CD-ROM Today - The Disc! 1/CD-ROM_Today_-_The_Disc_1_April-May_1994.iso/books/eighty_d.txt

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                                      1873
                        AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS
                                 by Jules Verne
  CHAPTER I
  In which Phileas Fogg and Passepartout accept each other: the one as
master, the other as man

  Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington
Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1816. He was one of the
most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to
avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom
little was known, except that he was as a polished man the world.
People said that he resembled Byron, -at least that his head was
Byronic; but he was a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a
thousand years without growing old.
  Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg
was a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor
in the counting-rooms of the "City;" no ships ever came into London
docks of which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had
never been entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the
Temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever
resounded in the Court of Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the
Queen's Bench, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a
manufacturer; nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name
was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never
was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal
Institution or the London Institution, the Artisans 'Association or
the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of
the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the
Harmonic to that of the Entomologists, founded mainly for the
purpose of abolishing pernicious insects.
  Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
  The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was
simple enough.
  He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open
credit. His checks were regularly paid at sight from his account
current, which was always flush.
  Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best
could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the
last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish,
nor, on the contrary, avaricious; for whenever he knew that money
was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied
it quickly, and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least
communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more
mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open
to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that
he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly
puzzled.
  Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world
more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not
appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected,
with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members
of the club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the
true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second
sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have
travelled everywhere, at least in the spirit.
  It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself
from London for many years. Those who were honored by a better
acquaintance with him than the rest declared that nobody could pretend
to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading
the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a
silent one, harmonized with his nature; but his winnings never went
into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg
played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his
eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless,
unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.
  Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which
may happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near
friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his
house in Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic
sufficed to serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at
hours mathematically fixed in the same room, at the same table,
never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a
guest with him; and went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at
once to bed. He never used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides
for its favored members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in
Saville Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to
take a walk, it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with
its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome
supported by twenty red porphyry lonic columns, and illumined by
blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined, all the
resources of the club -its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and
dairy -aided to crowd his table with their most succulent stores; he
was served by the gravest waiters, in dress coats, and shoes with
swan-skin soles, who proffered the viands in special porcelain, and
the finest linen; club decanters, of a lost mold, contained his
sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret; while his
beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost
from the American lakes.
  If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed
that there is something good in eccentricity!
  The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly
comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but
little from the sole domestic; but Phileas Fogg required him to be
almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he
had dismissed James Forster, because that youth had brought him
shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of eighty-six;
and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between
eleven and half-past.
  Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his arm-chair, his feet close
together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his
knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a
complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds,
the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair
to the Reform.
  A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where
Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant,
appeared.
  "The new servant," said he.
  A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
  "You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name
is John?"
  "Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the new-comer, "Jean
Passepartout, a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural
aptness for going out at one business into another. I believe I'm
honest, monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades.
I've been an itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault
like Leotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a
professor of gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and
then I was a sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big
fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the
sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England.
Finding myself out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg
was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have
come to monsieur in hope of living with him a tranquil life, and
forgetting even the name of Passepartout."
  "Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg. "You are well
recommended to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my
conditions?"
  "Yes, monsieur."
  "Good. What time is it?"
  "Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an
silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
  "You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
  "Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible-"
  "You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention
the error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven,
a.m., this Wednesday, October 2nd, you are in my service."
  Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his
head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
  Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new
master going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor,
James Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in
the house in Saville Row.
  CHAPTER II
  In which Passepartout is convinced that he has at last found his
ideal

  "Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people
at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
  Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are
much visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them
human.
  During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been
carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years
of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped
figure; his hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and
unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His
countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call
"repose in action," a quality of those who act rather than talk.
Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect
type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so
skilfully represented on canvas. Seen in the various phases of his
daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as
exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Phileas Fogg, was, indeed,
exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression
of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well as in animals, the
limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.
  He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready,
and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took
one step too many, and always went to his destination by the
shortest cut; he made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to
be moved or agitated. He was the agitated. He was the most
deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his at the exact
moment.
  He lived alone, and so to speak, outside of every social relation;
and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction,
and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.
  As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had
abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he
had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout
was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere, with a
bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow,
with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and
serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the
shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund,
his figure almost portly and well built, his body muscular, and his
physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger
days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for while the ancient
sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging
Minerva's tresses, Passepartout was familiar with but one of
dressing his own: three strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his
toilet.
  It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would
agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant
would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required;
experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a
sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so
far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten
English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with
chagrin he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular,
constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for
adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of
Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too
often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders.
Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served,
ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct; which being ill
received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking
for a servant, and that his life was one of unbroken regularity,
that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure
that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself, and
was accepted, as has been seen.
  At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the
house in Saville Row. He began its inspection without delay,
scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a
mansion pleased him; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted
and warmed by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When
Passepartout reached the second story, he recognized at once the
room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it.
Electric bells and speaking-tubes afforded communication with the
lower stories; while on the mantel stood an electric clock,
precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bedchamber, both beating the same
second at the same instant. "That's good, that'll do," said
Passepartout to himself.
  He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon
inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the
house. It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight
in the morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till
half-past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club, --all
the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past
eight, the shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the
toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and
foreseen that was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight,
the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired.
  Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each
pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of
year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing;
and the same system was applied to the masters shoes. In short, the
house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder
and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was
cosiness, comfort, and method idealized. There was no study, nor
were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for
at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other
of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe
stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as
burglars; but Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons
anywhere; everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.
  Having scrutinized the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his
hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully,
"This is just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg
and I! What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well,
I don't mind serving a machine."
  CHAPTER III
  In which a conversation takes place which seems likely to cost
Phileas Fogg dear

  Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,
and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and
seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred
and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in
Pall Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He
repaired at once to the dining room, the nine windows of which open
upon a tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an
autumn coloring, and took his place at the habitual table, the cover
of which had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a
side-dish, a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast
beef garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a
morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several
cups of tea, for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen
minutes to one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a
sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly framed paintings. A
flunkey handed him an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a
skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation.The
perusal of this paper absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before
four, whilst the Standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner
hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg reappeared
in the reading-room and sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes
before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in
and drew up to the fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily
burning. They were Mr. Fogg's usual partners at whist: Andrew
Stuart, an engineer; John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers;
Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of
the Bank of England; --all rich and highly respected personages,
even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and
finance.
  "Well, Ralph," said Thomas Flanagan, "what about that robbery?"
  "Oh," replied Stuart, "the bank will lose the money."
  "On the contrary," broke in Ralph, "I hope we may put our hands on
the robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal
ports of America and the Continent, and he'll be a clever fellow if he
slips through their fingers."
  "But have you got the robber's description?" asked Stuart.
  "In the first place, he is no robber at all," returned Ralph,
positively.
  "What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no
robber?"
  "No."
  "Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then."
  "The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."
  It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his
newspaper, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and
entered into the conversation. The affair which formed its subject,
and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of
England. A package of bank notes, to the value of fifty-five
thousand pounds, had been taken from the principal cashier's table,
that functionary being at the moment engaged in registering the
receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course he could not have
his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the Bank of England
reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the public. There
are neither guards nor gratings to protect its treasures; gold,
silver, bank notes are freely exposed, at the mercy of the first
comer. A keen observer of English customs relates that, being in one
of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the curiosity to examine a
gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He took it up,
scrutinized it, passed it to his neighbor, he to the next man, and
so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was transferred to the
end of a dark entry; nor did it return to its place for half an
hour. Meanwhile, the cashier had not so much as raised his head. But
in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly. The package
of notes not being found when five o'clock sounded from the
ponderous clock in the "drawing office," the amount was passed to
the account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was discovered,
picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez,
Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered
reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the sum that might
be recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching
those who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial
examination was at once entered upon.
  There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph
said, that the thief did not belong to professional band. On the day
of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and
with a well-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the
paying room, where the crime was committed. A description of him was
easily procured, and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits,
of whom Ralph was one, did not despair of his apprehension. The papers
and clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were
discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform
Club was especially agitated, several of its members being Bank
officials.
  Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely
to be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly
stimulate their zeal and activity. But Stuart was far from sharing
this confidence; and as they placed themselves at the whist-table,
they continued to argue the matter. Stuart and Flanagan played
together, while Phileas Fogg had Fallentin for his partner. As the
game proceeded the conversation ceased, excepting between the rubbers,
when it revived again.
  "I maintain," said Stuart, "that the are in favor of the thief who
must be a shrewd fellow."
  "Well, but where can he fly to?" asked Ralph. "No country is safe
for him."
  "Pshaw!"
  "Where could he go, then?"
  "Oh, I don't know that. The world is big enough."
  "It was once," said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone. "Cut, sir," he
added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.
  The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up
its thread.
  "What do you mean by 'once'? Has the world grown smaller?"
  "Certainly," returned Ralph. "I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has
grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more
quickly than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for
this thief will be more likely to succeed."
  "And also why the thief can get away more easily."
  "Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart," said Phileas Fogg.
  But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand
was finished, said eagerly: "You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving
that the world has grown smaller. So, because you can go round it in
three months-"
  "In eighty days," interrupted Phileas Fogg.
  "That is true, gentlemen," added John Sullivan. "Only eighty days,
now that the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian
Peninsula Railway, has been opened. Here is the estimate made by the
Daily Telegraph:

   From London to Suez
      via Mont Cenis and Brindisi, by rails and steamboats - 7 days
     Suez to Bombay, by steamer                             13
     Bombay to Calcutta, by rail                             3
     Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer                      13
     Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer               6
     Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer                  22
     San Francisco to New York, by rail                      7
     New York to London, by steamer and rail                 9
                                                      TOTAL 80 days

  "Yes, in eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement
made a false deal. "But that doesn't take into account bad weather,
contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on."
  "All included," returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite
the discussion.
  "But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails," replied
Stuart; "suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage vans, and
scalp the passengers!"
  "All included," calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the
cards, "Two trumps."
  Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on:
"You are right theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically -"
  "Practically also, Mr. Stuart."
  "I'd like to see you do it in eighty days."
  "It depends on you. Shall we go?"
  "Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that
such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible."
  "Quite possible, on the contrary," returned Mr. Fogg.
  "Well, make it, then!"
  "The journey round the world in eighty days?"
  "Yes."
  "I should like nothing better."
  "When?"
  "At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense."
  "It's absurd!" cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at
the persistency of his friend. "Come, let's go on with the game."
  "Deal over again, then," said Phileas Fogg. "There's a false deal."
  Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put it
down again.
  "Well, Mr. Fogg," said he, "it shall be so: I will wager the four
thousand on it."
  "Calm yourself, my dear Stuart," said Fallentin."It's only a joke."
  "When I say I'll wager," returned Stuart, "I mean it."
  "All right," said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he
continued, "I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring's which I
will willingly risk upon it."
  "Twenty thousand pounds, which you would lose by a single accidental
delay!"
  "The unforeseen does not exist," quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
  "But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least
possible time in which the journey can be made."
  "A well-used minimum suffices for everything."
  "But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from
the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains
again."
  "I will jump -mathematically."
  "You are joking."
  "A true Englishman doesn't joke when he is talking about so
serious a thing as a wager," replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly. "I will
bet twenty thousand pounds against any one who wishes that I will make
the tour of the world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred
and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred
minutes. Do you accept?"
  "We accept," replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan,
Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.
  "Good," said Mr. Fogg. "The train leaves for Dover at a quarter
before nine. I will take it."
  "This very evening?" asked Stuart.
  "This very evening," returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and
consulted a pocket almanac, and added, "As today is Wednesday, the
second of October, I shall be due in London, in this very room of
the Reform Club, on Saturday, the twenty-first of December, at a
quarter before nine p.m.; or else the twenty thousand pounds, now
deposited in my name at Baring's will belong to you, in fact and in
right, gentlemen. Here is a check for the amount."
  A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six
parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical composure. He
certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty
thousand pounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might
have to expend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to
say unattainable, project. As for his antagonists, they seemed much
agitated; not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had
some scruples about betting under conditions so difficult to their
friend.
  The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so
that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.
  "I am quite ready now," was his tranquil response. "Diamonds are
trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen."
  CHAPTER IV
  In which Phileas Fogg astounds Passepartout, his servant

  Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his
friends, Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the
Reform Club.
  Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his
duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the
inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according
to rule, he was, not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
  Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
  Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it
was not the right hour.
  "Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
  Passepartout made his appearance.
  "I've called you twice," observed his master.
  "But it is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.
  "I know it; I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in
ten minutes."
  A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout's round face; clearly he
had not comprehended his master.
  "Monsieur is going to leave home?"
  "Yes," returned Phileas Fogg. "We are going round the world."
  Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up
his hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with
astonishment.
  "Round the world!" he murmured.
  "In eighty days," responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment to
lose."
  "But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his
head from right to left.
  "We'll have no trunks; only a carpetbag, with two shirts and three
pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We'll buy our clothes
on the way. Bring down my mackintosh and travelling-cloak, and some
stout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!"
  Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted
to his own room, fell into a chair; and muttered: "That's good, that
is! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!"
  He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.
Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool! Was this a
joke, then? They were going to Dover; good. To Calais; good again.
After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years,
would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps
they would go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see
Paris once more. But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would
stop there; no doubt --but, then, it was none the less true that he
was going away, this hitherto so domestic person!
  By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpetbag,
containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still
troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and
descended to Mr. Fogg.
  Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a
red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and
General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure
of steamers and railways. He took the carpetbag, opened it, and
slipped into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would
pass wherever he might go.
  "You have forgotten nothing?" asked he.
  "Nothing, monsieur."
  "My mackintosh and cloak?"
  "Here they are."
  "Good. Take this carpetbag," handing it to Passepartout. "Take
good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
  Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand
pounds were in gold, and weighed him down.
  Master and man then descended, the street door was double-locked,
and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to
Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty
minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his
master, who, after paying the cabman was about to enter the station,
when a poor beggar woman with child in her arms, her naked feet
smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from
which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a
ragged shawl, approached, and mournfully asked for alms.
  Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and
handed them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman. I'm glad that
I met you;" and passed on.
  Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master's
action touched his susceptible heart.
  Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased,
Mr. Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived
his five friends of the Reform.
  "Well, gentlemen," said he, "I'm off, you see; and if you will
examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether
I have accomplished the journey agreed upon."
  "Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph,
politely. "We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honor."
  "You do not forget when you are due in London again?" asked Stuart.
  "In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a
quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."
  Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class
carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle
screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.
  The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas
Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips.
Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung
mechanically to the carpetbag, with its enormous treasure.
  Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout
suddenly uttered a cry of despair.
  "What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "Alas! In my hurry -I--I forgot --"
  "What?"
  "To turn off the gas in my room!"
  "Very well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn
--at your expense."
  CHAPTER V
  In which a new species of funds,unknown to the moneyed men,
appears on 'Change

  Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London
would create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the bet
spread through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic of
conversation to its members. From the Club it soon got into the papers
throughout England. The boasted "tour of the world" was talked
about, disputed, argued with as much warmth as if the subject were
another Alabama claim. Some took sides with Phileas Fogg, but the
large majority shook their heads and declared against him; it was
absurd, impossible, they declared, that the tour of the world could be
made, except theoretically and on paper, in this minimum of time,
and with the existing means of travelling. The Times, Standard,
Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other highly respectable
newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg's project as madness; the Daily
Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general
thought him a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for having
accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.
  Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question,
for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the
columns devoted to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all
classes of readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the
gentler sex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular
when the Illustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied
from a photograph in the Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily
Telegraph even dared to say, "Why not, after all? Stranger things have
come to pass."
  At last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the
bulletin of the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question
from every point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the
enterprise.
  Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle
imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the
times of departure and which was impossible, was absolutely
necessary to his success. He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival
of trains at the designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were
relatively moderate; but when he calculated upon crossing India in
three days, and the United States in seven, could he rely beyond
misgiving upon accomplishing his task? There were accidents to
machinery, the liability of trains to run off the line, collisions,
bad weather, the blocking up by snow, --were not all these against
Phileas Fogg? Would he not find himself, when travelling by steamer in
winter, at the mercy of the winds and fogs? Is it uncommon for the
best ocean steamers to be two or three days behind time? But a
single delay would suffice to fatally break the chain of
communication; should Phileas Fogg once miss, even by an hour, a
steamer, he would have to wait for the next, and that would
irrevocably render his attempt vain.
  This article made a great deal of noise, and being copied into all
the papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.
  Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of
a higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English
temperament. Not only the members of the Reform, but the general
public, made heavy wagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set
down in the betting books as if he were a race horse. Bonds were
issued, and made their appearance on 'Change; "Phileas Fogg bonds"
were offered at par or at a premium, and a great business was done
in them. But five days after the article in the bulletin of the
Geographical Society appeared, the demand began to subside: "Phileas
Fogg" declined. They were offered by packages, at first of five,
then of ten, until at last nobody would take less than twenty,
fifty, a hundred!
  Lord Albermarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only
advocate of Phileas Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened to
his chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of
the world, if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds on
Phileas Fogg. When the folly as well as the uselessness of the
adventure was pointed out to him, he contented himself with
replying, "If the thing is feasible, the first to do it ought to be an
Englishman."
  The Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against
him, and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one;
and a week after his departure, an incident occurred that deprived him
of backers at any price.
  The commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o'clock
one evening, when the following telegraphic despatch was put into
his hands: -

                                   SUEZ TO LONDON.
     ROWAN, COMMISSIONER OF POLICE,
      SCOTLAND YARD.
     I'VE FOUND THE BANK ROBBER PHILEAS FOGG. SEND
     WITHOUT DELAY WARRANT OF ARREST TO BOMBAY.
                                   FIX, DETECTIVE.

  The effect of this despatch was instantaneous. The polished
gentleman disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His
photograph, which was hung with those of the rest of the members of
the Reform Club was minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by
feature' the description of the robber which had been provided to
the police. The mysterious habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his
solitary ways, his sudden departure; and it seemed clear that, in
undertaking a tour round the world on the pretext of a wager, he had
no other end in view than to elude the detectives, and throw them
off his track.
  CHAPTER VI
  In which Fix, the detective, betrays a very natural impatience

  The circumstances under which this telegraphic despatch about
Phileas Fogg was sent were as follows:-
  The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsula and Oriental
Company, built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and
five hundred horsepower, was due at eleven o'clock a.m. on
Wednesday, the 9th of October, at Suez. The Mongolia plied regularly
between Brindisi and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the
fastest steamers belonging to the company, always making more than ten
knots an hour between Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between
Suez and Bombay.
  Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling
village --now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a
fast-growing town. One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite
the prophecies of the English Government, and the unfavorable
predictions of Stephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office
window, English ships daily passing to and fro on the great canal,
by which the old roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of
Good Hope was abridged by at least a half. The other was a small,
slight-built personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright
eyes peering out from under eyebrows which he was incessantly
twitching. He was just now manifesting unmistakable signs of
impatience, nervously pacing up and down, and unable to stand still
for a moment. This was Fix, one of the detectives who had been
despatched from England in search of the bank robber; it was his
task to narrowly watch every passenger who arrived at Suez, and to
follow up all who seemed to be suspicious characters, or bore a
resemblance to the description of the criminal, which he had
received two days before from the police headquarters at London. The
detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining the splendid
reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited with a
feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the steamer
Mongolia.
  "So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind?"
  "No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul. "She was bespoken yesterday at
Port Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft. I
repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by
the company's regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess
of speed."
  "Does she come directly from Brindisi?"
  "Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and
she left there Saturday at five p.m. Have patience, Mr. Fix; she
will not be late. But really I don't see how, from the description you
have, you will be able to recognize your man, even if he is on board
the Mongolia."
  "A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, then
recognizes them. You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling. I've
arrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and if my
thief is on board, I'll answer for it, he'll not slip through my
fingers."
  "I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."
  "A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds! We don't
often have such windfalls. Burglars are getting to be so
contemptible nowadays! A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"
  "Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope
you'll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy. Don't you
see, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance
to an honest man?"
  "Consul," remarked the detective dogmatically, "great robbers always
resemble honest folks. Fellows who have rascally faces have only one
course to take, and that is to be honest; otherwise they would be
arrested off-hand. The artistic thing is, to unmask honest
countenances; it's no light task, I admit, but a real art."
  Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.
  Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors
of various nations, merchants, ship brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled
to and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected. The weather
was clear, and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town loomed
above the houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier, some two
thousand yards long, extended into the roadstead. A number of
fishing smacks and coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic
fashion of ancient galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.
  As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit,
scrutinized the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.
  It was now half-past ten.
  "The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.
  "She can't be far off now," returned his companion.
  "How long will she stop at Suez?"
  "Four hours; long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen
hundred and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red
Sea, and she has to take in a fresh coal supply."
  "And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"
  "Without putting in anywhere."
  "Good," said Fix. "If the robber is on board, he will no doubt get
off at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by
some other route. He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour
in India, which is English soil."
  "Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd. An
English criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London
than anywhere else."
  This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and
meanwhile the consul went away to his office. Fix, left alone, was more
impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on board
the Mongolia. If he had indeed left London intending to reach the New
World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was less
watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic. But
Fix's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp
whistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia. The porters and
fellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the
shore to go and meet the steamer. Soon her gigantic hull appeared
passing along between the banks, and eleven o'clock struck as she
anchored in the road. She brought an unusual number of passengers, some
of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the town,
while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on the quay.
  Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and
figure which made its appearance. Presently one of the passengers,
after vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of
porters, came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the
English consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished
to have visaed. Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a
rapid glance read the description of its bearer. An involuntary motion
of surprise nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport
was identical with that of the bank robber which he had received
from Scotland Yard.
  "Is this your passport?" asked he.
  "No, it's my master's."
  "And your master is -"
  "He stayed on board."
  "But he must go to the consul's in person, so as to establish his
identity."
  "Oh, is that necessary?"
  "Quite indispensable."
  "And where is the consulate?"
  "There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a
house two hundred steps off.
  "I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to
be disturbed."
  The passenger bowed to I and returned to the steamer.
  CHAPTER VII
  Which once more demonstrates the uselessness of passports as aids to
detectives

  The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to
the consul's office, where he was at once admitted to the presence
of that official.
  "Consul," said he, without preamble. "I have strong reasons for
believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated
what had just passed concerning the passport.
  "Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see
the rascal's face; but perhaps he won't come here, that is, if he is
the person you suppose him to be. A robber doesn't quite like to leave
traces of his flight behind him; and besides, he is not obliged to
have his passport countersigned."
  "If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."
  "To have his passport visaed?"
  "Yes. Passports are only good for annoying honest folks and aiding
the flight of rogues. I assure you it will be quite the thing for
him to do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."
  "Why not? If the passport is genuine, I have no right to refuse."
  "Still I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest
him from London."
  "Ah, that's your lookout. But I cannot-"
  The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock
was heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was
the servant whom Fix had met on the quay. The other, who was his
master, held out his passport with the request that the consul would
do him the favor to visa it. The consul took the document and
carefully read it, whilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the
stranger with his eyes from a corner of the room.
  "You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the
passport.
  "I am."
  "And this man is your servant?"
  "He is; a Frenchman, named Passepartout."
  "You are from London?"
  "Yes."
  "And you are going-"
  "To Bombay."
  "Very good, sir. You know that a visa is useless, and that no
passport is required?"
  "I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by
your visa, that I came by Suez."
  "Very well, sir."
  The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he
added his official seal. Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly
bowed, and went out, followed by his servant.
  "Well?" queried the detective.
  "Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the
consul.
  "Possibly; but that is not the question. Do you think, consul,
that this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the
robber whose description I have received?"
  "I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions-"
  "I'll make certain of it," interrupted Fix. "The servant seems to me
less mysterious than the master; besides, he's a Frenchman, and
can't help talking. Excuse me for a little while, consul."
  Fix started off in search of Passepartout.
  Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the
quay, gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the Mongolia in
boat, in descended to his cabin. He took up his notebook, which
contained the following memoranda:

  "Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8:45 p.m.
  "Reached Paris, Thursday, October 3rd, at 7:20 a.m.
  "Left Paris, Thursday, at 8:40 a.m.
  "Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6:35 a.m
  "Left Turin, Friday, at 7:20 a.m.
  "Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday, October 5th, at 4 p.m.
  "Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.
  "Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m.
  "Total of hours spent, 158 1/2, or, in days, six days and a half."

