Part 2 - Around the World in 80 Days Audiobook by Jules Verne (Chs 15-25)


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Transcript:
Chapter XV In Which The Bag Of Banknotes Disgorges
Some Thousands Of Pounds More
The train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first, was
followed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in order to get
Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage. He was unwilling to leave her while they
were still on dangerous ground.
Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and said, "Mr.
Phileas Fogg?" "I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to Passepartout.
"Yes." "Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever.
The policeman was a representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped him with
his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
"She may," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri, a sort of four-
wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took their places and were
driven away.
No one spoke during the twenty minutes which elapsed before they reached their
destination.
They first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its miserable,
dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the "European town," which
presented a relief in its bright brick
mansions, shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it
was early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages were
passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest- looking house, which, however, did not have
the appearance of a private mansion.
The policeman having requested his prisoners for so, truly, they might be
called-to descend, conducted them into a room with barred windows, and said: "You
will appear before Judge Obadiah at half- past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door. "Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed
Passepartout, falling into a chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg: "Sir, you must
leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive this
treatment, it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible.
It was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake.
Moreover, he would not, in any event, abandon Aouda, but would escort her to Hong
Kong. "But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed
Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help muttering to himself,
"Parbleu that's certain!
Before noon we shall be on board." But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and, requesting them to
follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall.
It was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives already occupied
the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite the desks of the
magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after, Judge Obadiah, a fat,
round man, followed by the clerk, entered.
He proceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it hurriedly on
his head. "The first case," said he.
Then, putting his hand to his head, he exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big clock over the
judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff. "I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?" "Present," responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge.
"You have been looked for, prisoners, for two days on the trains from Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"
"Have you been ill-treated?" "Not at all."
"Very well; let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests entered.
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were going to burn our
young lady."
The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk proceeded to read
in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against Phileas Fogg and his servant, who
were accused of having violated a place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked the judge. "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting
his watch, "and I admit it."
"You admit it?" "I admit it, and I wish to hear these
priests admit, in their turn, what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand what was said.
"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where they were on the
point of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom?
In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried Passepartout. "Certainly.
We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the pagoda of Malabar Hill,
at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very shoes, which he
left behind him." Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his
desk.
"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this imprudent
exclamation to escape him.
The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair at Bombay, for
which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.
Fix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's escapade
gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had consulted the priests of
Malabar Hill.
Knowing that the English authorities dealt very severely with this kind of
misdemeanour, he promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to
Calcutta by the next train.
Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of the young widow, Fix and the priests
reached the Indian capital before Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having
been already warned by a dispatch to arrest them should they arrive.
Fix's disappointment when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in
Calcutta may be imagined.
He made up his mind that the robber had stopped somewhere on the route and taken
refuge in the southern provinces.
For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish anxiety; at last he
was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout arrive, accompanied by a young
woman, whose presence he was wholly at a loss to explain.
He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the party came to be arrested and
brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied the
detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room, watching the proceedings with
an interest easily understood; for the
warrant had failed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and
Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash exclamation, which the
poor fellow would have given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally and sternly
the religions of the Indian people, and as the man Passepartout has admitted that he
violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill,
at Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout to
imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the act was not done by
the connivance of the master with the servant, and as the master in any case must
be held responsible for the acts of his
paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a fine of one
hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could be
detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout was stupefied.
This sentence ruined his master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost,
because he, like a precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the least concern him,
did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being pronounced.
Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and said, "I offer bail."
"You have that right," returned the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the judge announce
that the bail required for each prisoner would be one thousand pounds.
"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills from the
carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison," said the judge.
"Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail." "Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout angrily.
"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to him.
"More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the crestfallen
Passepartout.
Fix still nourished hopes that the robber would not, after all, leave the two
thousand pounds behind him, but would decide to serve out his week in jail, and
issued forth on Mr. Fogg's traces.
That gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon landed on one of the quays.
The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal of departure
hoisted at the mast-head.
Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr. Fogg was an hour in advance of time.
Fix saw them leave the carriage and push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped
his feet with disappointment.
"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed.
"Two thousand pounds sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief!
I'll follow him to the end of the world if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on,
the stolen money will soon be exhausted." The detective was not far wrong in making
this conjecture.
Since leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of the
elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than five thousand
pounds on the way, and the percentage of
the sum recovered from the bank robber promised to the detectives, was rapidly
diminishing.
>
Chapter XVI In Which Fix Does Not Seem To Understand In
The Least What Is Said To Him
The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats plying in the
Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron, weighing about
seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of four hundred horse-power.
She was as fast, but not as well fitted up, as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as
comfortably provided for on board of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished.
However, the trip from Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand
five hundred miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not
difficult to please.
During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted with her
protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude for what he had done.
The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her, apparently at least, with coldness, neither
his voice nor his manner betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be
always on the watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort.
He visited her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk.
He treated her with the strictest politeness, but with the precision of an
automaton, the movements of which had been arranged for this purpose.
Aouda did not quite know what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some
hints of his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the wager
which was sending him round the world.
After all, she owed Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the
exalting medium of her gratitude. Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's
narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing in cotton;
and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet by the English
government.
Aouda was a relative of this great man, and it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped
to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr. Fogg essayed to
calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything would be mathematically--he used
the very word--arranged.
Aouda fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya," upon
him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem at all inclined to
throw himself into this lake.
The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable weather and
propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great Andaman, the principal
of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with
its picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming above the
waters.
The steamer passed along near the shores, but the savage Papuans, who are in the
lowest scale of humanity, but are not, as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make
their appearance.
The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.
Vast forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and tree-
like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful outlines of the
mountains were traced against the sky; and
along the coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire.
The varied landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however,
and the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave access to
the China seas.
What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country, doing all this
while?
He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at Calcutta without being seen by
Passepartout, after leaving orders that, if the warrant should arrive, it should be
forwarded to him at Hong Kong; and he hoped
to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without awakening
Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance with the worthy
servant, as will be seen.
All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for the steamer's
stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to take any steps there.
The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the robber would probably escape him for
ever.
Hong Kong was the last English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China,
Japan, America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge.
If the warrant should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest
him and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no further
trouble.
But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no avail; an extradition
warrant would be necessary, and that would result in delays and obstacles, of which
the rascal would take advantage to elude justice.
Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he spent in his cabin,
and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which
case I shall arrest my man, or it will not
be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I should delay his
departure.
I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed at Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my
reputation is lost: Cost what it may, I must succeed!
But how shall I prevent his departure, if that should turn out to be my last
resource?"
Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a confidant of
Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his master really was.
That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was very certain.
The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid of being himself implicated in
the crime, would doubtless become an ally of the detective.
But this method was a dangerous one, only to be employed when everything else had
failed. A word from Passepartout to his master
would ruin all.
The detective was therefore in a sore strait.
But suddenly a new idea struck him.
The presence of Aouda on the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new
material for reflection. Who was this woman?
What combination of events had made her Fogg's travelling companion?
