied the pilot. "The San Francisco does not
start
from Yokohama; it starts from Shanghai, and only calls at
Yokohama
and Nagasaki."
"Are
you quite sure of that?"
"Certain."
"And
when does she leave Shanghai?"
On
the 11th, at seven o'clock in the evening. So we have four days,
which
are ninety-six hours; and at the rate of eight knots an hour, if
the
wind hold, we shall be able to reach Shanghai in time."
"And
when will you be able to start?"
"In
an hour. I only want to buy some provisions and bend the sails."
"Well,
it is a bargain. Are you the owner?"
"Yes;
my name is John Bunsby, owner of the Tankadere."
"Would
you like something on account?"
"If
convenient to your honour."
"Here
are two hundred pounds. Sir," continued Fogg, turning to Fix,
"if
you would like to take advantage of this opportunity--"
"Thank
you, sir," replied Fix. "I was about to beg the favour of you.&qu=
ot;
"Well,
then, we shall be ready in half an hour."
"But
what shall we do about the servant?" said Mrs. Aouda, who was
much
distressed at Passe-partout's absence.
"I
will do all I can for him," replied Fogg; and while they directed
their
steps towards the police-office. Fix went on board the
pilot-boat.
Phileas left the description of his servant with the
police,
and a sum of money to be spent in seeking him. The same
formality
was gone through at the French Consulate; and then procuring
their
luggage, which had been sent back to the hotel, they went down
to
the wharf.
Three
o'clock struck; the pilot-boat No. 43 was ready to start. She
was a
pretty little schooner, about twenty tons, built for speed, like
a
racing-yacht. She was as bright and clean as possible, and Bunsby
evidently
took a pride in his little craft. Her masts raked rather.
She
carried foresail and the usual sails for a ship of her tonnage.
She
could evidently make good way, as indeed she had proved by winning
several
prizes.
The
crew consisted of the owner and four other men, all well
acquainted
with the neighbouring seas, which they scoured in search of
ships
wanting pilots. John Bunsby was a man of about five-and-forty,
vigorous
and full of decision and energy, calculated to reassure the
most
nervous passengers.
Phileas
Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went on board, where they found Fix
already
installed. The accommodation was not extensive, but everything
was
clean and neat.
"I
am sorry I have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix.
The
latter bowed without replying, for he felt somewhat humiliated in
accepting
Mr. Fogg's kindness under the circumstances.
"At
any rate," he thought, "if he is a rascal he is a very polite
one."
At
ten minutes past three the sails were hoisted, the English flag was
run
up to the peak; the passengers took a last look at the quays in
the
hope of descrying Passe-partout, but they were disappointed. Fix
was
somewhat afraid that some chance might bring the lad whom he had
treated
so badly in that direction, and then an explanation would
surely
have ensued of a nature by no means satisfactory to the
detective.
But the Frenchman did not turn up, and no doubt he was
still
under the influence of the opium.
So
John Bunsby stood out to sea, and the Tankadere, with the wind on
the
quarter, went bounding briskly over the waves.
Showing
how the Owner of the Tankadere nearly lost the Bonus of Two
Hundred
Pounds.
This
voyage of eight hundred miles was one of great risk at that
season
of the year in those seas, which are usually very rough,
particularly
during the equinoxes, and it was then the beginning of
November.
It
would have been very much to the advantage of the owner of the
Tankadere
to have gone on to Yokohama, as he was paid so much a day,
but
such a voyage would have been extremely rash. It was a risk to go
to
Shanghai; still, John Bunsby had confidence in his ship, which
sailed
like a bird, and perhaps he was right.
"There
is no need for me to urge you to speed," said Fogg to Bunsby,
when
they had got out to sea.
"Your
honour may depend upon me," replied Bunsby; "I will do all I
can."
"Well,
it is your business and not mine, pilot, and I trust you
thoroughly."
Phileas
Fogg, standing upright, with his legs stretched apart, was as
steady
as a sailor as he gazed over the foaming sea. Mrs. Aouda,
seated
aft, was somewhat nervous as she contemplated the ocean. The
sails
bellied out overhead like great wings, and the schooner ran
before
the wind at a great pace. Night fell. The moon was only in the
first
quarter, and her light would soon be quenched beneath the
horizon.
Clouds were rising in the east, and already banking up.
The
pilot hung out the vessel's lights, an indispensable proceeding,
for
collisions were by no means unfrequent, and any such occurrence,
at
the speed they were now going, would shatter the gallant little
craft
to pieces.
Fix,
seated up in the bows, held himself aloof, as he knew Fogg was
not
much of a talker; besides, he did not quite like to enter into
conversation
with this man whose good offices he had accepted. He
thought
of the future, for it now seemed certain that Fogg would not
stop
at Yokohama, but would immediately take the steamer for San
Francisco,
so as to reach America, where he would be safe. Fogg's plan
seemed
to the detective to be very simple.
Instead
of embarking in England for the United States, like a common
swindler,
Fogg had made a tour three-parts round the globe, so as to
gain
the American continent more safely; and once there, he could
enjoy
himself comfortably with his spoil. But what could Fix do in the
United
States? Should he give up the man? No, certainly not; and until
he had
obtained an act of extradition, he would not lose sight of him.
This
was his duty, and he would carry it out to the bitter end. There
was
one thing, at any rate, to be thankful for, Passe-partout was not
now
with his master; and after Fix's confidence imparted to him, it
was
very important that the servant should not see his master again in
a
hurry.
Phileas
Fogg was himself thinking about his servant, who had so
curiously
disappeared. But after consideration of the circumstances,
it
did not appear improbable that the young man had gone on board the
Carnatic
at the last moment. This was also Mrs. Aouda's opinion, for
she
deeply regretted the worthy fellow's absence, as she was so deeply
indebted
to him. They might, therefore, find him at Yokohama, and if
he
were on the Carnatic, it would be easy to ascertain the fact.
About
ten o'clock the breeze began to freshen, and though it might
have
been prudent to take in a reef or two, the pilot, after taking an
observation,
let the sails stand, for the Tankadere carried her
canvas
well; but everything was prepared to furl the sails in case of
necessity.
At
midnight, Phileas Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went below. Fix had already
turned
in, but the owner and his crew remained on deck all night.
By
sunrise next morning the schooner had made a hundred miles. The log
showed
they were going about eight or nine knots an hour. They were
still
carrying on, and, if the wind held, the chances were in their
favour.
The vessel made her way along the coast all that day. The sea
was not
so rough, as the wind blew off-shore, which was a very
fortunate
circumstance for such a small vessel.
About
noon the breeze fell a little, and shifted to the south-east.
The
owner spread his topsails, but furled them again, as the breeze
showed
signs of freshening once more.
Mr.
Fogg and Mrs. Aouda did not suffer from sea-sickness, and ate with
a
good appetite, and Fix, invited to partake of the meal, was obliged
to
accept very unwillingly. He did not like to travel and eat at the
expense
of the man he was tracking; but yet he was obliged to eat, and
so he
ate.
After
dinner he found an opportunity to speak to Mr. Fogg privately.
"Sir,"
he said--this term scorched his lips, so to speak, and he had
to
control himself; his impulse was to arrest this "gentleman"--&quo=
t;sir,"
said
he, "it is very good of you to give me a passage; but although I
cannot
spend money as freely as you do, I shall be happy to pay my
expenses."
"You
need not say anything about that," replied Mr. Fogg.
"But
if I insist upon it?"
"No,
sir," replied Fogg, in a tone which admitted of no discussion,
"this
is included in my general expenses."
Fix
bowed, he felt half stifled; and going forward, he sat down and
did
not speak for the whole day.
Meantime
they were making good progress. John Bunsby was in hopes of
succeeding,
and frequently said to Mr. Fogg that "they would be in
time;"
to which Fogg merely replied that "he counted upon it." The
crew,
also inspired by the hope of reward, worked hard. Not a sheet
required
bracing, not a sail that was not well hoisted, not one
unnecessary
lurch could be attributed to the steersman. They could not
have
worked the schooner better if they had been sailing a match in
the
Royal Yacht Club Regatta.
By
the evening the log showed that they had run two hundred and twenty
miles,
and Mr. Fogg hoped that when he arrived at Yokohama he would
not
have to record any delay in his journal. If so, the only check he
had
met with since he left London would not affect his journey.
Towards
morning the Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-kien, which
separate
Formosa from the Chinese coasts. The sea was very rough, and
it
was difficult to stand on deck. At daybreak the wind freshened
still
more, and there was every appearance of a storm. The mercury
rose
and fell at intervals. In the south-east the sea rose in a long
swell,
which betokened a tempest.
The
pilot studied the aspect of the heavens for a long time, and at
last
said to Mr. Fogg:
"I
suppose I may tell your honour what I think?"
"Of
course," replied Fogg.
"Well,
then, we are going to have a storm."
"From
the north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg calmly.
"From
the south. A typhoon is approaching."
"I
am glad it is coming from the south, it will help us on."
"Oh,
if you look on it in that light," said Bunsby, "I have no more to=
say."
The
presentiments of Bunsby were fulfilled. During the summer the
typhoon
would have been probably dissipated in an electric cascade,
but
in the winter it would probably have its course. So the pilot took
his
precautions. He took in his sails and set merely the storm-jib,
and
waited.
The
pilot begged his passengers to go below, but in such a narrow and
confined
space the imprisonment was far from agreeable, so none of
them
would quit the deck.
About
eight o'clock the hurricane, with torrents of rain, burst upon
them.
With nothing but the small jib, the Tankadere was almost
lifted
out of the water by the tempest. She darted through the sea
like
a locomotive at full-speed.
All
that day the vessel was hurried towards the north, borne on the
top
of the monstrous waves. Time after time she was almost engulfed,
but
the careful steering of the pilot saved her. The passengers were
drenched
with spray, but took it philosophically. Fix grumbled, no
doubt;
but the brave Aouda regarded her companion and admired his
coolness,
while she endeavoured to imitate it. As for Phileas Fogg, he
took
it as a matter of course.
Hitherto
the Tankadere had been sailing northwards, but towards
evening,
as the pilot had feared, the wind veered round to the
north-west
The schooner plunged terribly in the trough of the sea, and
it
was fortunate she was so solidly built. The tempest increased if
possible
at night, and John Bunsby began to feel anxious; he consulted
his
crew as to what they should do.
He
then came to Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think we should make for one of
the
ports hereabouts."
"So
do I," replied Fogg.
"Yes,"
said the pilot; "but which?"
"I
only know of one," said Fogg quietly.
"And
that is--?"
"Shanghai."
This
reply took the pilot aback rather at first; but recognising Mr.
Fogg's
firmness, he said: "Yes, your honour is right, Shanghai be it."
So
they kept their course.
The
night was fearful; it seemed a miracle that the little vessel did
not
founder. Twice she was caught in the trough of the sea, and would
have
gone down, but that everything was let fly. Mrs. Aouda was
knocked
about, and more than once Mr. Fogg rushed to her assistance,
though
she made no complaint.
At
daybreak the storm was still raging, but suddenly the wind backed
to
the south-east. This was a change for the better, and the
Tankadere
again proceeded on her course, though the cross-sea gave
her
some tremendous blows, sufficient to have crushed a less solid
craft.
The coast was occasionally visible through the mist, but not a
sail
was in sight.
At
noon the weather cleared a little, the gale had blown itself out,
and
the travellers were enabled to take some rest. The night was
comparatively
quiet, and the pilot was induced to set a little more
sail,
and at day-break next morning John Bunsby was able to declare
that
they were less than a hundred miles from Shanghai.
A
hundred miles, and only one day to accomplish the distance. On that
evening
they ought to be at Shanghai if they wished to catch the
steamer
for Yokohama; but for the storm, which had delayed them
several
hours, they would then have been within thirty miles of their
destination.
The
breeze continued to fall, and the sea went down. All canvas was
spread,
and at twelve o'clock the Tankadere was only forty-five miles
from
Shanghai. Six hours still remained, and all were afraid they
could
not do it. Everyone on board, except Phileas Fogg no doubt, felt
the
keenest anxiety. They must maintain a speed of nine knots an hour,
and
the wind was falling rapidly, and coming in puffs.
Nevertheless,
the schooner was so light and carried such a spread of
canvas,
besides being aided by the shore currents, that at six o'clock
Bunsby
reckoned they were only ten miles from the Shanghai river. The
town
itself was situated about twelve miles higher up.
At
seven o'clock they were still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot
swore
a formidable oath as he perceived the bonus of two hundred
pounds
slipping away from him. He looked at Mr. Fogg; Mr. Fogg was
impassible,
although his whole fortune was in the balance.
At
this moment a long black funnel, from which a thick train of smoke
was
issuing, appeared. This was the American steamer leaving Shanghai
at
the proper time.
"Confound
it!" cried Bunsby, as he kept the schooner away a point.
"Signal
her," said Fogg quietly.
There
was a small brass cannon on the forecastle, which was used
during
fogs.
This
piece was charged to the muzzle, but just as the pilot was going
to
fire, Phileas said:
"Hoist
your flag."
The
ensign was run up half-mast. This was a signal of distress, and
they
hoped that the steamer would see it and heave-to to assist them.
"Fire!"
exclaimed Mr. Fogg.
And
the report of the little cannon immediately boomed over the sea.
Showing
how Passe-partout finds out that, even at the
prudent
to have Money in his Pocket.
The
Carnatic, bound for
November.
Two cabins were unoccupied--they had been engaged by Mr.
Phileas
Fogg. The following morning the sailors were astonished to
perceive
a dishevelled, half-stupefied figure emerge from the
fore-cabin
and sit down on deck.
This
passenger was Passe-partout, and this is what had happened:
Soon
after Fix had left the opium-tavern, two waiters had laid
Passe-partout
upon the couch reserved for smokers; three hours later
Passe-partout,
haunted by one idea, woke up and struggled against the
stupefying
influence of the drug. The thought of his unfulfilled
duties
assisted him to shake off his torpor. He left the den of
drunkenness,
and guiding himself by the walls, he staggered on, crying
out,
as in a dream: "The Carnatic, the Carnatic!"
The
steamer was alongside the wharf, ready to start. Passe-partout had
but a
few paces to traverse; he rushed across the gangway, and fell
senseless
on the deck just as the paddles began to revolve. The
sailors,
accustomed to this sort of thing, took him down to the
fore-cabin,
and when he awoke he was fifty miles from Hong Kong.
This
is how he found himself on board the Carnatic, inhaling the
sea-air,
which sobered him by degrees. He began to collect his
thoughts,
which was no easy matter, but at length he was able to
recall
the occurrences of the day before--Fix's confidence and the
opium-smoking,
etc.
"The
fact is," he thought, "I have been very tipsy. What will Mr. Fogg=
say?
At any rate, I have not missed the steamer, and that is the
principal
thing;" then he thought of Fix. "As for him," he muttered,
"I
trust he has not dared to follow us on board this ship, as he said.
A
detective tracking my master, and accusing him of robbing the Bank
of
England! Bosh! he is no more a robber than I am an assassin."
Now,
was he to tell all this to his master? Would it not be better to
wait
till they all reached London, and when the detective had followed
them
all round the world, to have a good laugh at him? This was a
point
to be considered. The first thing was to find Mr. Fogg and ask
his
pardon.
Passe-partout
accordingly got up; the sea was rough, and the ship
rolled
considerably. It was with some difficulty he reached the
quarterdeck,
but could not see anyone at all like his master or Mrs.
Aouda.
"All
right," he thought, "the lady is not up yet, and Mr. Fogg is
probably
playing whist as usual."
Passe-partout
accordingly went down to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not
there.
All he could do now was to ask the purser for his master's
cabin.
That individual replied that he knew no passenger by the name
of
Fogg.
"Excuse
me," said Passe-partout, "he is a tall, cool, quiet-looking
gentleman,
and is accompanied by a young lady."
"There
is no young lady on board," said the purser. "However, here is
the
passenger-list, and you can see for yourself."
Passe-partout
did so. His master's name was not entered.
Suddenly
an idea occurred to him, and he said: "Am I on the
Carnatic?"
"Yes,"
replied the purser.
"On
the way to Hong Kong?"
"Yes,
decidedly."
Passe-partout
for the moment was afraid he had got on the wrong ship,
but
if he was on the Carnatic it was evident his master was not.