  These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,
indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the
stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point, -Paris,
Brindisi, Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama,
San Francisco, New York, and London, -from the 2nd of October to the
21st of December; and giving a space for setting down the gain made or
the loss suffered on arrival of each locality. This methodical
record thus contained an account of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg
always knew whether he was behindhand or in advance of his time. On
this Wednesday, October 9th, he noted his arrival at Suez, and
observed that he had as yet neither gained nor lost. He sat down
quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never once thinking of inspecting
the town, being one of those Englishmen who are wont to see foreign
countries through the eyes of their domestics.
  CHAPTER VIII
  In which Passepartout, talks rather more, perhaps, than is prudent

  Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about
on the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged
not to see anything.
  "Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is
your passport visaed?"
  "Ah, it's you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout. "Thanks,
yes, the passport is all right."
  "And you are looking about you?"
  "Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"
  "Yes."
  "In Egypt?"
  "Certainly, in Egypt."
  "And in Africa?"
  "In Africa."
  "In Africa!" repeated Passepartout. "Just think, monsieur, I had
no idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of
Paris was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes
before nine in the morning, between the Northern and the Lyons
stations, through the windows of a car, and in a driving rain! How I
regret not having seen once more Pere la Chaise and the circus in
the Champs Elysees!"
  "You are in a great hurry, then?"
  "I am not, but my master is. By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts. We came away without trunks, only with a carpetbag."
  "I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."
  "Really, monsieur, you are very kind."
  And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as
they went along.
  "Above all," said he, "don't let me lose the steamer."
  "You have plenty of time; it's only twelve o'clock."
  Passepartout pulled out his big watch. "Twelve!" he exclaimed;
"why it's only eight minutes before ten."
  "Your watch is slow."
  "My watch? A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather! It doesn't vary five minutes in the year, it's a
perfect chronometer, look you."
  "I see how it is," said Fix. "You have kept London time, which is
two hours behind that of Suez. You ought to regulate your watch at
noon in each country."
  "I regulate my watch? Never!"
  "Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."
  "So much the worse for the sun, monsieur. The sun will be wrong,
then!"
  And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture. After a few minutes' silence, Fix resumed: "You left London
hastily, then?"
  "I rather think so! Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off."
  "But where is your master going?"
  "Always straight ahead. He is going round the world."
  "Round the world?" cried Fix.
  "Yes, and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager; but, between us,
I don't believe a word of it. That wouldn't be common sense. There's
something else in the wind."
  "Ah! Mr.Fogg is a character, is he?"
  "I should say he was."
  "Is he rich?"
  "No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand-new bank
notes with him. And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either:
he has offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he
gets us to Bombay well in advance of time."
  "And you have known your master a long time?"
  "Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."
  The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and
excited detective may be imagined. The hasty departure from London
soon after the robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his
eagerness to reach distant countries; the pretext of an eccentric
and foolhardy bet, -all confirmed Fix in his theory. He continued to
pump poor Passepartout, and learned that he really knew little or
nothing of his master, who lived a solitary existence in London, was
said to be rich, though no one knew whence came his riches, and was
mysterious and impenetrable in his affairs and habits. Fix felt sure
that Phileas Fogg would not land at Suez, but was really going on to
Bombay.
  "Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.
  "Pretty far. It is a ten days' voyage by sea."
  "And in what country is Bombay?"
  "India."
  "In Asia?"
  "Certainly."
  "The deuce! I was going to tell you, -there's one thing that worries
me, -my burner!"
  "What burner?"
  "My gas burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this
moment burning -at my expense. I have calculated, monsieur, that I
lose two shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence
more than I earn; and you will understand that the longer our
journey-"
  Did Fix pay any attention to Passepartout's trouble about the gas It
is not probable. He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his
companion to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss
the steamer, and hurried back to the consulate. Now that he was
fully convinced, Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.
  "Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt. I have spotted my
man. He passes himself off as an odd stick, who is going round the
world in eighty days."
  "Then he's a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on
returning to London after putting the police of the two continents off
his track."
  "We'll see about that," replied Fix.
  "But are you not mistaken?"
  "I am not mistaken."
  "Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had
passed through Suez?"
  "Why? I have no idea; but listen to me."
  He reported in a few words the most important parts of his
conversation with Passepartout.
  "In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this
man. And what are you going to do?"
  "Send a despatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be
despatched instantly to take passage on board the Mongolia, follow
my rogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him
politely, with my warrant in my hand, and my hand on his shoulder."
  Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the
detective took leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph
office, hence he sent the despatch which we have seen to the London
police office. A quarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small
bag in his hand, proceeding on board the Mongolia; and ere many
moments longer, the notable steamer rode out at full steam upon the
waters of the Red Sea.
  CHAPTER IX
  In which the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean prove propitious to the
designs of Phileas Fogg

  The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and
ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one
hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it. The Mongolia,
thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so
rapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within
that time. The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound
for India -some for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay,  the
nearest route thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.
Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers
of various grades, the latter being either attached to the regular
British forces, or commanding the Sepoy troops and receiving high
salaries ever since the central government has assumed the powers of
the East India Company; for the sub-lieutenants get L280, brigadiers,
L2400, and generals of division, L4000. What with the military men,
a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels, and the hospitable
efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the Mongolia. The
best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at breakfast, lunch,
dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies scrupulously
changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were whiled away,
when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.
  But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like
most long and narrow gulfs. When the wind came from the African or
Asian coast, the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearful ly. Then
the ladies speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing
and dancing suddenly ceased. Yet the good ship ploughed straight on,
unretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. What
was Phileas Fogg doing all this time? It might be thought that, in his
anxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind,
the disorderly raging of the billows -every chance, in short, which
might force the Mongolia to slacken her speed, and thus interrupt
his journey. But if he thought of these possibilities, he did not
betray the fact by any outward sign.
  Always the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no
incident could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers,
and seldom having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed
through the memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference;
did not care to recognize the historic towns and villages which, along
its borders, raised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and
betrayed no fear of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old
historians always spoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient
navigators never ventured without propitiating the gods by ample
sacrifices. How did this eccentric personage pass his time on the
Mongolia? He made his four hearty meals every day, regardless of the
most persistent rolling and pitching on the part of the steamer; and
he played whist indefatigably, for he had found partners as
enthusiastic in the game as himself. A tax-collector, on the way to
his post at Goa; the Rev. Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at
Bombay; and a brigadier-general of the English army, who was about
to rejoin his brigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr.
Fogg, played whist by the hour together in absorbing silence.
  As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped seasickness, and took
his meals conscientiously in the forward cabin. He rather enjoyed
the voyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest
in the scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself
with the delusion that his master's whim would end at Bombay. He was
pleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging
person with whom he had walked and chatted on the quays.
  "If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person with his
most amiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered
to guide me at Suez?"
  "Ah! I quite recognize you. You are the servant of the strange
Englishman-"
  "Just so, Monsieur-"
  "Fix."
  "Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm charmed to find you on
board. Where are you bound?"
  "Like you, to Bombay."
  "That's capital! Have you made this trip before?"
  "Several times. I am one of the agents of the Peninsula Company."
  "Then you know India?"
  "Why -yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.
  "A curious place, this India?"
  "Oh, very very curious. Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, snakes, elephants! I hope you will have ample time to see
the sights."
  "I hope so, Monsieur Fix. You see, a man of sound sense ought not to
spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the
world in eighty days! No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure,
will cease at Bombay."
  "And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural
tone in the world.
  "Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea
air."
  "But I never see your master on deck."
  "Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."
  "Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty
days may conceal some secret errand -perhaps a diplomatic mission?"
  "Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor
would I give half-a-crown to find out."
  After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of
chatting together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy
man's confidence. He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale
ale in the steamer barroom, which Passepartout never failed to
accept with graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of
good fellows.
  Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th,
Mocha, surrounded by its ruined walls whereon date trees were growing,
was sighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee
fields. Passepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and
thought that, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked
like an immense coffee cup and saucer. The following night they passed
through the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic "The Bridge
of Tears," and the next day they put in at Steamer Point, northwest of
Aden Harbor, to take in coal. This matter of fuelling steamers is a
serious one at such distances from the coal mines; it costs the
Peninsula Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year. In
these distant seas, coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton.
  The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse
before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at
Steamer Point to coal up. But this delay, as it was foreseen, did
not affect Phileas Fogg's programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of
reaching Aden on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived
there on the evening of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.
  Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport
again visaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them. The visa procured, Mr.
Fogg returned on board to resume his former habits; while
Passepartout, according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed
population of Somalis, Banyai, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who
comprise the twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden. He gazed with
wonder upon the fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar
of the Indian Ocean, and the vast cisterns where the English engineers
were still at work, two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.
  "Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on
returning to the steamer. "I see that it is by no means useless to
travel, if a man wants to see something new." At six p.m. the Mongolia
slowly moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on the
Indian Ocean. She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to
reach Bombay, and the sea was favorable, the wind being in the
northwest, and all sails aiding the engine. The steamer rolled but
little, the ladies, in fresh toilets, reappeared on deck, and the
singing and dancing resumed. The trip was being accomplished most
successfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial
companion which chance had secured him in the person of the delightful
Fix. On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight of
the Indian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board. A range
of hills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of
palms which adorn Bombay came distinctly into view. The steamer
entered the road formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past
four she hauled up at the quays of Bombay.
  Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber
of the voyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke,
captured all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with
a brilliant victory.
  The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from
London, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column
of gains.
  CHAPTER X
  In which Passepartout is only too glad to get off with the loss of
his shoes

  Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its
base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India,
embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is
spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of
souls. The British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over
the larger portion of this vast country, and has a governor-general
stationed at Calcutta, governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and
a lieutenant-governor at Agra.
  But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred
thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one
hundred and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion of
India is still free from British authority; and there are certain
ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. The
celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the
English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the
city of Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection. It
gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the
native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general
and his subordinates, civil and military. But the East India Company
has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly
under the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well
as the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
  Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous
methods of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy
coaches; now, fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a
great railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many
points on its route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta
in three days. This railway does not run in a direct line across
India. The distance between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is
only from one thousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of
the road increase this distance by more than a third.
  The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as
follows: -Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to
the continent opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western
Ghauts, runs thence northeast as far as Burhampoor, skirts the
nearly independent territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad,
turns thence eastwardly, meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs
from the river a little, and, descending southeastward by Burdivan and
the French town of Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.
  The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.;
at exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.
  Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the
steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him
to be at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step,
which beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his
steps to the passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay -its famous
city hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars,
mosques, synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on
Malebar Hill with its with its two polygonal towers -he cared not a
straw to see them. He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces
of Elephanta, or the mysterious hypogea, concealed southeast from
the docks, or those fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the
Kanherian grottoes of the island of Salcette.
  Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas
Fogg repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.
Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended
a certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.
  Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,
found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord, and on his
appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit,
sir?"
  "Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."
  "And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"
  "Mew, my lord! what, a rabbit mew! I swear to you-"
  "Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were
formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals. That was a good
time."
  "For the cats, my lord?"
  "Perhaps for the travellers as well!"
  After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone on
shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the
headquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a London
detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs
relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant
had arrived from London. It had not reached the office; indeed,
there had not yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely
disappointed, and tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director
of the Bombay police. This the director refused, as the matter
concerned the London office, which alone could legally deliver the
warrant. Fix did not insist, and was fain to resign himself to await
the arrival of the important document; but he was determined not to
lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay.
He did not doubt for a moment, any more than Passepartout, that
Phileas Fogg would remain there, at least until it was time for the
warrant to arrive.
  Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on
leaving the Mongolia, than he saw at once that they were to leave
Bombay as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would
be extended at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that
place. He began to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked
about was not really in good earnest, and whether his fate was not
in truth forcing him, despite his love of repose, around the world
in eighty days!
  Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a
leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of
many nationalities -Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, banyas with
round turbans, Sindis with square bonnets, Parsees with black
mitres, and long-robed Armenians -were collected. It happened to be
the day of a Parsee festival. These descendants of the sect of
Zoroaster -the most thrifty, civilized, intelligent, and austere of
the East Indians, among whom are counted the richest native
merchants of Bombay -were celebrating a sort of religious carnival,
with processions and shows, in the midst of which Indian dancing
girls, clothed in rose-colored gauze, looped up with gold and
silver, danced airily, but with perfect modesty, to the sound of viols
and the clanging of tambourines. It is needless to say that
Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with staring eyes and
gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the greenest
booby imaginable.
  Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him
unconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seen
the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his
steps towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid
pagoda on Malebar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire
to see its interior. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to
Christians to enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful
must not go in without first leaving their shoes outside the door.
It may be said here that the wise policy of the British Government
severely punishes a disregard of the practices of the native religions.
  Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple
tourist, and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin
ornamentation which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found
himself sprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three
enraged priests, who forthwith fell upon him, tore off his shoes,
and began to beat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile
Frenchman was soon upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking
down two of his long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a
vigorous application of his toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as
fast as his legs could carry him, he soon escaped the third priest
by mingling with the crowd in the streets.
  At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and
having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed
breathlessly into the station.
  Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was
really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He had
resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if
necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an
obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words
to Mr. Fogg.
  "I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg, coldly,
as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen,
followed his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering
another carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter
his plan.
  "No, I'll stay," muttered he. "An offence has been committed on
Indian soil. I've got my man."
  Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train
passed out into the darkness of the night.
  CHAPTER XI
  In which Phileas Fogg secures a curious means of conveyance at a
fabulous price

  The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number
of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo merchants,
whose business called them to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode
in the same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a
seat opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr.
Fogg's whist partners on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his
corps at Benares. Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had
greatly distinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt. He made
India his home, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals;
and was almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history,
and character of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg, Phileas Fogg,
who was not travelling, but only describing a circumference, took no
pains to inquire into these subjects; he was a solid body,
traversing an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the
laws of rational mechanics. He was at this moment calculating in his
mind the number of hours spent since his departure from London, and,
had it been in his nature to make a useless demonstration, would
have rubbed his hands for satisfaction. Sir Francis Cromarty had
observed the oddity of his travelling companion -although the only
opportunity he had for studying him had been while he was dealing
the cards, and between two rubbers -and questioned himself whether a
human heart really beat beneath this cold exterior, and whether
Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of nature. The
brigadier-general was free to mentally confess, that, of all the
eccentric persons he had ever met, none met, none was comparable to
this product of the exact sciences.
  Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design of
going round the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out;
and the general only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity, and a
lack of sound common sense. In the way this strange gentleman was
going on, he would leave the world without having done any good to
himself or anybody else.
  An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaducts and
the island of Salcette, and had got into the open country. At
Callyan they reached the junction of the branch line which descends
towards southeastern India by Kandallah and Pounah; and, passing
Pauwell, they entered the defiles of the mountains, with their
basalt bases, and their summits crowned with thick and verdant
forests. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty exchanged a few words
from time to time, and now Sir Francis, reviving the conversation,
observed, "Some years ago, Mr. Fogg, you would have met with a delay
at this point, which would probably have lost you your wager."
  "How so, Sir Francis?"
  "Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, which
the passengers were obliged to cross in palanquins or on ponies to
Kandallah, on the other side."
  "Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the least," said
Mr. Fogg. "I have constantly foreseen the likelihood of certain
obstacles."
  "But, Mr. Fogg," pursued Sir Francis, "you run the risk of having
some difficulty about this worthy fellow's adventure at the pagoda."
Passepartout, his feet comfortably wrapped in his travelling
blanket, was sound asleep, and did not dream that anybody was
talking about him. "The Government is very severe upon that kind of
offence. It takes particular care that the religious customs of the
Indians should be respected, and if your servant were caught-"
  "Very well, Sir Francis," replied Mr. Fogg; "if he had been caught
he would have been condemned and punished, and then would have quietly
returned to Europe. I don't see how this affair could have delayed his
master."
  The conversation fell again. During the night the train left the
mountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next day proceeded over
the flat, well-cultivated country of the Khandeish, with its
straggling villages, above which rose the minarets of the pagodas.
This fertile territory is watered by numerous small rivers and
limpid streams, mostly tributaries of the Godavery.
  Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realize that he
was actually crossing India in a railway train. The locomotive, guided
by an English engineer and fed with English coal, threw out its
smoke upon cotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations,
while the steam curled in spirals around groups of palm trees, in
the midst of which were seen picturesque bungalows, viharis (a sort of
abandoned monasteries), and marvellous temples enriched by the
exhaustless ornamentation of Indian architecture. Then they came
upon vast tracts extending to the horizon, with jungles inhabited by
snakes and tigers, which fled at the noise of the train; succeeded
by forests penetrated by the railway, and still haunted by elephants
which, with pensive eyes, gazed at the train as it passed. The
travellers crossed, beyond Malligaum, the fatal country so often
stained with blood by the sectaries of the goddess Kali. Not far off
rose Ellora, with its graceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad,
capital of the ferocious Aureng-Zeb, now the chief town of one of
the detached provinces of the kingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts
that Feringhea, the Thuggee chief, king of the stranglers, held his
sway. These ruffians, united by a secret bond, strangled victims of
every age in honor of the goddess Death, without ever shedding
blood; there was a period when this part of the country could scarcely
be travelled over without corpses being found in every direction.
The English Government has succeeded in greatly diminishing these
murders, though the Thuggees still exist, and pursue the exercise of
their horrible rites.
  At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor, where
Passepartout was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented
with false pearls, in which, with evident vanity, he proceeded to
incase his feet. The travellers made a hasty breakfast, and started
off for Assurghur, after skirting for a little the banks of the
small river Tapty, which empties into the Gulf of Cambray, near Surat.
  Passepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie. Up to his
arrival at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journey would
end there; but now that they were plainly whirling across India at
full speed, a sudden change had come over the spirit of his dreams.
His old vagabond nature returned to him; the fantastic ideas of his
youth once more took possession of him. He came to regard his master's
project as intended in good earnest, believed in the reality of the
bet, and therefore in the tour of the world, and the necessity of
making it without fail within the designated period. Already he
began to worry about possible delays, and accidents which might happen
on the way. He recognized himself as being personally interested in
the wager, and trembled at the thought that he might have been the
means of losing it by his unpardonable folly of the night before.
Being much less cool-headed than Mr. Fogg, he was much more
restless, counting the days passed over, uttering maledictions when
the train stopped, and accusing it of sluggishness, and mentally
blaming Mr. Fogg for not having bribed the engineer. the engineer. The
worthy fellow was ignorant that, while it was possible by such means
to hasten the rate of a steamer, it could not be done on the railway.
  The train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains, which
separate the Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards evening. The next
day Sir Francis Cromarty asked Passepartout what time it was; to
which, on consulting his watch, he replied that it was three in the
morning. This famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich
meridian, which was now some seventy-seven degrees westward, was at
least four hours slow. Sir Francis corrected Passepartout's time,
whereupon the latter made the same remark that he had done to Fix; and
upon the general insisting that the watch should be regulated in
each new meridian, since he was constantly going eastward, that is
in the face of the sun, and therefore the days were shorter by four
minutes for each degree gone over, Passepartout obstinately refused to
alter his watch, which he kept at London time. It was an innocent
delusion which could harm no one.
  The train stopped, at eight o'clock, in the midst of a glade some
fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows and
workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted,
"Passengers will get out here!"
  Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation;
but the general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of
this forest of dates and acacias.
  Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily
returned, crying, "Monsieur, no more railway!"
  "What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.
  "I mean to say that the train isn't going on."
  The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly
followed him, and they proceeded together to the conductor.
  "Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.
  "At the hamlet of Kholby."
  "Do we stop here?"
  "Certainly. The railway isn't finished."
  "What! Not finished?"
  "No. There's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to
Allahabad, where the line begins again."
  "But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."
  "What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken."
  "Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," returned Sir
Francis, who was growing warm.
  "No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know that
they must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby
to Allahabad."
  Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout would willingly have knocked
the conductor down, and did not dare to look at his master.
  "Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg, quietly, we will, "if you please, look
about look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."
  "Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."
  "No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."
  "What! You knew that the way-"
  "Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner
or later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two
days which I have already gained to sacrifice. A steamer leaves
Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and
we shall reach Calcutta in time."
  There was nothing to say to so confident a response.
  It was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this
point. The papers were like some watches, which have a way of
getting too fast, and had been premature in their announcement of
the completion of the line. The greater part of the travellers were
aware of this interruption, and leaving the train, they began to
engage such vehicles as the village could provide -four-wheeled
palkigharis, waggons drawn by zebus, carriages that looked like
perambulating pagodas, palanquins, ponies, and what not.
  Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village
from end to end, came back without having found anything.
  "I shall go afoot," said Phileas Fogg.
  Passepartout, who had now rejoined his master, made a wry grimace,
as he thought of his magnificent, but too frail Indian shoes.
Happily he too had been looking about him, and, after a moment's
hesitation, said, "Monsieur, I think I have found a means of
conveyance."
  "What?"
  "An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but
a hundred steps from here."
  "Let's go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg.
  They soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within some high
pailings, was the animal in question. An Indian came out of the hut,
and, at their request, conducted them within the enclosure. The
elephant, which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but
for warlike purposes, was half domesticated. The Indian had begun
already, by often irritating him, and feeding him every three months
on sugar and butter, to impart to him a ferocity not in his nature,
this method being often employed by those who train the Indian
elephants for battle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal's
instruction in this direction had not gone far, and the elephant still
preserved his natural gentleness. Kiouni -this was the name of the
beast -could doubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and, in default
of any other means of conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But
elephants are far from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce;
the males, which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought,
especially as but few of them are domesticated. When, therefore, Mr.
Fogg proposed to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank.
Mr. Fogg persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour
for the loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty pounds?
Refused also. Forty pounds? Still refused. At each advance
Passepartout jumped; but the Indian declined to be tempted. Yet the
offer was an alluring one, for, supposing it took the elephant fifteen
hours to reach Allahabad, his owner would receive no less than six
hundred pounds sterling.
  Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed
to purchase the animal outright, and at first offered a thousand
pounds for him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a
great bargain, still refused.
  Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to
reflect before he went any further; to which that gentleman replied
that he was not in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty
thousand pounds was at stake, that the elephant was absolutely
necessary to him, and that he would secure him if he had to pay twenty
times his value. Returning to the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes,
glistening with avarice, betrayed that with him it was only a question
of how great a price he could obtain, Mr. Fogg offered first twelve
hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand
pounds. Passepartout, usually so rubicund, was fairly white with
suspense.
  At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
  "What a price, good heaven!" cried Passepartout, "for an elephant!"
  It only remained now to find a guide, which was comparatively
easy. A young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his
services, which Mr. Fogg accepted, promising so generous a reward as
to materially stimulate his zeal. The elephant was led out and
equipped. The Parsee, who was an accomplished elephant driver, covered
his back with a sort of saddlecloth, and attached to his flanks a pair
of curiously uncomfortable howdahs.
  Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some bank notes which he extracted
from the famous carpetbag, a proceeding that seemed to deprive poor
Passepartout of his vitals. Then he offered to carry Sir Francis to
Allahabad, which the brigadier gratefully accepted, as one traveller
the more would not be likely to fatigue the gigantic beast. Provisions
were purchased at Kholby, and while Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took
the howdahs on either side, Passepartout got astride the saddlecloth
between them. The Parsee perched himself on the elephant's neck, and
at nine o'clock they set out from the village, the animal marching off
through the dense forest of palms by the shortest cut.
  CHAPTER XII
  In which Phileas Fogg and his companions venture across the Indian
forests, and what ensued