They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay and Calcutta; but where?
Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone into the interior purposely in quest of
this charming damsel? Fix was fairly puzzled.
He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked elopement; and this idea so
impressed itself upon his mind that he determined to make use of the supposed
intrigue.
Whether the young woman were married or not, he would be able to create such
difficulties for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount of
money.
But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong?
Fogg had an abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before anything
could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.
Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the Rangoon before
her arrival.
This was easy to do, since the steamer stopped at Singapore, whence there is a
telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to question
Passepartout.
It would not be difficult to make him talk; and, as there was no time to lose, Fix
prepared to make himself known.
It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon was due at
Singapore. Fix emerged from his cabin and went on
deck.
Passepartout was promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer.
The detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and
exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"
"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished
Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia.
"Why, I left you at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong!
Are you going round the world too?" "No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at
Hong Kong--at least for some days."
"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed.
"But how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth.
The Gulf of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean.
And how is Mr. Fogg?"
"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time!
But, Monsieur Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what was said.
Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the Bombay pagoda,
the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds, the rescue, the arrest,
and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the
restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail.
Fix, who was familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all that
Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so interested a listener.
"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
"Not at all.
We are simply going to place her under the protection of one of her relatives, a rich
merchant at Hong Kong." "Nothing to be done there," said Fix to
himself, concealing his disappointment.
"A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?" "Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least
have a friendly glass on board the Rangoon."
>
Chapter XVII Showing What Happened On The Voyage From
Singapore To Hong Kong
The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview, though Fix was
reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to divulge any more facts
concerning Mr. Fogg.
He caught a glimpse of that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg
usually confined himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according
to his inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance kept Fix
still on the route that his master was pursuing.
It was really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent
person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board the Mongolia, who
disembarked at Bombay, which he announced
as his destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was following
Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step. What was Fix's object?
Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously preserved--that
Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with them, and probably on the same
steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without hitting upon the real
object which the detective had in view.
He never could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber around
the globe.
But, as it is in human nature to attempt the solution of every mystery, Passepartout
suddenly discovered an explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from
unreasonable.
Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's friends at the Reform Club, sent
to follow him up, and to ascertain that he really went round the world as had been
agreed upon.
"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his shrewdness.
"He's a spy sent to keep us in view!
That isn't quite the thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a
man! Ah, gentlemen of the Reform, this shall
cost you dear!"
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to his master, lest
he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the part of his adversaries.
But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had the chance, with mysterious allusions,
which, however, need not betray his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered the Strait of
Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from Sumatra.
The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of this noble
island from the view of the travellers.
The Rangoon weighed anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal,
having gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival.
Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda,
who betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously, without
being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his sleeve at
Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no mountains; yet its
appearance is not without attractions.
It is a park checkered by pleasant highways and avenues.
A handsome carriage, drawn by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg
and Aouda into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of clove-trees,
whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields; sago-bushes, large
ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of this tropical clime; while
nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air with a penetrating perfume.
Agile and grinning bands of monkeys skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting
in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg returned to the
town, which is a vast collection of heavy- looking, irregular houses, surrounded by
charming gardens rich in tropical fruits
and plants; and at ten o'clock they re- embarked, closely followed by the
detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit as large as
good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a bright red within, and whose
white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck.
He was only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very gracefully
for them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a few hours the
high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited by the most beautifully-
furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of Hong Kong, which
is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be in time
for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for Yokohama, the principal
Japanese port.
The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked at
Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen, Malays, and
Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last quarter of the moon.
The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals rose almost to a storm, but
happily blew from the south-west, and thus aided the steamer's progress.
The captain as often as possible put up his sails, and under the double action of steam
and sail the vessel made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China.
Owing to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual precautions
became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of time which resulted from
this cause, while it nearly drove
Passepartout out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and consigned all
who were connected with the ship to the land where the pepper grows.
Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly burning at his expense in
Saville Row, had something to do with his hot impatience.
"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach Hong Kong?"
"A very great hurry!" "Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch
the steamer for Yokohama?"
"Terribly anxious." "You believe in this journey around the
world, then?" "Absolutely.
Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it." "You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout,
winking at him. This expression rather disturbed Fix,
without his knowing why.
Had the Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think.
But how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective?
Yet, in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his tongue.
"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as to lose you
when we get to Hong Kong?" "Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed,
"I don't know; perhaps--"
"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular Company, you
know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to Bombay, and here you
are in China.
America is not far off, and from America to Europe is only a step."
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene as possible, and
laughed with him.
But Passepartout persisted in chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his
present occupation. "Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good
and bad luck in such things.
But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."
"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his reflections.
He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the Frenchman had found out that he
was a detective.
But had he told his master? What part was he playing in all this: was
he an accomplice or not? Was the game, then, up?
Fix spent several hours turning these things over in his mind, sometimes thinking
that all was lost, then persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and
then undecided what course it was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved to deal plainly
with Passepartout.
If he did not find it practicable to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made
preparations to leave that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all.
Either the servant was the accomplice of his master, and in this case the master
knew of his operations, and he should fail; or else the servant knew nothing about the
robbery, and then his interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout.
Meanwhile Phileas Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference.
He was passing methodically in his orbit around the world, regardless of the lesser
stars which gravitated around him.
Yet there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star, which might
have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart.
But no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great surprise; and the
disturbances, if they existed, would have been more difficult to calculate than those
of Uranus which led to the discovery of Neptune.
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in Aouda's eyes the
depths of her gratitude to his master.
Phileas Fogg, though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless.
As to the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was
clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in perpetual
reveries.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was observing the
engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the screw out of the water.
The steam came hissing out of the valves; and this made Passepartout indignant.
"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed.
"We are not going.
Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
>
Chapter XVIII In Which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, And
Fix Go Each About His Business
The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage.
The wind, obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale, and retarded the
steamer.
The Rangoon rolled heavily and the passengers became impatient of the long,
monstrous waves which the wind raised before their path.
A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall knocking the vessel
about with fury, and the waves running high.
The Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much, whistling and
shaking amid the squall.
The steamer was forced to proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would
reach Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be struggling especially to
delay him, with his habitual tranquillity.
He never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty hours, by
making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost inevitably cause the loss of
the wager.
But this man of nerve manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if
the storm were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen.
Aouda was amazed to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light.
The storm greatly pleased him.
His satisfaction would have been complete had the Rangoon been forced to retreat
before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable that Fogg
would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now the heavens themselves
became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea- sick--he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his spirit
bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now!
Earth and sea had seemed to be at his master's service; steamers and railways
obeyed him; wind and steam united to speed his journey.
Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were to come from
his own pocket.
The storm exasperated him, the gale made him furious, and he longed to lash the
obstinate sea into obedience. Poor fellow!
Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed it,
Passepartout could scarcely have restrained himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being unable to remain
quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the progress of the ship by lending a
hand with the crew.
He overwhelmed the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions.
He wanted to know exactly how long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was
referred to the barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising.
Passepartout shook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor
maledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.