Passe-partout
fell back on a chair. He was thunder-struck. All at once
the
light broke in upon his mind; he remembered that the hour of the
ship
sailing had been altered, that he ought to have told his master,
and
he had not done so. It was therefore his fault that they had
missed
the vessel.
His
fault no doubt, but still more the fault of that traitor who had
endeavoured
to keep his master at Hong Kong, and had made him
(Passe-partout)
tipsy. He saw it all now. His master was ruined,
arrested,
and imprisoned perhaps. Passe-partout was furious. Ah, if
Fix
ever came within his reach, what a settling of accounts there
would
be!
Passe-partout
by degrees recovered his composure, and began to look
things
in the face. He was on his route to Japan, at any rate, but he
had
no money in his pocket, and this was not a pleasant reflection. He
literally
did not possess a penny. Fortunately his passage had been
paid,
so he had five or six days to make up his mind. He ate
accordingly
for the whole party, and as if there was nothing to be got
to eat
when he reached Japan.
The
Carnatic entered the harbour of Yokohama on the morning tide of
the
13th, and came alongside the quay, near the Custom House, amidst a
crowd
of ships of every nationality.
Passe-partout
went on shore to this curious land without any
enthusiasm;
he had nothing to do but to wander aimlessly through the
streets.
He first found himself in a thoroughly European quarter of
the
town, with houses ornamented with verandahs and elegant
peristyles.
This portion of the town occupied all the space between
the
promontory of the Treaty and the river, and included docks and
warehouses,
with many streets and squares. Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta,
were a crowd of Americans, English, Chinese, and Dutch
merchants
ready to buy or sell almost anything, and Passe-partout felt
as
strange amongst them as a Hottentot might have done.
He
had one resource at any rate, he could apply to the French or
English
consuls; but he shrank from telling his adventures, which were
so
intimately connected with his master. So before doing so, he
thought
he would try every other chance for a livelihood.
After
traversing the European quarter, he entered the Japanese
district,
and made up his mind to push on to Yeddo if necessary.
The
native quarter of Yokohama is called Benter, after the sea-goddess
worshipped
on the neighbouring islands. Here he noticed beautiful
groves
of fir and cedar; sacred gates of peculiar construction;
bridges,
enclosed by bamboos and reeds; and temples, surrounded by
immense
and melancholy-looking cedars, wherein Buddhist priests and
votaries
of Confucius resided. There were long streets with crowds of
infants,
who looked as if they were cut out of Japanese screens, and
who
were playing with bandy-legged poodles, and with yellow cats
without
tails, of a very lazy and very affectionate disposition.
The
streets were crowded with people passing and repassing: priests,
policemen,
custom-house officers, and soldiers--the Mikado's guard, in
silken
doublets and coats of mail, as well as other soldiers of all
descriptions;
for in Japan the army is as much regarded as it is
despised
in China. There were friars, pilgrims with long robes, and
civilians
with long black hair, large heads, long waists, thin legs,
and
short of stature; with complexions, some copper-colour, some pale,
but
never yellow like the Chinese, from whom the Japanese differ
essentially.
Amongst the carriages, the palanquins, the barrows with
sails,
bamboo litters, he noticed many very pretty women moving about
with
tiny steps, on tiny feet, and shod with canvas shoes, with straw
sandals
and wooden clogs. They appeared to have small eyes, fiat
chests,
black teeth, according to fashion; but wearing gracefully the
national
robe called "kirimon," a sort of dressing-gown, crossed with
a silk
scarf and tied behind in a large knot, a mode which Parisian
ladies
have borrowed from the Japanese.
Passe-partout
wandered about in the crowd for some hours, looking at
the
shops, at the glittering jewellers' establishments; the
restaurants,
which he could not enter; the tea-houses, where they
drank
"saki," a liquor made from the fermentation of rice; and
comfortable-looking
tobacco-shops, where they smoked, not opium, which
is
almost unknown in Japan, but a fine tobacco. Thence he went on into
the
fields amongst the rice-plantations; there were flowers of all
sorts,
giving forth their last perfumes--beautiful camellias, not on
bushes,
but on trees; and bamboo enclosures, with cherry, plum, and
apple
trees, Which the natives cultivate rather for their blossom than
their
fruit. On almost every cedar-tree an eagle was perched, and on
the
willows were melancholy herons, standing on one leg; and crows,
ducks,
hawks, wild geese, and a quantity of cranes, which are looked
upon
as sacred by the Japanese, as conferring upon them long life and
happiness.
As he
wandered on, Passe-partout noted some violets amid the grass.
"Good,"
he said, "here is my supper;" but he found they were
scentless.
"No
chance there," he thought.
Certainly,
as a precaution, he had taken care to have a good meal
before
he left the Carnatic, but after walking a whole day, he felt
somewhat
hungry. He had already remarked that the butchers' shops
displayed
neither mutton, pork, nor kids; and as he knew that it was
forbidden
to kill oxen, which are reserved for farming, he concluded
that
meat was scarce in Japan. He was not mistaken, but he could have
put
up with wild boar even, partridges, quails, fish, or fowl, which
the
Japanese eat almost exclusively with rice. However, he kept his
spirits
up, and looked forward to a meal next day.
Night
fell, and Passe-partout re-entered the native quarter, where he
wandered
through the streets in the midst of coloured lanterns,
looking
on at the conjurers, and at the astrologers, who had collected
a crowd
round their telescopes. Then he wandered back to the harbour,
lighted
up by the fishermen's torches.
At
length the streets began to get empty, and to the crowd succeeded
the
patrols. These officers, in their splendid uniforms and followed
by
their attendants, looked like ambassadors; and every time
Passe-partout
met one of these parties, he said to himself:
"Good,
good; another Japanese embassy going to Europe."
In
which Passe-partout's Nose gets immeasurably long.
Next
morning, Passe-partout, very tired and very hungry, began to
think
that he ought to eat something, and the sooner the better. He
still
had his watch, which he could sell, but he would rather die of
hunger
than do that; so now or never, he must make use of his
powerful,
if not melodious, voice, with which nature had endowed him.
He
knew several French and English songs, and resolved to make the
attempt.
The Japanese were no doubt fond of music, since they were
always
beating cymbals, tomtoms, and drums, and they would no doubt
appreciate
European talent.
But
perhaps it was somewhat early to start a concert, and the
dilettanti,
awakened inopportunely, would not, perhaps, pay him in
current
coin of the realm. So Passe-partout decided to wait; and
meantime
it occurred to him that he might as well change his clothes
for
some more in keeping with his present position, and afterwards he
might
be able to purchase something to eat.
He
immediately set about to carry out the idea, and after a long
search
he discovered a dealer in old clothes, with whom he made an
exchange,
and left the shop dressed in a Japanese robe and discoloured
turban;
but he had some money in his pocket also.
"All
right," he thought; "I must only fancy myself at a carnival."=
;
Passe-partout's
first care was to enter a quiet-looking tea-house, and
then,
with a portion of fowl and some rice, he breakfasted like a man
who
had not yet solved the problem as to where dinner was to come
from.
"Now,"
he thought, after a hearty meal, "I must consider what I am
about.
All I can do now is to sell this dress for another still more
Japanesey.
I must think of some means of quitting this Country of the
Sun
as quickly as possible, and I shall not have a very pleasant
recollection
of it."
He
accordingly went to look at the steamers about to sail to America,
for
he intended to offer himself as a cook or steward, in exchange for
his
passage and food. Once at San Francisco he would manage to get on.
The
important thing was to cross the ocean. He was not the man to
think
about a thing very long, so he went at once to the docks; but
his
project, which had appeared so simple in idea, was not so easy to
execute.
What need was there for a cook or steward on board an
American
mail-boat? And how could they trust him in his present
costume?
What reference or recommendation could he offer?
As he
was turning these questions over in his mind his gaze fell upon
a
placard, which a circus clown was carrying through the streets. The
notice
was in English, and read as follows:
THE
HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR'S
TROUPE
OF
JAPANESE ACROBATS.
POSITIVELY THE LAST
REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR
DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA,
OF THE
LONG - NOSES - LONG - NOSES.=
Under the Special Patronage =
of the
God Tingou.
GREAT ATTRACTION!
"The
United States of America!" exclaimed Passe-partout; "that suits
me
all round."
He
followed the "sandwich-man," and was soon in the Japanese quarter=
once
again. In about a quarter of an hour they stopped before a large
hut,
adorned with flags, upon which a troupe of jugglers were
depicted,
without any attempt at perspective.
This
was the establishment of the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, a sort of
Barnum,
a director of a troupe of acrobats and jugglers, who were
giving
their last representations, prior to their departure to the
United
States. Passe-partout entered and asked for the proprietor. Mr.
Batulcar
appeared in person.
"What
do you want?" he said to Passe-partout, whom he took for a native.
"Do
you need a servant, sir?" asked Passe-partout.
"A
servant!" echoed the Barnum, as he stroked his beard; "I have two=
,
obedient
and faithful, who have never left me, and serve me for
nothing
but nourishment; and here they are," he added, as he extended
his
brawny arms, on which the great veins stood out like whipcord.
"So
I can be of no use to you, then?"
"Not
the least."
"The
devil! It would have been very convenient if I could have sailed
with
you."
"Ah,
yes," said the Honourable Batulcar; "you are just about as much a=
Japanese
as I am a baboon, I guess. What are you dressed up like that
for?"
"One
is obliged to dress as one can."
"That's
a fact. You are a Frenchman, ain't you?"
"Yes;
a Parisian."
"Then
I suppose you know how to make grimaces?"
"Well,"
replied Passe-partout, somewhat vexed that his nationality
should
provoke such a question. "It is true that we Frenchmen do know
how
to make grimaces, but no better than Americans."
"That's
so. Well, if I cannot take you as a servant I can engage you
as a
clown. You see, my lad, this is how it is: in France they exhibit
foreign
clowns, and in foreign countries French clowns."
"I
see."
"You
are pretty strong, I suppose?"
"More
particularly when I get up after dinner."
"And
you know how to sing?"
"Yes,"
replied Passe-partout, who at one time had sung in the street
concerts.
"But
can you sing standing on your head with a top spinning on the
sole
of your left foot, and a sword balanced on your right foot?"
"Something
of that sort," replied Passe-partout, who recalled the
acrobatic
performances of his youth.
"Well,
that is the whole business," replied the Honourable Mr.
Batulcar.
And
the engagement was ratified there and then.
At
length Passe-partout had found something to do. He was engaged to
make
one of a celebrated Japanese troupe. This was not a high
position,
but in eight days he would be on his way to San Francisco.
The
performance was advertised to commence at three o'clock, and
although
Passe-partout had not rehearsed the "business," he was
obliged
to form one of the human pyramid composed of the "Long-Noses
of
the God Tingou." This was the great attraction, and was to close
the
performance.
The
house was crowded before three o'clock by people of all races,
ages,
and sexes. The musicians took up their positions, and performed
vigorously
on their noisy instruments.
The
performance was very much the same as all acrobatic displays; but
it
must be stated that the Japanese are the cleverest acrobats in the
world.
One of them, with a fan and a few bits of paper, did the
butterfly
and flower trick; another traced in the air with the smoke
of
his pipe a compliment to the audience; another juggled with some
lighted
candles which he extinguished successively as they passed his
mouth,
and which he relit one after the other without for a moment
ceasing
his sleight-of-hand performances; another produced a series of
spinning-tops
which, in his hands, played all kinds of pranks as they
whirled
round--they ran along the stems of pipes, on the edges of
swords,
upon wires, and even on hairs stretched across the stage; they
spun
round crystal goblets, crossed bamboo ladders, ran into all the
comers
of the stage, and made strange music, combining various tones,
as
they revolved. The jugglers threw them up in the air, knocked them
from
one to the other like shuttlecocks, put them into their pockets
and
took them out again, and all the time they never ceased to spin.
But
after all the principal attraction was the performance of the
"Long-Noses,"
which has never been seen in Europe.
These
"Long-Noses" were the select company under the immediate
patronage
of the god Tingou. Dressed in a costume of the Middle Ages,
each
individual wore a pair of wings; but they were specially
distinguished
by the inordinate length of their noses and the uses
they
made of them. These noses were simply bamboos from five to ten
feet
long, some straight, some curved, some ribbed, and some with
warts
painted on them. On these noses, which were firmly fixed on
their
natural ones, they performed their acrobatic feats. A dozen of
these
artists lay upon their backs, while their comrades, dressed to
represent
lightning-conductors, leaped from one to the other of their
friends'
noses, performing the most skilful somersaults.
The whole was to conclude with the "Pyramid," as had been announced,<= o:p>
in
which fifty "Long-Noses" were to represent the "Car of
Juggernaut."
But
instead of forming the pyramid on each other's shoulders, these
artistes
mounted on each others noses. Now one of them, who used to
act
as the base of the car, had left the troupe, and as only strength
and
adroitness were necessary for the position, Passe-partout had been
selected
to fill it on this occasion.
That
worthy fellow felt very melancholy when he had donned his
costume,
adorned with parti-coloured wings, and had fixed his six-foot
nose
to his face; but, at any rate, the nose would procure him
something
to eat, and he made up his mind to do what he had to do.
He
went on the stage and joined his colleagues; they all lay down on
their
backs, and then another party placed themselves on the long
noses
of the first, another tier of performers climbed up on them,
then
a third and a fourth; and upon the noses a human monument was
raised
almost to the flies.
Then
the applause rose loud and long. The orchestra played a deafening
tune,
when suddenly the pyramid shook, one of the noses at the base
fell
out, and the whole pyramid collapsed like a house of cards!
It
was all owing to Passe-partout. Clearing himself from the scramble,
and
leaping over the footlights, without the aid of his wings, he
scaled
the gallery, and fell at the feet of one of the spectators,
crying
out, as he did so, "Oh my master, my master!"
"You!"
"Yes,
it is I."
"Well
then, under those circumstances you had better go on board the
steamer."
So
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, who accompanied him, and Passe-partout hastened
out
of the theatre. At the door they met the Honourable Mr. Batulcar,
who
was furious, and demanded damages for the breaking of the
"Pyramid."
Mr. Fogg quickly appeased him by handing him a roll of
notes.
At
half-past six, the appointed hour for the sailing of the vessel,
Mr.
Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout, who still wore his wings and
long
nose, stepped upon the deck of the American mail-steamer.
In
which the
The
reader will easily guess what happened at
made
by the Tankadere were perceived by the mail-steamer, and soon
afterwards,
Phileas Fogg having paid the price agreed upon, as well as
a
bonus of five hundred and fifty pounds, he and his party were soon
on
board the steamer.
They
reached Yokohama on the 14th, and Phileas Fogg, leaving Fix to
his
own devices, went on board the Carnatic, where he heard, to
Aouda's
great delight, and probably to his own though he did not
betray
it, that a Frenchman named Passe-partout had arrived in her the
day
before.
Mr.
Fogg, who was obliged to leave for San Francisco that very
evening,
immediately set about searching for his servant. To no
purpose
was it that he inquired at the Consulate or walked about the
streets,
and he gave up the search. Was it by chance or presentiment
that
he visited Mr. Batulcar's entertainment? He would not certainly
have
recognised his servant in his eccentric dress, but Passe-partout
had
spied his master out. He could not restrain a movement of the
nose,
and so the collapse had occurred.
All
this Passe-partout learnt from Mrs. Aouda, who also told him how
they
had come from Hong Kong with a certain Mr. Fix.
Passe-partout
did not even wink at the name of Fix, for he thought the
moment
had not yet come to tell his master what had passed; so in his
recital
of his own adventures, he merely said that he had been
overtaken
by opium.
Mr.
Fogg listened coldly to his excuses, and then lent him money
sufficient
to obtain proper clothes. In about an hour he had got rid
of
his nose and wings, and was once more himself again.
The
steamer in which they were crossing was called the General
Grant,
and belonged to the Pacific Mail Company. She was a
paddle-steamer
of two thousand five hundred tons, had three masts, and
at
twelve knots an hour would not take more than twenty-one days to
cross
the ocean; so Phileas Fogg was justified in thinking that he
would
reach San Francisco on the 2nd of December, New York on the
11th,
and London on the 20th, so gaining several hours on the fatal
21st.