  In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of the
line where the railway was still in process of being built. This line,
owing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia mountains, did not
pursue a straight course. The Parsee, who was quite familiar with
the roads and paths in the district, declared that they would gain
twenty miles by striking directly through the forest.
  Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in the
peculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swift
trotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful
Parsee; but they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm,
talking little, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As
for Passepartout, who was mounted on the beast's back, and received
the direct force of each concussion as he trod along, he was very
careful, in accordance with his master's advice, to keep his tongue
from between his teeth, as it would otherwise have been bitten off
short. The worthy fellow bounced from the elephant's neck to his rump,
and vaulted like a clown on a springboard; yet he laughed in the midst
of his bouncing, and from time to time took a piece of sugar out of
his pocket, and inserted it in Kiouni's trunk, who received it without
in the least slackening his regular trot.
  After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hour
for rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at a
neighboring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs round
about him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and
both descended with a feeling of relief. "Why, he's made of iron!"
exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on Kiouni.
  "Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing
a hasty breakfast.
  At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soon
presented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf palms
succeeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty
shrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite. All this portion of
Bundelcund, which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited
by a fanatical population, hardened in the most horrible practices
of the Hindoo faith. The English have not been able to secure complete
dominion over this territory, which is subjected to the influence of
rajahs, of rajahs, whom it is almost impossible to reach in their
inaccessible mountain fastnesses.The travellers several times saw
bands of ferocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant
striding across country, made angry and threatening motions. The
Parsee avoided them as much as possible. Few animals were observed
on the route; even the monkeys hurried from their path with
contortions and grimaces which convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
  In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy
servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant, when he got to
Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell
him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some
consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a
present of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these
thoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.
  The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the
evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a
ruined bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day,
and an equal distance still separated them from the station of
Allahabad.
  The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few
dry branches, and I he warmth was very grateful. The provisions
purchased at Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate
ravenously. The conversation, beginning with a few disconnected
phrases, soon gave place to loud and steady snores. The guide
watched Kiouni, who slept standing, bolstering himself against the
trunk of a large tree. Nothing occurred during the night to disturb
the slumberers, although occasional growls from panthers and
chatterings of monkeys broke the silence; the more formidable beasts
made no cries or hostile demonstration against the occupants of the
bungalow. Sir Francis slept heavily, like an honest soldier overcome
with fatigue. Passepartout was wrapped in uneasy dreams of the
bouncing of the day before. As for Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as
peacefully as if he had been in his serene mansion in Saville Row.
  The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to
reach Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a
part of the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour.
Kiouni, resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the
Vindhias, and towards noon they noon they passed by the village of
Kallenger, on the Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide
avoided inhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open
country, which lies along the first depressions of the basin of the
great river. Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the northeast.They
stopped under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as
bread and as succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and
appreciated.
  At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended
several miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They
had not as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed
on the point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant,
becoming restless, suddenly stopped.
  It was then four o'clock.
  "What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
  "I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively
to a confused murmur which came through the thick branches.
  The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant
concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout
was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The
Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and
plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying,-
  "A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent
their seeing us, if possible."
  The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the
same time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready
to bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight become
necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the
faithful would pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in
which they were wholly concealed.
  The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer,
and now droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and
cymbals. The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a
hundred paces away; and the strange figures who performed the
religious ceremony were easily distinguished through the branches.
First came the priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in
long lace robes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who
sang a kind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by
the tambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with
large wheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with
each other. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned
zebus, stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body colored a
dull red, with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue,
and lips tinted with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a
prostrate and headless giant.
  Sir Francis, recognizing the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali;
the goddess of love and death."
  "Of death, perhaps," murmured back Passepartout, "but of love
-that ugly old hag? Never!"
  The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.
  A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado around the
statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence
their blood issued drop by drop -stupid fanatics, who, in the great
Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of
Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental
apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.
This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes, were loaded down with jewels
and gems, -with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered
with gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the
outline of her form.
  The guards who followed.the young woman presented a violent contrast
to her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists,
long damasceened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It
was the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a
rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe
of tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds,
and the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the
musicians and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes
drowned the noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.
  Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and
turning to the guide, said, "A suttee."
  The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in
the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally
cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.
  Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked, "What is a suttee?"
  "A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned tomorrow at
the dawn of day."
  "Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress
his indignation.
  "And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an
independent rajah of Bundelcund."
  "Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not
the least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India,
and that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"
  "These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India,"
replied Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage
territories, and especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district
north of the Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and
pillage."
  "The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"
  "Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And if she were not, you
cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to
from her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a
scanty allowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked
upon as an unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a
scurvy dog. The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these
poor creatures to the sacrifice much more than love or religious
fanaticism. Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and
it requires the active interference of the Government to prevent it.
Several years ago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked
permission of the governor to be burned along with her husband's body;
but, as you may imagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took
refuge with an independent rajah, and there carried out her
self-devoted purpose."
  While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several
times, and now said, "The sacrifice which will take place tomorrow
at dawn is not a voluntary one."
  "How do you know?"
  "Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
  "But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any
resistance," observed Sir Francis.
  "That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and
opium."
  "But where are they taking her?"
  "To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the
night there."
  "And the sacrifice will take place-"
  "Tomorrow, at the first light of dawn."
  The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon
his neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni
forward with a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and turning
to Sir Francis Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."
  "Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
  "I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."
  "Why, you are a man of heart!"
  "Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."
  CHAPTER XIII
  In which Passepartout receives a new proof that fortune favors the
brave

  The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps
impracticable. Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty,
and therefore the success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he
found in Sir Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.
  As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be
proposed. His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul,
under that icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.
  There remained the guide: what course would he adopt Would he not
take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was
necessary to be assured of his neutrality.
  Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.
  "Officer," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a
Parsee. Command me as you will."
  "Excellent," said Mr. Fogg.
  "However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall
risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."
  "That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg. "I think we must wait till
night before acting."
  "I think so," said the guide.
  The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he
said, was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter
of a wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English
education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence,
would be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan,
she was married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund;
and, knowing the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken,
and devoted by the rajah's relatives, who had an interest in her
death, to the sacrifice from which it seemed she could not escape.
  The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the
elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly
approached as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour
afterwards, in a copse some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where
they were well concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries
of the fakirs distinctly.
  Then they discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide
was familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the
young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while
the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it
safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be
determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was
certain that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at
break of day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human
intervention could save her.
  As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a
reconnoissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just
ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the
drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might
be possible to slip between them to the temple itself.
  The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the
wood, and in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small
stream, whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a
pyre of wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the
rajah, which was to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose
minarets loomed above the trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred
steps away.
  "Come!" whispered the guide.
  He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed
by his companions; the silence around was only broken by the low
murmuring of the wind in the branches.
  Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit
up by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,
motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with
the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.
  In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed
indistinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the
rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching
to and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching
within.
  The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an
entrance to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions
back again. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that
nothing could be attempted in that direction. They stopped, and
engaged in a whispered colloquy.
  "It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may
also go to sleep."
  "It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
  They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
  The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an
observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily
by the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows
of the pagoda.
  They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the
guards, and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could
not be counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in
the walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether
the priests were watching by the side of their victim assiduously as
were the soldiers at the door.
  After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a
roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached
the wall about half-past twelve, without having met any one; here
there was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.
  The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the
horizon, and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees
deepened the darkness.
  It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their
pocket knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and
wood, which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one
brick had been taken out, the rest would yield easily.
  They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks, so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly
a cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost
instantly by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and
the guide stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given?
Common prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood,
and waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding
themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly
enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there
installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.
  It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party,
thus interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim:
how, then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists,
Passepartout was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth
with rage. The tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.
  "We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.
  "Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.
  "Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before
noon."
  "But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and-"
  "The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last
moment."
  Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes.
  What was this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a
rush for the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and
boldly snatch her from her executioners
  This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was
such a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of
this terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade,
where they were able to observe the sleeping groups.
  Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower
branches of a tree, was revolving an idea which had at first struck
him like a flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.
  He had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he
repeated, "Why not, after all? It's a chance, -perhaps the only one;
and with such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of
a serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to
the ground.
  The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the
approach of day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The
slumbering multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs
and cries arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of
the pagoda swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior,
in the midst of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim.
She seemed, having shaken off the of intoxication to be striving to
escape from her executioner. Sir Francis' heart throbbed; and
convulsively seizing Mr. Fogg's hand, found in it an open knife.
Just at this moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again
fallen into a stupor, caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among
the fakirs, who escorted her with their wild, religious cries.
  Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the
crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the
stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay
the rajah's corpse. In the semiobscurity they saw the victim, quite
senseless, stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was
brought, and the wood, soaked with oil, instantly took fire.
  At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who,
in an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre.
But he had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly
changed. A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated
themselves, terror-stricken, on the ground.
  The old rajah was not dead then, since he rose of a sudden, like a
spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre
in the midst of in the midst of smoke, which only heightened his
ghostly appearance.
  Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay
there, with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes
and behold such a prodigy.
  The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden.
Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and
Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.
  The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and,
in an abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"
  It was Passepartout himself who had slipped upon the pyre in the
midst of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness,
had delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who,
playing his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd
amid the general terror.
  A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods,
and the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the
cries and noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's
hat, apprised them that the trick had been discovered.
  The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre;
and the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an
abduction had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed
by the soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the
latter rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found
themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.
  CHAPTER XIV
  In which Phileas Fogg descends the whole length of the beautiful
valley of the Ganges without ever thinking of seeing it

  The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout
laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy
fellow's hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which from him, was
high commendation to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of
the affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck
with a "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments
he, Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the
spouse of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the
young Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was
passing, and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing
in one of the howdahs.
  The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was
advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour
after leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt
at seven o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete
prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but
the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off Sir
Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication
produced by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her
account. But he was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate.
He told Phileas Fogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would
inevitably fall again into the hands of her executioners. These
fanatics were scattered throughout the country, and would, despite the
English police, recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta.
She would only be safe by quitting India forever.
  Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
  The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and the
interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to
reach Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus
be able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta
the next day, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
  The young woman was placed in one of the waiting rooms of the
station, whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her
various articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which
his master gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off
forthwith, and found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the
"City of God," one of the most venerated in India, being built at
the junction of the two sacred rivers Ganges and Jumna, the waters
of which attract pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The
Ganges, according to the legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven,
whence, owing to Brahma's agency, it descends to the earth.
  Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a
good look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which
has since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and
Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used
to frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly,
crusty jew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom from whom
he purchased a dress of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine
otter-skin pelisse, for which he did not hesitate to pay
seventy-five pounds. He then returned triumphantly to the station.
  The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda
began gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her
fine eyes resumed all their soft Indian expression.
  When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the
queen of Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:-
  "Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the
harmonious contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in
their glow and freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of
the bow of Kama, the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes
the purest reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred
lakes of Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her
teeth, fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like
dewdrops in a passion flower's breast. Her delicately formed ears, her
vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the lotus
bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of Ceylon,
the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple waist,
which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her rounded
figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower displays
the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of her tunic
she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike hand
of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
  It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to
Aouda, that she was a charming woman, in all the European
acceptation of the phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and
the guide had not exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been
transformed by her bringing up.
  The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg
proceeded to pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service,
and not a farthing more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered
all that his master owed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed,
risked his life in the adventure at Pillaji, and if he should be
caught afterwards by the Indians, he would with difficulty escape
their vengeance. Kiouni, also, must disposed of what should be done
with the elephant, which had been so dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg
had already determined this question.
  "Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and
devoted. I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion.
Would you like to have this elephant? He is yours."
  The guide's eyes glistened.
  "Your honor is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
  "Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your
debtor."
  "Good!" exclaimed Passepartout; "take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him
several lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
  The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping
Passepartout around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as
his head. Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal,
which replaced him gently on the ground.
  Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were
whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty
miles, and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the
young woman fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to
find herself in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European
habiliments, and with travellers who were quite strangers to her!
Her companions first set about fully reviving her with a little
liquor, and then Sir Francis narrated to her what had passed, dwelling
upon the courage with which Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his
life to save her, and recounting the happy sequel of the venture,
the result of Passepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while
Passepartout, abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't worth telling."
  Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than
words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.
Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice,
and recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with
terror.
  Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and
offered, in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where
she might remain safely until the affair was hushed up -an offer which
she eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee
relation, who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which
is wholly an English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
  At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin
legends assert that this city is built on the site of ancient Casi,
which, like Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and
earth; though the Benares of today, which the Orientalists call the
Athens of India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth.
Passepartout caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving
an aspect of desolation to the place, as the train entered it.
  Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he was
rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade
adieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all him expressing the hope that he
would come that way again in a less original but more profitable
fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The parting of
Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis, betrayed
more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty shake of
the hand from the gallant general.
  The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley
of the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers
had glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains
clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles
peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still
thickly leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the
sacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and
chilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were
fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities
being Vishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of
natural forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and
legislators. What would divinities think of India, anglicized as it is
today, with steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges,
frightening the gulls which float upon its surface, the turtles
swarming along its banks, and the faithful dwelling upon its borders?
  The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the
steam concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could
scarcely discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles southwestward from
Benares, the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur
and its famous rosewater factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis,
rising on the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or
Patna, a large manufacturing and trading place, where is held the
principal opium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European
town, for it is as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its
iron foundries, edge tool factories, and high chimneys puffing
clouds of black smoke heavenward.
  Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of
the roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before
locomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda, ruined Gour,
Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French
town of Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to
see his country's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the
darkness.
  Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left
for Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
  According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of
October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was
therefore neither behindhand nor ahead of time. The two days gained
between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the
journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg
regretted them.
  CHAPTER XV
  In which the bag of bank notes disgorges some thousands of pounds
more