On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened its violence;
the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather.
Some of the sails were unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed.
The time lost could not, however, be regained.
Land was not signalled until five o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was
due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind- hand, and the Yokohama steamer would, of
course, be missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to guide the
Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama; but he dared
not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which still remained till the last
moment.
He had confided his anxiety to Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying
that Mr. Fogg would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the pilot, and
tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave Hong Kong for Yokohama.
"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the pilot, while
Fix would have been glad to twist his neck. "What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr.
Fogg.
"The Carnatic." "Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her departure was
postponed till to-morrow."
"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.
Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his delight,
exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him this
enthusiastic greeting.
He remounted the bridge, and guided the steamer through the flotilla of junks,
tankas, and fishing boats which crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.
At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were going ashore.
Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic been forced to lie
over for repairing her boilers, she would have left on the 6th of November, and the
passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer.
Mr. Fogg was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not
seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco made a direct
connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not sail until the latter reached
Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four
hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily regained in the
voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific.
He found himself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days after
leaving London. The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong
Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there, which was to
deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to the
Club Hotel.
A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg, after seeing that she wanted for
nothing, set out in search of her cousin Jeejeeh.
He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel until his return, that Aouda might
not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one would know so
wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee merchant.
Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh had left China two years
before, and, retiring from business with an immense fortune, had taken up his residence
in Europe--in Holland the broker thought,
with the merchants of which country he had principally traded.
Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment's conversation with Aouda, and
without more ado, apprised her that Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in
Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"It is very simple," responded the gentleman.
"Go on to Europe." "But I cannot intrude--"
"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!" "Monsieur."
"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to him, was
going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk gait to obey his
master's order.
>
Chapter XIX In Which Passepartout Takes A Too Great
Interest In His Master, And What Comes Of It
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by the Treaty of
Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius of the English has
created upon it an important city and an excellent port.
The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is separated by about
sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on the opposite coast.
Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the Chinese trade, and now the greater
part of the transportation of Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place.
Docks, hospitals, wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised
streets, give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey transferred by
some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the Victoria port,
gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other modes of conveyance, and the
groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans who passed to and fro in the streets.
Hong Kong seemed to him not unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them,
it betrayed everywhere the evidence of English supremacy.
At the Victoria port he found a confused mass of ships of all nations: English,
French, American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and Chinese
junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many floating parterres.
Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the natives who seemed very old and were
dressed in yellow.
On going into a barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at
least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow, which is the
Imperial colour.
Passepartout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was not
astonished to find Fix walking up and down.
The detective seemed very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform Club!"
He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived that gentleman's
chagrin.
The detective had, indeed, good reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which pursued
him. The warrant had not come!
It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now reach Hong Kong
for several days; and, this being the last English territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the
robber would escape, unless he could manage to detain him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with us so far as
America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth. "Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing
heartily. "I knew you could not persuade yourself to
separate from us.
Come and engage your berth." They entered the steamer office and secured
cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs on the
Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that very evening, and not next
morning, as had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout.
"I will go and let him know." Fix now decided to make a bold move; he
resolved to tell Passepartout all.
It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg several days longer at
Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion into a
tavern which caught his eye on the quay.
On entering, they found themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end
of which was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions.
Several persons lay upon this bed in a deep sleep.
At the small tables which were arranged about the room some thirty customers were
drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay
pipes stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose.
From time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip
under the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and feet, carried
and laid him upon the bed.
The bed already supported twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by those wretched,
cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English merchants sell every year the
miserable drug called opium, to the amount
of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted to one of the
most despicable vices which afflict humanity!
The Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by
stringent laws.
It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved, to
the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested.
Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women, in the Celestial Empire;
and, once accustomed to it, the victims cannot dispense with it, except by
suffering horrible bodily contortions and agonies.
A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day; but he dies in five years.
It was in one of these dens that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly
glass, found themselves.
Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's invitation in the hope of
returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample justice, whilst Fix
observed him with close attention.
They chatted about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the
idea that Fix was going to continue it with them.
When the bottles were empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the
change in the time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?" "I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that was left
in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it to-morrow; I
haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.
Fix's face seemed to have a singular expression.
He resumed his seat. "What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice, said, "You
have guessed who I am?" "Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good.
But go on, go on.
First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have put themselves to a useless
expense." "Useless!" said Fix.
"You speak confidently.
It's clear that you don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds!
Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an instant," he continued, getting
up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five thousand pounds;
and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.
If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying?
Those gentlemen are not satisfied with following my master and suspecting his
honour, but they must try to put obstacles in his way!
I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?" "I mean that it is a piece of shameful
trickery. They might as well waylay Mr. Fogg and put
his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing." "It's a conspiracy, then," cried
Passepartout, who became more and more excited as the liquor mounted in his head,
for he drank without perceiving it.
"A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too.
Bah!" Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout.
"You must know, Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he
makes a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu!
An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to interrupt my master's
journey.
But, though I found you out some time ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about
it to Mr. Fogg." "He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.
The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he spoke again.
What should he do?
Passepartout's mistake seemed sincere, but it made his design more difficult.
It was evident that the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been
inclined to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he will help me."
He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he resolved to
make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an agent of the
members of the Reform Club--" "Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air
of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?" "I will prove it.
Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and the gentlemen of
the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for securing your innocent
complicity."
"But why?" "Listen.
On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five thousand pounds was committed at
the Bank of England by a person whose description was fortunately secured.
Here is his description; it answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him.
You went into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes.
And yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his hands, and
did not dare to look at the detective.
Phileas Fogg, the saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber!
And yet how many presumptions there were against him!
Passepartout essayed to reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his
mind; he did not wish to believe that his master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as yet I have
failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to London.
You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the Bank of
England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back, exhausted in mind and
body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my master is really the
robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have been, am, in his service; I have seen
his generosity and goodness; and I will
never betray him--not for all the gold in the world.
I come from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse." "Consider that I've said nothing," said
Fix; "and let us drink." "Yes; let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the liquor.
Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from his master, wished to
entirely overcome him.
Some pipes full of opium lay upon the table.
Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand.
He took it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,
becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious.
"Mr. Fogg will not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he
will have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
>
Chapter XX In Which Fix Comes Face To Face With
Phileas Fogg
While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg, unconscious of the
danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly escorting Aouda about the streets
of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them.
It was all very well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with
a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under such
conditions.
He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity, and invariably replied to the
remonstrances of his fair companion, who was confused by his patience and
generosity:
"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."
The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a sumptuously
served table-d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with her protector after the
English fashion, retired to her room for rest.
Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The Times and
Illustrated London News.
Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been not to see his
servant return at bedtime.
But, knowing that the steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning,
he did not disturb himself about the matter.
When Passepartout did not appear the next morning to answer his master's bell, Mr.
Fogg, not betraying the least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-
bag, calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide, the Carnatic
would leave the harbour.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a
wheelbarrow, and half an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark.
Mr. Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before.
He had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was forced
to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his face, and he
merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam; nothing more."