Nothing
of any consequence occurred on the voyage. The Pacific fully
bore
out its name, and was as calm as Mr. Fogg himself. Mrs. Aouda
felt
more and more attached to this taciturn man by even stronger ties
than
gratitude. She was more deeply impressed than she was aware of,
and
almost unconsciously gave herself up to emotion, which, however,
did
not appear to have any effect upon Mr. Fogg. Besides, she took the
greatest
interest in his projects--anything that threatened to
interfere
with his plans disquieted her extremely. She frequently
consulted
with Passe-partout, and he, guessing how deeply she was
interested,
praised his master all day long. He calmed her
apprehensions,
insisted that the most difficult part of the journey
had
been accomplished, that they would be soon in civilised countries,
and
the railway to New York and the transatlantic steamer to Liverpool
would
bring them home within their time.
Nine
days after leaving Yokohama, Mr. Fogg had traversed just exactly
one
half of the globe. On the 23rd of November this General Grant
passed
the 180th meridian, the antipodes of London. Of the eighty days
he
had had, he had, it is true, spent fifty-two, and only twenty-eight
remained;
but it must be remarked that if he had only gone halfway,
according
to the difference of meridians, he had really accomplished
two-thirds
of his journey. He had been obliged to make long detours;
but
had he followed the 50th parallel, which is that of London, the
distance
would only have been twelve thousand miles, whereas by the
caprices
of locomotion he had actually been obliged to travel
twenty-six
thousand miles, of which he had now finished seventeen
thousand
five hundred. But now it was all plain sailing, and Fix was
not
there to interfere with him.
It
also happened on that day that Passe-partout made a great
discovery.
It may be remembered that he had insisted on keeping London
time
with his famous family watch, and despised all other timekeepers
on
the journey. Now on this day, although he had not touched it, his
watch
agreed exactly with the ship's chronometer. His triumph was
complete,
and he almost wished Fix had been there that he might crow
over
him.
"What
a lot of falsehoods the fellow told me about the meridians, the
sun,
and the moon. Nice sort of time we should keep if we listened to
such
as he. I was quite sure that the sun would regulate itself by my
watch
one of these days."
Passe-partout
did not know that if his watch had been divided into the
twenty-four
hours like Italian clocks, the hands would now show that
it
was nine o'clock in the evening instead of nine o'clock in the
morning--that
is to say, the one-and-twentieth hour after midnight,
which
is the difference between London time and that at the 180th
meridian.
But this Passe-partout would not have acknowledged even if
he
understood it, and, in any case, if the detective had been on
board.
Passe-partout would have argued with him on any subject.
Now,
where was Fix at that moment?
Fix
was actually on board the General Grant.
In
fact, when he reached Yokohama, the detective immediately went to
the
English Consulate, where he found the warrant which had come by
the
Carnatic, on which steamer they thought he himself had arrived.
His
disappointment may be guessed, for the warrant was now useless,
and
an act of extradition would be difficult to cause Fogg to be
arrested.
"Well,"
he thought, when his first anger had evaporated, "if the
warrant
is no use here it will be in England. The fellow is returning
to
his native land, thinking he has put the police off the scent. I
will
follow him; but I hope to goodness some of this money will be
left.
He must already have spent more than five thousand pounds;
however,
the bank can afford it."
So he
made up his mind to proceed on the General Grant, and was
actually
on board when Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda arrived. He was
surprised
to recognise Passe-partout in such a dress, but he quickly
went
down-stairs to avoid explanation, and hoped, thanks to the number
of passengers,
that he would remain unperceived by his enemy. But that
very
day he came face to face with Passe-partout.
Passe-partout,
without a word, caught him by the throat, and greatly
to
the delight of the bystanders, who immediately made bets on the
result,
he proved the superiority of the French system of boxing over
the
English.
Passe-partout
was much refreshed by this exercise. Fix rose in a very
dishevelled
condition, and asked his adversary "whether he had quite
finished?"
"For
the present, yes."
"Then
let me speak to you."
"But--"
"It
is all in your master's interest."
Passe-partout
seemed conquered by the detective's coolness, and
followed
Fix to the fore part of the ship.
"You
have given me a licking," said the detective. "So far, so good. I=
expected
it; but just now you must listen to me. Hitherto I have been
playing
against Mr. Fogg. I am now in his favour."
"Oh,
then you believe him honest at last?"
"By
no means. I think he is a thief. Be quiet, hear me out. So long as
Mr.
Fogg was on British territory, I did all I could to detain him
till
the warrant for his arrest arrived. It was I who put the Bombay
priests
on your track. I hocussed you at Hong Kong. I separated you
from
your master, and caused him to lose the Yokohama steamer."
Passe-partout
clenched his fists as he listened.
"But
now," continued Fix, "Mr. Fogg appears likely to return to
England.
All right, I will follow him. But in future I will do as much
to
keep his way clear, as I have done to prevent his progress. I have
changed
my game, and have done so for my own interest; your interest
is
the same as mine, for it will be only in England that you will ever
find
out whether your master is honest or not."
Passe-partout
listened attentively, and felt that Fix meant what he
said.
"Are
we friends?" asked Fix.
"Friends,
no; allies, yes; but only to a certain point, for at the
least
sign of treason, I will twist your neck."
"That's
a bargain," said the detective calmly.
Eleven
days afterwards, viz. on the 3rd of December, the General
Grant
entered the Golden Gate of San Francisco.
Mr.
Fogg had neither gained nor lost a day.
A
Glimpse of
At
seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Fogg and his companions landed in
and
unload. There they mingled with ships and steamers of all
nationalities,
and steam ferry-boats with two or three decks which
performed
the service on the Sacramento and its affluents.
Passe-partout
was so delighted to reach America, that he thought it
necessary
to execute one of his most active leaps. But when he landed
upon
the quay, he found the planks worm-eaten, and he went through
them.
His cry of alarm frightened all the birds which perched upon
these
floating quays.
Mr.
Fogg's first care was to ascertain when the next train left for
New
York. It started at six o'clock, so they had a whole day before
them.
Then hiring a carriage, they drove to the International Hotel.
From
his position on the box of the vehicle, Passe-partout observed
with
great curiosity the wide streets, the rows of lofty houses, the
churches
and other places of worship built in the Anglo-Saxon gothic
style,
immense docks, palatial warehouses, innumerable cabs,
omnibuses,
and tramway-cars; while Americans, Europeans, Chinese, and
Indians
occupied the pathways. San Francisco surprised Passe-partout.
It
was no longer the habitation of bandits, incendiaries, and
assassins,
who gambled for gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a
knife
in the other. This "good time" had passed. The city was now the
hive
of commerce. The tower of the city-hall overlooked the labyrinth
of
streets and avenues, which crossed each other at right angles,
amongst
which verdant squares extended; and the Chinese quarter looked
like
an importation from the Celestial Empire in a toy-puzzle.
Sombreros,
red shirts, and Indian head-dresses had given way to silk
hats
and black coats, and some of the principal streets were lined
with
splendid shops, offering the products of the whole world for
sale.
When
Passe-partout reached the International Hotel, he could scarcely
recognise
that he was not in England. The ground-floor of this immense
building
was occupied by a bar, at which free lunch of cold meat,
oyster
soup, biscuits and cheese, was always to be had; wine or beer
had
to be paid for. The restaurant was comfortable. Mr. Fogg and Mrs.
Aouda
sat down to a table, and were waited on by the blackest of
negroes.
After
breakfast, Phileas Fogg, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda, went to the
English
Consul to have his passport viséd. On the pavement he met
his
servant, who wanted to know whether he should not purchase some
revolvers
and rifles. Passe-partout had heard of Sioux and Pawnees,
who
are in the habit of stopping the trains. His master replied that
the
precaution was needless, but permitted him to do what he pleased
in
the matter, and pursued his way to the Consulate.
He
had not gone very far when, of course by the merest chance, he met
Fix.
The detective appeared very much astonished. Was it possible that
he
and Mr. Fogg had crossed in the same steamer, and never met? Fix
professed
himself honoured at meeting the gentleman to whom he owed so
much.
Business called him to Europe, and he would be proud to travel
in
such agreeable company.
Mr.
Fogg replied that the honour would be his, and thereupon Fix, who
had
made up his mind not to lose sight of the other, requested
permission
to accompany Mr. Fogg in his walks about the city, which
was
granted.
So
the three travellers soon found themselves in Montgomery Street,
and
on the outskirts of a great crowd. People were everywhere looking
on
and shouting, going about carrying large printed bills; flags, and
streamers
were waving, and everyone was calling out "Hurrah for
Camerfield!"
or "Hurrah for Maudiboy!"
It
was a political meeting, at least Fix thought so; and said to Mr.
Fogg
that it might perhaps be better not to mingle with the crowd for
fear
of accidents.
Mr.
Fogg agreed, and added "that blows, even though inflicted in a
political
sense, were nevertheless blows."
Fix
smiled, and then in order to be able to see without being hustled,
the
three travellers mounted a flight of steps at the upper end of the
street.
Opposite was a large platform towards which the crowd appeared
to be
moving.
Mr.
Fogg could not form any opinion as to what the meeting was about.
Perhaps
it was the nomination of a governor of a State, or of a member
of
Congress, which was not unlikely. Just then the excitement of the
crowd
became greater, fists were raised as if to register a vote by a
show
of hands. The crowd swayed backwards and forwards, flags were
displayed
and immediately torn to pieces, hats were smashed, and the
greater
part of the crowd seemed to have grown suddenly shorter.
"It
is evidently a political meeting," said Fix; "perhaps it is about=
the
Alabama Claims, although they are settled by this time."
"Perhaps
it is," replied Mr. Fogg.
"At
any rate," continued Fix, "here are the candidates. The Honourabl=
e
Mr.
Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Maudiboy have met."
Aouda,
leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, was regarding the tumult with
curiosity,
and Fix was about to ask the reason of the disturbance when
the
uproar increased to a terrific extent. The crowd became more
excited,
blows were exchanged, boots and shoes were sent whirling
through
the air, and the spectators thought they could hear the crack
of
revolvers mingling with the cries of men. The combatants approached
the
steps on which the party had taken refuge. One of the candidates
had evidently
been repulsed, but whether Camerfield or Maudiboy had
got
the best of it, mere spectators could not tell.
"I
think we had better retire," said Fix; "if there is any discussio=
n
about
England, and we were recognised, we might receive some injury."
"An
Englishman--" began Mr. Fogg.
But
he never finished the sentence, for a tremendous uproar arose on
the
terrace just behind them, and there were loud shouts for Maudiboy,
a
party of whose adherents were taking their opponents in the flank.
Our
travellers were now between two fires; it was too late to escape;
the
torrent of men armed with life-preservers and sticks could not be
withstood.
Phileas Fogg and Fix did all they could to protect their
fair
companions with the weapons nature had provided, but
unsuccessfully.
A great ruffian, with a red beard, who appeared to be
the
chief of the band, was about to strike Mr. Fogg, and would
probably
have done him serious injury if Fix had not stepped in and
received
the blow in his stead, thereby getting his hat completely
smashed.
"You
low Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg contemptuously.
"You
English beast!" replied the other.
"We
shall meet again."
"Whenever
you please."
"What
is your name?"
"Phileas
Fogg; and yours?"
"Colonel
Stamp Proctor."
And
the tide of humanity swept past, overturning Fix, who, however,
speedily
regained his feet, and though much dishevelled was not
seriously
hurt. His overcoat was torn in two, and his trousers were
more
like those worn by the Indians; but fortunately Aouda had
escaped,
and Fix only showed any traces of the encounter.
"Thank
you," said Mr. Fogg to the detective when they were out of the
crowd.
"Don't
mention it," replied Fix; "let us go on."
"Where
to?"
"To
a tailor's."
In
fact this course had become necessary, for the clothes of both men
were
torn as badly as if they had taken an active part in the contest,
but
in an hour they were newly clad and safely back at the hotel
again.
There
they found Passe-partout waiting and armed with a dozen
six-barrelled
central-fire revolvers. When he perceived Fix with Mr.
Fogg
he frowned, but when Mrs. Aouda had told him all that had passed
his
brow cleared. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy; he was an
ally,
and was adhering to his agreement.
After
dinner they took a carriage and drove to the railway-station. As
Mr.
Fogg was getting into the cab he said to Fix, "Have you seen that
Colonel
Proctor since?"
"No,"
replied Fix.
"I
will make a point of coming back to America to find him out,"
replied
Fogg coolly. "It would never do for an Englishman to allow
himself
to be treated as he treated us."
The
detective smiled, but made no reply. It was evident, however, that
Mr.
Fogg was of that race of Britons who, though they do not permit
duelling
at home, fight in foreign countries when their honour is in
any
way attacked.
At a
quarter to six the travellers reached the railway-station, and
found
the train ready. Mr. Fogg called a porter and asked him the
reason
of the excitement that afternoon.
"It
was a meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"I
thought there was some great commotion in the streets."
"It
was merely an election meeting."
"For
a commander-in-chief, no doubt?" suggested Mr. Fogg.
"Oh
dear no," replied the man. "It was for a justice of the peace.&qu=
ot;
On
this reply Phileas Fogg entered the train, which started almost
immediately.
Showing
how Mr. Fogg and Party journeyed in the Pacific Express.
"From
ocean to ocean," as the Americans say, and this sentence is the
usual
expression to intimate the crossing of the continent by the
Pacific
Railway. That line is really divided into two, viz. the
Central
Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden; and the Union
Pacific,
between Ogden and Omaha. There are five trunk-lines from
Omaha
to New York.
New
York and San Francisco are thus united by a continuous iron road
more
than three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles in length;
between
the Pacific and Omaha the railroad traverses a country still
inhabited
by Indians and wild beasts, and a vast extent of territory
which
the Mormons began to colonise in 1845, when they were driven out
from
Illinois.
Formerly,
under the most favourable circumstances, the journey from
New
York to San Francisco occupied six months, now it is accomplished
in
seven days.
It
was in 1862 that, notwithstanding the opposition of Confederate
members
of Congress, who desired a more southerly route, the railroad
track
was planned between the forty-first and the forty-second
parallels
of latitude. President Lincoln himself fixed the termination
of
the new line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was immediately begun
and
continued with characteristic American energy, which is neither
red-tapeish
nor bureaucratic. The rapidity of the work did not affect
its
completeness; they laid a mile and a half of line across the
prairie
every day; an engine, carrying the rails to be used next day,
ran
on the line only just laid, and advanced as quickly as they were
fixed.
The
Pacific railroad has several branches in the States of Iowa,
Kansas,
Colorado, and Oregon. When it leaves Omaha the line runs along
the
left bank of the river Platte, as far as the mouth of the northern
branch,
follows the south branch, crosses the Laramine territory and
the
Wahsatch Mountains to Salt Lake City (the Mormon capital), plunges
into
the Tuilla Valley across the desert, Mounts Cedar and Humboldt,
the
Humboldt river and the Sierra Nevada, and then descends by
Sacramento
to the Pacific; the gradient all the way, even over the
Rocky
Mountains, not exceeding a hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such
was the line along which Phileas Fogg hoped to be carried to New
York
in seven days in time to reach the Steamer to Liverpool on the
11th.
The
car in which our travellers were seated was a sort of long
omnibus,
with four wheels at each end, without compartments; rows of
seats
were placed at each side, a passage running between them from
end
to end of this carriage, and practically of the train, for every
carriage
was closely connected with the next. There were drawing-room
cars,
smoking-cars, and restaurants. The only thing wanting was the
theatre-car,
but no doubt that will some day be supplied. Vendors of
books
and papers, eatables, drinkables, and tobacco, continually
passed
through the train.
The
train started from Oakland Station at six p.m. It was already
dark,
and snow was threatening; the pace did not exceed twenty miles
an
hour, including stoppages. There was not much conversation amongst
the
passengers, and most of them soon went to sleep. Passe-partout was
next
to the detective, but did not address him, for after what had
happened
there could be no sympathy between them. Fix had not altered,
but
Passe-partout was extremely reserved, and on the least suspicion
would
have strangled his former friend.
In
about an hour snow began to fall, but not sufficiently thick to
hinder
the progress of the train. Nothing could be seen from the
windows
but an immense white sheet, against which the steam of the
engine
looked gray.
At
eight o'clock the steward entered and said that bed-time had come.