  The train entered the station, and Passepartout, jumping out
first, was followed by Mr. Fog, who assisted his fair companion to
descend. Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong
steamer, in order comfortably settled for the voyage. He was unwilling
to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.
  Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
  "I am he."
  "Is this man your servant?" added the policeman pointing to
Passepartout.
  "Yes."
  "Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
  Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman
tapped him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
  "May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
  "She may," replied the policeman.
  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a
"palki-gari," a sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in
which they took their places and were driven away. No one spoke during
the twenty minutes which elapsed before they reached their
destination. They first passed through the "black town," with its
narrow streets, its miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population;
then through the "European town," which presented a relief in its
bright brick mansions, shaded by cocoanut trees and bristling with
masts, where, although it was early morning, elegantly dressed
horsemen and handsome equipages were passing back and forth.
  The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which,
however, did not have the appearance of a private mansion. The
policeman having requested his prisoners -for so, truly, they might be
called -to descend, conducted them into a room with barred windows,
and said, "You will appear before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
  He then retired, and closed the door.
  "Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a
chair.
  Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg, "Sir,
you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive
this treatment; it is for having saved me!"
  Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible.
It was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a
suttee. The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a
charge. There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not in any event
abandon Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.
  "But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
  "We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
  It was said so positively, that Passepartout could not help
muttering to himself, "Parbleu, that's certain! Before noon we shall
be on board." But he was by no means reassured.
  At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall. It
was evidently courtroom, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.
  Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench
opposite the desks of the magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after,
Judge Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered. He
proceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it
hurriedly on his head.
  "The first case," said he; then, putting his hand to his head, he
exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
  "No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
  "My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a
clerk's wig?"
  The wigs were exchanged.
  Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the
big clock over the judge seemed to go round with terrible rapidity.
  "The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
  "Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
  "I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
  "Passepartout?"
  "Present!" responded Passepartout.
  "Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for
two days on the trains from Bombay."
  "But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
  "You are about to be informed."
  "I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the
right-"
  "Have you been ill-treated?"
  "Not at all."
  "Very well; let the complainants come in."
  A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian
priests entered.
  "That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were
going to burn our young lady."
  The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against
Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a
place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
  "You hear the charge?" asked the judge.
  "Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit
it."
  "You admit it?"
  "I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their
turn, what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
  The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand
what was said.
  "Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji,
where they were on the point of burning their victim."
  The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
  "What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"
  "Bombay?" cried Passepartout.
  "Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of
the pagoda of Malebar Hill, at Bombay."
  "And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very
shoes, which he left behind him."
  Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.
  "My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape him.
  The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the
affair at Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be
imagined.
  Fix, the detective, had foreseen the advantage which
Passepartout's escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for
twelve hours, had consulted the priests of Malebar Hill. Knowing
that the English authorities dealt very severely with this kind of
misdemeanor, he promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them
forward to Calcutta by the next train. Owing to the delay caused by
the rescue of the young widow, Fix and the priests reached the
Indian capital before Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having
been already warned by a despatch to arrest them, should they
arrive. Fix's disappointment when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not
made his appearance in Calcutta, may be imagined. He made up his
mind that the robber had stopped somewhere on the route and taken
refuge in the southern provinces. For twenty-four hours Fix watched
the station with feverish anxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing
Mr. Fogg and Passepartout arrive, accompanied by a young woman,
whose presence he was wholly at a loss to explain. He hastened for a
policeman; and this was how the party came to be arrested and
brought before Judge Obadiah.
  Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have
espied the detective ensconced in a corner of the courtroom,
watching the proceedings with an interest easily understood; for the
warrant had failed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at
Bombay and Suez.
  Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash
exclamation, which the poor fellow would have given the world to
recall.
  "The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
  "Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
  "Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects
equally and sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man
Passepartout has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of
Malebar Hill, at Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said
Passepartout to imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three
hundred pounds."
  "Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the
largeness of the sum.
  "Silence!" shouted the constable.
  "And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the
act was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and
as the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his
paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a
fine of one hundred and fifty pounds."
  Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could
be detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the
warrant to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence ruined
his master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a
precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!
  Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the
least concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being
pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose,
and said, "I offer bail."
  "You have that right," returned the judge.
  Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the
judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one
thousand pounds.
  "I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank
bills from the carpetbag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing
them on the clerk's desk.
  "This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison,"
said the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."
  "Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
  "But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout,
angrily.
  "Ah, these are pretty shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to
him. "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my
feet."
  Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by
the crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes that the
robber would not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him,
but would decide to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on
Mr. Fogg's traces. That gentleman took a carriage, and the party
were soon landed on one of the quays.
  The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbor, its signal
of departure hoisted at the masthead. Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr.
Fogg was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage
and push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet in
disappointment.
  "The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end of
the world if necessary; but at the rate he is going on, the stolen
money will soon be exhausted."
  The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of
the elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than
five thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum
recovered from the bank robber, promised to the detectives, was
rapidly diminishing.
  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 horsepower. She was as fast, but not as well
fitted up, as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably
provided for on board of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished.
However, the trip from Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three
thousand five hundred miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and
the young woman was not difficult to please.
  During the first days of the journey Aouda became better
acquainted with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her
deep gratitude for what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened
to her, apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor
his manner betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always
on the watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He
visited her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk
himself as to sit and hear her talk. He treated her with the strictest
politeness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of
which had been arranged for this purpose. Aouda did not quite know
what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of
his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the
wager which was sending him round the world. After all, she owed
Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the
exalting medium of her gratitude.
  Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching
history. She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of
India. Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there
by dealing in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was
made a baronet by the English government. Aouda was a relative of this
great man, and it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at
Hong Kong. Whether she would find a protector in him she could not
tell; but Mr. Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her
that everything would be mathematically-  he used the very word
-arranged. Aouda fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes
of the Himalaya," upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as
ever, did not seem at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.
  The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favorable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high,
looming above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores,
but the savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but
are not, as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their
appearance.
  The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.
Vast forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic
mimosa, and tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind,
the graceful outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky;
and along the coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows
whose nests furnish a luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial
Empire. The varied landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was
soon passed, however, and the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits
of Malacca, which give access to the China seas.
  What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to
country, doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon
at Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders
that, if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at
Hong Kong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the
voyage. It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board
without awaking Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at
Bombay. But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his
acquaintance with the worthy servant, as will be seen.
  All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centered on Hong Kong;
for the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him
to take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or
the robber would probably escape him forever. Hong Kong was the last
English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,
America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge. If the warrant
should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest
him and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would
be no further trouble. But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be
of no avail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would
result in delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take
advantage to elude justice.
  Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which
he spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man,
or it will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that
I should delay his departure. I have failed at Bombay, and I have
failed at Calcutta: if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost.
Cost what it may, I must succeed! But how shall I prevent his
departure, if that should turn out to be my last resource?"
  Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his
master really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was
very certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid
of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an
ally of the detective. But this method was a dangerous one, only to be
employed when everything else had failed. A word from Passepartout
to his master would ruin all. The detective was therefore in a sore
strait. But suddenly a new idea struck him. The presence of Aouda on
the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for
reflection.
  Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between
Bombay and Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg
gone into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel? Fix
was fairly puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not been a
wicked elopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that
he determined to make use of the supposed intrigue. Whether the
young woman was married or not, he would be able to create such
difficulties for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong, that he could not escape by
paying any amount of money.
  But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before
anything could be effected, might get full under way again for
Yokohama.
  Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal
the Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to
question Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.
  It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.
  Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The
detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise,
and exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"
  "What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really
astonished Passepartout, recognizing his crony of the Mongolia.
"Why, I left you at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong!
Are you going round the world too?"
  "No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong -at least for some
days."
  "Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed.
"But how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
  "Oh, a trifle of sea sickness, -I've been staying in my berth. The
Gulf of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean. And
how is Mr. Fogg?"
  "As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time! But,
Monsieur Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
  "A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend
what was said.
  Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at
the Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand
pounds, the rescue, the arrest and sentence of the Calcutta court, and
the restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who
was familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of
all that Passepartout related; and the latter was charmed to find so
interested a listener.
  "But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
  "Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection
of one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."
  "Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment. "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"
  "Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass
on board the Rangoon."
  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 hand at whist.
  Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange
chance kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It
was really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and
complacent person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered
on board the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced
as his destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the
Rangoon, was following Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step. What was
Fix's object? Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes
-which he religiously preserved -that Fix would also leave Hong Kong
at the same time with them, and probably on the same steamer.
  Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber
around the globe. But as it is in human nature to attempt the solution
of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an explanation of
Fix's movements, which was in truth far from unreasonable. Fix, he
thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's friends at the Reform
Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain that he really went
round the world as had been agreed upon.
  "It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness. "He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite
the thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honorable a man!
Ah, gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"
  Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say
nothing to his master, lest he should be justly offended at this
mistrust on the part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff
Fix, when he had the chance, with mysterious allusions, which,
however, need not betray his real suspicions.
  During the afternoon of Wednesday, October 30th, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a. m., to receive coal,
having gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival.
Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied
by Aouda, who betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
  Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them
cautiously, without being himself perceived; while Passepartout,
laughing in his sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual
errands.
  The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are
no mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a
park checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome
carriage, drawn by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas
Fogg and Aouda into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage,
and of clove trees whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open
flower. Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European
fields; sago bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the
aspect of this tropical clime; while nutmeg trees in full foliage
filled the air with a penetrating perfume. Agile grinning bands of
monkeys skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the
jungles.
  After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the to town, which is a vast collection of
heavy-looking, irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich
in tropical fruits and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked,
closely followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in
sight.
  Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes -a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark brown color outside and a
bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation -was was waiting for them on deck.
He was only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him
very gracefully for them.
  At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbor, and in
hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests inhabited by
the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of
Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to
be in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November
for Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.
  The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom
disembarked at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese,
Chinamen, Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
  The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the southwest, and
thus aided the steamer's progress. The captain as often as possible
put up his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail, the
vessel made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin
China. Owing to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however,
unusual precautions became necessary in unfavorable weather; but the
loss of time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove
Passepartout out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in
the least. Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the
crew, and consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land
where the pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was
remorselessly burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something
to do with his hot impatience.
  "You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
Hong Kong?"
  "A very great hurry!"
  "Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
  "Terribly anxious."
  "You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
  "Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
  "I? I don't believe a word of it."
  "You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
  This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had
the Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But
how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet,
in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
  Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold
his tongue.
  "Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone; "shall we be so unfortunate
as to lose you when we get to Hong Kong ?"
  "Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps-"
  "Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to
Bombay, and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from
America to Europe is only a step."
  Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as
serene as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted
in chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present
occupation.
  "Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own
expense."
  "Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing
heartily.
  Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to
his reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his
master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice
or not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning
these things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost,
then persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and
then undecided what course it was best to take.
  Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last
resolved to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it
practicable to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations
to leave that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would
tell Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his
master, and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he
should fail; or else the servant knew nothing of the robbery, and then
his interest would be to abandon the robber.
  Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile
Phileas Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and
unconscious indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit
around the world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated
around him. Yet there was near by what the astronomers would call a
disturbing star, which might have produced an agitation in this
gentleman's heart. But no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to
Passepartout's great surprise; and the disturbances, if they
existed, would have been more difficult to calculate than those of
Uranus which led to the discovery Neptune.
  It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas
Fogg, though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite
heartless. As to the sentiment which this journey might have
awakened in him, there was clearly no trace of such a thing; while
poor Passepartout existed in perpetual reveries.
  One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the
screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves;
and this made Passepartout indignant.
  "The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are not
going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
  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 northwest, blew a gale, and
retarded the steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily, and the passengers
became impatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised
before their path. A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the
squall knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running
high. The Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved
too much, whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was
forced to proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would
reach Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm
lasted.
  Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty
hours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost
inevitably cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve
manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm
were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was
amazed to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she
saw him.
  Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and
waves. Each day filled him with hope, for it became more and more
probable that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong
Kong: and now the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts
and squalls. It mattered not that they made him seasick-he made no
account of this inconvenience; and whilst his body was writhing
under their effects, his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
  Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious
weather. Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had
seemed to be at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed
him; wind and steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of
adversity come? Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty
thousand pounds were to come from his own pocket. The storm
exasperated him, the gale made him furious, and he longed to lash
the obstinate sea into obedience. Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed
from him his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout
could scarcely have restrained himself from personal violence.
  Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed
the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how
long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the
barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout
shook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor
maledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.
  On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm
lessened its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more
favorable. Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails
were unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The
time lost could not, however, be regained. Land was not signalled
until five o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on
the 5th. Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behindhand, and the
Yokohama steamer would of course be missed.
  The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope which
still remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to
Fix, who -the sly rascal! tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg
would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.
  Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach
the pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would
leave Hong Kong for Yokohama.
  "At high tide tomorrow morning," answered the pilot.
  "Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
  Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced
the pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
  "What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "The Carnatic."
  "Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
  "Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till tomorrow."
  "Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the
saloon.
  Passepartout clasped the polot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
  The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won
him this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided
the steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats
which crowd the harbor of Hong Kong. At one o'clock the Rangoon was at
the quay, and the passengers were going ashore.
  Chance had strangely favored Phileas Fogg, for, had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left
on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer. Mr.
Fogg was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this
could not seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.
  The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not
sail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was
twenty-four hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no
doubt be easily regained in the voyage twenty-two days across the
Pacific. He found himself, then, about twenty-four hours behindhand,
thirty-five days after leaving London.
  The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next
morning. Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business
there, which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
  On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they
repaired to the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman,
and Mr. Fogg, after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in
search of her cousin Jejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at
the hotel until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely
alone.
  Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, everyone
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that
Jejeeh had left China two years before, and, retiring from business
with an immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe -in
Holland, the broker thought, with the merchants of which country he
had principally traded. Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a
moment's conversation with Aouda, and, without more ado, apprised
her that Jejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.
  Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her
forehead, and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice,
she said, "What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
  "It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."
  "But I cannot intrude-"
  "You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!"
  "Monsieur."
  "Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
  Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very
gracious to him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off
at a brisk gait to obey his master's order.
  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 Nanking, after the war of 1842; and the colonizing
genius of the English has created upon it an important city and an
excellent port. The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton
River, and is separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese
town of Macao, on the opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in
the struggle for and now the greater part of the transportation of
Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals,
wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamized streets
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
  Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other
modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and
Europeans who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed to
him not unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it
betrayed everywhere the evidence of English supremacy. At the Victoria
port he found a confused mass of ships of all nations, English,
French, American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels,
Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower boats, which
formed so many floating parterres. Passepartout noticed in the crowd a
number of the natives who seemed very old and were dressed in
yellow. On going into a barber's to get shaved, he learned that
these ancient men were all at least eighty years old, at which age
they are permitted to wear yellow, which is the Imperial color.
Passepartout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
  On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he
was not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The detective
seemed very much disturbed and disappointed.
  "This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the
Reform Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not
perceived that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed, good
reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him. The warrant
had not come! It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could
not now reach Hong Kong for several days; and this being the last
English territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless
he could manage to detain him.
  "Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go
on with us as far as America?"
  "Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
  "Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your
berth."
  They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the
repairs on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave
that very evening, and not next morning as had been announced.
  "That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I
will go and let him know."

  Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell
Passepartout all. It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping
Phileas Fogg several days longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly
invited his companion into a tavern which caught his eye on the
quay. On entering, they found themselves in a large room handsomely
decorated, at the end of which was a large camp-bed furnished with
cushions. Several persons lay upon this bed in a deep sleep. At the
small tables which were arranged about the room some thirty
customers were drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy;
smoking, the while, long red clay pipes stuffed with little balls of
opium mingled with essence of rose. From time to time one of the
smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip under the table,
whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and feet, carried and
laid him upon the bed. The bed already supported twenty of these
stupefied sots.
  Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking house haunted
by those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures, to whom the
English merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium,
to the amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds -thousands
devoted to one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity!
The Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil
by stringent laws. It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was
at first exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its
ravages could not be arrested. Opium is smoked everywhere, at all
times, by men and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed
to it, the victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering
horrible bodily contortions and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as
many as eight pipes a day; but he dies in five years. It was in one of
these dens that Fix and Passepartout in search of a friendly glass,
found themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted
Fix's invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some
future time.
  They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
  Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
  "What for, Mr. Fix?"
  "I want to have a serious talk with you."
  "A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
tomorrow; I haven't time now."
  "Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
  Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's
face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
  "What is it that you have to say?"
  Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"
  "Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
  "Then I'm going to tell you everything-"
  "Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."
  "Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
  "Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
  "Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
  "What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared -fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
  Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed:
"Fifty-five thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand
pounds. If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
  "Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
  "Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
  "Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honor, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
  "What do you mean?"
  "I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as
well waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
  "That's just what we count on doing."
  "It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and
more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"
  Fix began to be puzzled.
  "Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must
know, Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he
makes a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
  "But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
  "Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here
to interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some
time ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."
  "He knows nothing, then?"
  "Nothing," replied Passepartout again emptying his glass.
  The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before
he spoke again. What should he do Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that
the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been
inclined to suspect.
  "Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an
accomplice, he will help me."
  He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong; so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
  "Listen to me, me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an
agent of the members of the Reform Club-"
  "Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
  "I am a police detective, sent here by the London office."
  "You, a detective?"
  "I will prove it. Here is my commission."
  Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed
this document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
  "Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you
and the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for
securing your innocent complicity."
  "But why?"
  "Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured. Here is this description; it
answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
  "What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his
fist. "My master is the most honorable of men!"
  "How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in bank notes.
And yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
  "Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
  "Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
  Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between
his hands, and did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg,
the saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet
how many presumptions there were against him! Passepartout essayed
to reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did
not wish to believe that his master was guilty.
  "Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
  "See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but
as yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent
to London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong-"
  "I! But I-"
  "I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."
  "Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
  "Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true -if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for -which I deny -I
have been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and
goodness; and I will never betray him -not for all the gold in the
world. I come from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
  "You refuse?"
  "I refuse."
  "Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."
  "Yes; let us drink!"
  Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of
the liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated
from his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of
opium lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He
took it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and
his head, becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell
upon the table.
  "At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the time of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he
is, he will have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
  And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
  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 carpetbag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably
under such conditions. He acquitted his task with characteristic
serenity, and invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair
companion, who was confused by his patience and generosity,-
  "It is in the interest of my journey -a part of my programme."
  The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined
at a sumptuously served table d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands
with her protector after the English fashion, retired to her room
for rest. Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the
perusal of the Times and Illustrated London News.
  Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have
been not to see his servant return at bed time. But, knowing that
the steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he
did not disturb himself about the matter. When Passepartout did not
appear the next morning, to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not
betraying the least vexation, contented himself with taking his
carpetbag, calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
  It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high
tide, the Carnatic would leave the harbor. Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into
the palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and
half an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark.
Mr. Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before.
He had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and
was forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared
on his face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident,
madam; nothing more."
  At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively
approached. It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you
not, like me, sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived
yesterday?"
  "I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honor-"
  "Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."
  "Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.
  "What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
  "No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
  "Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic,
its repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the
stated time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a
week for another steamer."
  As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained
at Hong Kong a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favored the representative of the law. His
horror may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid
voice, "But there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems
to me, in the harbor of Hong Kong."
  And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the
docks in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied,
followed; it seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible
thread. Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man
it had hitherto served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg
wandered about the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to
charter a vessel to carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find
vessels which were loading or unloading, and which could not therefore
set sail. Fix began to hope again.
  But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was
accosted by a sailor on one of the wharves.
  "Is your honor looking for a boat?"
  "Have you a boat ready to sail?"
  "Yes, your honor; a pilot boat -No. 43 -the best in the harbor."
  "Does she go fast?"
  "Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
  "Yes."
  "Your honor will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
  "No; for voyage."
  "A voyage?"
  "Yes; will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
  The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said,
"Is your honor joking?"
  "No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
  "I am sorry," said the sailor, "but it is impossible."
  "I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of
two hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
  "Are you in earnest?"
  "Very much so."
  The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the
fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
  Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid,
would you, madam?"
  "Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
  The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
  "Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg
  "Well, your honor," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this
time of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it
is sixteen hundred and sixy miles from Hong Kong."
  "Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
  "It's the same thing."
  Fix breathed more freely.
  "But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
  Fix ceased to breathe at all.
  "How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us."
  "Pilot," said Mr. Fogg. "I must take the American steamer at
Yokohama, and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
  "Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai."
  "You are sure of that?"
  "Perfectly."
  "And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
  "On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had
good luck and a southwest wind, and the sea was calm, we could make
those eight hundred miles to Shanghai."
  "And you could go-"
  "In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up."
  "It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"
  "Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
  "Would you like some earnest-money?"
  "If it would not put your honor out-"
  "Here are two hundred pounds on account. Sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage-"
 "Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favor."
  "Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
  "But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by
the servant's disappearance.
  "I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
  While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot
boat the others directed their course to the police station at Hong
Kong. Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left
of money to be spent in the search for him. The same formalities
having been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin
having stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent
back there, they returned to the wharf.
  It was now three o'clock; and pilot boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
  The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as
gracefully built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper
sheathing, her galvanized iron work, her deck, white as ivory,
betrayed the pride taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her
two masts leaned a trifle backward; she carried brigantine,
foresail, storm-jib and standing-jib, and was well rigged for
running before the wind; and she seemed capable of brisk speed, which,
indeed, she had already proved by gaining several prizes in pilot-boat
races. The crew of the Tankadere was composed of John Bunsby, the
master, and four hardy mariners, who were familiar with the Chinese
seas. John Bunsby himself, a man forty-five or thereabouts,
vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly expression of the eye, and
energetic and self-reliant countenance, would have inspired confidence
in the most timid.
  Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the center was a
table provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined,
but neat.
  "I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to
Fix, who bowed without responding.
  The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by
the kindness of Mr. Fogg.
  "It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a
polite one!"
  The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past
three. Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance
at the quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not
without his fears lest chance should direct the steps of the
unfortunate servant, whom he had so badly treated, in this
direction; in which case an explanation the reverse of satisfactory to
the detective must have ensued. But the Frenchman did not appear, and,
without doubt, was still lying under the stupefying influence of the
opium.
  John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.
  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 we would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was
imprudent even to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby
believed in the Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a sea gull;
and perhaps he was not wrong.
  Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of
Hong Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favorable winds, conducted
herself admirably.
  "I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the
open sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."
  "Trust me, your honor. We are carrying all the sail the wind will
let us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are
going into port."
  "It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."
  Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a
sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters. The young
woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out
upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had
ventured in so frail a vessel. Above her head rustled the white sails,
which seemed like great white wings. The boat, carried forward by
the wind, seemed to be flying in the air.
  Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.
Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the
heavens.
  The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these
seas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not
uncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock
would shatter the gallant little craft.
  Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation. He kept apart
from his fellow travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favors he
had accepted. He was thinking, too, of the future. It seemed certain
that Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the
boat for San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would insure
him impunity and safety. Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in
the world. Instead of sailing directly from England to the United
States, like a common villain, he had traversed three quarters of
the globe, so as to gain the American continent more surely; and
there, after throwing the police off his track, he would quietly enjoy
himself with the fortune stolen from the bank. But, once in the United
States, what should he, Fix, do? Should he abandon this man? No, a
hundred times no! Until he had secured his extradition, he would not
lose sight of him for an hour. It was his duty, and he would fulfil it
to the end. At all events, there was one thing to be thankful for:
Passepartout was not with his master; and it was above all
important, after the confidences Fix had imparted to him, that the
servant should never have speech with his master.
  Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did
not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have
embarked on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's
opinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom
she owed so much. They might then find him at Yokohama; for if the
Carnatic was carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he
had been on board.
  A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have
been prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining
the heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The Tankadere bore
sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything
was prepared for high speed in case of a gale.
  Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been
already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots. The
pilot and crew remained on deck all night.
  At sunrise the next day, which was November 8th, the boat had made
more than one hundred miles. The log indicated a mean speed of between
eight and nine miles. The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was
accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If the wind held as it
was, the chances would be in her favor. During the day she kept
along the coast, where the currents were favorable; the coast,
irregular in profile, and visible sometimes the clearings, was at most
five miles distant. The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came
off land -a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer,
owing to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.
  The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
southwest. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within
two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.
  Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the
sea, ate with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their
repast, which he accepted with secret chagrin. To travel at this man's
expense and live upon his provisions was not palatable to him.
Still, he was obliged to eat, and so he ate.
  When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "Sir,"
-this "sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to
avoid collaring this "gentleman," -"sir, you have been very kind to
give me a passage on this boat. But, though my means will not admit of
my expending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share-"
  "Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.
  "But, if I insist-"
  "No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a
reply. "This enters into my general expenses."
  Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and going forward, where he
ensconced himself, off did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.
  Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in
high hope. He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach
Shanghai in time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted
upon it. The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the
reward to be gained. There was not a sheet which was not tightened,
not a sail which was not vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be
charged to the man at the helm. They worked as desperately as if
they were contesting the Royal Yacht regatta.
  By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had
been accomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he
would be able to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his
journal; in which case, the only misadventure which had overtaken
him since he left London would not seriously affect his journey.
  The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the
island of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the
night, crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very rough in the
straits, full of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the
chopping waves broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to
stand on deck.
  At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens
seemed to predict a gale. The barometer announced a speedy change, the
mercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the
southeast, raised long surges which indicated a tempest. The sun had
set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the
phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.
  John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low
voice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honor?"
  "Of course."
  "Well, we are going to have a squall."
  "Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.
  "South. Look! a typhoon is coming up."
  "Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward."
  "Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing
more to say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less
advanced season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous
meteorologist, would have passed away like a luminous cascade of
electric flame; but in the winter equinox, it was to be feared that it
would burst upon them with great violence.
  The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the
pole masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows.
A single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a
storm-jib, so as to hold the wind from behind. Then they waited.
  John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat
bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix,
nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.
  The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight
o'clock. With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a
feather by a wind an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given.
To compare her speed to four times that of a locomotive going on
full steam would be below the truth.
  The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to
theirs. Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these
mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit management of
the pilot saved her. The passengers were often bathed in spray, but
they submitted to it philosophically. Fix cursed it, no doubt; but
Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness
amazed her, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the
storm. As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a
part of his programme.
  Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the
north; but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down
from the northwest. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves,
shook and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence.
At night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the
approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings.
He thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to
slacken speed. After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and
said, "I think, your honor, that we should do well to make for one
of the ports on the coast."
  "I think so too."
  "Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?"
  "I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.
  "And that is-"
  "Shanghai."
  The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely
realize so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well -yes!
Your honor is right. To Shanghai."
  So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.
  The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft
did not founder. Twice it would have been all over with her, if the
crew had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but
did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect
her from the violence of the waves.
  Day reappeared. The tempest still with with undiminished fury; but
the wind now returned to the southeast. It was a favorable change, and
the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though
the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks
which would have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time
the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in
sight. The Tankadere was alone upon the sea.
  There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more
distinct as the sun descended toward the horizon. The tempest had been
as brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could
now eat a little, and take some repose.
  The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed boat was very good. The next morning at dawn
they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that they
were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only
one day to traverse them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at
Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had
there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they
would be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.
  The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.
All sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within
forty-five miles Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in which to
accomplish that distance. All on board feared that it could not be
done; and everyone-Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted -felt his heart
beat with impatience. The boat must keep up an average of nine miles
an hour, and the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a
capricious breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the
sea became smooth. Still, the Tankadere was so light and her fine
sails caught the fickle zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the
current, John Bunsby found himself at six O'clock not more than ten
miles from the mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai itself is situated at
least twelve miles up the stream. At seven they were still three miles
from Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two
hundred pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He looked
at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole
fortune was at this moment at stake.
  At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of
smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American
steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.
  "Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
desperate jerk.
  "Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.
  A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for
making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as
the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg
said, "Hoist your flag!"
  The flag was run up at halfmast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would
change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot boat.
  "Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon
resounded in the air.
  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
staterooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied, -those which had
been engaged by Phileas Fogg.
  The next day a passenger, with a half-stupefied eye, staggering
gait, and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin,
and to totter to a seat on deck.
  It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:
-Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved
for the smokers. Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a
fixed idea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the
stupefying influence of the narcotic. The thought of a duty
unfulfilled shook off his torpor, and he hurried from the abode of
drunkenness. Staggering and holding himself up by keeping against
the walls, falling down and creeping up again, and irresistibly
impelled by a kind of instinct, he kept crying out, "The Carnatic! the
Carnatic !"
  The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of
starting. Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon
the plank, he crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as
the Carnatic was moving off Several sailors, who were evidently
accustomed to this sort of scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into
the second cabin, and Passepartout did not wake until they were one
hundred and fifty miles away from China. Thus he found himself the
next morning on the deck of the Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the
exhilarating sea breeze. The pure air sobered him. He began to collect
his senses, which he found a difficult task; but at last he recalled
the events of the evening before, Fix's revelation, and the opium
house.
  "It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably
drunk! What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not missed the steamer,
which is the most important thing."
  Then, as Fix occurred to him: -"As for that rascal, I hope we are
well rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to
follow us on board the Carnatic. A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg,
accused of robbing the Bank of England! Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is no more a
robber than I am a murderer."
  Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master? Would it do to
tell the part the detective was playing? Would it not be better to
wait until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him
that an agent of the metropolitan police had been following him
round the world, and have a good laugh over it? No doubt; at least, it
was worth considering. The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and
apologize for his singular behavior.
  Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the
rolling of the steamer, to the after-deck. He saw no one who resembled
either his master or Aouda. "Good!" muttered he; "Aouda has not got up
yet, and Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist."
  He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout had
only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's stateroom.
The purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of
Fogg.
  "I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently. "He is a tall
gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young
lady-"
  "There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser. "Here
is a list of the passengers; you may see for yourself."
  Passepartout scanned the list, his master's name was not upon it.
All at once an idea struck him.
  "Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"
  "Yes."
  "On the way to Yokohama."
  "Certainly."
  Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong
boat; but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not
there.
  He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He remembered
that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have
informed his master of that fact, and that he had not done so. It
was his fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer.
Yes, but it was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to
separate him from his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong,
had inveigled him into getting drunk! He now saw the detective's
trick; and at this moment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined, his bet was
lost, and he himself perhaps arrested and imprisoned! At this
thought Passepartout tore his hair. Ah, if Fix ever came within his
reach, what a settling of accounts there would be!
  After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to
study his situation. It was certainly not an enviable one. He found
himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got
there? His pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling -not so
much as a penny. His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance;
and he had five or six days in which to decide upon his future course.
He fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
himself. He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert,
where nothing to eat was to be looked for.
  At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama.
This is an important way-station in the Pacific, where all the mail
steamers, and those carrying travellers between North America,
China, Japan, and the Oriental islands, put in. It is situated in
the bay of Yeddo, and at but a short distance from that second capital
of the Japanese Empire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil
Emperor, before the Mikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office
in his own. The Carnatic anchored at the quay near the custom house,
in the midst of a crowd of ships bearing the flags of all nations.
  Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the
Sons of the Sun. He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for
his guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama. He
found himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses
having low fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he
caught glimpses of neat peristyles. This quarter occupied, with its
streets, squares, docks and warehouses, all the space between the
"promontory of the Treaty" and the river. Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, -Americans and English,
Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.
The Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had
dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.
  He had, at least, one resource, -to call on the French and English
consuls at Yokohama for assistance. But he shrank from telling the
story of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of
his master: and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other
means of aid. As chance did not favor him in the European quarter,
he penetrated that inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if
necessary, to push on to Yeddo.
  The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess
of the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about. There
Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of
a singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos
and reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar trees, holy retreats
where were sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius,
and interminable streets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and
red-cheeked children, who looked as if they had been cut out of
Japanese screens, and who were playing in the midst of short-legged
poodles and yellowish cats, might have been gathered.
  The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house
officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac, and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white
stripes, and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in silken
doublets, hauberks, and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of
all ranks -for the military profession is as much respected in Japan
as it is despised in China -went hither and thither in groups and
pairs. Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and
simple civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads,
long busts, slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying
from copper color to a dead white, but never yellow, like Chinese,
from whom the Japanese widely differ. He did not fail to observe the
curious equipages -carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with
sails, and litters made of bamboo; nor the women -whom he thought
not especially handsome, -who took little steps with their little
feet, whereon they wore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of
worked wood, and who displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests,
teeth fashionably blackened, and gowns crossed with silken scarfs,
tied in an enormous knot behind, -an ornament which the modern
Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from the dames of Japan.
  Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this
motley crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops,
the jewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese
ornaments, the restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the
tea houses, where the odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a
liquor concocted from the fermentation of rice, and the comfortable
smoking houses, where they were puffing, not opium, which is almost
unknown in Japan, but a very fine, stringy tobacco. He went on till he
found himself in the fields, in the midst of vast rice plantations.
There he saw dazzling camellias expanding themselves, with flowers
which were giving forth their last colors and perfumes, not on bushes,
but on trees; and within bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum and apple
trees, which the Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than
their fruit, and which queerly fashioned grinning scarecrows protected
from the sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds. On
the branches of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage
of the weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg;
and on every hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a
multitude of cranes, which the Japanese consider sacred, and which
to their minds symbolize long life and prosperity.
  As he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among
the shrubs.
  "Good!" said he; "I'll have some supper."
  But, on smelling them, he found that they were odorless.
  "No chance there," thought he. The worthy fellow had certainly taken
good care to eat as hearty a breakfast as possible before leaving
the Carnatic; but as he had been walking about all day, the demands of
hunger were becoming importunate. He observed that the butchers'
stalls contained neither mutton, goat, nor pork; and knowing also that
it is sacrilege to kill cattle, which are preserved solely for
farming, he made up his mind that meat was far from plentiful in
Yokohama, -nor was he mistaken; and in default of butcher's meat, he
could have wished for a quarter of wild boar or deer, a partridge,
or some quails, some game or fish, which, with rice, the Japanese
eat almost exclusively. But he found it necessary to keep up a stout
heart, and to postpone the meal he craved till the following
morning. Night came, and Passepartout re-entered the native quarter,
where he wandered through the streets, lit by vari-colored lanterns,
looking on at the dancers who were executing skilful steps and
boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open air with their
telescopes. Then he came to the harbor, which was lit up by the
rosin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their boats.
  The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of
which, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,
Passepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling
crowd. Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said
to himself, "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"
  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 utilize the
strong, if not melodious voice which nature had bestowed upon him.
He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to try them
upon the Japanese, who must be lovers of music, since they were
forever pounding on their cymbals, tam-tams, and tambourines, and
could not but appreciate European talent.
  It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert,
and the audience, prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might
not, possibly, pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's
features. Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and,
as he was sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem
rather too well dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck him to
change his garments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by
which he might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate
cravings of hunger. The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.
  It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered in a
native dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.
The man liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued
from his shop accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of
one-sided turban, faded with long use. A few small pieces of silver,
moreover, jingled in his pocket.
  "Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"
  His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea
house of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice,
to breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be
solved.
  "Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my
head. I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese. I
must consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which shall not
retain the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."
  It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave
for America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment
of his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he would find some
means of going on. The difficulty was, how to traverse the four
thousand seven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan
and the New World.
  Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed
his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them, his
project, which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and
more formidable to his mind. What need would they have of a cook or
servant on an American steamer, and what confidence would they put
in him, dressed as he was? What references could he give?
  As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets. This
placard, which was in English, read as follows:
  (See illustration.)
  "The United States!" said Passepartout; "that's just what I want!"
  He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the
Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large
cabin, adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior
walls of which were designed to represent, in violent colors and
without perspective, a company of jugglers.
  This was the Honorable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts,
who, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before
leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.
  Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.
  "What do you want want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first
took for a native.
  "Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.
  "A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick gray beard
which hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient and
faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment, -and
here they are," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed
with veins as large as the strings of a bass viol.
  "So I can be of no use to you?"
  "None."
  "The devil! should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"
  "Ah!" said the Honorable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese
than I am a monkey! Why are you dressed up in that way?"
  "A man dresses as he can."
  "That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"
  "Yes; a Parisian of Paris."
  "Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
  "Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality
should cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces,
it is true, -but not any better than the Americans do."
  "True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You
see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in
foreign parts French clowns."
  "Ah!"
  "You are pretty strong, eh?"
  "Especially after a good meal."
  "And you can sing?"
  "Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing
in the streets.
  "But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your
left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"
  "Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises
of his younger days.
  "Well, that's enough," said the Honorable William Batulcar.
  The engagement was concluded there and then.
  Passepartout had at last found something to do. He was engaged to
act in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not a very dignified
position, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.
  The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Mr. Batulcar,
was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the deafening instruments
of a Japanese orchestra resounded at the door. Passepartout, though he
had not been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated to
lend the aid of his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the
"human pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This
great attraction was to close the performance.
  Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators,
comprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women,
and children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches
and into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a
position inside and were vigorously performing on their gongs,
tam-tams, flutes, tambourines, bones, and immense drums.
  The performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be
confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.
  One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick
of the butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with
the odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words, which
composed a compliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some
lighted candles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his
lips and relit again without interrupting for an instant his juggling.
Another reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning top;
in his hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of
their own in their interminable whirling; they ran over pipestems, the
edges of sabres, wires, and even hairs stretched across the stage;
they turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo
ladders, dispersed into all the corners, and produced strange
musical effects by the combination of their various pitches of tone.
The jugglers tossed them in the air, threw them like shuttlecocks with
wooden battledores, and yet they kept on spinning; they put them
into their pockets, and took them out still whirling as before.
  It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the
acrobats and gymnasts. The turning on ladders, poles, balls,
barrels, etc., was executed with wonderful precision.
  But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a
show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.
  The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage
of the god Tingou. Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages,
they bore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what
especially distinguished them was the long noses which were fastened
to their faces, and the uses which they made of them. These noses were
made of bamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some
straight, others curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation
warts upon them. It was upon these appendages fixed tightly on their
real noses, that they performed their gymnastic exercises. A dozen
of these sectaries of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while
others, dressed to represent lightning rods, came and frolicked on
their noses, jumping from one to another, and performing the most
skilful leapings and somersaults.
  As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which
fifty Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut. But, instead
of forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders, the artists
were to group themselves on top of the noses. It happened happened the
performer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had quitted
the troupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness
were necessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.
  The poor fellow really felt sad when -melancholy reminiscence of his
youth! -he donned his costume, adorned with vari-colored wings, and
fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet long. But he
cheered up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to
eat.
  He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who
were to compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut. They all
stretched themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the
ceiling. A second group of artists disposed themselves on these long
appendages, then a third above these, then a fourth, until a human
monument reaching to the very cornices of the theatre soon arose on
top of the noses. This elicited loud applause, in the midst of which
the orchestra was just striking up a deafening air, when the pyramid
tottered, the balance was lost, one of the lower noses vanished from
the pyramid, and the human monument was shattered like a castle
built of cards!
  It was Passepartout's fault. Abandoning his position, clearing the
footlights without the aid of his wings, and clambering up to the
right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators,
crying, "Ah, my master! my master!"
  "You here?"
  "Myself."
  "Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"
  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honorable Mr.
Batulcar, furious with rage. He demanded damages for the "breakage" of
the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by giving him a handful
of bank notes.
  At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and
nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.
  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
halfmast, had directed his course towards the little craft. Phileas
Fogg, after paying the stipulated price of his passage to John Bunsby,
and rewarding that worthy with the additional sum of five hundred
and fifty pounds, ascended the steamer with and they started at once
for Nagasaki and Yokohama.
  They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of
November. Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic,
where he learned, to Aouda's great delight, and perhaps to his own,
though he betrayed no emotion, that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had
really arrived on her the day before.
  The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very
evening, and it became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible,
without delay. Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English
consuls, and, after wandering through the streets a long time, began
to despair of finding his missing servant. Chance, or perhaps a kind
of presentiment, at last led him into the Honorable Mr. Batulcar's
theatre. He certainly would not have recognized Passepartout in the
eccentric mountebank's costume; but the latter, lying on his back,
perceived his master in the gallery. He could not help starting, which
so changed the position of his nose as to bring the "pyramid"
pell-mell upon the stage.
  All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him
what had taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the
Tankadere, in company with one Mr. Fix.
  Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name. He
thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master
what had taken place between the detective and himself; and in the
account he gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having
been overtaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong
Kong.
  Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then
furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in
harmony with his position. Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off
his nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him
which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.
  The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco
belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the
General Grant. She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand
five hundred tons, well equipped and very fast. The massive walking
beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston rod worked up
and down; and at the other was a connecting rod which, in changing the
rectilinear motion to a circular one, was directly connected with
the shaft of the paddles. The General Grant was rigged with three
masts, giving a large capacity for sails, and thus materially aiding
the steam power. By making twelve miles an hour, she would cross the
Pacific in twenty days. Phileas Fogg was therefore justified in hoping
that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of December New York by
the 11th, and London on the 20th, -thus gaining several hours on the
fatal date of the 21st of December.
  There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them
English, many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to
California, and several East Indian officers, who were spending
their vacation in making the tour of the world. Nothing of moment
happened on the voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles,
rolled but little, and the "Pacific" almost justified its name. Mr.
Fogg was as calm and taciturn as ever. His young companion felt
herself more and more attached to him by other ties than gratitude;
his silent but generous nature impressed her more than she thought;
and it was almost unconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did
not seem to have the least effect upon her protector. Aouda took the
keenest interest in his plans, and became impatient at any incident
which seemed likely to retard his journey.
  She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive
the state of the lady's heart; and, being the most faithful of
domestics, he never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg's
honesty, generosity, and devotion. He took pains to calm Aouda's
doubts of a successful termination of the journey, telling her that
the most difficult part of it had passed, that now they were beyond
the fantastic countries of Japan and China, and were fairly on their
way to civilized places again. A railway train from San Francisco to
New York, and a transatlantic steamer from New York to Liverpool,
would doubtless bring them to the end of this impossible journey round
the world within the period agreed upon.
  On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had
traversed exactly one half of the terrestrial globe. The General Grant
passed, on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth
meridian, and was at the very antipodes of London. Mr. Fogg had, it is
true, exhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to
complete the tour, and there were only twenty-eight left. But,
though he was only halfway by the difference of meridians, he had
really gone over two-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been
obliged to make long circuits from London to Aden, from Aden to
Bombay, from Calcutta to Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama.
Could he have followed without deviation the fiftieth parallel,
which is that of London, the whole distance would only have been about
twelve thousand miles; whereas he would be forced, by the irregular
methods of locomotion, to traverse twenty-six thousand, of which he
had, on the 23rd of November, accomplished seventeen thousand five
hundred. And now the course was a straight one, and Fix was no
longer there to put obstacles in their way!
  It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made
a joyful discovery. It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow
had insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on
regarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false
and unreliable. Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands,
he found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship's chronometers.
His triumph was hilarious. He would have liked to know what Fix
would say if he were aboard!
  "The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout,
"about the meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed! moonshine
more likely! If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort
of time one would keep! I was sure that the sun would some day
regulate itself by my watch!"
  Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been
divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have
no reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then,
instead of as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning, indicate
nine o'clock in the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after
midnight, -precisely the difference between London time and that of
the one hundred and eightieth meridian. But if Fix had been able to
explain this purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have
admitted, even if he had comprehended it. Moreover, if the detective
had been on board at that moment, Passepartout would have joined issue
with him on a quite different subject, and in an entirely different
manner.
  Where was Fix at that moment?
  He was actually on board the General Grant.
  On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he
expected to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the
English consulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest. It
had followed him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic on which
steamer he himself was supposed to be. Fix's disappointment may be
imagined when he reflected that the warrant was now useless. Mr.
Fogg had left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure
his extradition!
  "Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not
good here, but it will be in England. The rogue evidently intends to
return to his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his
track. Good! I will follow him across the Atlantic. As for the
money, heaven grant there may be some left! But the fellow has already
spent in travelling, rewards, trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts
of charges, more than five thousand pounds. Yet, after all, the Bank
is rich!"
  His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was
there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived. To his utter amazement, he
recognized Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise. He quickly
concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and
hoped -thanks to the number of passengers -to remain unperceived by
Mr. Fogg's servant.
  On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the
forward deck. The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped
him by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans,
who immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a
perfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of
French over English pugilistic skill.
  When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and
comforted. Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at
his adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"
  "For this time -yes."
  "Then let me have a word with you."
  "But I-"
  "In your master's interest."
  Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he
quietly followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the
passengers.
  "You have given me a thrashing," said Fix. "Good! I expected it.
Now, listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's adversary. I
am now in his game."
  "Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"
  "No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal. Sh! don't budge,
and let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was
for my interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest
arrived. I did everything I could to keep him back. I sent the
Bombay priests after him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I
separated you from him, and I made him miss the Yokohama steamer."
  Passepartout listened, with closed fists.
  "Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.
Well, I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to keep
obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in
his path. I've changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for
my interest to change it. Your interest is the same as mine; for it is
only in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service
of a criminal or an honest man."
  Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced
that he spoke with entire good faith.
  "Are we friends?" asked the detective.
  "Friends? -no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps. At the
least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you."
  "Agreed," said the detective quietly.
  Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered
the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.
  Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.
  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,
Chile, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.
  Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent,
thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine
style; but, tumbling upon some wormeaten planks, he fell through them.
Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot"
upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the
innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these
movable quays, that they flew noisily away.
  Mr. Fogg, reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the
first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six
o'clock p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the
California capital. Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he
and Aouda entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the
driver, and they set out for the International Hotel.
  From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much
curiosity the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the
Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden
and brick warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses,
horsecars, and upon the sidewalks, not only Americans and Europeans,
but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was surprised at all he saw. San
Francisco was no longer the legendary city of 1849 -a city of
banditti, assassins, and incendiaries, who had flocked hither in
crowds in pursuit of plunder; a paradise of outlaws, where they
gambled with gold dust, a revolver in one hand and a bowie knife in
the other; it was now a great commercial emporium.
  The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of
the streets and avenues, which cut each other at right angles, and
in the midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond
appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial
Empire in a toy box. Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians
were rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats
everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly
looking men. Some of the streets -especially Montgomery Street,
which is to San Francisco what Regent Street is to London, the
Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New York -were
lined with splendid and spacious stores, which exposed in their
windows the products of the entire world.
  When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem
to him as if he had left England at all.
  The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of
restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried
beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their
purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was
drunk. This seemed "very American" to Passepartout. The hotel
refreshment rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing
themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates
by Negroes of darkest hue.
  After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going out, he
met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking
the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt's
revolvers. He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains
by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution but
told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.
  He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when "by the
greatest chance in the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly
taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the
Pacific together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix felt
honored to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and
as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to
continue the in such pleasant company.
  Mr. Fogg replied that the honor would be his; and the detective -who
was determined not to lose sight of him -begged permission to
accompany them in their walk about San Francisco -a request which
Mr. Fogg readily granted.
  They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd
was collected; the sidewalks, street, horsecar rails, the shop
doors, the windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of
people. Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and
streamers were floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on
every hand.
  "Hurrah for Camerfield!"
  "Hurrah for Mandiboy!"
  It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. the crowd.
There may be danger in it."
  "Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political,
are still blows."
  Fix smiled at this remark; and in order to be able to see without
being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a
flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street.
Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf
and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the
open air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be
directed.
  For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to nominate
some high official -a governor or member of Congress? It was not
improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.
  Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass. All
the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to
disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries -an energetic way, no
doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags
wavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters. The
undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the
heads floundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall.
Many of the black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the
crowd seemed to have diminished in height.
  "It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that is settled."
  "Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg simply.
  "At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honorable Mr. Camerfield and the Honorable Mr. Mandiboy."
  Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene
with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all
was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs
and excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be
used as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction.
Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses
which had been blocked up in the crowd. Boots and shoes went
whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack
of revolvers mingling in the din. The rout approached the stairway,
and flowed over the lower step. One of the parties had evidently
been repulsed; but the mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy
or Camerfield had gained the upper hand.
  "It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious
that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got
back to London. "If there is any question about England in all this,
and we were recognized, I fear it would go hard with us."
  "An English subject-" began Mr. Fogg.
  He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on
the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there
were frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
  It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix
found themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape. The
torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was
irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their
attempts to protect their fair companion; the former, as cool as ever,
tried to defend himself with the weapons which nature has placed at
the end of every Englishman's arm, but in vain. A big brawny fellow
with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to
be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg,
whom he would have given a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and
received it in his stead. An enormous bruise immediately made its
appearance under the detective's silk hat, which was completely
smashed in.
  "Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
ruffian.
  "Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"
  "When you please."
  "What is your name?"
  "Phileas Fogg. And yours?"
  "Colonel Stamp Proctor."
  The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got
upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not
seriously hurt. His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal
parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians which fit
less compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had escaped
unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue
bruise.
  "Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out
of the crowd.
  "No thanks are necessary," replied Fix; "but let us go."
  "Where?"
  "To a tailor's."
  Such a visit was indeed, opportune. The clothing of both Mr. Fogg
and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged
in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they
were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the
International Hotel.
  Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but
Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his
countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was no longer
an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.
  Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and
their luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was getting
in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor
again?"
  "No."
  "I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be
treated in that way, without retaliating."
  The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr.
Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate
duelling at home, fight abroad when their honor attacked.
  At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and
found the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg
called a porter, and said to him, "My friend, was there not some
trouble today in San Francisco?"
  "It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
  "But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the
streets."
  "It was only a meeting assembled for an election."
  "The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr.Fogg.
  "No, sir; of a justice of the peace."
    Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.
  CHAPTER XXVI
  In which Phileas Fogg and party travel by the Pacific Railroad