At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not, like me, sir, a
passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"
"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly.
"But I have not the honour--" "Pardon me; I thought I should find your
servant here." "Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda
anxiously.
"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since
yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
"Without you, madam?" answered the detective.
"Excuse me, did you intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
"Yes, sir." "So did I, madam, and I am excessively
disappointed.
The Carnatic, its repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the
stated time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
another steamer."
As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy.
Fogg detained at Hong Kong for a week!
There would be time for the warrant to arrive, and fortune at last favoured the
representative of the law.
His horror may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But
there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the harbour of
Hong Kong."
And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks in search of
some craft about to start.
Fix, stupefied, followed; it seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an
invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had hitherto served so
well.
For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about the docks, with the determination, if
necessary, to charter a vessel to carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels
which were loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail.
Fix began to hope again.
But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search, resolved not to
stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted by a sailor on one of the
wharves.
"Is your honour looking for a boat?" "Have you a boat ready to sail?"
"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43-- the best in the harbour."
"Does she go fast?"
"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
"Yes." "Your honour will be satisfied with her.
Is it for a sea excursion?"
"No; for a voyage." "A voyage?"
"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is your honour
joking?"
"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the 14th at the latest,
to take the boat for San Francisco." "I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is
impossible."
"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two hundred pounds
if I reach Yokohama in time." "Are you in earnest?"
"Very much so."
The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea, evidently struggling
between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the fear of venturing so far.
Fix was in mortal suspense.
Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would you,
madam?" "Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or my little boat
of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time of year.
Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is sixteen hundred and sixty
miles from Hong Kong." "Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"It's the same thing."
Fix breathed more freely. "But," added the pilot, "it might be
arranged another way." Fix ceased to breathe at all.
"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to Shanghai, which is
only eight hundred miles from here.
In going to Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and would aid us."
"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama, and not at
Shanghai or Nagasaki." "Why not?" returned the pilot.
"The San Francisco steamer does not start from Yokohama.
It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it starts from Shanghai."
"You are sure of that?"
"Perfectly." "And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
"On the 11th, at seven in the evening.
We have, therefore, four days before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time,
if we had good luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai."
"And you could go--" "In an hour; as soon as provisions could be
got aboard and the sails put up." "It is a bargain.
Are you the master of the boat?"
"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
"Would you like some earnest-money?" "If it would not put your honour out--"
"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg, turning to Fix,
"if you would like to take advantage--" "Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the
favour."
"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the servant's
disappearance.
"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat, the others
directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of money to be
spent in the search for him.
The same formalities having been gone through at the French consulate, and the
palanquin having stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back
there, they returned to the wharf.
It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on board, and its
provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully built as if she
were a racing yacht.
Her shining copper sheathing, her galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as
ivory, betrayed the pride taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable.
Her two masts leaned a trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib,
and standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she seemed
capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she
had already proved by gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races.
The crew of the Tankadere was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy
mariners, who were familiar with the Chinese seas.
John Bunsby, himself, a man of forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a
sprightly expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.
Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already installed.
Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged out in the form of cots, above
a circular divan; in the centre was a table provided with a swinging lamp.
The accommodation was confined, but neat.
"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix, who bowed
without responding.
The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the kindness of
Mr. Fogg. "It's certain," thought he, "though rascal
as he is, he is a polite one!"
The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the quay, in
the hope of espying Passepartout.
Fix was not without his fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate
servant, whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have ensued.
But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was still lying under the
stupefying influence of the opium.
John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the Tankadere, taking
the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and standing-jib, bounded briskly forward
over the waves.
>
Chapter XXI In Which The Master Of The "Tankadere" Runs
Great Risk Of Losing A Reward Of Two Hundred Pounds
This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of twenty tons,
and at that season of the year.
The Chinese seas are usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and
especially during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.
It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his passengers to
Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he would have been rash to
attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent even to attempt to reach Shanghai.
But John Bunsby believed in the Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a seagull; and
perhaps he was not wrong.
Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong Kong, and the
Tankadere, impelled by favourable winds, conducted herself admirably.
"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open sea, "to advise
you to use all possible speed." "Trust me, your honour.
We are carrying all the sail the wind will let us.
The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going into port."
"Its your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."
Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a sailor, gazed
without staggering at the swelling waters.
The young woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out upon
the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had ventured in so frail a
vessel.
Above her head rustled the white sails, which seemed like great white wings.
The boat, carried forward by the wind, seemed to be flying in the air.
Night came.
The moon was entering her first quarter, and her insufficient light would soon die
out in the mist on the horizon. Clouds were rising from the east, and
already overcast a part of the heavens.
The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these seas crowded
with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not uncommon occurrences, and, at the
speed she was going, the least shock would shatter the gallant little craft.
Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation.
He kept apart from his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had accepted.
He was thinking, too, of the future.
It seemed certain that Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the
boat for San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would ensure him impunity and
safety.
Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in the world.
Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a common villain,
he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to gain the American continent
more surely; and there, after throwing the
police off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune stolen from
the bank. But, once in the United States, what should
he, Fix, do?
Should he abandon this man? No, a hundred times no!
Until he had secured his extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an hour.
It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end.
At all events, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not with his
master; and it was above all important, after the confidences Fix had imparted to
him, that the servant should never have speech with his master.
Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared.
Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did not seem to him impossible
that, by some mistake, the man might have embarked on the Carnatic at the last
moment; and this was also Aouda's opinion,
who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom she owed so much.
They might then find him at Yokohama; for, if the Carnatic was carrying him thither,
it would be easy to ascertain if he had been on board.
A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have been prudent to
take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the heavens, let the craft remain
rigged as before.
The Tankadere bore sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything
was prepared for high speed in case of a gale.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been already preceded
by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots.
The pilot and crew remained on deck all night.
At sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had made more than one
hundred miles.
The log indicated a mean speed of between eight and nine miles.
The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was accomplishing her greatest capacity of
speed.
If the wind held as it was, the chances would be in her favour.
During the day she kept along the coast, where the currents were favourable; the
coast, irregular in profile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most
five miles distant.
The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off land--a fortunate circumstance for
the boat, which would suffer, owing to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.
The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the south-west.
The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within two hours, as the wind
freshened up anew.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate with a good
appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he accepted with secret
chagrin.
To travel at this man's expense and live upon his provisions was not palatable to
him. Still, he was obliged to eat, and so he
ate.
When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir"--this "sir" scorched
his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid collaring this "gentleman"--"sir, you
have been very kind to give me a passage on this boat.
But, though my means will not admit of my expending them as freely as you, I must ask
to pay my share--"
"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.
"But, if I insist--" "No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone
which did not admit of a reply.
"This enters into my general expenses." Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling,
and, going forward, where he ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the
rest of the day.
Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high hope.
He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai in time; to which that
gentleman responded that he counted upon it.
The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be gained.
There was not a sheet which was not tightened not a sail which was not
vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at the helm.
They worked as desperately as if they were contesting in a Royal yacht regatta.