The
backs of the seats were thrown down, bedsteads were pulled out,
and
berths improvised in a few moments. By this ingenious system each
passenger
was provided with a bed, and protected by curtains from
prying
eyes. The sheets were clean, the pillows soft. There was
nothing
to do but to go to bed and sleep, which everybody did as if
they
were on board ship, while the train rushed on across the State of
California.
The
territory between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly,
and
the railroad runs in a north-easterly direction along the American
river
which falls into the Bay of San Pablo. The hundred and twenty
miles'
distance between these cities was accomplished in six hours,
and
as it was midnight when they passed through Sacramento, the
travellers
could see nothing of the city.
Leaving
Sacramento and passing Junction, Rochin, Auburn, and Colfax,
the
railroad passes through the Sierra Nevada range, and the train
reached
Cisco at seven o'clock. An hour afterwards the sleeping-car
was
retransformed to an ordinary carriage, and the passengers were
enabled
to look out upon the magnificent scenery of this mountainous
country.
The track followed all the caprices of the mountains, at
times
suspended over a precipice, boldly rounding angles, penetrating
narrow
gorges which had apparently no outlet. The engine, with fire
gleaming
from the grate and black smoke issuing from its funnel, the
warning-bell
ringing, the "cow-catcher" extending like a spur, mingled
its
whistlings and snortings with the roar of torrents and waterfalls,
and
twining its black smoke around the stems of the pine-trees. There
are
few tunnels or bridges on this portion of the route, for the line
winds
round the sides of the mountains and does not penetrate them.
About
nine o'clock the train entered the State of Nevada by the Carson
Valley,
still proceeding in a north-easterly direction. At midday the
train
quitted Reno, where it had stopped twenty minutes for luncheon.
After
lunch the passengers took their places in the car again, and
admired
the scenery. Sometimes great troops of buffaloes were massed
like
an immense moveable dam on the horizon. These immense troops
frequently
oppose an impassable barrier to the trains, for they cross
the
track in close array in thousands and thousands, occupying several
hours
in their passage. On these occasions the train is brought to a
standstill
and obliged to wait till the track is clear.
In
fact, an incident of this kind happened on this occasion. About
three
o'clock in the afternoon a troop of ten or twelve thousand
beasts
blocked the line. The engineer slackened speed and tried to
proceed
slowly, but he could not pass the mass of buffaloes.
The
passengers could see the buffaloes defiling quietly across the
track,
and now and then bellowing loudly. They were larger than
European
bulls, the head and shoulders being covered with a long mane,
beneath
which rises a hump; the legs and tails are short. No one would
ever
think of attempting to turn them aside. When once they have taken
a
certain direction, they cannot be forced to swerve from it. They
compose
a torrent of living flesh which no dam can withstand.
The
passengers gazed on this curious spectacle, but the man most
interested
of all in the speedy progress of the train, Phileas Fogg,
remained
calmly in his place to wait till the buffaloes had passed by.
Passe-partout
was furious at the delay which the animals caused, and
wished
to discharge his armoury of revolvers at them.
"What
a country this is!" he exclaimed. "Fancy a whole train being
stopped
by a herd of cattle, which do not hurry themselves in the
least,
as if they were not hindering us; I should like to know whether
Mr.
Fogg anticipated this delay. And here we have an engine-driver who
is
afraid to run his train against a few cows."
The
engine-driver certainly did not attempt to do so, and he was quite
right.
No doubt he might have killed two or three of the first
buffaloes
he came in contact with; but the engine would soon have been
thrown
off the line, and progress would have been hopeless.
The
best thing to do, then, was to wait patiently, and trust to make
up
time when the buffaloes had passed; but the procession of animals
lasted
for fully three hours, and it was night before the track was
clear.
The head of the column had ere this disappeared below the
southern
horizon.
It
was eight o'clock when the train had traversed the defiles of the
Humboldt
range, and half-past nine when it entered Utah, the region of
the
great Salt Lake and the curious Mormon territory.
Showing
how Passe-partout went through a Course of Mormon History, at
the
rate of Twenty Miles an Hour.
During
the night of the 5-6th December, the train kept in a
south-easterly
direction for about fifty miles, and then went up in a
north-east
course towards Salt Lake.
About
nine o'clock in the morning, Passe-partout went out upon the
platform
to get a breath of fresh air. The weather was cold and the
sky
was dull, but there was no snow falling then. The sun in the mist
looked
like an enormous disc of gold, and Passe-partout was
calculating
what it would be worth in English money, when he was
disturbed
by the appearance of a very curious personage.
This
individual, who had got into the train at Elko, was tall and of
dark
complexion, had a black moustache, wore black stockings, and
black
hat and clothes, except his necktie, which was white, and his
gloves,
which were dog-skin. He looked like a minister. He went the
whole
length of the train, and fastened a small notice-bill on the
door
of every car. Passe-partout read one of these "posters," and
learnt
that the Honourable Elder William Hitch, Mormon Missionary,
would
take advantage of the occasion to deliver a lecture upon
Mormonism,
in car No. 117, at eleven o'clock in the fore-noon till
twelve
noon, and invited all those who wished to learn something about
the
"Latter-day Saints" to attend the lecture.
"Faith,
I'll go," muttered Passe-partout, who knew nothing about
Mormonism,
except the plurality of wives.
The
news spread rapidly amongst the passengers, and about thirty out
of
the hundred travellers were attracted to car No. 117. Passe-partout
took
a front seat. Neither his master nor Fix troubled themselves
about
the matter.
At
the hour named the elder William Hitch got up, and in a somewhat
irritable
manner, as if he had been already contradicted, cried out:
"I
tell you that Joe Smith is a martyr, and his brother Hiram is
another,
and the way the Government is persecuting Brigham Young will
make
him a martyr also. Now who dares say anything to the contrary?"
No
one ventured to contradict him, and his vehemence certainly
contrasted
strangely with his calm features. But no doubt his anger
was
kindled by the indignities to which the Mormons had been actually
exposed.
The United States Government had certainly had a great deal
of
trouble to bring these fanatics to reason. It was now master of
Utah,
after having imprisoned Brigham Young on the charges of
rebellion
and polygamy. Since that time the followers of the prophet
had
redoubled their efforts, and, if not by deeds, by words resisted
the
authority of the United States Government. Elder W. Hitch, as we
have
seen, was endeavouring to gain converts in the railroad-cars.
Then
he went on to recite passionately the history of Mormonism from
patriarchal
times. How in Israel a Mormon prophet of the tribe of
Joseph
published the annals of the new religion, and left them to his
son
Morom; and how, many centuries later, a translation of this
wonderful
book was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who
revealed
himself as a prophet in 1823, when the angel appeared to him
and
gave him the sacred roll of the book.
About
this time several of the audience left the car, but the lecturer
continued
to relate how Smith, junior, his father and brothers, and a
few
disciples founded the religion of the Latter-day Saints, which can
count
its converts not only in America, but in Scandinavia, England,
and
Germany. Also how a colony was established in Ohio, where a temple
was
erected at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town
built
at Kirkland. How Smith became an opulent banker, and received a
papyrus
scroll written by Abraham and several celebrated Egyptians.
The
narrative being very tiresome, the greater part of the audience
decamped,
but the lecturer nevertheless continued his tale respecting
Joe
Smith, his bankruptcy, his tarring and feathering, his
reappearance
at Independence, Missouri, as the head of a flourishing
community
of about three thousand disciples, his pursuit, and
settlement
in the Far West.
By
this time Passe-partout and ten others were all that remained of
the
audience, who were informed that after much persecution Smith
reappeared
in Illinois and founded the beautiful city of Nauvoo, on
the
Mississippi, of which he became chief magistrate; how he became a
candidate
for the Presidency of the United States; how he was drawn
into
an ambuscade at Carthage, imprisoned, and assassinated by a band
of
masked murderers.
Passe-partout
was now absolutely the only listener, and the lecturer
looking
him steadily in the face recalled to his memory the actions of
the
pious Brigham Young, and showed him how the colony of Mormon had
flourished.
"And
this is why the jealousy of Congress is roused against us. Shall
we
yield to force? Never! Driven from State to State we shall yet find
an
independent soil on which to rest and erect our tents. And you," he
continued
to Passe-partout, "and you, my brother, will not you pitch
your
tent beneath the shadow of our flag?"
"No,"
replied Passe-partout firmly, as he walked away, leaving the
Mormon
elder by himself.
While
the lecturer had been holding forth the train had been
progressing
rapidly, and had reached the north-west extremity of Salt
Lake.
From that point the passengers could see this immense inland
sea--the
Dead Sea, as it is sometimes called, and into which an
American
Jordan flows. It is even now a splendid sheet of water, but
time
and the falling-in of the banks have in some degree reduced its
ancient
size.
Salt
Lake is seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, and is more than
three
miles above the level of the sea. Though quite different from
Lake
Asphaltites, it contains salt in large quantities. The specific
gravity
of the water is one thousand one hundred and seventy; the same
distilled
is one thousand. No fish can live in it; and though brought
down
by the Jordan, Weber, and other rivers, soon perish; but it is
not
true that its density is so great that no men can swim in it.
The
surrounding country is well cultivated, for the Mormons are great
farmers,
and various flowers, etc., would have been observed later.
Just
then the ground was sprinkled with snow.
The
train got to Ogden at two o'clock, and did not start again until
six;
so Mr. Fogg and party had time to visit the City of the Saints by
the
branch-line to Ogden. They passed a couple of hours in that very
American
town, built, like all cities in the Union, with the
"melancholy
sadness of right angles," as Victor Hugo said. In America,
where
everything is supposed to be done on the square, though the
people
do not reach that level, cities, houses, and follies are all
done
"squarely."
At
three o'clock our travellers were walking about the city. They
remarked
very few churches, but the public buildings were the house of
the
prophet, the court, the arsenal; houses of blue brick, with
porches
and verandahs surrounded by gardens, in which were palm-trees
and
acacias, etc. A stone wall ran round the city. In the principal
street
was the market-place and several hotels; amongst them Salt Lake
House
rose up.
There
was no crowd in the streets, except near the temple. There was a
superabundance
of females, which was accounted for by the peculiar
tenets
of Mormons; but it is a mistake to suppose that all the Mormons
are
polygamists. They can do as they please; but it may be stated that
the
females are chiefly anxious to wed, as unmarried women are not
admitted
to the full privileges of membership. These poor creatures do
not
appear to be well off or happy. Some perhaps are rich and clothed
in
European style, but the majority were dressed à la Indienne.
Passe-partout
beheld these women with some degree of awe, but above
all
he pitied the husbands of these wives. It seemed to him to be an
awful
thing to guide so many wives through all the mazes of life, and
to
conduct them to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of meeting
the
glorious Joe Smith, who no doubt was there a shining light. He
felt
quite disgusted, and he fancied--perhaps he was mistaken--that
some
of the young ladies gazed at him alarmingly, and in a manner to
compromise
his liberty.
Fortunately
his sojourn in the City of the Saints was not of long
duration.
At four o'clock the travellers took their places in the
return
train. The whistle sounded, but just as the train began to move
a cry
was heard, "Stop, stop!"
But
the train did not stop. The gentleman who uttered these cries was
a
Mormon too late for the train. He ran till he was out of breath.
Fortunately
the railroad was quite open, there were no barriers nor
gates
to pass. He rushed along the line, jumped upon the footboard of
the
last carriage, and then threw himself panting into the nearest
seat.
Passe-partout, who had been watching him intently, learnt that
he
had run away after some domestic quarrel, and when the Mormon had
recovered
his breath Passe-partout plucked up courage to inquire how
many
wives the fugitive had left, as, judging from his anxiety to get
away,
he must have had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms to heaven. "One, sir;<= o:p>
and,
by thunder, that one was quite enough!"
In
which Passe-partout cannot make anyone listen to the Language of
Reason.
The
train leaving
far
as Weber River, about nine hundred miles from
this
point it turned to the west across the Wahsatch range. It was in
this
part of the State that the American engineers had found the
greatest
difficulty. In this portion of the line also the Government
subsidy
had been raised to forty-eight thousand dollars a mile,
instead
of the sixteen thousand dollars a mile on the plains; but the
engineers,
so it is said, had stolen a march on nature, turned all the
difficulties
instead of cutting through them, and pierced only one
tunnel
of fourteen thousand feet in length.
At
Salt Lake the line reached its greatest altitude--from that point
it
took a long curve towards Bitter-creek Valley, and then rose again
to
the watershed between the valley and the Pacific Creeks were
numerous
hereabout, and Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others were
successively
crossed on culverts. As they approached the end of their
journey
Passe-partout became more and more impatient, while Fix was
very
anxious to get on, for he feared delays and accidents, and was
more
anxious to reach England than even Phileas Fogg.
The
train stopped for a short time at Fort Bridger at ten o'clock, and
twenty
miles farther on entered Wyoming State, formerly Dakota. The
next
day, the 7th of December, they stopped at Green River. Sleet had
fallen
during the night, but not sufficient to interfere with the
traffic.
However, this bad weather annoyed Passe-partout very much,
for
any great fall of snow would have compromised the success of the
journey.
"Any
way, it is absurd of my master having undertaken such a journey
in
winter; he might just as well have waited for fine weather and had
a
better chance."
But
while the honest fellow was worrying himself about the weather,
Mrs.
Aouda was disquieted for an entirely different reason, as amongst
the
passengers who had alighted at Green River she recognised Colonel
Stamp
Proctor, who had insulted Mr. Fogg at the San Francisco meeting.
She
drew back, as she did not wish to be recognised, but the
circumstance
affected her deeply.
In
fact she had become attached to the man who, notwithstanding his
coldness
of manner, betrayed every day the interest he took in her. No
doubt
she herself was not aware of the depth of the sentiment with
which
he inspired her, which she believed to be gratitude, but was
doubtless
a deeper feeling. Her heart almost ceased to beat at the
moment
she recognised Mr. Fogg's enemy. Evidently it was mere chance
which
had led Colonel Proctor to this particular train, but he and Mr.
Fogg
must be kept apart at all hazards.
She
took an opportunity, when Mr. Fogg was asleep, to tell them whom
she
had seen.
"That
man Proctor on the train!" cried Fix. "Well, you may be quite
easy,
madam; before he sees Mr. Fogg he has to settle with me. It
seems
to me that in this matter I have been the most insulted of any."
"And
I have a little business with him also, though he is a colonel,"
added
Passe-partout.
"Mr.
Fix," replied Mrs. Aouda, "Mr. Fogg would permit nobody to
interfere
with his quarrel. He has declared that he will come back to
America
to find out that man who insulted him. If then he sees Colonel
Proctor,
we cannot prevent a meeting which might have most deplorable
results.
They must not see each other."
"You
are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting would spoil
everything.
Whether victor or not, Mr. Fogg would be delayed, and--"
"And,"
added Passe-partout, "that would just play into the hands of
the
Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. If during that
time
my master does not leave his car, the chances are he will not
meet
the American. At any rate, we must try to prevent a meeting."
The
conversation ceased, for Mr. Fogg just then awoke and looked out
of
window at the snow. Shortly afterwards Passe-partout whispered to
the
detective, "Would you really fight for him?"
"I
would do anything in the world to get him back to Europe alive,"
replied
the detective in a determined tone.
Passe-partout
shuddered, but his confidence in his master was
unshaken.
And
now the question was, how could they detain Mr. Fogg in the car
and
prevent him meeting the Colonel? It ought not to be a very
difficult
matter, for Phileas was naturally of a sedentary
disposition.
However, the detective found a way, for shortly
afterwards
he said to Mr. Fogg:
"The
time passes very slowly."
"Yes,"
replied Fogg, "but it does pass."
"On board the steamer," continued the detective, "you used to like a<= o:p>
game
of whist."
"Yes,"
replied Fogg, "but here I have neither cards nor partners."
"Ah,
we can easily purchase cards. As for partners, if madam can take
a
hand--"
"Certainly,"
replied the young lady. "I know whist, it is part of an
English
education."
"And,"
continued Fix, "I also have some little knowledge of the game,
so we
can play dummy."
"As
you like," said Fogg, delighted to play his favourite game even in
the train.
Passe-partout
was immediately despatched to the steward, and he
quickly
returned with two packs of cards, some markers, and a board
covered
with cloth.
The
game commenced, Mrs. Aouda played fairly well, and was
complimented
by Phileas. As for the detective, he was a first-rate
player,
and a worthy opponent of Mr. Fogg.