  "From Ocean to Ocean" -so say the Amerians; and these four words
compose the general designation of the "great trunk line" which
crosses the entire width of the United States. The Pacific Railroad
is, however, really divided into two distinct lines: the Central
Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Uion Pacific,
between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omaha with New York.
  New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal
ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and
eighty-six miles. Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses
a territory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts, and
a large tract which the Mormons, after they were driven from
Illinois in 1845, began to colonize.
  The journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly, under
the most favorable conditions, at least six months. It is now
accomplished in seven days.
  It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress,
who wished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road
between the forty-first and forty-second parallels. President
Lincoln himself fixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The
work was at once commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor
did the rapidity with which it went on injuriously affect its good
execution. The road grew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day.
A locomotive, running on the rails laid down the evening before,
brought the rails to be laid on the morrow, and advanced upon them
as fast as they were put in position.
  The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in lowa,
Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes along the
left bank of the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern
branch, follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and
the Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt
Lake City, the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley,
across the American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra
Nevada, and descends, via Sacramento, to the Pacific, -its grade, even
on the Rocky Mountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to
the mile.
  Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would
enable Phileas Fogg -at least, so he hoped -to take the Atlantic
steamer at New York on the 11th for Liverpool.
  The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight
wheels, and with no compartments in the interior. It was supplied with
two rows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on
either side of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear
platforms. These platforms were found throughout the train, and the
passengers were able to pass from one end of the train to the other.
It was supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants, and
smoking cars; theatre cars alone were wanting, and they will have
these some day.
  Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars,
who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating
in the aisles.
  The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was already night,
cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which
seemed to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly; counting
the stoppages, it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which
was a sufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within
its designated time.
  There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the
passengers were overcome with sleep. Passepartout found himself beside
the detective; but he did not talk to him. After recent events,
their relations with each other had grown somewhat cold; there could
no longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them. Fix's manner
had not changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to
strangle his former friend on the slightest provocation.
  Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,
which happily coul not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen
from the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke of
the locomotive had a grayish aspect.
  At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that the
time for going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes the car was
transformed into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back,
bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system,
berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had soon at his
disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick
curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows soft. It only remained
to go to bed and sleep which everybody did while the train sped on
across the State of California.
  The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very
hilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its
starting-point, extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line
from San Francisco to Sacramento runs in a northeasterly direction,
along the American River, which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one
hundred and twenty miles between these cities were accomplished in six
hours, and towards midnight, while fast asleep, the travellers
passed through Sacramento; so that they saw nothing of that
important place, the seat of the State government, with its fine
quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares and churches.
  The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction,
Roclin, Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada.
Cisco was reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the
dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers
could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountain region
through which they were steaming. The railway track wound in and out
among the passes, now approaching the mountain sides, now suspended
over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging
into narrow defiles, which seemed to have no outlet. The locomotive,
its great funnel emitting a weird light, with its sharp bell, and
its cow catcher extended like a spur, mingled its shrieks and
bellowings with the noise of torrents and cascades, and twined its
smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
  There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to
violate nature taking the shortest cut from one point to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley
about nine o'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday
reached Reno, where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
  From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and
kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the
extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
  Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places
in the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
they passed along; the vast prairies, the mountains lining the
horizon, and the creeks with their frothy, foaming streams.
Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance,
seemed like a movable dam. These innumerable multitudes of
ruminating beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage
of the trains; thousands of them have been seen passing over the track
for hours together, in compact ranks. The locomotive is then forced to
stop and wait till the road is once more clear.
  This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was
travelling. About twelve o'clock, a troop of ten or twelve thousand
head of buffalo encumbered the track. The locomotive, slackening its
speed, tried to clear the way with its cow catcher; but the mass of
animals was too great. The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil
gait, uttering now and then deafening bellowings. There was no use
of interrupting them, for, having taken a particular direction,
nothing can moderate and change their course; it is a torrent of
living flesh which no dam could contain.
  The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms;
but Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry,
remained in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should
please the buffaloes to get out of the way.
  Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to
discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.
  "What a country!" cried he. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go
by in a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel! Parbleu!
I should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his
programme! And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the
locomotive into this herd of beasts!"
  The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was
wise. He would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the
cow catcher; but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have
been checked, the train would inevitably have been thrown off the
track, and would then have been helpless.
  The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by
greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession of
buffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track
was clear. The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails,
while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.
  It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of
the Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the
region of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.
  CHAPTER XXVII
  In which Passepartout undergoes, at a speed of twenty miles an hour,
a course of Mormon history

  During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran southeasterly
for about fifty: miles; then rose an equal distance in a northeasterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
  Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take
the air. The weather was cold, the heavens gray, but it was not
snowing. The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring
of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study
by a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the
platform.
  This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and
dark, with black moustaches, black stockings, a black silk hat, a
black waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves.
He might have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of
the train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice
written in manuscript.
  Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which
stated that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage
of his presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism,
in car No. 117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all
who were desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of
the religion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.
  "I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of
Mormonism except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
  The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one
hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the
notice, ensconced themselves in car No. 117. Passepartout took one
of the front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.
  At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated
voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you
that Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and
that the persecutions of the United States Government against the
prophets will also make a martyr of Brigham Young. Who dares to say
the contrary?"
  No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his
anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually
subjected. The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in
reducing these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself
master of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union,
after imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy.
The disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and
resisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch,
as is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.
  Then, emphasizing his words with his loud voice and frequent
gestures, he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times:
how that, in Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published
the annals of the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son
Morom; how, many centuries later, a translation of this precious book,
which was written in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, Junior, a
Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a mystical prophet in and how,
in short, the celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated
forest, and gave him the annals of the Lord.
  Several of the audience, not being much interested in the
missionary's narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing
his lecture, related how Smith, Junior, with his father, two brothers,
and a few disciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day" which,
adopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Germany,
counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal
professions, among its members; how a colony was established in
Ohio, a temple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand
dollars, and a town built at Kirkland; how Smith became an
enterprising banker, and received from a simple mummy showman a
papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
  The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew
gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers. But this
did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of
Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave
him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years
afterwards, more and honored than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the
chief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his
pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the far West.
  Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout,
who was listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that, after
long persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and 1839 in founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five
thousand souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and
general-in-chief; that he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate
for the Presidency of the United States; and that finally, being drawn
into ambuscade at Carthage, he was thrown into prison, and
assassinated by a band of men disguised in masks.
  Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the
assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Young, his
successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in
the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the
emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony,
thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond
expectation.
  "And this," added Elder William Hitch,- "this is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the
Union invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been
imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force?
Never! Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you, my
brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eye upon his single
auditor, "will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our
flag?"
  "No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from
the car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
  During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and
towards half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the
Great Salt Lake. Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent
of this interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into
which flows an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse, framed in
lofty crags in large strata, encrusted with white salt, -a superb
sheet of water, which was formerly of larger extent than now, its
shores having encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once
reduced its breadth and increased its depth.
  The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is
situated three miles eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite different
from Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below
the sea, it contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the
weight of its water is solid matter, its specific weight being 1170,
and, after being distilled, 1000. Fishes are of course unable to
live in it, and those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and
other streams, soon perish.
  The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are
mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals,
fields of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges
of wild rose, clumps of acacias and milkwort, would have been seen six
months later. Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of
snow.
  The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six
hours. Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake
City, connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two
hours in this strikingly American town, built on the pattern of
other cities of the Union, like a checkerboard, "with the sombre
sadness of right angles," as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder
of the City of the Saints could not escape from the taste for symmetry
which distinguishes the Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where
the people are certainly not up to the level of their institutions,
everything is done "squarely," -cities, houses, and follies.
  The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about
the streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and
the spurs of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but
the prophet's mansion, the courthouse, and the arsenal, blue-brick
houses with verandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered
with acacias, palms, and locusts. A clay and pebble wall, built in
1853, surrounded the town; and in the principal street were the market
and several hotels adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem
thickly populated. The streets were almost deserted, except in the
vicinity of the Temple, which they only reached after having traversed
several quarters surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which
was easily accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons;
but it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists. They
are free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting
that it is mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to
marry, as, according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not
admitted to the possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures
seemed to be neither well off nor happy. Some -the more well-to-do, no
doubt -wore short, open black silk dresses, under a hood or modest
shawl; others were habited in Indian fashion.
  Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these
women, charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single
Mormon. His common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed
to him a terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at one(
across the vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a
body to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of seeing them in the
company of the glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of
that delightful place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled
from such a vocation, and he imagined -perhaps he was mistaken -that
the fair ones of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his
person. Happily, his stay there was but brief. At four the party found
themselves again at the station, took their places in the train, and
the whistle sounded for starting. Just at the moment, however, that
the locomotive wheels began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were
heard.
  Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who
uttered the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was breathless
with running. Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor
barriers. He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of
the train, and fell exhausted into one of the seats.
  Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur
gymnast, approached him with lively interest, and learned that he
had taken flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.
  When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to
ask him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in
which he had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at
least.
  "One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward,-
"one, and that was enough!"
  CHAPTER XXVIII
  In which Passepartout does not succeed in making anybody listen to
reason

  The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for
an hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred
miles from San Francisco. From this point it took an easterly
direction towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains. It was in the section
included between this range and the Rocky Mountains that the
American engineers found the most formidable difficulties in laying
the road, and that the government granted a subsidy of forty-eight
thousand dollars per mile, instead of sixteen thousand allowed for the
work done on the plains. But the engineers, instead of violating
nature, avoided its difficulties by winding around, instead of
penetrating the rocks. One tunnel only, fourteen thousand feet in
length, was pierced in order to arrive at the great basin.
  The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at the
Great Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve, descending
towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of
the waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific. There were many
creeks in this mountainous region, and it was necessary to cross Muddy
Creek, Green Creek, and others, upon culverts.
  Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on, while Fix
longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious
than Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and
accidents, and set foot on English soil.
  At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station,
and twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the
valley of Bitter Creek throughout. The next day, December 7th, they
stopped for a quarter of an hour at Green River station. Snow had
fallen abundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had
half melted, and did not interrupt their progress. The bad weather,
however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by
blocking the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to
Mr. Fogg's tour.
  "What an idea!" he said to himself. "Why did my master make this
journey in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good season to
increase his chances?"
  While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky
and the depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears
from a totally different cause.
  Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up
and down the platforms; and among these Aouda recognized Colonel Stamp
Proctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the
San Francisco meeting. Not wishing to be recognized, the young woman
drew back from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery. She
was attached to the man who, however coldly, gave her daily
evidences of the most absolute devotion. She did not comprehend,
perhaps, the depth of the sentiment with which her protector
inspired her, which she called gratitude, but which, though she was
unconscious of it, was really more than that. Her heart sank within
her when she recognized the man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or
later, to call to account for his conduct. Chance alone, it was clear,
had brought Colonel Proctor on this train; but there he was, and it
was necessary, at all hazards, that Phileas Fogg should not perceive
his adversary.
  Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep, to tell Fix and
Passepartout whom she had seen.
  "That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix. "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg, he has got to deal with me! It
seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
  "And besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him, colonel
as he is."
  "Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man. Should he
Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which might have
terrible results. He must not see him."
  "You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might
ruin all. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be
delayed, and-"
  "And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the
gentlemen of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York.
Well, if my master does not leave this car during those four days,
we may hope that chance will not bring him face to face with this
confounded American. We must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of
it."
  The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up, and was looking
out of the window. Soon after Passepartout, without being heard by his
master or Aouda, whispered to the detective, "Would you really fight
for him?"
  "I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed
determined will, "to get him back, living, to Europe!"
  Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his
frame, but his confidence in his master remained unbroken.
  Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a
meeting between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult
task, since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.
The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a
few moments, he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir,
that we are passing on the railway."
  "Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
  "You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the
steamers."
  "Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither
cards nor partners."
  "Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold on all
the American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays-"
  "Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I know whist. It is part
of an English education."
  "I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game. Well, here
are three of us, and a dummy-"
  "As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad to
resume his favorite pastime, -even on the railway.
  Passepartout was despatched in search of the steward, and soon
returned with two packs of cards, some pins, counters, and a shelf
covered with cloth.
  The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well, and
even received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg. As for
the detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being matched
against his present opponent.
  "Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge.
  At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of
the waters at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and
twenty-four feet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points
attained by the track in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going
about two hundred miles, the travellers at last found themselves on
one of those vast plains which extend to the Atlantic, and which
nature has made so propitious for laying the iron road.
  On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams, branches
of the North Platte River, already appeared. The whole northern and
eastern horizon was bounded by the immense semicircular curtain
which is formed by the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the
highest being Laramie Peak. Between it and the railway extended vast
plains, plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs of
the mountainous mass which extends southward to the sources of the
Arkansas River, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.
  At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of
Fort Halleck, which commands that section; and in a few more hours the
Rocky Mountains were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that
no accident would mark the journey through this difficult country. The
snow had ceased falling, and the air became crisp and cold. Large
birds, frightened by the locomotive, rose and flew off in the
distance. No wild beast appeared on the plain. It was a desert in
its vast nakedness.
  After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his
partners had just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard,
and the train stopped. Passepartout put his head out of the door,
but saw nothing to cause the delay; no station was in view.
  Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to
get out; but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his
servant, "See what is the matter."
  Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers had
already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor. The train had
stopped before a red signal which blocked the way. The engineer and
conductor were talking excitedly with a signalman, whom the
stationmaster at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place, had sent on
before. The passengers drew around and took part in the discussion, in
which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner, was conspicuous.
Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signalman say, "No! you
can't pass! The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bear
the weight of the train."
  This was a suspension bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile
from the place where they now were. According to the signalman, it was
a ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it
was impossible to risk the passage. He did not in an way exaggerate
the condition of the bridge. It may be taken for granted that, rash as
the Americans usually are, when they are prudent there is good
reason for it.
  Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
  "Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here,
I imagine, and take root in the snow?"
  "Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha
for a train, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow in
less than six hours."
  "Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
  "Certainly," returned the conductor. "Besides it will take us as
long as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
  "But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
  "Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."
  "And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.
  "That's impossible. The creek is swelled by the rains. It is a
rapid, and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north
to find a ford."
  The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway
company and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was
not disinclined to make common cause with him. Here was an obstacle,
indeed, which all his master's bank could not remove.
  There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who,
without reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge
fifteen miles over a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and
protested, and would certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's
attention, if he had not been completely absorbed in his game.
  Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what
had occurred, and, with hanging head he was turning towards the car,
when the engineer -a true Yankee, named Forster -called out,
"Gentlemen, perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."
  "On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
  "On the bridge."
  "With our train?"
  "With our train."
  Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.
  "But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.
  "No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the very
highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."
  "The devil!" muttered Passepartout.
  But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the
engineer's proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and
found the plan a very feasible one. He told stories about engineers
leaping their trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full
steam; and many of those present avowed themselves of the engineer's
mind.
  "We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.
  "Eighty! ninety!"
  Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to
get over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little
too American. "Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way,
and it does not even occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud
to one of the passengers, the engineer's plan seems to me a little
dangerous, but-"
  "Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
  "I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but a
simple idea-"
  "Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his
shoulders, "as the engineer assures us that we can pass."
  "Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it
would be more prudent-"
  "What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed to
excite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
  "I know-I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more
prudent, since that word displeases you, at least more natural-"
  "Who! What! What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.
  The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.
  "Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
  "I afraid! Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman
can be as American as they!"
  "All aboard!" cried the conductor.
  "Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately. "But they
can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us to
cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
  But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would any one have
acknowledged its justice. The passengers resumed their places in the
cars. Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed.
The whist players were quite absorbed in their game.
  The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the
steam, backed the train for nearly a mile -retiring, like a jumper, in
order to take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to
move forward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity
became frightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive;
the piston worked up and down twenty strokes to the second. They
perceived that the whole train, rushing on at the rate of a hundred
miles an hour, hardly bore upon the rails at all.
  And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge.
The train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other, and the
engineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond the
station. But scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge,
completely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.
  CHAPTER XXIX
  In which certain incidents are narrated which are only to be met
with on American railroads