By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been accomplished from
Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be able to reach Yokohama without
recording any delay in his journal; in
which case, the many misadventures which had overtaken him since he left London
would not seriously affect his journey.
The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo- Kien, which separate the island of Formosa
from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and crossed the Tropic of
Cancer.
The sea was very rough in the straits, full of eddies formed by the counter-currents,
and the chopping waves broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on
deck.
At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed to predict a
gale.
The barometer announced a speedy change, the mercury rising and falling
capriciously; the sea also, in the south- east, raised long surges which indicated a
tempest.
The sun had set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the phosphorescent
scintillations of the ocean.
John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens, muttering
indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low voice to Mr. Fogg,
"Shall I speak out to your honour?"
"Of course." "Well, we are going to have a squall."
"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.
"South.
Look! a typhoon is coming up." "Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it
will carry us forward." "Oh, if you take it that way," said John
Bunsby, "I've nothing more to say."
John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed.
At a less advanced season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous
meteorologist, would have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but
in the winter equinox it was to be feared
that it would burst upon them with great violence.
The pilot took his precautions in advance.
He reefed all sail, the pole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to
the bows.
A single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib, so as to hold
the wind from behind. Then they waited.
John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this imprisonment in so
narrow a space, with little air, and the boat bouncing in the gale, was far from
pleasant.
Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix, nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.
The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock.
With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a wind, an idea of
whose violence can scarcely be given.
To compare her speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be
below the truth.
The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by monstrous waves,
preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to theirs.
Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these mountains of water which
rose behind her; but the adroit management of the pilot saved her.
The passengers were often bathed in spray, but they submitted to it philosophically.
Fix cursed it, no doubt; but Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose
coolness amazed her, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm.
As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his programme.
Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north; but towards
evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from the north-west.
The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook and rolled terribly; the sea
struck her with fearful violence. At night the tempest increased in violence.
John Bunsby saw the approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark
misgivings. He thought awhile, and then asked his crew
if it was not time to slacken speed.
After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think, your honour, that
we should do well to make for one of the ports on the coast."
"I think so too."
"Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?"
"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.
"And that is--"
"Shanghai." The pilot, at first, did not seem to
comprehend; he could scarcely realise so much determination and tenacity.
Then he cried, "Well--yes!
Your honour is right. To Shanghai!"
So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.
The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did not founder.
Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew had not been constantly on the
watch.
Aouda was exhausted, but did not utter a complaint.
More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from the violence of the waves.
Day reappeared.
The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but the wind now returned to the
south-east.
It was a favourable change, and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this
mountainous sea, though the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and
counter-shocks which would have crushed a craft less solidly built.
From time to time the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was
in sight.
The Tankadere was alone upon the sea. There were some signs of a calm at noon,
and these became more distinct as the sun descended toward the horizon.
The tempest had been as brief as terrific.
The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a little, and take some repose.
The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again hoisted, and
the speed of the boat was very good.
The next morning at dawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert
that they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai.
A hundred miles, and only one day to traverse them!
That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the
steamer to Yokohama.
Had there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would be at
this moment within thirty miles of their destination.
The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.
All sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five miles of
Shanghai.
There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish that distance.
All on board feared that it could not be done, and every one--Phileas Fogg, no
doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with impatience.
The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour, and the wind was becoming
calmer every moment!
It was a capricious breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became
smooth.
Still, the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught the fickle zephyrs so
well, that, with the aid of the currents John Bunsby found himself at six o'clock
not more than ten miles from the mouth of Shanghai River.
Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve miles up the stream.
At seven they were still three miles from Shanghai.
The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred pounds was evidently on the
point of escaping him.
He looked at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet
his whole fortune was at this moment at stake.
At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of smoke, appeared on
the edge of the waters. It was the American steamer, leaving for
Yokohama at the appointed time.
"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a desperate jerk.
"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.
A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for making signals
in the fogs.
It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal
to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg said, "Hoist your flag!"
The flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of distress, it was hoped
that the American steamer, perceiving it, would change her course a little, so as to
succour the pilot-boat.
"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon
resounded in the air.
>
Chapter XXII In Which Passepartout Finds Out That, Even
At The Antipodes, It Is Convenient To Have Some Money In One's Pocket
The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th of November,
directed her course at full steam towards Japan.
She carried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers.
Two state-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied--those which had been engaged by
Phileas Fogg.
The next day a passenger with a half- stupefied eye, staggering gait, and
disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to totter to a seat
on deck.
It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows: Shortly after Fix
left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the unconscious Passepartout, and had
carried him to the bed reserved for the smokers.
Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed idea, the poor fellow
awoke, and struggled against the stupefying influence of the narcotic.
The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off his torpor, and he hurried from the abode
of drunkenness.
Staggering and holding himself up by keeping against the walls, falling down and
creeping up again, and irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he kept
crying out, "The Carnatic! the Carnatic!"
The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.
Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he crossed it, and
fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was moving off.
Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this sort of scene, carried
the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin, and Passepartout did not wake until
they were one hundred and fifty miles away from China.
Thus he found himself the next morning on the deck of the Carnatic, and eagerly
inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze.
The pure air sobered him. He began to collect his sense, which he
found a difficult task; but at last he recalled the events of the evening before,
Fix's revelation, and the opium-house.
"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably drunk!
What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not missed the steamer,
which is the most important thing."
Then, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are well rid of him, and
that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us on board the Carnatic.
A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of robbing the Bank of England!
Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than I am a
murderer."
Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master?
Would it do to tell the part the detective was playing.
Would it not be better to wait until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart
to him that an agent of the metropolitan police had been following him round the
world, and have a good laugh over it?
No doubt; at least, it was worth considering.
The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologise for his singular behaviour.
Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the rolling of the
steamer, to the after-deck. He saw no one who resembled either his
master or Aouda.
"Good!" muttered he; "Aouda has not got up yet, and Mr. Fogg has probably found some
partners at whist." He descended to the saloon.
Mr. Fogg was not there.
Passepartout had only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's state-
room. The purser replied that he did not know any
passenger by the name of Fogg.
"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently.
"He is a tall gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young
lady--"
"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser.
"Here is a list of the passengers; you may see for yourself."
Passepartout scanned the list, but his master's name was not upon it.
All at once an idea struck him. "Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"
"Yes."
"On the way to Yokohama?" "Certainly."
Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat; but, though he
was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.
He fell thunderstruck on a seat.
He saw it all now. He remembered that the time of sailing had
been changed, that he should have informed his master of that fact, and that he had
not done so.
It was his fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer.
Yes, but it was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate him from
his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled him into getting drunk!
He now saw the detective's trick; and at this moment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined,
his bet was lost, and he himself perhaps arrested and imprisoned!
At this thought Passepartout tore his hair.
Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of accounts there would be!
After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to study his
situation.
It was certainly not an enviable one. He found himself on the way to Japan, and
what should he do when he got there? His pocket was empty; he had not a solitary
shilling, not so much as a penny.