"Now,"
thought Passe-partout, "we have got him down and he won't
move."
At
eleven o'clock in the morning the train reached the watershed at
Bridger
Pass, at an elevation of seven thousand five hundred and
twenty-four
feet above the level of the sea. After traversing about
two
hundred miles more, the travellers found themselves in one of
those
extensive plains which proved so convenient to the laying of the
railway.
At
half-past twelve the travellers got a glimpse of Fort Halleck, and
in a
few hours afterwards they had crossed the Rocky Mountains. They
were
now in hopes that no accident would imperil the journey; the snow
had
ceased, and the air was frosty. Some large birds, startled by the
locomotive,
rose up, but no wild beasts appeared; the whole plain was
a
desert.
After
a comfortable breakfast in his own car, Mr. Fogg and his
companions
resumed their whist. Just then a loud whistling was heard,
and
the train came to a stop. Passe-partout put his head out, but
could
see no cause for the stoppage. Mrs. Aouda and Fix were afraid
that
Mr. Fogg would get up and see what was the matter, but he merely
told
his servant to ascertain the reason of the delay.
Passe-partout
jumped down. He found a number of passengers already on
the
ground, and amongst them Colonel Proctor.
The
train had been stopped by signal. The engine-driver and guard were
talking
excitedly with the signalman, whom the station-master at
Medicine
Bow had sent down. The passengers joined in the discussion,
and
prominent amongst them was Colonel Proctor.
Passe-partout,
as he joined the group, heard the signalman say: "You
cannot
pass. The bridge is unsafe, and will not bear the weight of the
train."
The
viaduct in question was a suspension-bridge over a rapid about a
mile
farther on. The signalman said that many of the supports were
broken,
and that it was impossible to cross; he did not exaggerate the
danger,
and it may be taken for granted that when an American is
prudent
there is good reason for not being rash.
Passe-partout
did not dare to tell his master, but remained, listening
with
clenched teeth, motionless as a statue.
"That
is all very fine," said Colonel Proctor, "but I guess we ain't
going
to stop here to take root in the snow."
"We
have telegraphed to Omaha for a train, Colonel," said the guard;
"but
it can't reach Medicine Bow in less than six hours."
"Six
hours!" exclaimed Passe-partout.
"Yes,"
replied the guard; "but it will take us that time to reach
Medicine
Bow on foot."
"Why,
it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Only
a mile, but on the other side of the river."
"And
can't we cross in a boat?" asked the Colonel.
"Quite
impossible; the creek has swollen with the rains; we shall have
to go
round ten miles to a ford."
The
Colonel vented a choice collection of oaths, condemning the
company,
the guard, and creation generally; and Passe-partout, who was
very
angry, felt inclined to join him. Here was a material obstacle
which
all his master's money would not be able to remove.
The
disappointment of the passengers was general, for, without
reckoning
the delay, they found themselves obliged to walk fifteen
miles
in the snow. The commotion would have attracted Phileas Fogg's
attention
had he not been entirely absorbed in his game.
Nevertheless,
Passe-partout would have told him of it if the engineer,
a
true Yankee, named Foster, had not said:
"Perhaps
there is a way we can get over after all, gentlemen."
"Over
the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"Yes."
"With
the train, do you mean?" asked the Colonel.
"With
the train."
Passe-partout
stopped and listened anxiously for the engineer's
explanation.
"But
the bridge is almost broken," said the guard.
"Never
mind," replied Foster: "I think that by putting on full-steam
we
may have a chance of getting across."
"The
devil!" muttered Passe-partout.
But a
certain number of the passengers were attracted by the
suggestion;
Colonel Proctor was particularly pleased, and thought the
plan
quite feasible. He related various anecdotes concerning
engineers,
whom he had known, who crossed over rivers without any
bridges
at all by merely putting on full-steam, etc. The end of it was
that
many of the passengers agreed with the engineer.
"The
chances are fifty to a hundred about our getting over," said one.
"Sixty!"
said another.
"Eighty,
ninety!" said a third.
Passe-partout
was dumfounded, and although he was very anxious to
cross
the river, he thought the proposed plan a little too American.
"Besides,"
he thought, "there is an easier way, which does not seem to
have
occurred to either of them;" so he said aloud to one of the
passengers:
"The
engineer's plan seems to me somewhat dangerous; but--"
"Eighty
chances!" replied the person addressed, turning away.
"I
know that," replied Passe-partout, as he spoke to another; "but a=
n
idea--"
"Ideas
are no use," replied the American; "the engineer tells us we
can
cross."
"No
doubt," replied Passe-partout; "but perhaps it would be more
prudent--"
"What,
prudent!" exclaimed Colonel Proctor, who was ready to quarrel
with
anyone suggesting prudence. "Do you not understand that we are
going
across at full speed? Do you hear, at full speed?"
"I
know, I know," said Passe-partout, whom no one would allow to
finish
his sentence; "but it would be, if not more prudent, since that
word
displeases you, at any rate more natural--"
"Who
is this, what's this? Who is talking about natural?" cried the
passengers
on all sides.
Poor
Passe-partout did not know which way to turn.
"Are
you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid?" cried Passe-partout; "you think so, do you? I will show<= o:p>
these
people when a Frenchman can be as American as themselves."
"All
aboard!" cried the guard.
"Yes,
all get in," muttered Passe-partout; "but you cannot prevent my
thinking
that it would be much more natural for us to cross the bridge
on
foot and let the train follow."
But
no one heard this wise reflection, and if so, probably no one
would
have acknowledged its justice.
The
passengers took their places, as did Passe-partout, without saying
what
had happened. The whist-players were still deep in their game.
The
engine-driver whistled and then backed his train for nearly a
mile,
then whistling again he started forward. The speed increased to
a
fearful extent, and rushing along at a pace of nearly a hundred
miles
an hour, seemed hardly to touch the rails at all.
They
passed over like a flash of lightning. No one saw anything of the
bridge;
the train leaped, as it were, from bank to bank, and could not
be
stopped till it had passed the station for some miles.
Scarcely
had the train crossed the bridge when the whole structure
fell
with a tremendous crash into the rapids beneath!
In
which certain Incidents are told which are never met with except on
Railroads
in the
That
evening the train proceeded without interruption; passed Fort
Saunders,
crossed
railroad
reached its greatest elevation, eight thousand and ninety-one
feet
above the sea. The track was now downhill all the way to the
Atlantic,
across naturally level plains. From here the Grand Trunk
Line
led to Denver, the capital of Colorado State, rich in gold and
silver
mines, and boasting more than fifty thousand inhabitants.
Three
days and three nights had now been passed in accomplishing one
thousand
three hundred and eighty-two miles; four days and four nights
more
would suffice to reach New York, and Phileas Fogg had not lost
time.
During
the night they had passed Camp Walbach, and entered Nebraska at
eleven,
passing Julesburg on the south branch of the Platte river. It
was
here that General Dodge inaugurated the Union Pacific road on the
23rd
of October, 1867. Here two powerful locomotives with nine
carriages
full of guests stopped, three cheers were given, the Sioux
and
Pawnee Indians had a sham fight, fireworks were let off, and the
first
number of a paper called The Railway Pioneer was printed in a
press
carried in the train.
Fort
MacPherson was passed at eight in the morning; they had still
three
hundred and fifty-seven miles to go to Omaha. At nine o'clock
the
train stopped at North Platte, a town built between the two arms
of
the river.
The
hundred-and-first meridian was now passed.
Mr.
Fogg and his partner had resumed their whist; none of them, not
even
the dummy, complained of the length of the journey. Fix had at
first
won several guineas which he now seemed about to lose, but he
was
not a less passionate player than Fogg. Fortune distinctly
favoured
that gentleman, and showered trumps and honours upon him.
On
one occasion he was on the point of playing a spade, when a voice
behind
him said, "I should play a diamond."
The
players all looked up, and beheld Colonel Proctor. He and Fogg
recognised
each other at the same moment.
"Oh, you are that Britisher, are you?" exclaimed the Colonel. "So you<= o:p>
are
going to play a spade?"
"Yes,
and I play it too," replied Fogg coldly, as he threw down the
ten.
"Well,
I choose to have diamonds," said Proctor insolently. He made a
movement
as if to seize the card just played, adding, "You know
nothing
about whist."
"Perhaps
I do, as well as other people," said Fogg, rising.
"You
have only got to try, you son of a John Bull," said the stout
man.
Mrs.
Aouda now turned very pale; she seized Fogg by the arm, and
pulled
him back. Passe-partout was quite ready to throw himself upon
the
American, who continued to regard his adversary with an insolent
stare,
but Fix rose and said, "You forget that this is my business,
sir;
I was not only insulted, but struck."
"Mr.
Fix, excuse me," said Fogg; "this is entirely my business. By
pretending
that I did not know how to play, the Colonel has insulted
me,
and shall give me satisfaction."
"When
and where you please," said the American; "name your weapons.&quo=
t;
Aouda
tried to keep Mr. Fogg back; the detective also tried to make
the
quarrel his own; Passe-partout wanted to throw the Colonel out of
the
window, but a sign from his master checked him. Mr. Fogg left the
car,
and the American followed him to the platform.
"Sir,"
said Fogg, "I am in a great hurry to return to Europe; any
delay
will be very prejudicial to my interest."
"What
is all that to me?" said the Colonel.
"Sir,"
continued Fogg, very politely, "after our dispute at San
Francisco,
I had promised myself to return to America and find you
out,
when I had finished my business in England."
"Really!"
"Will
you meet me six months hence?"
"Why
don't you say six years?"
"I
said six months," said Fogg, "and I shall not fail to be at the
rendezvous."
"This
is all humbug," cried Proctor; "it must be now or never."
"Very
well," said Mr. Fogg; "are you going to New York?"
"No."
"To
Chicago?"
"No."
"To
Omaha?"
"It
can't matter to you. Do you know Plum Creek?"
"No,"
replied Mr. Fogg.
"It
is the next station. We shall stop there ten minutes; we shall
have
lots of time to exchange shots."
"All
right," replied Mr. Fogg; "I will stop at Plum Creek."
"I
guess you will stay there altogether," replied the American, with
unparalleled
insolence.
"Who
knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, entering the car as coolly as ever, and
commenced
to reassure Mrs. Aouda, by telling her that braggarts need
never
be feared. He then asked Fix to be his second in the approaching
duel,
which Fix could not well refuse to be; and then Phileas Fogg sat
down
quietly and resumed his whist, without betraying the least
emotion.
At
eleven o'clock the whistle of the engine announced their approach
to
Plum Creek. Mr. Fogg got up, and followed by Fix and Passe-partout,
carrying
a brace of revolvers, went out upon the platform. Mrs. Aouda
remained
in the car, as pale as death.
At
that moment the door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor
appeared,
followed by his second, a Yankee of the same stamp as
himself.
They were about to descend when the guard ran up and said,
"You
cannot get out, gentlemen."
"Why
not?" demanded the Colonel.
"We
are twenty minutes late, and cannot stop."
"But
I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
"I
am very sorry," said the guard, "but we must be off at once; ther=
e
is
the bell ringing."
As he
was speaking the train started.
"I
am really extremely grieved, gentlemen," said the guard, "and und=
er
any
other circumstances I should have been able to have obliged you.
But
though you cannot stop to fight, there is nothing to prevent your
doing
so as you go along."
"Perhaps
that would not suit that gentleman," said the Colonel in a
jeering
tone.
"It
will suit me quite well," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well,
we are actually in America, I see," thought Passe-partout; "and
the
guard is a gentleman of the highest standing."
The
two adversaries, their seconds, and the guard passed down to the
rear
of the train. The last car had only about a dozen passengers in
it,
and the conductor asked them if they would mind moving, as the two
gentlemen
had a little affair of honour to settle.
The
passengers were very glad to oblige the gentlemen, and they
retired
accordingly.
The
car, about fifty feet long, was very suitable for the purpose. The
combatants
could advance towards one another between the seats, and
fire
at their leisure. Never had there been a duel more easy to
arrange.
Mr. Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each carrying a six-barrelled
revolver,
entered the car. Their seconds, having locked them in,
withdrew
to the platform. The duellists were to begin to fire at the
first
whistle of the engine, then, after a lapse of two minutes, what
remained
of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.
Nothing
could be easier. It was even so simple, that Fix and
Passe-partout
could hear their hearts beating as they listened.
Everyone
was on the qui vive for the first whistle, when suddenly
savage
cries resounded, accompanied by shots, which certainly did not
come
from the duellists. On the contrary, the reports rose all along
the
train; cries of terror were heard inside the cars.
Colonel
Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, were hastily
released,
and rushed forward into the thick of the struggle, when they
perceived
that the train had been attacked by a band of Sioux. This
was
not the first time that this hardy tribe had attacked the train.
According
to custom, they leaped on the footboards as the train
proceeded,
as easy as a circus-rider would mount a horse at full
gallop.
The Sioux were armed with guns, to which the passengers
replied
with revolvers. The Indians had first mounted the engine, and
stunned
the engine-driver and firemen with blows on the head. A chief
wished
to stop the train, but not knowing how to do so had opened
instead
of closing the regulator, and the train was now proceeding at
tremendous
speed. Others of the tribe had entered the cars as actively
as
apes, and were now engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the
passengers.
They pillaged the baggage-waggon, and were all the time
fighting
incessantly.
The
travellers defended themselves courageously; they barricaded some
of
the cars which were besieged like forts, carried along at the rate
of
forty or fifty miles an hour. Mrs. Aouda had been most courageous.
Revolver
in hand, she defended herself heroically, firing through the
broken
windows whenever she caught sight of a savage. As many as
twenty
Sioux had fallen, and lay crushed by the wheels; and many
passengers,
grievously wounded, lay stretched upon the seats.
But
it was necessary to put an end to the fight, which had lasted for
ten
minutes, and would result in a victory for the Indians if the
train
were not stopped. Fort Kearney Station, where there was a guard,
was
only a couple of miles farther on, and if that were passed, the
Indians
would be masters of the train till the next station was
reached.
The guard was fighting bravely by the side of Mr. Fogg, when
he
was shot down. As he fell he cried, "If the train is not stopped in
less
than five minutes, we are all lost!"
"It
shall be stopped," said Fogg, who was about to rush out.
"Stay
where you are, sir," said Passe-partout, "this is my business.&qu=
ot;
His
master had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, unseen by the
Indians,
managed to creep along beneath the carriages, and then
calling
all his agility to his aid, with marvellous dexterity he
managed
to reach the fore part of the train without being seen. There,
suspended
by one hand between the baggage-waggon and the tender, with
the
other hand he unfastened the coupling-chains; but owing to the
great
tension, he was not able to loose the draw-bar, but it was
fortunately
jerked out as the train jolted. The locomotive, thus
detached,
sped along at a tremendous pace in front, while the train
gradually
slackened speed, and the breaks assisting it, it was pulled
up
within a hundred feet of Fort Kearney. The soldiers, attracted by
the
sound of firing, hastily turned out; but the Indians did not wait
for
them. They all disappeared before the train stopped.
But
when the travellers came to count the passengers, they found that
several
were missing, and amongst the absentees was the brave
Frenchman
who had devoted himself to save them.
In
which Phileas Fogg simply does his Duty.
Three
of the travellers, including Passe-partout, had disappeared, but
it
was impossible to say whether they had been killed or taken
prisoners.
Several
were wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of
the
most severely hurt; he had fought bravely, and was carried with
the
other wounded into the station, where he was attended to as well
as
the circumstances admitted of.
Mrs.
Aouda was safe, and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the midst of
the
fight, had not received a scratch. Fix had a flesh-wound in the
arm,
but Passe-partout was missing, and Aouda could not help weeping.
Meanwhile
the travellers all got out of the train, the wheels of which
were
covered with blood and jagged pieces of flesh. Red tracks were
visible
on the whitened plain. The Indians were disappearing in the
south
along the Republican River.
Mr.
Fogg was standing motionless with folded arms, and Aouda looked at
him
without speaking, but he understood her; he had to make up his
mind.
If his servant were a prisoner, ought he not to rescue him from
the
Indians?
"I
will find him, living or dead," he said simply to Aouda.
"Oh
Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed the young lady, seizing his hands, upon which
her
tears fell fast.