  The train pursued its course that evening without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyenne Pass, and reaching Evans
Pass.The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey,
eight thousand and ninety-one feet above the level of the sea. The
travellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless
plains, levelled by nature. A branch of the "grand trunk" led off
southward to Denver, the capital of Colorado. The country round
about is rich in gold and silver, and more than fifty thousand
inhabitants are already settled there.
  Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from
San Francisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights
more would probably bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as
yet behindhand.
  During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole
Creek ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the
territories Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven,
passed near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch
of the Platte River.
  It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the
23rd of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge. Two
powerful locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst
whom was Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this
point; cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation
Indian battle, fireworks were let off, and the first number of the
Railway Pioneer was printed by a press brought on the train. Thus
was celebrated the inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty
instrument of progress and civilization, thrown across the desert, and
destined to link together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The
whistle of the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion's lyre, was
about to bid them rise from American soil.
  Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three
hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before
reaching Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings of the
southern branch of the Platte River, on its left bank. At nine the
train stopped at the important town of North Platte, built between the
two arms of the river, which rejoin each other around it and form a
single artery, -a large tributary whose waters empty into the Missouri
a little above Omaha.
  The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
  Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one -not even
the dummy -complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by
winning several guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed
himself a not less eager whist player than Mr. Fogg. During the
morning, chance distinctly favored that gentleman. Trumps and honors
were showered up his hands.
  Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of
playing a spade, when a voice behind him said, "I should play
diamond."
  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel
Proctor.
  Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognized each other at once.
  "Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel; "it's you
who are going to play a spade!"
  "And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the
ten of spades.
  "Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds," replied Colonel
Proctor, in an insolent tone.
  He made a movement as if to seize the card which had been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."
  "Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.
  "You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the Colonel.
  Aouda turned and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg's arm,
and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce upon
the American, who was staring insolently at his opponent. But Fix
got up, and going to Colonel Proctor, said, "You forget that it is I
with whom you have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only
insulted, but struck!"
  "Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine, and
mine only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I
should not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."
  "When and where you will," replied the American, "and with
whatever weapon you choose."
  Aouda in vain attempted retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective
endeavor to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished to throw the
colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him.
Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the
platform.
  "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, "I am in a great hurry to get
back to Europe, and delay whatever will be greatly to my
disadvantage."
  "Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.
  "Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San
Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I
had completed the business which called me to England."
  "Really!"
  "Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"
  "Why not ten years hence?"
  "I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg, "and I shall be at the
place of meeting promptly."
  "All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor. "Now or never!"
  "Very good. You are going to New York?"
  "No."
  "To Chicago?"
  "No."
  "To Omaha?"
  "What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?"
  "No," replied Mr. Fogg.
  "It's the next station. The train will be there in an hour, and will
stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several revolver shots could be
exchanged."
  "Very well," said Mr. Fogg. "I will stop at Plum Creek."
  "And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.
  "Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as
usual. He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were
never to be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching
duel, a request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed
the interrupted game with perfect calmness.
  At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they
were approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by
Fix, went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him,
carrying a pair of revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as
death.
  The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the
platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But
just as the combatants were about to step from the train, the
conductor hurried up, and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"
  "Why not?" asked the colonel.
  "We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."
  "But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
  "I am sorry," said the conductor, "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."
  The train started.
  "I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor. "Under any
other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you. But, after
all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go
along?"
  "That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman," said the
colonel, in a jeering tone.
  "It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.
  "Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the
conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"
  So muttering, he followed his master.
  The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed
through the cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only
occupied by a dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if
they would not be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments,
as two gentlemen had an affair of honor to settle. The passengers
granted the request with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on
the platform.
  The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for
their purpose. The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle,
and fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily arranged. Mr.
Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled
revolvers, entered the car. The seconds, remaining outside, shut
them in. They were to begin firing at the first whistle of the
locomotive. After an interval of two minutes, what remained of the two
gentlemen would be taken from the car.
  Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple that
Fix and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack.
They were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly
savage cries resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which
certainly did not issue from the car where the duellists were. The
reports continued in front and the whole length of the train. Cries of
terror proceeded from the interior of the cars.
  Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted
their prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous.
They then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
  This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more
than once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them
had, according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without
stopping the train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at
full gallop. The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the
reports, to which the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded
by revolver shots.
  The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the
engineer and stoker with blows from their muskets. A Sioux chief,
wishing to stop the train, but not knowing how to work the
regulator, had opened wide instead of closing the steam valve, and the
locomotive was plunging forward with terrific velocity.
  The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like
enraged monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting
hand to hand with the passengers. Penetrating the baggage car, they
pillaged it, throwing the trunks out of the train. The cries and shots
were constant.
  The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars were
barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried along at
a speed of a hundred miles an hour.
  Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself,
like a true heroine, with a revolver, which she shot through the
broken windows whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had
fallen mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those
who fell upon the rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers,
shot or stunned, lay on the seats.
  It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for
ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the
train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was a
garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux
would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station
beyond.
  The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and
fell. At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in
five minutes, we are lost!"
  "It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the
car.
  "Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."
  Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a
door unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the
car; and while the struggle continued, and the balls whizzed across
each other over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience,
and with amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on
to the chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes,
creeping from one car to another with marvellous skill, and thus
gaining the forward end of the train.
  There, suspended by one hand between the baggage car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the
traction, he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking
bar, had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train,
now detached from the engine, remained a little behind, whilst the
locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.
  Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved
for several minutes; but the brakes were worked, and at last they
stopped, less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
  The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the
Sioux had not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train
entirely stopped.
  But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,
whose devotion had ust saved them.
  CHAPTER XXX
  In which Phileas Fogg simply does his duty

  Three passengers -including Passepartout -had disappeared. Had
they been killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the
Sioux? It was impossible to tell.
  There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was
one of the men most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a
ball had entered his groin. He was carried into the station with the
other wounded passengers, to receive such attention as could be of
avail.
  Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of
the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the
arm. But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down
Aouda's cheeks.
  All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which
were stained with blood. From the tires and spokes hung ragged
pieces of flesh. As far as the eye could reach on the white plain
behind, red trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in
the south, along the banks of Republican River.
  Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without
speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner,
ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? "I
will find him, living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.
  "Ah, Mr. -Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them
with tears.
  "Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."
  Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself,
he pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him
lose the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But
as he thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.
  The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his
soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station,
should the Sioux attack it.
  "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have
disappeared."
  "Dead?" asked the captain.
  "Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do
you propose to pursue the Sioux?"
  "That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain. "These
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
unprotected."
  "The lives of three men are question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
  "Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
  "I don't know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."
  "Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my
duty."
  "Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly. "I will go alone."
  "You, sir!" cried Fix coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the
Indians?"
  "Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish, -him to whom
every one present owes his life? I shall go."
  "No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched in
spite of himself. "No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!" he
added, turning to the soldiers.
  The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to
pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at
their head. "Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
  "Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
  "Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favor, you will
remain in with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me-"
  A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face. Separate himself
from the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step!
Leave him to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr.
Fogg, and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was
going on within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank
look.
  "I will stay," said he.
  A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpetbag, went off with the
sergeant and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the
soldiers, "My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among
you, if we save the prisoners."
  It was then a little past noon.
  Aouda retired to a waiting room, and there she waited alone,
thinking of the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of
Phileas Fogg. He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his
life, all without hesitation, from duty, in silence.
  Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his
agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon
resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had
been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had just
followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself
from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were
director of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his
greenness.
  "I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it. He
has gone, and won't come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have
in my pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?
Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"
  So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too
slowly. He did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell
Aouda all; but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive
his confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing
Fogg across the vast white plain; it did not seem impossible that he
might overtake him. Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But
soon, under a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.
  Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing
to abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney
station, and pursue his journey homeward in peace.
  Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard,
long whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow,
preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger
through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was
expected from the east neither had there been time for the succor
asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San
Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon
explained.
  The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening
whistles, was that which, having been detached from the train, had
continued its route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the
unconscious engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the
fire becoming low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it
had finally stopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort
Kearney. Neither the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after
remaining for some time in their swoon, had come to themselves. The
train had then stopped. The engineer, when he found himself in the
desert, and the locomotive without cars, understood what had happened.
He could not imagine how the locomotive had become separated from
the train; but he did not doubt that the train left behind was in
distress.
  He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on
to Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which
the Indians might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he
began to rebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again
mounted, and the locomotive returned, running backwards to Fort
Kearney. This it was which was whistling in the mist.
  The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at
the head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly
interrupted.
  Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the engineer, "Are you going to start?"
  "At once, madam."
  "But the prisoners -our unfortunate fellow travellers-"
  "I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the engineer. "We are already
three hours behind time."
  "And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"
  "Tomorrow evening, madam."
  "Tomorrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait-"
  "It is impossible," responded the engineer. "If you wish to go,
please get in."
  "I will not go," said Aouda.
  Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there
was no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his
mind to leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to
start, and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible
influence held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and
he could not stir. The conflict in his mind again began; anger and
failure stifled him. He wished to struggle on to the end.
  Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel
Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the
train. The buzzing of the overheated boiler was heard, and the steam
was escaping from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train
started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the
eddies of the densely falling snow.
  The detective had remained behind.
  Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very
cold. Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been
thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the
waiting room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through
the tempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the
horizon around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound.
She heard and saw nothing. Then she would return, chilled through,
to issue out again after the lapse of a few moments, but always in
vain.
  Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they
be? Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with
them, or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the
fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As
night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became
intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither
flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.
  Through the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart
stifled with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains. Her
imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.
What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to
describe.
  Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep. Once a
man approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by
shaking his head.
  Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disk of the
sun rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognize
objects two miles off Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;
in the south all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.
  The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to
take. Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first?
Should he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those
already sacrificed His hesitation did not last long, however.
Calling one of his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a
reconnoissance, when gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The
soldiers rushed out of the fort, and half a mile off they perceived
a little band returning in good order.
  Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.
  They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions
had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the
Frenchman had felled with his fists, when his master and the
soldiers hastened up to their relief All were welcomed with joyful
cries. Phileas Fogg distributed the reward he had promised to the
soldiers, while Passepartout, not without reason, muttered to himself,
"It must certainly be confessed that I cost my master dear."
  Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have
been difficult to analyze the thoughts which struggled within him.
As for Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own,
too much moved to speak.
  Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he
thought should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped
that the time lost might be regained.
  "The train! the train!" cried he.
  "Gone," replied Fix.
  "And when does the next train pass here?" asked Phileas Fogg.
  "Not till this evening."
  "Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.
  CHAPTER XXXI
  In which Fix the defective considerably furthers the interests of
Phileas Fogg

  Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time. Passepartout,
the involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate. He had ruined
his master!
  At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him
intently in the face, said,-
  "Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?"
  "Quite seriously."
  "I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix. "Is it absolutely
necessary that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine
o'clock in the evening, the time that the steamer leaves for
Liverpool?"
  "It is absolutely necessary."
  "And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you
would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"
  "Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left."
  "Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve from twenty
leaves eight. You must regain eight hours. Do you wish to try to do
so?"
  "On foot?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "No; on a sledge," replied Fix. "On a sledge with sails. A man has
proposed such a method to me."
  It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose
offer he had refused.
  Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix having pointed out the
man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg
went up to him. An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose
name was Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.
  There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two
long beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and
upon which there was room for five or six persons. A high mast was
fixed on the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was
attached a large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon
which to hoist a jib sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide
the vehicle. It was, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop. During
the winter, when the trains are blocked up by the snow, these
sledges make extremely rapid journeys across the frozen plains from
one station to another. Provided with more sail than a cutter, and
with the wind behind them, they slip over the surface of the
prairies with a speed equal if not superior to that of the express
trains.
  Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this landcraft.
The wind was favorable, being fresh, and blowing from the west. The
snow had hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to
transport Mr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward
run frequently to Chicago and New York. It was not impossible that the
lost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to
be rejected.
  Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in
the open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort
Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by
a better route and under more favorable conditions. But Aouda
refused to separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with
her decision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while
Fix was with him.
  It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts. Was his
conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or did he still regard him
as an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world
completed, would think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps
Fix's opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but was
nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of
the whole party to England as much as possible.
  At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start. The passengers
took their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their
travelling cloaks. The two great sails were hoisted, and under the
pressure re of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with
a velocity of forty miles an hour.
  The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at
most two hundred miles. If the wind held good, the distance might
traversed in five hours; if no accident happened, the sledge might
reach Omaha by one o'clock.
  What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together, could not
speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were
going. The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves. When
the breeze came, skimming the earth, the sledge seemed to be lifted
off the ground by its sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a
straight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the
vehicle had a tendency to make. All the sails were up, and the jib was
so arranged as not to screen the brigantine. A topmast was hoisted,
and another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other
sails. Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge
could not be going less than forty miles an hour.
  "If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there!"
  Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach Omaha within
the time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.
  The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight
line, was as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen lake. The
railroad which ran through this section ascended from the southwest to
the northwest by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town,
Schuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right bank
of the Platte River. The sledge, shortening this route, took the chord
of the arc described by the railway. Mudge was not afraid of being
stopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen. The road, then,
was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to
fear, -an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.
  But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the
mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly. These
lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if
vibrated by a violin bow. The sledge slid along in the midst of a
plaintively intense melody.
  "Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.
  These were the only words he uttered during the journey. Aouda,
cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible
from the attacks of the freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face
was as red as the sun's disk when it sets in the mist, and he
laboriously inhaled the biting air. With his natural buoyancy of
spirits, he began to hope again. They would reach New York on the
evening, if not on the morning, of the and there were still some
chances that it would be before the steamer sailed for Liverpool.
  Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by
the hand. He remembered that it was the detective who procured the
sledge, the only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some
presentiment, he kept his usual reserve. One thing, however,
Passepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which
Mr. Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux.
Mr. Fogg had risked his fortune and his life. No! His servant would
never forget that!
  While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different,
the sledge flew fast over the vast carpet of snow. The creeks it
passed over were not perceived. Fields and streams disappeared under
the uniform whiteness. The plain was absolutely deserted. Between
the Union Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with
Saint Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island. Neither village,
station, nor fort appeared. From time to time they sped by some
phantomlike tree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the
wind. Sometimes flocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt,
famished, ferocious prairie wolves ran howling after the sledge.
Passepartout, revolver in hand, held himself ready to fire on those
which came too near. Had an accident then happened to the sledge,
the travellers, attacked by these beasts, would have been in the
most terrible danger; but it held on its even course, gained on the
wolves, and ere long left the howling band at a safe distance behind.
  About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing
the Platte River. He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now
within twenty miles of Omaha. In less than an hour he left the
rudder and furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the
great impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further
with its sails unspread.
  It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white
with snow, said, "We have got there!"
  Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily communication,
by numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!
  Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs,
and aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge.
Phileas Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly
grasped, and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway
station.
  The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important
Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock
Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.
  A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the
station, and they only had time to get into the cars. They had seen
nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this
was not to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the
sights.
  The train passed rapidly across the State of lowa, by Council
Bluffs, Des Moines, and lowa City. During the night it crossed the
Mississippi at Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois. The
next day, which was the 10th, at four in the evening, it reached
Chicago, already risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than
ever on the borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.
  Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are
not wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other,
and the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago
Railway left at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that
gentleman had no time to lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio,
Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like a flash, rushing through towns
with antique names, some of which had streets and car tracks, but as
yet no houses. At last the Hudson came into view; and at a quarter
past eleven in the evening of the 11th, the train stopped in the
station on the right bank of the river, before the very pier of the
Cunard line.
  The China, for Liverpool, had started three quarters of an hour
before!
  CHAPTER XXXII
  In which Phileas Fogg engages in a direct struggle with bad fortune

  The China in leaving, seemed to have carried off Phileas Fogg's last
hope. None of the other steamers were able to serve his projects.
The Pereire of the French Transatlantic Company, whose admirable
steamers are equal to any in speed and comfort, did not leave until
the 14th; the Hamburg boats did not go directly to Liverpool or
London, but to Havre; and the additional trip from Havre to
Southampton would render Phileas Fogg's last efforts of no avail.
The Inman steamer did not depart till the next day, and could not
cross the Atlantic in time to save the wager.
  Mr. Fogg learned all this in consulting his Bradshaw, which gave him
the daily movements of the transatlantic steamers.
  Passepartout was crushed; it overwhelmed him to lose the boat by
three quarters of an hour. It was his fault, for, instead of helping
his master, he had not ceased putting obstacles in his path! And
when he recalled all the incidents of the tour, when he counted up the
sums expended in pure loss and on his own account, when he thought
that the immense stake, added to the heavy charges of this useless
journey, would completely ruin Mr. Fogg, he overwhelmed himself with
bitter self-accusations. Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him; and,
on leaving the Cunard pier, only said, "We will consult about what
is best tomorrow. Come."
  The party crossed the Hudson in the Jersey City ferryboat, and drove
in a carriage to the St. Nicholas Hotel, on Broadway. Rooms were
engaged, and the night passed, briefly to Phileas Fogg, who slept
profoundly, but very long to Aouda and the others, whose agitation did
not permit them to rest.
  The next day was the 12th of December. From seven in the morning
of the 12th, to a quarter before nine in the evening of the 21st,
there were nine days, thirteen hours, and forty five minutes. If
Phileas Fogg had left in the China, one of the fastest steamers on the
Atlantic, he would have reached Liverpool, and then London, within the
period agreed upon.
  Mr. Fogg left the hotel alone, after giving Passepartout
instructions to await his return, and inform Aouda to be ready at an
instant's notice. He proceeded to the banks of the Hudson, and
looked about among the vessels moored or anchored in the river, for
any that were about to depart. Several had departure signals, and were
preparing to put to sea at morning tide; for in this immense and
admirable port, there is not one day in a hundred that vessels do
not set out for every quarter of the globe. But they were mostly
sailing vessels, of which, of course, Phileas Fogg could make no use.
  He seemed about to give up all hope, when he espied, anchored at the
Battery, a cable's length off at most, a trading vessel, with a screw,
well-shaped, whose funnel, puffing a cloud of smoke, indicated that
she was getting ready for departure.
  Phileas Fogg hailed a boat, got into it, and soon found himself on
board the Henrietta, iron-hulled, wood-built above. He ascended to the
deck, and asked for the captain, who forthwith presented himself. He
was a man of fifty, a sort of sea wolf, with big eyes, a complexion of
oxidized copper, red hair and thick neck, and a growling voice.
  "The captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "I am the captain."
  "I am Phileas Fogg, of London."
  "And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."
  "You are going to put to sea?"
  "In an hour."
  "You are bound for-"
  "Bordeaux."
  "And your cargo?"
  "No freight. Going in ballast."
  "Have you any passengers?"
  "No passengers. Never have passengers. Too much in the way."
  "Is your vessel a swift one?"
  "Between eleven and twelve knots. The Henrietta, well known."
  "Will you carry me and three other persons to Liverpool?"
  "To Liverpool? Why not to China?"
  "I said Liverpool."
  "No!"
  "No?"
  "No. I am setting out for Bordeaux, and shall go to Bordeaux."
  "Money is no object?"
  "None."
  The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
  "But the owners of the Henrietta-" resumed Phileas Fogg.
  "The owners are myself," replied the captain. "The vessel belongs to
me."
  "I will freight it for you."
  "No."
  "I will buy it of you."
  "No."
  Phileas Fogg did not betray the least disappointment; but the
situation was a grave one. It was not at New York as at Hong Kong, nor
with the captain of the Henrietta as with the captain of the
Tankadere. Up to this time money had smoothed away every obstacle. Now
money failed.
  Still, some means must be found to cross the Atlantic on a boat,
unless by balloon, -which would have been venturesome, besides not
being capable of being put in practice. It seemed that Phileas Fogg
had an idea, for he said to the captain, "Well, will you carry me to
Bordeaux?"
  "No, not if you paid me two hundred dollars."
  "I offer you two thousand."
  "Apiece?"
  "Apiece."
  "And there are four of you?"
  "Four."
  Captain Speedy began to scratch his head. There were eight
thousand dollars to gain, without changing his route; for which it was
well worth conquering the repugnance he had for all kinds of
passengers. Besides, passengers at two thousand dollars are no
longer passengers, but valuable merchandise. "I start at nine
o'clock," said Captain Speedy, simply. "Are you and your party ready?"
  "We will be on board at nine o'clock," replied, no less simply,
Mr.Fogg.
  It was half-past eight. To disembark from the Henrietta, jump into a
hack, hurry to the St. Nicholas, and return with Aouda,
Passepartout, and even the inseparable Fix, was the work of a brief
time, and was performed by Mr. Fogg with the coolness which never
abandoned him. They were on board when the Henrietta made ready to
weigh anchor.
  When Passepartout heard what this last voyage was going to cost,
he uttered a prolonged "Oh!" which extended throughout his vocal
gamut.
  As for Fix, he said to himself that the Bank of England would
certainly not come out of this affair well indemnified. When they
reached England, even if Mr. Fogg did not throw some handfuls of
bank bills into the sea, more than seven thousand pounds would have
been spent!
  CHAPTER XXXIII
  In which Phileas Fogg shows himself equal to the occasion