His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he had five or six days in
which to decide upon his future course. He fell to at meals with an appetite, and
ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and himself.
He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert, where nothing to eat was to
be looked for. At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered
the port of Yokohama.
This is an important port of call in the Pacific, where all the mail-steamers, and
those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and the Oriental
islands put in.
It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and at but a short distance from that second
capital of the Japanese Empire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor,
before the Mikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own.
The Carnatic anchored at the quay near the custom-house, in the midst of a crowd of
ships bearing the flags of all nations.
Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the Sons of the Sun.
He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for his guide, to wander aimlessly
through the streets of Yokohama.
He found himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses having low
fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he caught glimpses of neat
peristyles.
This quarter occupied, with its streets, squares, docks, and warehouses, all the
space between the "promontory of the Treaty" and the river.
Here, as at Hong Kong and Calcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, Americans and
English, Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.
The Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had dropped down in the
midst of Hottentots.
He had, at least, one resource to call on the French and English consuls at Yokohama
for assistance.
But he shrank from telling the story of his adventures, intimately connected as it was
with that of his master; and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other
means of aid.
As chance did not favour him in the European quarter, he penetrated that
inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if necessary, to push on to
Yeddo.
The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of the sea, who
is worshipped on the islands round about.
There Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a singular
architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and reeds, temples shaded by
immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where
were sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable
streets, where a perfect harvest of rose- tinted and red-cheeked children, who looked
as if they had been cut out of Japanese
screens, and who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish cats,
might have been gathered. The streets were crowded with people.
Priests were passing in processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police
and custom-house officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in
blue cotton with white stripes, and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in
silken doubles, hauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all ranks--
for the military profession is as much
respected in Japan as it is despised in China--went hither and thither in groups
and pairs.
Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple civilians,
with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts, slender legs, short
stature, and complexions varying from
copper-colour to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the
Japanese widely differ.
He did not fail to observe the curious equipages--carriages and palanquins,
barrows supplied with sails, and litters made of bamboo; nor the women--whom he
thought not especially handsome--who took
little steps with their little feet, whereon they wore canvas shoes, straw
sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests,
teeth fashionably blackened, and gowns
crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind an ornament which the
modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from the dames of Japan.
Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley crowd, looking in
at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the jewellery establishments
glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments,
the restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where the odorous
beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from the fermentation of
rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses,
where they were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a very
fine, stringy tobacco.
He went on till he found himself in the fields, in the midst of vast rice
plantations.
There he saw dazzling camellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving
forth their last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and within bamboo
enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees,
which the Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and which
queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the sparrows, pigeons,
ravens, and other voracious birds.
On the branches of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the
weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every hand were
crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a
multitude of cranes, which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds
symbolise long life and prosperity. As he was strolling along, Passepartout
espied some violets among the shrubs.
"Good!" said he; "I'll have some supper." But, on smelling them, he found that they
were odourless. "No chance there," thought he.
The worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty a breakfast as
possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he had been walking about all day, the
demands of hunger were becoming importunate.
He observed that the butchers stalls contained neither mutton, goat, nor pork;
and, knowing also that it is a sacrilege to kill cattle, which are preserved solely for
farming, he made up his mind that meat was
far from plentiful in Yokohama--nor was he mistaken; and, in default of butcher's
meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild boar or deer, a partridge, or some
quails, some game or fish, which, with rice, the Japanese eat almost exclusively.
But he found it necessary to keep up a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he
craved till the following morning.
Night came, and Passepartout re-entered the native quarter, where he wandered through
the streets, lit by vari-coloured lanterns, looking on at the dancers, who were
executing skilful steps and boundings, and
the astrologers who stood in the open air with their telescopes.
Then he came to the harbour, which was lit up by the resin torches of the fishermen,
who were fishing from their boats.
The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of which, in their
splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites, Passepartout thought seemed like
ambassadors, succeeded the bustling crowd.
Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to himself: "Good!
another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"
>
Chapter XXIII In Which Passepartout's Nose Becomes
Outrageously Long
The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself that he must
get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did so the better.
He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have starved first.
Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious voice which nature had bestowed
upon him.
He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese,
who must be lovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals,
tam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.
It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and the
audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not possibly pay their
entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features.
Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was sauntering
along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well dressed for a
wandering artist.
The idea struck him to change his garments for clothes more in harmony with his
project; by which he might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate
cravings of hunger.
The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.
It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native dealer in
old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.
The man liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his shop
accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban, faded with long
use.
A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled in his pocket.
"Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"
His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea-house of
modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to breakfast like a man
for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.
"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my head.
I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese.
I must consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which I shall not retain the
most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."
It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave for America.
He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of his passage and
meals.
Once at San Francisco, he would find some means of going on.
The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand seven hundred miles of the
Pacific which lay between Japan and the New World.
Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed his steps towards
the docks.
But, as he approached them, his project, which at first had seemed so simple, began
to grow more and more formidable to his mind.
What need would they have of a cook or servant on an American steamer, and what
confidence would they put in him, dressed as he was?
What references could he give?
As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense placard which a sort
of clown was carrying through the streets. This placard, which was in English, read as
follows:
ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE, HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE
TO THE UNITED STATES,
OF THE LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU!
GREAT ATTRACTION!
"The United States!" said Passepartout; "that's just what I want!"
He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese quarter.
A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin, adorned with several
clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which were designed to represent, in
violent colours and without perspective, a company of jugglers.
This was the Honourable William Batulcar's establishment.
That gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of mountebanks,
jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts, who, according to the
placard, was giving his last performances
before leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.
Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway appeared in
person.
"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for a
native. "Would you like a servant, sir?" asked
Passepartout.
"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which hung from his
chin.
"I already have two who are obedient and faithful, have never left me, and serve me
for their nourishment and here they are," added he, holding out his two robust arms,
furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a bass-viol.
"So I can be of no use to you?" "None."
"The devil!
I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"
"Ah!" said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese than I am a
monkey!
Who are you dressed up in that way?" "A man dresses as he can."
"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"
"Yes; a Parisian of Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should cause this
question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is true but not any better
than the Americans do."
"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I
can as a clown.
You see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign parts French
clowns." "Ah!"
"You are pretty strong, eh?"
"Especially after a good meal." "And you can sing?"
"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the streets.
"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your left foot, and
a sabre balanced on your right?" "Humph!
I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of his younger
days. "Well, that's enough," said the Honourable
William Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
Passepartout had at last found something to do.
He was engaged to act in the celebrated Japanese troupe.
It was not a very dignified position, but within a week he would be on his way to San
Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, was to
commence at three o'clock, and soon the deafening instruments of a Japanese
orchestra resounded at the door.
Passepartout, though he had not been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated
to lend the aid of his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human
pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou.
This "great attraction" was to close the performance.
Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators, comprising
Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and children, who
precipitated themselves upon the narrow
benches and into the boxes opposite the stage.
The musicians took up a position inside, and were vigorously performing on their
gongs, tam-tams, flutes, bones, tambourines, and immense drums.
The performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be confessed that the
Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.
One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick of the
butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with the odorous smoke of his
pipe, a series of blue words, which
composed a compliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some lighted
candles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his lips, and relit again
without interrupting for an instant his juggling.
Another reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning-top; in his
hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of their own in their
interminable whirling; they ran over pipe-
stems, the edges of sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage; they
turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo ladders, dispersed
into all the corners, and produced strange
musical effects by the combination of their various pitches of tone.
The jugglers tossed them in the air, threw them like shuttlecocks with wooden
battledores, and yet they kept on spinning; they put them into their pockets, and took
them out still whirling as before.
It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the acrobats and gymnasts.
The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels, &c., was executed with wonderful
precision.
But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a show to
which Europe is as yet a stranger.
The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage of the god
Tingou.
Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages, they bore upon their shoulders a
splendid pair of wings; but what especially distinguished them was the long noses which
were fastened to their faces, and the uses which they made of them.
These noses were made of bamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some
straight, others curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon them.
It was upon these appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses, that they performed
their gymnastic exercises.
A dozen of these sectaries of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others,
dressed to represent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses, jumping from
one to another, and performing the most skilful leapings and somersaults.
As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which fifty Long Noses were
to represent the Car of Juggernaut.
But, instead of forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders, the
artists were to group themselves on top of the noses.
It happened that the performer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had
quitted the troupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were
necessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.
The poor fellow really felt sad when-- melancholy reminiscence of his youth!--he
donned his costume, adorned with vari- coloured wings, and fastened to his natural
feature a false nose six feet long.
But he cheered up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to eat.
He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who were to compose the
base of the Car of Juggernaut.
They all stretched themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the ceiling.
A second group of artists disposed themselves on these long appendages, then a
third above these, then a fourth, until a human monument reaching to the very
cornices of the theatre soon arose on top of the noses.
This elicited loud applause, in the midst of which the orchestra was just striking up
a deafening air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was lost, one of the lower
noses vanished from the pyramid, and the
human monument was shattered like a castle built of cards!
It was Passepartout's fault.
Abandoning his position, clearing the footlights without the aid of his wings,
and, clambering up to the right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the
spectators, crying, "Ah, my master! my master!"
"You here?" "Myself."
"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the theatre to the
outside, where they encountered the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, furious with rage.
He demanded damages for the "breakage" of the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him
by giving him a handful of banknotes.
At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda, followed by
Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and nose six feet long, stepped
upon the American steamer.
>
Chapter XXIV During Which Mr. Fogg And Party Cross The
Pacific Ocean
What happened when the pilot-boat came in sight of Shanghai will be easily guessed.
The signals made by the Tankadere had been seen by the captain of the Yokohama
steamer, who, espying the flag at half- mast, had directed his course towards the
little craft.
Phileas Fogg, after paying the stipulated price of his passage to John Busby, and
rewarding that worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds,
ascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix;
and they started at once for Nagasaki and Yokohama.
They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of November.
Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic, where he learned, to Aouda's
great delight--and perhaps to his own, though he betrayed no emotion--that
Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived on her the day before.
The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening, and it became
necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay.
Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after wandering
through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding his missing servant.
Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at last led him into the Honourable Mr.
Batulcar's theatre.
He certainly would not have recognised Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank's
costume; but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the gallery.
He could not help starting, which so changed the position of his nose as to
bring the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the stage.
All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what had taken place
on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the Tankadere, in company with one Mr. Fix.
Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name.
He thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what had
taken place between the detective and himself; and, in the account he gave of his
absence, he simply excused himself for
having been overtaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.
Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then furnished his man
with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in harmony with his position.
Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off his nose and parted with his wings, and
retained nothing about him which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.
The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco belonged to the
Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the General Grant.
She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand five hundred tons; well equipped
and very fast.
The massive walking-beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston-rod
worked up and down; and at the other was a connecting-rod which, in changing the
rectilinear motion to a circular one, was
directly connected with the shaft of the paddles.
The General Grant was rigged with three masts, giving a large capacity for sails,
and thus materially aiding the steam power.
By making twelve miles an hour, she would cross the ocean in twenty-one days.
Phileas Fogg was therefore justified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by
the 2nd of December, New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th--thus gaining
several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.
There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them English, many
Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to California, and several East
Indian officers, who were spending their vacation in making the tour of the world.
Nothing of moment happened on the voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large
paddles, rolled but little, and the Pacific almost justified its name.
Mr. Fogg was as calm and taciturn as ever.
His young companion felt herself more and more attached to him by other ties than
gratitude; his silent but generous nature impressed her more than she thought; and it
was almost unconsciously that she yielded
to emotions which did not seem to have the least effect upon her protector.
Aouda took the keenest interest in his plans, and became impatient at any incident
which seemed likely to retard his journey.
She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the state of the
lady's heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics, he never exhausted his
eulogies of Phileas Fogg's honesty, generosity, and devotion.
He took pains to calm Aouda's doubts of a successful termination of the journey,
telling her that the most difficult part of it had passed, that now they were beyond
the fantastic countries of Japan and China,
and were fairly on their way to civilised places again.
A railway train from San Francisco to New York, and a transatlantic steamer from New
York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring them to the end of this impossible journey
round the world within the period agreed upon.
On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed exactly one half
of the terrestrial globe.
The General Grant passed, on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth
meridian, and was at the very antipodes of London.
Mr. Fogg had, it is true, exhausted fifty- two of the eighty days in which he was to
complete the tour, and there were only twenty-eight left.
But, though he was only half-way by the difference of meridians, he had really gone
over two-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long circuits
from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay,
from Calcutta to Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama.
Could he have followed without deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of
London, the whole distance would only have been about twelve thousand miles; whereas
he would be forced, by the irregular
methods of locomotion, to traverse twenty- six thousand, of which he had, on the 23rd
of November, accomplished seventeen thousand five hundred.
And now the course was a straight one, and Fix was no longer there to put obstacles in
their way! It happened also, on the 23rd of November,
that Passepartout made a joyful discovery.
It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had insisted on keeping his famous
family watch at London time, and on regarding that of the countries he had
passed through as quite false and unreliable.
Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands, he found that his watch exactly
agreed with the ship's chronometers.
His triumph was hilarious. He would have liked to know what Fix would
say if he were aboard!
"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout, "about the
meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed! moonshine more likely!
If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time one would keep!
I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself by my watch!"
Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been divided into twenty-
four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have no reason for exultation; for
the hands of his watch would then, instead
of as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning, indicate nine o'clock in the
evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight precisely the difference
between London time and that of the one hundred and eightieth meridian.
But if Fix had been able to explain this purely physical effect, Passepartout would
not have admitted, even if he had comprehended it.
Moreover, if the detective had been on board at that moment, Passepartout would
have joined issue with him on a quite different subject, and in an entirely
different manner.
Where was Fix at that moment? He was actually on board the General Grant.
On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he expected to meet
again during the day, had repaired at once to the English consulate, where he at last
found the warrant of arrest.