"Living,"
added Mr. Fogg, "if we lose no time."
By
this resolution Phileas Fogg sacrificed everything, he pronounced
his
own ruin. A delay of even one day would lose the steamer at New
York
and his wager. But he thought it was his duty, and did not
hesitate.
The
commandant of Fort Kearney was present; his company were under
arms
to repel any further attack.
"Sir,"
said Mr. Fogg to him, "three passengers are missing."
"Dead?"
asked the captain.
"Dead
or prisoners," replied Fogg; "I must find out which. Is it your
intention
to pursue the Sioux?"
"That
would be a very serious thing," replied the captain. "The
Indians
may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
undefended."
"Sir,"
replied Fogg, "the lives of three men are in question."
"No
doubt; but can I risk fifty to save three?"
"I
do not know if you can, sir; but I know you ought."
"Sir,"
replied the captain, "no one here is fit to teach me my duty."
"Very
well," said Fogg coldly, "I will go alone."
"You,
sir!" exclaimed Fix, who now approached. "Do you mean to go
alone
in pursuit of the Indians?"
"Do
you wish me to leave that unfortunate man to perish to whom
everyone
here owes his life? I shall certainly go."
"No,
sir, you shall not go alone," said the captain, who was moved in
spite
of himself. "You are a brave fellow. Now, then, thirty
volunteers,"
he added, turning to the troops.
The
whole company advanced at once. The captain had only to pick his
men.
Thirty were chosen, and a steady old non-commissioned officer put
in
command.
"Thanks,
captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"You
will let me go with you?" said Fix.
"You
can do as you please, sir, but if you wish to do me a service you
will
remain with Mrs. Aouda. Should anything happen to me--"
The
detective turned very pale. Should he separate from the man he had
followed
so persistently? Should he leave him to wander thus in the
prairie?
Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and notwithstanding his
suspicions
and the struggle going on within him, his eyes fell before
that
frank look.
"I
will remain," he said.
In a
few moments Mr. Fogg, having shaken hands with the young lady and
confided
his precious bag to her care, departed with the soldiers. But
before
marching away he said to his escort, "My friends, I will divide
a
thousand pounds amongst you if we save the prisoners."
It
was then a little past midday.
Mrs.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she remained thinking
of
the generosity and courage of Phileas Fogg, who had sacrificed his
fortune
and was now risking his life for what he believed to be his
duty.
In her eyes Mr. Fogg was a hero.
But
Fix's thoughts were very different; he could scarcely conceal his
agitation;
he walked up and down the station and soon recovered
himself.
Now that Fogg had gone, Fix perceived how foolish he had been
to
let him go. He began to accuse himself in pretty round terms, as if
he
had been his own inspector.
"What
a fool I have been," he thought. "The fellow has gone and won't
come
back. How is it that I, actually with a warrant for his arrest in
my
pocket, could have been so played upon? Well, I am an ass!"
Thus
reasoned the detective as he walked up and down the platform. He
did
not know what to do. Sometimes he thought he would tell Aouda
everything,
but he knew how she would receive his confidence. He then
thought
of following Fogg over the prairie, and he thought it not
impossible
he might find him, as the footsteps of the escort would be
imprinted
in the snow. But after a further fall they would soon be
obliterated.
Fix
became discouraged, and felt inclined to give up the whole thing.
He
had now an opportunity to leave Kearney Station and pursue his way
homewards.
In fact about two o'clock, in the midst of a snowstorm,
long
whistles were heard from eastward; a great shadow was slowly
advancing;
no train was expected from that direction. The assistance
telegraphed
for could not possibly arrive so soon, and the train to
San
Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon
explained.
It
was the runaway locomotive that was approaching. After it had left
the
train, it had run a long distance till the fire got low and the
steam
went down. Then it stopped, still bearing the half-conscious
engine-driver
and firemen. When they found themselves alone in the
prairie
they understood what had happened, and they had no doubt they
would
find the train somewhere on the track, helpless. The
engine-driver
did not hesitate. To go on to Omaha would be only
prudent,
while to return would be dangerous. He nevertheless built up
the
fire and ran back to Fort Kearney, whistling through the mist as
he
went.
The
travellers were all delighted to see the engine attached to the
train
once more. They could now resume their journey, so fatally
interrupted.
When
the engine was coupled on, Mrs. Aouda asked the guard if he were
really
going to start?
"Right
away, ma'am," he replied.
"But
the prisoners, our unfortunate companions--"
"I
cannot interrupt the service," he replied; "we are three hours la=
te
already."
"And
when will the next train arrive from San Francisco?"
"To-morrow
evening."
"That
will be too late. It must wait."
"That
is impossible. If you wish to go on, please get in."
"I
will not go," replied the lady.
Fix
heard this conversation. A short time before, when there was no
chance
of his going on, he had decided to leave Kearney, and now that
it
was necessary for him to take his place, something seemed to detain
him.
The conflict in his mind waxed fiercer, he wished to fight it
out.
Meantime
the passengers, some of them wounded, including Colonel
Proctor,
took their places in the train, which started immediately and
soon
disappeared, the steam mingling with the falling snow.
Fix
had remained behind.
Some
hours passed away. The weather was wretched and very cold. Fix
remained
seated, apparently asleep, on a bench. Aouda, notwithstanding
the
tempest, continually came out of the room set apart for her, and
walking
to the extremity of the platform, attempted to penetrate the
thick
falling snow, as she listened intently for some sound of the
return
of the escort. But she saw and heard nothing, and would return
chilled
to the bone, only to sally forth once more in vain.
Night
fell, the troops had not returned; the commandant began to feel
anxious,
though he did not betray his anxiety. The snow fell less
thickly
now, but the cold was intense; absolute silence reigned
around.
All night Mrs. Aouda kept wandering about, filled with the
most
dismal forebodings--her imagination suggested a thousand dangers,
and
her anxiety was terrible.
Fix
remained immovable, but he did not sleep either. A man approached
him
once and spoke to him, but a shake of the head was the only reply
he
received.
Thus
passed the night. At sunrise it was possible to distinguish
objects
at the distance of two miles; but towards the south, in which
direction
the party had gone, there was no sign. It was then seven
o'clock.
The
captain, who was now seriously alarmed, did not know what to do.
Should
he send a second detachment after the first, and sacrifice more
men
on the slender chance of saving those who had already gone? But he
did
not hesitate long, and was on the point of ordering a
reconnaissance
to be made, when the sound of firing was heard. The
soldiers
rushed out of the fort and perceived the little troop
returning
in good order.
Mr.
Fogg was marching at their head. Close to him were Passe-partout
and
the other two passengers, rescued from the hands of the Sioux.
They
had encountered the Indians ten miles from Kearney. Just before
they
arrived Passe-partout and his companions had turned upon their
captors,
three of whom the Frenchman had knocked down with his fists,
when
his master and the escort came to his assistance.
The
party was welcomed most joyously.
Phileas
Fogg distributed the promised reward to the soldiers, while
Passe-partout
muttered, and not without reason, "I must confess that I
cost
my master pretty dearly."
Fix looked
at Mr. Fogg without speaking, and it would have been
difficult
to analyse his thoughts at that moment. Mrs. Aouda, whose
feelings
were too deep for expression, took Mr. Fogg's hands in hers
and
pressed them without speaking.
Ever
since his return Passe-partout had been looking for the train; he
hoped
to find it there ready to start for Omaha, and trusted that the
lost
time might be regained.
"But
where is the train?" he exclaimed.
"Gone,"
replied Fix.
"When
is the next train due here?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Not
until this evening."
"Ah!"
replied the impassible gentleman simply.
In
which the Detective forwards Mr. Fogg's Interest considerably.
Phileas
Fogg was twenty hours behind time, and Passe-partout, the
involuntary
cause of the delay, was desperate; he had decidedly ruined
his
master.
The
detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking at him attentively,
said,
"Seriously, sir, are you really in such a hurry?"
"Very
seriously I am," replied Fogg.
"It
is absolutely necessary, then, for you to be in New York on the
11th--before
the departure of the English mail-steamer?"
"I
have a very great interest in so doing."
"If,
then, your voyage had not been interrupted, you would have
reached
New York on the morning of the 11th?"
"Yes,
with twelve hours to spare."
"Well,
you are now twenty hours late. Twelve from twenty leaves
eight--you
must regain those eight hours. Do you wish to try?"
"On
foot?"
"No,
on a sledge," replied Fix; "on a sledge with sails; a man has
proposed
it to me."
It
was, in fact, the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and
whose
offer he had refused.
Mr.
Fogg did not immediately reply, but Fix pointed out the man, and
Fogg
went up and spoke to him. Shortly after they entered a hut built
just
beyond the fort. Here Mr. Fogg was shown a very curious
vehicle--a
sort of sledge, with room for five or six people. A high
mast
was firmly supported by wire rigging, and carried a large sail;
it
was also furnished with a rudder. In fact it was a sledge rigged
like
a cutter. During the winter, on the frozen plains, the trains
cannot
run, and these sledges make rapid passages from station to
station,
and when running before the wind they equal, if they do not
exceed,
the speed of the train.
The
arrangement was soon made. The strong west wind was in their
favour.
The snow was hard, and Mr. Mudge, the owner, was confident of
being
able to reach Omaha in a few hours. Thence were plenty of trains
to
Chicago and New York. It was just possible to recover the lost
time,
and they did not hesitate to make the attempt.
Mr.
Fogg did not wish to expose Aouda to the cold, and suggested that
she
should remain at the station with Passe-partout, who would escort
her
to England under more favourable circumstances; but she refused to
leave
Mr. Fogg, greatly to the delight of Passe-partout, who would not
leave
his master alone with Fix.
The
detective's thoughts would be difficult to guess. Was his
conviction
shaken by Fogg's return, or did he still regard him as a
scoundrel
who hoped to be safe in England on his return? Perhaps Fix's
opinion
concerning Fogg had altered; but he would do his duty,
nevertheless;
and he would do his duty and hasten his return to
England
as much as possible.
At
eight o'clock the sledge was ready. The passengers took their
places,
the sails were hoisted, and the vehicle sped over the snow at
forty
miles an hour. The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as
the
crow flies, is two hundred miles at most. If the wind held they
could
reach Omaha by one o'clock, if no accident happened.
What
a journey it was! The travellers huddled close together, unable
to
speak in consequence of the intense cold. The sledge glided over
the
snow like a boat on a lake, and when the wind rose it was almost
lifted
off the ground. Mudge steered in a straight line, and
counteracted
the occasional lurches of the vessel. They hoisted all
sail,
and certainly could not be going less than forty miles an hour.
"If
nothing carries away," said Mudge, "we shall get there in time.&q=
uot;
Mr.
Mudge had an interest in accomplishing the journey, for Mr. Fogg,
as
usual, had promised him a handsome reward.
The
prairie was as flat as possible, and Mudge steered perfectly
straight,
taking the chord of the arc described by the railroad, which
follows
the right bank of the Platte River. Mudge was not afraid of
being
stopped by the stream, for it was frozen over. So the way was
free
from all obstacles, and there were but two things to fear--an
accident
or a change of wind. But the breeze blew steadily in the same
direction,
and even increased in force. The wire lashing hummed like
the
chords of a musical instrument, and the sledge sped along
accompanied
by a plaintive harmony of peculiar intensity.
"Those
wires give us the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.
These
were the only words he spoke throughout the passage. Mrs. Aouda
was
well wrapped up in furs. Passe-partout's face was as red as the
setting
sun, and, with his usual confidence, began to hope again.
Instead
of reaching New York in the morning they would get there in
the
evening, perhaps before the departure of the steamer for
Liverpool.
Passe-partout had a great desire to clasp Fix by the hand,
for
he did not forget that it was the detective who had procured the
sledge,
the only means of reaching Omaha in good time; but some
presentiment
induced him to remain quiet. However, Passe-partout would
never
forget Mr. Fogg's devotion in rescuing him from the Indians.
The
sledge still flew along. The plain and the streams were covered
with
the mantle of snow. A great uninhabited island appeared to be
enclosed
between the Union and Pacific Railroad and the branch-line
which
unites Kearney with St. Joseph. Not a house was in sight. They
occasionally
passed some gaunt tree, and sometimes flocks of wild
birds
rose about them, or a band of starving wolves pursued the
sledge.
On these occasions Passe-partout, revolver in hand, was ready
to
fire on those which came too near. Had an accident happened, the
wolves
would have made short work of the travellers; but the sledge
held
on its course, and soon left the howling brutes behind.
At
midday Mudge thought they were crossing the Platte River. He said
nothing,
but he was sure that Omaha was only twenty miles farther on.
And
in fact in less than an hour their skilful steersman left the helm
and
hauled down his sails, while the sledge ran on with its acquired
impetus.
At length it stopped, and Mudge, pointing to a cluster of
snow-covered
houses, said, "Here we are!"
They
had arrived at the desired station, which was in constant
communication
with the Eastern States. Passe-partout and Fix jumped
down
and stretched their stiffened limbs. They then assisted Mr. Fogg
and
Mrs. Aouda to alight. The former paid Mudge handsomely.
Passe-partout
shook his hands warmly, and then the whole party rushed
towards
the railway-station.
A
train was ready to start, and they had only just time to jump in;
though
they had seen nothing of Omaha, they did not regret it, as they
were
not travelling for pleasure.
The
train rushed across the State of Iowa, past Conneil Bluffs, Des
Morines,
and Iowa city. During the night they crossed the Mississippi
at
Davenport and entered Illinois. Next day, the 10th, at four p.m.,
they
reached Chicago, which had risen from its ashes, and, more
proudly
than ever, was seated on the borders of the beautiful Lake of
Michigan.
They
were still nine hundred miles from New York, but there were
plenty
of trains. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one train to another,
which
started at full-speed as if it knew he had no time to lose. It
crossed
Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like lightning,
through
towns with antique names containing streets and tramways, but
as
yet no houses. At length the Hudson Plain appeared, and at a
quarter-past
eleven p.m., on the 11th, the train stopped in the
station
on the right bank of the river, before the very pier from
which
the Cunard, otherwise known as the British and North American,
Royal
Mail Steam Packet Company's steamers start.
The
China had left for Liverpool three-quarters of an hour
previously.
In
which Phileas Fogg struggles against Ill-luck.
The
other
steamers of any other line would be of use. The Pereire, of
the
French Transatlantic Company, did not leave till the 14th, while
the
boats of the Hamburg American Company also went to Havre, and not
direct
to Liverpool or London; and this extra passage from Havre to
Southampton
would upset his calculations.
The
Inman steamer City of Paris would not start till next day--that
would
be too late. Nor would the White Star Line serve his purpose;
all
of which Mr. Fogg learnt from "Bradshaw." Passe-partout was
completely
upset; it was maddening to lose the steamer by
three-quarters
of an hour, and it was his fault, too, for putting
obstacles
in his master's way; and when he looked back at the
incidents
of the journey, the sums expended on his account, the
enormous
wager, and tremendous charges of the now useless trip, he was
overwhelmed.
Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him, but as he
quitted
the pier, said: "We will see to-morrow what is best to be
done.
Come along."
The
party crossed the river, and drove to the St. Nicholas Hotel, in
Broadway,
where they engaged rooms; but Fogg was the only one who
slept.
Next day was the 12th of December. From that day, at seven in
the
morning, to the 21st, at a quarter to nine in the evening, was a
period
of nine days, thirteen hours, and forty-five minutes; so if
Phileas
Fogg had sailed in the China, he would have reached London
in
time to win his wager.
Mr.
Fogg left the hotel by himself, telling the others to wait his
return,
but to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. He went down to
the
Hudson River, to see if there were any vessels about to start.
Several
were getting ready to go to sea, but the majority of them were
sailing
ships, which of course did not suit Mr. Fogg. He appeared to
have
lost his last hope, when he perceived a small screw-steamer
moored
off the battery; the funnel was pouring forth black smoke, and
everything
looked like a speedy departure. Mr. Fogg hailed a boat, and
soon
found himself on board the Henrietta, which was an iron
steamer.
The captain was on board, and approached Mr. Fogg to answer
his
inquiries. This captain was a man about fifty, a regular sea-wolf.
"Are
you the captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"I
am."
"I
am Phileas Fogg, of London."
"And
I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."
"You
are about to sail, I suppose?"
"In
an hour."
"Where
are you bound?"
"For
Bordeaux."
"And
your cargo?"
"I
am only in ballast."
"Have
you any passengers?"
"I
never take passengers; they are always in the way, and always
talking."
"Does
your ship steam well?"
"Between
eleven and twelve knots. The Henrietta is well known."
"Would
you like to take me and my three friends to Liverpool?"
"To
Liverpool! Why not China at once?"
"I
said Liverpool."
"No."
"No?"
"No,
I tell you. I am bound for Bordeaux, and to Bordeaux I shall go."
"Will
money have any effect?"
"Not
the least."
The
captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of argument.
"But
the owners of the Henrietta?" began Fogg.
"I
am the owner. The vessel belongs to me."
"I
will hire it from you."
"No."
"I
will buy it, then."
"No."
Mr.
Fogg did not betray the slightest disappointment, notwithstanding
the
gravity of the situation. Things were not at New York as at Hong
Kong,
nor was the captain of the Henrietta like the pilot of the
Tankadere.
Hitherto money had smoothed all obstacles. Now it failed.
Nevertheless,
some means of crossing the Atlantic must be found, and
Phileas
Fogg, apparently, had an idea, for he said to the captain:
"Will
you take me to Bordeaux, then?"
"Not
if you gave me two hundred dollars."
"I
will give you two thousand dollars."
"What,
for each passenger?"
"Yes."
"And
there are four of you?"
"Yes."
This
reply caused Captain Speedy to scratch his head. There were eight
thousand
dollars to be gained, by simply going his own route; and such
a sum
might well overcome his antipathy to passengers. Besides,
passengers
at two thousand dollars apiece become valuable merchandise.
"I start at nine o'clock," said Captain Speedy quietly; "and if you<= o:p>
and
your party are ready, why, there you are."
"We
shall be on board at nine," replied Mr. Fogg, not less quietly.
It
was then half-past eight. To land again, drive up to the hotel, and
bring
off his party to the Henrietta, did not take Mr. Fogg very
long.
He even offered a passage to the inseparable Fix. All this was
done
by Mr. Fogg as coolly as possible.
They
were all on board by the time the Henrietta was ready to start.
When
Passe-partout heard what the voyage was going to cost, he uttered
a
prolonged "Oh!" which descended through all the notes of the gamu=
t.
As
for Fix, he concluded at once that the Bank of England would not
recover
much of the money, for by the time they reached England, if
Mr.
Fogg did not throw away any more money, at least seven thousand
pounds
would have been spent.
In
which Phileas Fogg rises to the Occasion.
An
hour later the Henrietta passed the light-ship at the mouth of
the
Island,
steamed rapidly eastward.
At
noon next day Phileas Fogg mounted the bridge, to ascertain the
ship's
position, for Captain Speedy was safely locked up in his cabin,
where
he was using some very strong, but, under the circumstances,
excusable
language.
The
fact was that Mr. Fogg wished to go to Liverpool, and the captain
did
not; and had made such good use of the time he had been on board,
and
of his money, that he had won the whole crew, who were not on the
best
terms with the captain, over to his side. And this is why Phileas
Fogg
was in command, why the captain was shut up in his cabin, and why
the
ship was heading for Liverpool. By the way Mr. Fogg managed the
vessel,
it was evident he had been a sailor.
How
the adventure ended will be seen later on. Aouda was anxious, but
said
nothing. Fix had been completely upset from the first; but
Passe-partout
thought the manoeuvre simply splendid. The captain had
said
that the Henrietta could make between eleven and twelve knots,
and
he had not exaggerated.
If,
then--for there were still ifs--if the sea did not get too rough,
nor
the wind shift to the east, nor any accident happen to the
machinery,
it was possible for the Henrietta to cross the Atlantic
in
nine days. But it was not improbable that, when he reached
Liverpool,
Mr. Fogg would have to answer some awkward questions about
the
Henrietta, as well as about the bank business.
For
the first few days everything went well, and the Henrietta
steamed
and sailed like a transatlantic liner.
Passe-partout
was charmed. This last exploit of his master delighted
him
above everything; he was the life and soul of the crew, and his
good
spirits were infectious. He had forgotten the past vexation, and
only
looked forward to the future. He kept his eye warily upon Fix,
but
scarcely spoke, for the old intimacy no longer existed between
them.
It
must be confessed that Fix did not understand what was going on.
The
seizure of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, and Fogg's
seamanlike
qualities perfectly astounded him; he did not know what to
think;
for a gentleman who had begun by stealing fifty-five thousand
pounds
might end by stealing a vessel, and Fix not unnaturally came to
the
conclusion that the Henrietta would not reach Liverpool at all,
but
proceed to some port where Mr. Fogg, turned pirate, would be in
safety.
The detective was sorry he had gone into the business.
All
this time Captain Speedy continued to grumble and swear in his
cabin,
and Passe-partout, who took him his meals, was obliged to be
very
circumspect. Mr. Fogg did not seem to care whether there was a
captain
on board or not.
On
the 13th they passed the Banks of Newfoundland. This was a
dangerous
part of the coast, particularly in winter, when fogs and
gales
are frequent. On this occasion the barometer had been falling
all
the preceding day, and during the night the cold became more
intense,
and the wind chopped to the south-east.
This was
unfortunate. Mr. Fogg furled his sails and put on full-steam;
nevertheless
the speed fell off, as the vessel pitched heavily. The
wind
rose, and the position of the Henrietta became precarious.
Passe-partout's
face darkened as the sky, and for two days he was in
mortal
terror. But Mr. Fogg was a bold sailor, and kept the ship head
to
sea without even reducing the steam. The Henrietta rushed through
the
waves and deluged her decks. Sometimes the screw was clear out of
the
water, but still they kept on.
Although
the wind did not increase to a tempest, it held to the
south-east,
so the sails were rendered useless, and a great aid to the
screw
was thus lost.
The
16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Fogg's departure
from
London, and half the voyage across the Atlantic had been
accomplished,
and the worst was over. In the summer, success would
have
been assured, but in winter the weather had them at its mercy.
Passe-partout
said nothing, but consoled himself with the reflection
that
the steam would not fail them, and he hoped on.
One
day the engineer came on deck and spoke anxiously to Mr. Fogg.
This
consultation made Passe-partout very uneasy; he would have given
his
ears to have heard what they were saying; he managed to catch a
few
words, and heard his master say, "Are you sure?"
"Quite
certain," replied the engineer; "you must not forget that we
have
been piling up the fire ever since we left, and though we had
sufficient
coal to go under easy steam to Bordeaux, we had not enough
to
carry us to Liverpool at full pressure."
"I
will think about it," said Mr. Fogg; and then Passe-partout
understood
it all.
The
coal was failing!
"If
my master can get over this," he thought, "he will be a clever
fellow."
He
was so agitated he could not help imparting his knowledge to Fix,
who
replied, "Then you really think we are going to Liverpool?"
"Of
course we are."
"You
idiot!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders, as he
turned
away.
Passe-partout
would have revenged himself for this insult if he had
not
reflected that the unlucky Fix was very probably disappointed and
humiliated
at having followed a false scent all the way round the
world.
But
what would Phileas Fogg do now? No one could say; but he himself
appeared
as cool as ever, and to have decided, for he told the
engineer,
the same evening, to keep the full-steam on till the coal
was
exhausted.
So
the Henrietta proceeded at full-steam until, on the 18th, the
coals
began to give out, as the engineer had foretold.
"Keep
up the steam as much as possible," said Mr. Fogg.
About
midday, Phileas Fogg, having taken the ship's reckoning, told
Passe-partout
to release Captain Speedy. The Frenchman would rather
have
unloosed a tiger, and said, as he went aft, "What an awful rage
he
will be in."
A few
minutes later a bomb appeared on deck. This bomb was Captain
Speedy,
and looked ready to burst.
"Where
are we?" was his first remark, as soon as his anger would allow
him
to speak. "Where are we?" he repeated, looking round.
"Seven
hundred and seventy miles from Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg
calmly.
"Pirate!"
roared Andrew Speedy.
"I
requested your attendance, sir."
"You
robber!"
"Sir,"
said Mr. Fogg, "I wish to ask you to sell me your vessel."
"Never,
by all the devils!"
"Then
I shall be obliged to burn her."
"Burn
my ship?"
"Yes,
at least the upper works, as we are in want of fuel."
"Burn
my ship!" roared Captain Speedy; "why she is worth fifty
thousand
dollars!"
"Here
are sixty thousand dollars," replied Fogg, as he offered him a
roll
of bank-notes.
This
had a great effect upon Captain Speedy. In an instant he forgot
his
anger, his incarceration, and all his complaints. The ship was
twenty
years old, he would make his fortune. The bomb would not burst
after
all. Mr. Fogg had extinguished the fuze.
"I
shall still keep the hulk, I suppose?"
"The
hulk and the engine are yours. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes."
And Speedy, seizing the proffered money, put it (speedily) into
his
pocket.
All
this time Passe-partout was as pale as a ghost, while Fix looked
as if
he were going into a fit. Twenty thousand pounds expended, and
the
captain still possessed the hull and the machinery, the most
valuable
portion of the vessel! It was true that fifty-five thousand
pounds
had been stolen.
When
Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him: "Don't be
astonished
at all this; you must know that if I do not reach London on
the
21st of December, I shall lose twenty thousand pounds. Now you see
I
lost the steamer at New York--you refused to take me to Liverpool--"
"And
I was right," replied the captain, "for I have made twenty
thousand
dollars by the refusal." Then he added, more seriously:
"Do
you know one thing, Captain--"
"Fogg,"
said that worthy.
"Captain
Fogg; you've got a spice of the Yankee in you!" And having
paid
him this compliment, as he fancied, he was going below, when Fogg
said,
"Now the vessel is mine!"
"Certainly;
from truck to keelson--the wood I mean!"
"All
right. Please have all the woodwork cut away and burnt."
It
was absolutely necessary to burn the dry wood for fuel; and that
day
the poop, cabin fittings, bunks, and the spar-deck were consumed.
Next
day, the 19th December, they burned the masts and spars. The crew
worked
with a will, and Passe-partout sawed away as lustily as any ten
men.
Next day the upper works disappeared, and the Henrietta was
then
only a hulk. But on that day they sighted the Fastnet Light and
the
Irish coast. By ten o'clock they passed Queenstown. Phileas Fogg
had
now only twenty-four hours left to reach Liverpool, even if he
kept
up full-speed; and the steam was likely to give out apparently.
"Sir,"
said Speedy, who was now almost as much interested as the rest,
"I
should really suggest your giving up the game. Everything is
against
you. We are only just passing Queenstown."
"Ah,"
exclaimed Fogg, "is that Queenstown where the lights are?"
"Yes."
"Cannot
we enter the harbour?"
"Not
before three o'clock; the tide will not serve."
"Let
us wait then," said Fogg calmly, without betraying any emotion
that,
by a last effort, he was about to conquer his ill-luck.
Queenstown
is the port at which the American mails are landed, which
are
then forwarded to Dublin by an express train, and from thence to
Liverpool[A]
by fast steamers, thus gaining twelve hours upon the
fastest
vessels.
[Footnote
A: Holyhead.--Trans.]
Mr.
Fogg calculated upon gaining this space of time, and so, instead
of
reaching Liverpool next evening, he would be there at noon, and be
able
to reach London by a quarter to nine p.m.
About
one a.m. the Henrietta entered Queenstown, and Mr. Fogg,
exchanging
a clasp of the hand with Captain Speedy, left that
personage
upon the vessel, now a mere hulk.
All
the party went ashore at once. Fix was much inclined to arrest
Fogg
on the spot, but refrained. Why? Did he think he was mistaken
after
all? At any rate he would not abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got
into
the train at half-past one a.m., and were in Dublin at daybreak,
and
immediately embarked on the mail-steamer which, disdaining to ride
over
the waves, cut through them.
At
twenty minutes to twelve (noon) Mr. Fogg disembarked at
Liverpool.[B]
He was within six hours' run from London now.
[Footnote
B: Holyhead.--Trans.]
But
at that moment Fix approached him, and putting his hand upon Mr.
Fogg's
shoulder, said:
"Are
you really Phileas Fogg?"
"Yes,"
was the reply.
"Then
I arrest you in the Queen's name!"
In
which Passe-partout uses Strong Language.
Phileas
Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House,
pending
his removal to
Passe-partout
would have attacked Fix when he arrested his master, had
not
some policemen prevented him. Mrs. Aouda was quite upset by the
occurrence,
which was quite unintelligible to her. Passe-partout
explained
to her how it had come to pass, and the young lady, who was
of
course powerless, wept bitterly.
Fix
had merely done his duty, whether Mr. Fogg was guilty or not
guilty.
The judge would decide that.
It
then occurred to Passe-partout that this was all his fault. Why had
he
not communicated the facts to Mr. Fogg? He should have told him who
Fix
was and his errand. Thus forewarned he could have given proofs of
his
innocence, and at any rate the detective would not in that case
have
travelled at Mr. Fogg's expense, and arrested him the moment he
landed.
As he thought of all this Passe-partout was ready to shoot
himself.
Neither he nor Aouda left the Custom House, notwithstanding
the
cold weather. They were anxious to see Mr. Fogg once more.
As
for that gentleman he was completely ruined, and at the very moment
he
had succeeded in his attempt. The arrest was fatal. He had just
eight
hours and forty-five minutes to reach the Reform Club, and six
hours
would have sufficed to get to London.
Could
anyone have seen Mr. Fogg they would have found him seated
calmly
on a form in the Custom House, as cool as ever. Resigned is
scarcely
the word to apply to him, but to all appearance he was as
unmoved
as ever. If he was raging within he did not betray any
symptoms
of anger. Was it possible that he still hoped to succeed?
At
any rate he had carefully placed his watch on the table before him,
and
was watching it intently. Not a word escaped him, but his eyes
wore
a curious fixed expression. Honest or not, he was caught and
ruined.
Was
he thinking of escape, did he think of looking for an outlet? It
was
not unlikely, for every now and then he got up and walked round
the
room. But the door and window were both firmly closed and barred.
He
sat down, and drawing his journal from his pocket, read:
"21st
December, Saturday, Liverpool."
To
this he added--
"Eightieth
day, 11.40 a.m."
Then
he waited. The clock of the Custom House struck one. Mr. Fogg
perceived
that his watch was two minutes fast.
Two
o'clock came! Admitting that he could at that moment get into an
express
train, he might yet arrive in London and reach the Reform Club
in
time.
At
2.33 he heard a noise outside of opening doors. He could
distinguish
Passe-partout and Fix's voices. Mr. Fogg's eyes glittered.
The
door was flung open and Mrs. Aouda, Fix, and Passe-partout rushed
in.
"Ah
sir!" exclaimed Fix, hurrying up to the prisoner, "a thousand
pardons--an
unfortunate resemblance! The true thief is arrested. You
are
free, free!"
Phileas
Fogg was free. He walked quietly up to the detective, looked
him
steadily in the face for a second, and with a movement of his arm
knocked
him down!
"Well
hit!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "By jingo, that's a proper
application
of the art of self-defence!"
Fix
lay flat on the ground, and did not say a word. He had only
received
his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passe-partout immediately
quitted
the Custom House, jumped into a cab, and drove to the
railway-station.
Mr.
Fogg inquired when there would be a train for London. It was 2.40;
the
train had left five-and-thirty minutes before. Mr. Fogg ordered a
"special."
There
were plenty of engines capable of running at a high speed, but
the
train could not be got in readiness before three. At that hour Mr.
Fogg
having said a few words to the engine-driver respecting a certain
"tip,"
was rushing up to London, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda and his
faithful
Passe-partout.
The
distance was accomplished in five hours and a half, a very easy
thing
when the line is clear, but there were some unavoidable delays,
and when
the special arrived in London the clock pointed to ten
minutes
to nine.
Thus
Phileas Fogg, having accomplished his journey round the world,
had
returned five minutes too late!
He
had lost his wager.
Passe-partout
obeys Orders quickly.
The
inhabitants of Saville Row would have been astonished, next day,
if
they had been told that Mr. Fogg had returned, for the doors and
windows
of his house were still shut, and there was no change visible
exteriorly.
When
he left the railway-station, Mr. Fogg had told Passe-partout to
purchase
some provisions, and then he quietly went home.