It had followed him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic, on which steamer he
himself was supposed to be.
Fix's disappointment may be imagined when he reflected that the warrant was now
useless.
Mr. Fogg had left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure his
extradition!
"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not good here, but it
will be in England.
The rogue evidently intends to return to his own country, thinking he has thrown the
police off his track. Good!
I will follow him across the Atlantic.
As for the money, heaven grant there may be some left!
But the fellow has already spent in travelling, rewards, trials, bail,
elephants, and all sorts of charges, more than five thousand pounds.
Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!"
His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was there when Mr. Fogg
and Aouda arrived.
To his utter amazement, he recognised Passepartout, despite his theatrical
disguise.
He quickly concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and hoped-
-thanks to the number of passengers--to remain unperceived by Mr. Fogg's servant.
On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the forward
deck.
The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped him by the throat, and, much
to the amusement of a group of Americans, who immediately began to bet on him,
administered to the detective a perfect
volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French over English
pugilistic skill. When Passepartout had finished, he found
himself relieved and comforted.
Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at his adversary, coldly said,
"Have you done?" "For this time--yes."
"Then let me have a word with you."
"But I--" "In your master's interests."
Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he quietly followed
him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.
"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix.
"Good, I expected it. Now, listen to me.
Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's adversary.
I am now in his game."
"Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"
"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal.
Sh! don't budge, and let me speak.
As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my interest to detain him there
until my warrant of arrest arrived. I did everything I could to keep him back.
I sent the Bombay priests after him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated
you from him, and I made him miss the Yokohama steamer."
Passepartout listened, with closed fists.
"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.
Well, I will follow him there.
But hereafter I will do as much to keep obstacles out of his way as I have done up
to this time to put them in his path.
I've changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for my interest to change
it.
Your interest is the same as mine; for it is only in England that you will ascertain
whether you are in the service of a criminal or an honest man."
Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that he spoke with
entire good faith. "Are we friends?" asked the detective.
"Friends?--no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps.
At the least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you."
"Agreed," said the detective quietly.
Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered the bay of the
Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco. Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a
single day.
>
Chapter XXV In Which A Slight Glimpse Is Had Of San
Francisco
It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set foot upon the
American continent, if this name can be given to the floating quay upon which they
disembarked.
These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and
unloading of vessels.
Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities, and the
steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which ply on the
Sacramento and its tributaries.
There were also heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chili,
Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.
Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent, thought he
would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine style; but, tumbling upon
some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them.
Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon the New
World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the innumerable cormorants and
pelicans that are always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew noisily away.
Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the first train left
for New York, and learned that this was at six o'clock p.m.; he had, therefore, an
entire day to spend in the Californian capital.
Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda entered it, while
Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and they set out for the
International Hotel.
From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the wide
streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great
docks, the palatial wooden and brick
warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the side-
walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians.
Passepartout was surprised at all he saw.
San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of 1849--a city of banditti,
assassins, and incendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of
plunder; a paradise of outlaws, where they
gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was
now a great commercial emporium.
The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the streets and
avenues, which cut each other at right- angles, and in the midst of which appeared
pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond
appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial Empire in a
toy-box.
Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were rarely to be seen; but there were silk
hats and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-
looking men.
Some of the streets--especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what
Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New
York--were lined with splendid and spacious
stores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to him as if he had
left England at all.
The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of restaurant freely
open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and
cheese, without taking out their purses.
Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was drunk.
This seemed "very American" to Passepartout.
The hotel refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
installing themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by
negroes of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the English consulate to
have his passport visaed.
As he was going out, he met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well,
before taking the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt's
revolvers.
He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and Pawnees.
Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution, but told him to do as he thought best, and
went on to the consulate.
He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the greatest chance in
the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly taken by
surprise.
What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the
Pacific together, and not met on the steamer!
At least Fix felt honoured to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much,
and, as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue
the journey in such pleasant company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective--who was determined
not to lose sight of him--begged permission to accompany them in their walk about San
Francisco--a request which Mr. Fogg readily granted.
They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd was collected;
the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors, the windows of the houses, and
even the roofs, were full of people.
Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers were
floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.
"Hurrah for Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!" It was a political meeting; at least so Fix
conjectured, who said to Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd.
There may be danger in it."
"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political are still blows."
Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without being jostled about,
the party took up a position on the top of a flight of steps situated at the upper end
of Montgomery Street.
Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf and a
petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the open air, towards which
the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.
For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this excited
assemblage?
Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to nominate some high official--a
governor or member of Congress? It was not improbable, so agitated was the
multitude before them.
Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass.
All the hands were raised in the air.
Some, tightly closed, seemed to disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries--an
energetic way, no doubt, of casting a vote.
The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags wavered, disappeared an instant, then
reappeared in tatters.
The undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads floundered
on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall.
Many of the black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to have
diminished in height. "It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and
its object must be an exciting one.
I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama, despite the fact that that
question is settled." "Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.
"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the Honourable Mr.
Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene with
surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was.
Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and excited shouts
were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used as offensive weapons; and fists
flew about in every direction.
Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had been
blocked up in the crowd.
Boots and shoes went whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the
crack of revolvers mingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed
over the lower step.
One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but the mere lookers-on could not
tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had gained the upper hand.
"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious that Mr. Fogg
should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to London.
"If there is any question about England in all this, and we were recognised, I fear it
would go hard with us." "An English subject--" began Mr. Fogg.
He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the terrace
behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were frantic shouts of,
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!
Hip, hip, hurrah!" It was a band of voters coming to the
rescue of their allies, and taking the Camerfield forces in flank.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found themselves between two fires; it was too late to
escape. The torrent of men, armed with loaded canes
and sticks, was irresistible.
Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their fair
companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself with the weapons
which nature has placed at the end of every Englishman's arm, but in vain.
A big brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders, who
seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom
he would have given a crushing blow, had
not Fix rushed in and received it in his stead.
An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the detective's silk hat,
which was completely smashed in.
"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the ruffian.
"Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"
"When you please."
"What is your name?" "Phileas Fogg.
And yours?" "Colonel Stamp Proctor."
The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got upon his
feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not seriously hurt.
His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal parts, and his trousers
resembled those of certain Indians, which fit less compactly than they are easy to
put on.
Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and
blue bruise. "Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective,
as soon as they were out of the crowd.
"No thanks are necessary," replied. Fix; "but let us go."
"Where?" "To a tailor's."
Such a visit was, indeed, opportune.
The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been
actively engaged in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy.
An hour after, they were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the
International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen six-barrelled
revolvers.
When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but Aouda having, in a few words, told him
of their adventure, his countenance resumed its placid expression.
Fix evidently was no longer an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his
word.
Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their luggage to the
station drew up to the door.
As he was getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor
again?" "No."
"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be treated in that way,
without retaliating."
The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr. Fogg was one of those
Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at home, fight abroad when their
honour is attacked.
At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found the train
ready to depart.
As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg called a porter, and said to him: "My
friend, was there not some trouble to-day in San Francisco?"
"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets."
"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."
"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."
Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.
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