Mr.
Fogg preserved his usual impassibility under the trying
circumstances;
he was ruined, and all through the fault of that
blundering
detective. After having achieved his long journey, overcome
a
thousand obstacles, braved a thousand dangers, and even found time
to do
some good on the way, to fail at the very moment that success
was
certain was indeed terrible. A very small portion remained to him
of
the large sum he had taken away with him; his whole fortune was
comprised
in the twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring's, and
that
sum he owed to his colleagues at the club. After having paid all
expenses,
even had he won he would have been none the richer, and it
is
not likely he wished to be richer, for he was one of those men who
bet
for reputation; but this wager would ruin his altogether. However,
he
had fully made up his mind what to do.
A
room had been set aside for Aouda, who felt Mr. Fogg's ruin very
deeply.
From certain words she had heard she understood he was
meditating
some serious measures. Knowing that Englishmen of an
eccentric
turn of mind sometimes commit suicide, Passe-partout kept
watch
on his master unobserved; but the first thing the lad did was to
extinguish
the gas in his room, which had been burning for eighty
days.
In the letter-box he had found the gas company's bill, and
thought
it was quite time to put a stop to such an expense.
The
night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but it is doubtful whether he
slept.
Aouda was quite unable to rest, and Passe-partout kept watch
like
a dog at his master's door.
Next
day, Mr. Fogg told him, shortly, to attend to Mrs. Aouda's
breakfast,
while he would have a cup of tea and a chop. He excused
himself
from joining Aouda at meals on the plea of putting his affairs
in
order, and it was not till evening that he asked for an interview
with
the young lady.
Passe-partout
having received his orders had only to obey them, but he
found
it impossible to leave his master's room. His heart was full,
his
conscience was troubled with remorse, for he could not help
blaming
himself for the disaster. If he had only warned his master
about
Fix, Mr. Fogg would not have brought the detective to Liverpool,
and
then--
Passe-partout
could hold out no longer.
"Oh,
Mr. Fogg!" he exclaimed, "do you not curse me? It is all my
fault--"
"I
blame no one," replied Phileas Fogg, in his usual calm tone.
"Go!"
Passe-partout
quitted the room and sought Mrs. Aouda, to whom he
delivered
his message.
"Madam,"
he added, "I am powerless. I have no influence over my
master's
mind; perhaps you may have."
"What
influence can I have?" she replied; "Mr. Fogg will submit to no
one.
Has he really ever understood how grateful I am to him? Has he
ever
read my heart? He must not be left alone an instant. You say he
is
going to see me this evening?"
"Yes,
madam. No doubt to make arrangements for your sojourn in
England."
"Let
us wait, then," replied the young lady, becoming suddenly
thoughtful.
So,
through all that Sunday, the house in Saville Row appeared
uninhabited;
and for the first time since he had lived in it, Phileas
Fogg
did not go to his club as Big Ben was striking half-past eleven.
And
why should he go to the Reform Club? His friends did not expect
him.
As he had not appeared in time to win the wager, it was not
necessary
for him to go to the bank and draw his twenty thousand
pounds.
His antagonists had his blank cheque; it only remained for
them
to fill it up and present it for payment.
As
Mr. Fogg, then, had no object in going out, he stayed in his room
and
arranged his business matters. Passe-partout was continually
running
up and down stairs, and thought the day passed very slowly. He
listened
at his master's door, and did not think it wrong; he looked
through
the keyhole, for every instant he feared some catastrophe.
Sometimes
he thought of Fix, but without any animosity. Fix, like
everyone
else, had been mistaken, and had only done his duty in
following
Mr. Fogg, while he (Passe-partout)-- The thought haunted
him,
and he thought himself the most wretched of men.
He
was so unhappy that he could not bear to remain alone, so he
knocked
at Mrs. Aouda's sitting-room, and, permitted to enter, sat
down
in a corner, without speaking. She, too, was very pensive.
About
half-past seven Mr. Fogg asked permission to go in; he took a
chair
and sat close by the fireplace, opposite to the young lady; he
betrayed
no emotion--the Fogg who had come back was the same as the
Fogg
who had gone away. There was the same calmness, the same
impassibility.
For
five minutes he did not speak, then he said: "Madam, can you
forgive
me for having brought you to England?"
"I,
Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, trying to check the beating of
her
heart.
"Pray
allow me to finish," continued Mr. Fogg. "When I asked you to
come
to this country I was rich, and had determined to place a portion
of my
fortune at your disposal. You would have been free and happy.
Now I
am ruined."
"I know it, Mr. Fogg," she replied; "and I, in my turn, have to ask<= o:p>
your
pardon for having followed you, and, who knows, retarded you, and
thus
contributed to your ruin."
"You
could not have remained in India," replied Mr. Fogg, "and your
safety
was only assured by taking you quite away from those fanatics
who
wished to arrest you."
"So, Mr. Fogg," she replied, "not satisfied with having saved me from<= o:p>
death,
you wished to insure my comfort in a foreign country."
"I
did," replied Fogg; "but fate was unpropitious. However, I wish t=
o
place
at your disposal the little I have left."
"But,"
she exclaimed, "what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"
"Of
me, madam? I am in want of nothing."
"But,"
she continued, "how can you bear to look upon the fate in store
for
you?"
"As
I always look at everything," replied Mr. Fogg; "in the best way =
I
can."
"At any rate," said Aouda, "your friends will not permit you to want<= o:p>
anything."
"I
have no friends, madam."
"Your
relations, then."
"I
have no relations now."
"Oh
then indeed I pity you, Mr. Fogg. Solitude is a terrible thing.
Not a
single person to whom you can confide your sorrow? Though they
say
that even grief, shared with another, is more easily supported."
"So
they say, madam."
"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and extending her hand to him, "do you<= o:p>
care
to possess at the same time a relative and a friend? Will you
take
me for your wife?"
Mr.
Fogg had risen also. There was an unusual gleam in his eyes, and
his
lips trembled. Aouda looked at him. In this regard of a noble
woman,
who had dared everything to save the man to whom she owed her
life,
her sincerity, firmness, and sweetness were all apparent. He was
at
first astonished, and then completely overcome. For a moment his
eyes
closed, as if to avoid her glance, and when he opened them again
he
said simply:
"I
love you. By all I hold sacred, I love you dearly; and I am yours
for
ever."
"Ah!"
exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, as she pressed her hand upon her bosom.
Passe-partout
was immediately summoned. Mr. Fogg was still holding the
lady's
hand. Passe-partout understood it all, and his face became
radiant.
Mr.
Fogg asked him if it were too late to notify the Rev. Samuel
Wilson,
of Marylebone Church, about the wedding.
Passe-partout
smiled, as he replied, "It is never too late." It was
then
five minutes past eight.
"Will
the wedding take place to-morrow, Monday?" he said
"Shall
we say to-morrow?" asked Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.
"If
you please," she replied, blushing.
Passe-partout
hurried away as fast as he could go.
In
which Phileas Fogg's Name is once again at a Premium on the
Exchange.
It is
now time to say something of the change which English opinion
underwent
when the true bank robber, one James Strand, was arrested in
Edinburgh
on the 17th of December.
Three
days before Fogg was a criminal, followed by the police; now he
was a
gentleman, who had only been taking an eccentric journey round
the
world. There was great discussion in the papers, and those who had
laid
wagers for or against Mr. Fogg rose once more as if by magic. The
"Fogg
Bonds" were once more negotiated, and Phileas Fogg's name was at
a
premium.
The
members of the Reform Club passed those three days in great
discomfort.
Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten, return? Where
was
he on that 17th of December, which was the seventy-sixth day after
his
departure, and they had had no news of him? Had he given in, and
renounced
the struggle, or was he continuing the journey at a more
reasonable
rate, and would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of
December,
at a quarter to nine in the evening, as agreed upon?
We
cannot depict the intense agitation which moved all classes of
society
during those three days. Telegrams were sent to America and
Asia
for news of Mr. Fogg, and people were sent, morning and night, to
Saville
Row; but there was no news. Even the police did not know what
had
become of Fix. But all these things did not prevent bets being
made,
even to a greater amount than formerly. Bonds were quoted no
longer
at a hundred per cent. discount, but went up to ten and five;
and
even old Lord Albemarle was betting at evens.
So
that Saturday night a great crowd was assembled in Pall Mall and
the
Reform Club. Traffic was impeded; disputes, arguments, and bets
were
raging in every direction. The police had the greatest difficulty
to
keep back the crowd, and as the hour when Mr. Fogg was due
approached,
the excitement rose to fever-heat.
That
evening that gentleman's five friends had assembled in the
drawing-room
of the club. There were the two bankers, John Sullivan
and
Samuel Fallentin; Andrew Stuart, the engineer; Gauthier Ralph, the
director
of the Bank of England; and Thomas Flanagan, the brewer; all
awaiting
Mr. Fogg's return with the greatest anxiety.
At
twenty minutes past eight Stuart rose and said: "Gentlemen, in
twenty-five
minutes the time agreed upon will have expired."
"At
what time was the last train due from Liverpool?" asked Flanagan.
"At
7.23," replied Ralph; "and the next does not arrive till past
midnight."
"Well,
then, gentlemen," replied Stuart, "if Mr. Fogg had arrived by
the
7.23, he would have been here before now, so we may look upon the
bet
as won."
"Do
not be in too great a hurry," replied Fallentin. "You know that
our
friend is very eccentric, and his punctuality is proverbial. I,
for
one, shall be astonished if he does not turn up at the last
minute."
"For
my part," said Stuart, who was very nervous, "if I should see him=
I
could not believe it was he."
"In
fact," replied Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was insane. No matte=
r
how
punctual he may be, he cannot prevent some delay; and a day or two
would
throw all his arrangements out of gear."
"And
you will remark besides," said Sullivan, "that we have not
received
any news from him all the time he has been away, although
there
are telegraphs all along his route."
"He
has lost, gentlemen," said Stuart, "a hundred times over. The onl=
y
ship
he could have come by and been in time was the China, and she
arrived
yesterday. Here is a list of the passengers, and Phileas
Fogg's
name is not included. On the most favourable computation our
friend
can scarcely have reached America. I do not expect him for the
next
twenty days, and my Lord Albemarle will lose his five thousand
pounds."
"Then
we have nothing to do," replied Ralph, "but to present his
cheque
at Baring's to-morrow."
The
hands of the clock were then pointing to twenty minutes to nine.
"Five
minutes more," said Stuart.
The
five friends looked at each other. One could almost hear their
hearts
beating, for it must be confessed that even for such seasoned
players
the stakes were pretty high, but they did not wish their
anxiety
to be remarked, and on Fallentin's suggestion they sat down to
whist.
"I
would not give up my four thousand pounds," said Stuart as he sat
down,
"if anyone were to offer me three thousand nine hundred and
ninety-nine."
The
clock pointed to eighteen minutes to nine.
The
players took up their cards, but kept looking at the clock. No
matter
how safe they felt, the minutes had never appeared so long.
"8.43,"
said Flanagan, as he cut the pack Ralph passed to him.
At
that moment the silence was profound, but the cries of the crowd
outside
soon rose again. The clock beat out the seconds with
mathematical
regularity, and each of the players checked every tick of
the
pendulum.
"8.44,"
said Sullivan, in a voice which betrayed his nervousness.
One
minute more and they would have won their bet. They laid down
their
cards and counted the seconds.
At
the fortieth second no news; at the fiftieth still nothing. At the
fifty-fifth
second a loud roar was heard from the street mingled with
cheers
and oaths.
All
the players rose simultaneously.
At
the fifty-seventh second the door of the room was thrust open, and
before
the pendulum had marked the minute Phileas Fogg advanced into
the
room, followed to the door by an excited crowd who had forced
their
way in, and he said in his usual calm tone,
"Here
I am, gentlemen."
Showing
how Phileas Fogg gained only Happiness by his Tour round the
World.
Yes,
it was Phileas Fogg in person.
Our
readers will recollect that at five minutes after eight that
evening--about
twenty-five hours after our travellers' arrival in
London--Passe-partout
had been requested to arrange about a certain
marriage
with the Rev. Samuel Wilson. Passe-partout had gone on his
mission
rejoicing, but the clergyman was not at home. He naturally
waited,
but he was kept at least twenty minutes.
It
was 8.35 when he left the clergyman's house, but what a state he
was
in! His hair was disordered, he ran home without his hat,
overturning
the passers-by as he went rushing along the pathway.
In
three minutes he was back in Saville Row, and he rushed
breathlessly
into Mr. Fogg's room.
He
was unable to speak.
"What
is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Oh,
sir--the marriage--impossible."
"Impossible?"
"Impossible
for to-morrow."
"Why
so?"
"Because
to-morrow is--Sunday."
"It
is Monday," said Mr. Fogg.
"No,
to-day is Saturday."
"Saturday?
impossible."
"It is, it is!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "You have made a mistake of<= o:p>
one
day. We arrived twenty-four hours before our time, but we have
only
ten minutes left now."
As he
spoke Passe-partout fairly dragged his master out of his chair.
Phileas
Fogg, thus seized, had no choice. He rushed downstairs, jumped
into
a cab, promised the driver a hundred pounds, ran over two dogs,
came
into collision with five cabs, and reached the Reform Club at
8.45.
So
Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty
days,
and had won his bet of twenty thousand pounds.
Now
how was it that such a methodical man could have made a mistake of
a
day? How could he imagine that he had got back on Saturday the 21st
when
it was really Friday the 20th, seventy-nine days after his
departure?
The
reason is very simple.
Phileas
Fogg had unconsciously gained a day, simply because he
journeyed
always eastward, whereas, had he journeyed westward, he
would
have lost a day.
In
fact, travelling towards the east, he had gone towards the south,
and
consequently the days got shorter as many times four minutes as he
crossed
degrees in that direction. There are three hundred and sixty
degrees,
and these multiplied by four minutes give exactly twenty-four
hours;
that is the day Fogg gained. In other words, while Phileas
Fogg,
going east, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty times, his
friends
in London only saw it seventy-nine times, and that is why on
that
day, which was Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought,
they
expected him at the Reform Club.
Passe-partout's
wonderful watch, which had always kept London time,
would
have confirmed this had it only marked the days as well as the
hours
and minutes.
So
Phileas Fogg had won his twenty thousand pounds, but as he had
expended
nearly nineteen thousand pounds, his gain was small. However,
he
had not bet for money. He actually divided the thousand pounds that
remained
between honest Passe-partout and the unfortunate Fix, against
whom
he bore no malice. But from Passe-partout's share he deducted, on
principle,
the cost of the gas which had been burning for one thousand
nine
hundred and twenty hours. That same evening Mr. Fogg, as
tranquilly
as ever, said to Aouda, "Is the prospect of our marriage
still
agreeable to you?"
"Mr.
Fogg," she replied, "it is I who ought to have asked you that
question.
You were ruined then, but now you are rich."
"Excuse
me, madam," he replied, "this fortune belongs to you. If you
had
not thought of the wedding, my servant would never have gone to
see
Mr. Wilson, and I should not have found out my mistake."
"Dear
Mr. Fogg," said the young lady.
"My
dearest Aouda," replied Phileas Fogg.
The
marriage took place forty-eight hours afterwards, and
Passe-partout,
beaming and resplendent, gave the bride away. Had he
not
saved her life, and was he not entitled to the honour?
On
the wedding morning Passe-partout knocked at his master's door.
"What
is the matter, Passe-partout?"
"Well,
sir, I have just this moment found out that we might have gone
round
the world in seventy-eight days only."
"No doubt," replied Mr. Fogg, "if we had not crossed India; but if I<= o:p>
had
not crossed India we should not have rescued Mrs. Aouda, and she
would
never have been my wife."
And
Mr. Fogg shut the door quietly.
So
Phileas Fogg won his wager, and made the tour of the world in
eighty
days. To do this he had made use of every means of
transport--steamers,
railways, carriages, yacht, trading-ship,
sledges,
and elephants. That eccentric gentleman had displayed all
through
his most marvellous qualities of coolness and exactness; and
after
all what had he really gained? What had he brought back?
"Nothing,"
do you say? Well, perhaps so, if a charming woman is
nothing,
who, however extraordinary it may appear, made him the
happiest
of men.
And
in truth, reader, would not you go round the world for less than
that?
THE
END.