  An hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse which marks the
entrance of the Hudson, turned the point of Sandy Hook, and put to
sea. During the day she skirted Long Island, passed Fire Island, and
directed her course rapidly eastward.
  At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain vessel's
position. It might be thought that this was Speedy. Not the least in
the world. It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire. As for Captain Speedy, he was
shut up in his cabin under lock and key, and was uttering loud
cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable and excessive.
  What had happened was very simple. Phileas Fogg wished to go to
Liverpool, but the captain would not carry him there. Then Phileas
Fogg had taken passage for Bordeaux, and during the thirty hours he
had been on board, had so shrewdly managed with his bank notes that
the sailors and stokers, who were only an occasional crew, and were
not on the best terms with the captain, went over to him in a body.
This was why Phileas Fogg was in command instead of Captain Speedy;
why the captain was a prisoner in his cabin; and why, in short, the
Henrietta was directing her course towards Liverpool. It was very
clear, to see Mr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a sailor.
  How the adventure ended will be seen anon. Aouda was anxious, though
she said nothing. As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg's manoeuvre
simply glorious. The captain had said "between eleven and twelve
knots," and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.
  If, then -for there were "ifs" still -the sea did not become too
boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east, if no accident
happened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta might cross the
three thou sand miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days,
between the 12th and the 21st of December. It is true that, once
arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added to that of the
Bank of England, might create more difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he
imagined or could desire.
  During the first days, they went along smoothly enough. The sea
was not very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the
northeast, the sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across
the waves like a real transatlantic steamer.
  Passepartout was delighted. His master's last exploit, the
consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never had the crew
seen so jolly and dexterous a fellow. He formed warm friendships
with the sailors, and amazed them with his acrobatic feats. He thought
they managed the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired
up like heroes. His loquacious good humor infected every one. He had
forgotten the past, its vexations and delays. He only thought of the
end, so nearly accomplished; and sometimes he boiled with
impatience, as if heated by the furnaces of the Henrietta. Often,
also, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a
keen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old
intimacy no longer existed.
  Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going
on. The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg
managing the boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him. He
did not know what to think. For, after all, a man who began by
stealing fifty-five thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel;
and Fix was not unnaturally inclined to conclude that the Henrietta,
under Fogg's command, was not going to Liverpool at all, but to some
part of the world where the robber, turned into a pirate, would
quietly put himself in safety. The conjecture was at least a plausible
one, and the detective began to seriously regret that he had
embarked in the affair.
  As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his
cabin; and Passepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals,
courageous as he was, took the greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg did
not seem even to know that there was a captain on board.
  On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland, a
dangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are
frequent fogs and heavy gales of wind. Ever since the evening before
the barometer, suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching change
in the atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied, the
cold became sharper, and the wind veered to the southeast.
  This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his
course, furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the
vessel's speed slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long
waves of which broke against the stern. She pitched violently, and
this retarded her progress. The breeze little by little swelled into a
tempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might not be
able to maintain herself upright on the waves.
  Passenpartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the
poor fellow experienced constant fright. But Phileas Fogg was a bold
mariner, and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept
on his course, without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta,
when she could not rise upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her
deck, but passing safely. Sometimes the screw rose out of the water,
beating its protruding end, when a mountain of water raised the
stern above the waves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.
  The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been
feared; it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with
a speed of ninety miles an hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily,
it remained obstinately in the southeast, rendering the sails useless.
  The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas
Fogg's departure from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been
seriously delayed. Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the
worst localities had been passed. In summer, success would have been
well-nigh certain. In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad
season. Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret,
and comforted himself with the reflection that, if the wind failed
them, they might still count on the steam.
  On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to Mr. Fogg, and
began to speak earnestly with him. Without knowing why -it was a
presentiment, perhaps -Passepartout became vaguely uneasy. He would
have given one of his ears to hear with the other what the engineer
was saying. He finally managed to catch a few words, and was sure he
heard his master say, "You are certain of what you tell me?"
  "Certain, sir," replied the engineer. "You must remember that, since
we started, we have kept up hot fires in all our furnaces, and
though we had coal enough to go on short steam from New York to
Bordeaux, we haven't enough to go with all steam from New York to
Liverpool."
  "I will consider," replied Mr. Fogg.
  Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with mortal anxiety.
The coal was giving out! "Ah, if my master can get over that,"
muttered he, "he'll be a famous man!" He could not help imparting to
Fix what he had overheard.
  "Then you believe that we really are going to Liverpool?"
  "Of course."
  "Ass!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and turning on
his heel.
  Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting the epithet,
the reason of which he could not for the life of him comprehend; but
he reflected that the unfortunate Fix was probably very much
disappointed and humiliated in his self-esteem, after having so
awkwardly followed a false scent around the world, and refrained.
  And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt? It was difficult to
imagine. Nevertheless he seemed to have decided upon one, for that
evening he sent for the engineer, and said to him, "Feed all the fires
until the coal is exhausted."
  A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta vomitted forth
torrents of smoke. The vessel continued to proceed with all steam
on; but on the 18th, the engineer, as he had predicted, announced that
the coal would give out in the course of the day.
  "Do not let the fires go down," replied Mr. Fogg. "Keep them up to
the last. Let the valves be filled."
  Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their position, called
Passepartout, and ordered him to go for Captain Speedy. It was as if
the honest fellow had been commanded to unchain a tiger. He went to
the poop, saying to himself, "He will be like a madman!"
  In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb appeared on the
poop deck. The bomb was Captain Speedy. It was clear that he was on
the point of bursting. "Where are we?" were the first words his
anger permitted him to utter. Had the poor man been apoplectic, he
could never have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.
  "Where are we we?" he repeated, with purple face.
  "Seven hundred and seventy miles to Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg,
with imperturbable calmness.
  "Pirate!" cried Captain Speedy.
  "I have sent for you, sir-"
  "Pickaroon!"
  "-Sir," continued Mr. Fogg, "to ask you to sell me your vessel."
  "No! By all the devils, no!"
  "But I shall be obliged to burn her."
  "Burn the Henrietta!"
  "Yes; at least the upper part of her. The coal has given out."
  "Burn my vessel!" cried Captain Speedy, who could scarcely pronounce
the words. "A vessel worth fifty thousand dollars!"
  "Here are sixty thousand," replied Phileas Fogg, handing the captain
a roll of bank bills. This had a prodigious effect on Andrew Speedy.
An American can scarcely remain unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand
dollars. The captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment,
and all his grudges against his passenger. The Henrietta was twenty
years old; it was a great bargain. The bomb would not go off after
all. Mr. Fogg had taken away the match.
  "And I shall still have the iron hull," said the captain in a softer
tone.
  "The iron hull and the engine. Is it agreed?"
  "Agreed."
  And Andrew Speedy, seizing the bank notes, counted them, and
consigned them to his pocket.
  During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a sheet, and
Fix seemed on the point of having an apoplectic fit. Nearly twenty
thousand pounds had been expended, and Fogg left the hull and engine
to the captain, that is, near the whole value of the craft! It is
true, however, that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from
the bank.
  When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him,
"Don't let this astonish you, sir. You must know that I shall lose
twenty thousand pounds, unless I arrive in London by a quarter
before nine on the evening of the 21st of December. I missed the
steamer at New York, and as you refused to take me to Liverpool -"
  "And I did well!" cried Andrew Speedy; "for I have gained at least
forty thousand dollars by it!" He added, more sedately, "Do you know
one thing, Captain-"
  "Fogg."
  "Captain Fogg, you've got something of the Yankee about you."
  And, having paid his passenger what he considered a high compliment,
he was going away, when Mr. Fogg said, "The vessel now belongs to me?"
  "Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts,-all the wood,
that is."
  "Very well. Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames pulled
down, and burn them."
  It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up to the
adequate pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins, bunks, and the
spare deck were sacrificed. On the next day, the 19th of December, the
masts, rafts, and spars were burned; the crew worked lustily,
keeping up the fires. Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all
his might. There was a perfect rage for demolition.
  The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and top
sides disappeared on the 20th, and was now only a flat hulk. But on
this day they sighted the Irish coast and Fastnet Light. By ten in the
evening they were passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only
twenty-four hours more in which to get to London; that length of
time was necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on. And the
steam was about to give out altogether!
  "Sir," said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply interested in Mr.
Fogg's project, "I really commiserate you. Everything is against
you. We are only opposite Queenstown."
  "Ah," said Mr. Fogg, "is that place where we see the lights
Queenstown?"
  "Yes."
  "Can we enter the harbor?"
  "Not under three hours. Only at high tide."
  "Stay," replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in his features
that by a supreme inspiration he was about to attempt once more to
conquer ill fortune.
  Queenstown is the Irish port at which the transatlantic steamers
stop to put off the mails. These mails are carried to Dublin by
express trains always held in readiness to start; from Dublin they are
sent on to Liverpool by the most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve
hours on the Atlantic steamers.
  Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the same way.
Instead of arriving at Liverpool the next evening by the Henrietta, he
would be there by noon, and would therefore have time to reach
London before a quarter before nine in the evening.
  The Henrietta entered Queenstown harbor at one o'clock in the
morning, it then being high tide; and Phileas Fogg, after being
grasped heartily by the hand by Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on
the levelled hulk of his craft, which was still worth half what he had
sold it for.
  The party went on shore at once. Fix was greatly tempted to arrest
Mr. Fogg on the spot; but he did not. Why? What struggle was going
on within him? Had he changed his mind about "his man?" Did he
understand that he had made a grave mistake? He did not, however,
abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got upon the train, which was just ready to
start, at halfpast one; at dawn of day they were in Dublin; and they
lost no time in embarking on a steamer which, disdaining to rise
upon the waves, invariably cut through them.
  Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay, at twenty
minutes before twelve, December 21st. He was only six hours distant
from London.
  But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon Mr. Fogg's
shoulder, and, showing his warrant, said, "You are really Phileas
Fogg?"
  "I am."
  "I arrest you in the Queen's name!"
  CHAPTER XXXIV
  In which Phileas Fogg at last reaches London

  Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House,
and he was to be transferred to London, the next day. Passepartout,
when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon Fix, had he
not been held back by some policeman. Aouda was thunderstruck at the
suddenness of an event which she could not understand. Passepartout
explained to her how it was that the honest and courageous Fogg was
arrested as a robber. The young woman's heart revolted against so
heinous a charge, and when she saw that she could attempt or do
nothing to save her protector, wept bitterly.
  As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty,
whether Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.
  The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of
this new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's errand from his
master? When Fix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he
not told Mr. Fogg? If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt
have given Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his
mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his journey at the
expense and on the heels of his master, only to arrest him the
moment he set foot on English soil. Passepartout wept till he was
blind, and felt like blowing his brains out.
  Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of
the Custom House. Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious
to see Mr. Fogg again.
  That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was
about to attain his end. This arrest was fatal. Having arrived at
Liverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December,
he had till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform
Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to
London was six hours.
  If any one, at this moment, had entered the Custom House he would
have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent
anger, upon a wooden bench. He was not, it is true, resigned; but this
last blow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion.
Was he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more
terrible because contained, and which only burst forth, with an
irresistible force, at the last moment? No one could tell. There he
sat, calmly waiting -for what? Did he still cherish hope? Did he still
believe, now that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he
would succeed?
  However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon
the table, and observed its advancing hands. Not a word escaped his
lips, but his look was singularly set and stern. The situation, in any
event, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: If Phileas Fogg
was honest, he was ruined. If he was a knave, he was caught.
  Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if there were
practicable outlet from his prison? Did he think of escaping from
it? Possibly; for once he walked slowly around the room. But the
door was locked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods. He
sat down again, and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line
where these words were written, "December 21, Saturday, Liverpool," he
added, "80th day, 11:40 a.m.," and waited.
  The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg observed that his
watch was two hours too fast.
  Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express
train, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before
nine, p.m. His forehead slightly wrinkled.
  At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise
outside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's voice was
audible, and immediately after that of Fix. Phileas Fogg's eyes
brightened for an instant.
  The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who
hurried towards him.
  Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He could not
speak. "Sir," he stammered, "sir -forgive me -a most unfortunate
resemblance -robber arrested three days ago -you -are free!"
  Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective, looked him
steadily in the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever
made in his life, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and
with the precision of a machine, knocked Fix down.
  "Well hit!" cried Passepartout. "Parbleu! That's what you might call
a good application of English fists!"
  Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word.
  He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
Passepartout left the Custom House without delay, got into a cab,
and in a few moments descended at the station.
  Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave
for London. It was forty minutes past two. The express train had
left thirty-five minutes before.
  Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.
  There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway
arrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three
o'clock.
  At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the
offer of a generous reward, at last set out towards London with
Aouda and his faithful servant.
  It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and
this would have been easy on a clear road throughout. But there were
forced delays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the
terminus, all the clocks in London were striking ten minutes before
nine.
  Having made the tour of the world, he was behindhand five minutes.
He had lost the wager!
  CHAPTER XXXV
  In which Phileas Fogg does not have fo repeat his orders to
Passepartout twice

  The dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised, the next day,
if they had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home. His doors
and windows were still closed; no appearance of change was visible.
  After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout instructions
to purchase some provisions, and quietly went quietly went to his
domicile.
  He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity. Ruined! And
by the blundering of the detective! After having steadily traversed
that long journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, braved many
dangers, and still found time to do some good on his way, to fail near
the goal by a sudden event which he could not have foreseen, and
against which he was unarmed; it was terrible! But a few pounds were
left of the large sum he had carried with him. There only remained
of his fortune the twenty thousand pounds deposited at Barings, and
this amount he owed to his friends of the Reform Club. So great had
been the expense of his tour, that, even had he won, it would not have
enriched him; and it is probable that he had not sought to enrich
himself, being a man who rather laid wagers for honor's sake than
for the stake proposed. But this wager totally ruined him.
  Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon; he knew what
remained for him to do.
  A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, who
was overwhelmed with grief at her protector's misfortune. From the
words which Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditating some
serious project.
  Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resort to
the desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watch
upon his master, though he carefully concealed the appearance of so
doing.
  First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and had
extinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eighty days.
He had found in the letter box a bill from the gas company, and he
thought it more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he
had been doomed to bear.
  The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep? Aouda
did not once close her eyes. Passepartout watched all night, like a
faithful dog, at his master's door.
  Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda's
breakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself. He desired Aouda
to excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time would be absorbed
all day in putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would
ask permission to have a few moments' conversation with the young
lady.
  Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to do but obey
them. He looked at his imperturbable master, and could scarcely
bring his mind to leave him. His heart was full, and his conscience
tortured by remorse; for he accused himself more bitterly than ever of
being the cause of the irretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned
Mr. Fogg, and had betrayed Fix's projects to him, his master would
certainly not have given the detective passage to Liverpool, and then-
  Passepartout could hold in no longer.
  "My master! Mr. Fogg!" he cried, "why do you not curse me? It was my
fault that-"
  "I blame no one," returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness.
"Go!"
  Passepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom he
delivered his master's message.
  "Madam," he added, "I can do nothing myself -nothing! I have no
influence over my master; but you, perhaps-"
  "What influence could I have?" replied Aouda. "Mr. Fogg is
influenced by no one. Has he ever understood that my gratitude to
him is overflowing? Has he ever read my heart? My friend, he must
not be left alone an instant! You say he is going to speak with me
this evening?"
  "Yes, madam; probably to arrange for your protection and comfort
in England."
  "We shall see," replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.
  Throughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville Row was as if
uninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for the first time since he had lived
in that house, did not set out for his club when Westminster clock
struck half past eleven.
  Why should he present himself at the Reform? His friends no longer
expected him there. As Phileas Fogg had not appeared in the saloon
on the evening before (Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter
before nine), he had lost his wager. It was not even necessary that he
should go to his bankers for the twenty thousand pounds; for his
antagonists already had his check in their hands, and they had only to
fill it out and send it to the Barings to have the amount
transferred to their credit.
  Mr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason for going out, and so he remained
at home. He shut himself up in his room, and busied himself putting
his affairs in order. Passepartout continually ascended and
descended the stairs. The hours were long for him. He listened at
his master's door, and looked through the keyhole, as if he had a
perfect right so to do, and as if he feared that something terrible
might happen at any moment. Sometimes he thought of Fix, but no longer
in anger. Fix, like all the world, had been mistaken in Phileas
Fogg, and had only done his duty in tracking and arresting him;
while he, Passepartout-. This thought haunted him, and he never ceased
cursing his miserable folly.
  Finding himself too wretched to remain alone, he knocked at
Aouda's door, went into her room, seated himself, without speaking, in
a corner, and looked ruefully at the young woman. Aouda was still
pensive.
  About half-past seven in the evening Mr. Fogg sent to know if
Aouda would receive him, and in a few moments he found himself alone
with her.
  Phileas Fogg took a chair, and sat down near the fireplace, opposite
Aouda. No emotion was visible on his face. Fogg returned was exactly
the Fogg who had gone away; there was the same calm, the same
impassibility.
  He sat several minutes without speaking; then, bending his eyes on
Aouda, "Madam," said he, "will you pardon me for bringing you to
England?"
  "I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart.
  "Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg. "When I decided to
bring you far away from the country which was so unsafe for you, I was
rich, and counted on putting a portion of my fortune at your disposal;
then your existence would have been free and happy. But now I am
ruined."
  "I know it, Mr. Fogg," replied Aouda; "and I ask you, in my turn,
will you forgive me for having followed you, and who knows; -for
having, perhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?"
  "Madam, you could not remain in India, and your safety could only be
assured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors could
not take you."
  "So, Mr. Fogg," resumed Aouda, "not content with rescuing me a
terrible death, you thought yourself bound to secure my comfort in a
foreign land?"
  "Yes, madam; but circumstances have been against me. Still, I beg to
place the little I have left at your service."
  "But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"
  "As for me, madam," replied the gentleman, coldly, "I have need of
nothing."
  "But how do you look upon the fate which awaits you?"
  "As I am in the habit of doing."
  "At least," said Aouda, "want should not overtake a man like you.
Your friends-"
  "I have no friends, madam."
  "Your relatives-"
  "I have no longer any relatives."
  "I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no
heart to which to confide your griefs. They say, though, that misery
itself, shared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne with patience."
  "They say so, madam."
  "Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising, and seizing his hand, "do you wish
at once a kinswoman and friend? Will you have me for your wife?"
  Mr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn. There was an unwonted light
in his eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips. Aouda looked into his
face. The sincerity, rectitude, firmness, and sweetness of this soft
glance of a noble woman, who could dare all to save him to whom she
owed all, at first astonished, then penetrated him. He shut his eyes
for an instant, as if to avoid her look. When he opened them again, "I
love you!" he said, simply. "Yes, by all that is holiest, I love
you, and I am entirely yours!"
  "Ah!" cried Aouda, pressing his hand to her heart.
  Passepartout was summoned and appeared immediately. Mr. Fogg still
held Aouda's hand in his own; Passepartout understood, and his big,
round face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith.
  Mr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend
Samuel Wilson, of Marylebone Parish, that evening.
  Passepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never too
late."
  It was five minutes past eight.
  "Will it be for tomorrow, Monday?"
  "For Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.
  "Yes; for Monday," she replied.
  Passepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.
  CHAPTER XXXVI
  In which Phileas Fogg's name is once more at a premium on 'Change

  It is time to relate what a change took place in English public
opinion, when it transpired that the real bank robber, a certain James
Strand, had been arrested, on the 17th of December, at Edinburgh.
Three days before, Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being
desperately followed up by the police; now he was an honorable
gentleman, mathematically pursuing his eccentric journey round the
world.
  The papers resumed their discussion about the wager; all those who
had laid bets, for or against him, revived their interest, as if by
magic; the "Phileas Fogg bonds" again became negotiable, and many
new wagers were made. Phileas Fogg's name was once more at a premium
on 'Change.
  His five friends of the Reform Club passed these three days in a
state of feverish suspense. Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had
forgotten, reappear before their eyes! Where was he at this moment?
The 17th of December, the day of James Strand's arrest, was the
seventy-sixth since Phileas Fogg's departure, and no news of him had
been received. Was he dead? Had he abandoned the effort, or was he
continuing his journey along the route agreed upon? And would he
appear on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine
in the evening, on the threshold of the Reform Club saloon?
  The anxiety in which, for three days, London society existed, cannot
be described. Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of
Phileas Fogg. Messengers were despatched to the house in Saville Row
morning and evening. No news. The police were ignorant what had become
of the detective, Fix, who had so unfortunately followed up a false
scent. Bets increased, nevertheless, in number and value. Phileas
Fogg, like a racehorse, was drawing near his last turning point. The
bonds were quoted, no longer at a hundred below par, but at twenty, at
ten, and at five; and paralytic old Lord Albemarle bet even in his
favor.
  A great crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighboring streets
on Saturday evening; it seemed like a multitude of brokers permanently
established around the Reform Club. Circulation was impeded, and
everywhere disputes, discussions, and financial transactions were
going on. The police had great difficulty in keeping back the crowd,
and as the hour when Phileas Fogg was due approached, the excitement
rose to its highest pitch.
  The five antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon
of the club. John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers, Andrew
Stuart, the engineer, Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of
England, and Thomas Flanagan, the brewer, one and all waited
anxiously.
  When the clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart
got up, saying, "Gentlemen, in twenty minutes the time agreed upon
between Mr. Fogg and ourselves will have expired."
  "What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?" asked Thomas
Flanagan.
  "At twenty-three minutes past seven," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and
the next does not arrive till ten minutes after twelve."
  "Well, gentlemen," resumed Andrew Stuart, "if Phileas Fogg had
come in the 7.23 train, he would have got here by this time. We can
therefore regard the bet as won."
  "Wait; don't let us be too hasty," replied Samuel Fallentin. "You
know that Mr. Fogg is very eccentric. His punctuality is well known;
he never arrives too soon, or too late; and I should not be
surprised if he appeared before us at the last minute."
  "Why," said Andrew Stuart nervously, "if I should see him, I
should not believe it was he."
  "The fact is," resumed Thomas Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was
absurdly foolish. Whatever his punctuality, he could not prevent the
delays which were certain to occur; and a delay of only two or three
days would be fatal to his tour."
  "Observe, too," added John Sullivan, "that we have received no
intelligence from him, though there are telegraphic lines all along
his route."
  "He has lost, gentlemen," said Andrew Stuart,- "he has a hundred
times lost! You know, besides, that the China -the only steamer he
could have taken from New York to get here in time -arrived yesterday.
I have seen a list of the passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg
is not among them. Even if we admit that fortune has favored him, he
can scarcely have reached America. I think he will be at least
twenty days behindhand, and that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool
five thousand."
  "It is clear," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and we have nothing to do
but to present Mr. Fogg's check at Barings tomorrow."
  At this moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty
minutes to nine.
  "Five minutes more," said Andrew Stuart.
  The five gentlemen looked at each other. Their anxiety was
becoming intense; but, not wishing to betray it, they readily assented
to Mr. Fallentin's proposal of a rubber.
  "I wouldn't give up my four thousand of the bet," said Andrew
Stuart, as he took his seat, "for three thousand nine hundred and
ninety-nine."
  The clock indicated eighteen minutes to nine.
  The players took up their cards, but could not keep their eyes off
the clock. Certainly, however secure they felt, minutes had never
seemed so long to them!
  "Seventeen minutes to nine," said Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the
cards which Ralph handed to him.
  Then there was a moment of silence. The great saloon was perfectly
quiet; but the murmurs of the crowd outside were heard, with now and
then a shrill cry. The pendulum beat the seconds, which each player
eagerly counted, as he listened, with mathematical regularity.
  "Sixteen minutes to nine!" said John Sullivan, in a voice which
betrayed his emotion.
  One minute more, and the wager would be won. Andrew Stuart and his
partners suspended their game. They left their cards, and counted
the seconds.
  At the fortieth second, nothing. At the fiftieth, still nothing.
  At the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed
by applause, hurrahs, and some fierce growls.
  The players rose from their seats.
  At the fifty-seventh second the door of the saloon opened; and the
pendulum had not beat the sixtieth second when Phileas Fogg
appeared, followed by an excited crowd who had forced their way
through the club doors, and in his calm voice, said, "Here I am,
gentlemen!"
  CHAPTER XXXVII
  In which it is shown that Phileas Fogg gained nothing by his tour
around the world, unless it were happiness

  Yes; Phileas Fogg in person. The reader will remember that at five
minutes past eight in the evening, about five and twenty hours after
the arrival of the travellers in London, Passepartout had been sent by
his master to engage the services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in a
certain marriage ceremony, which was to take place the next day.
  Passepartout went on his errand enchanted. He soon reached the
clergyman's house, but found him not at home. Passepartout waited a
good twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was
thirty-five minutes past eight. But in what a state he was! With his
hair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as
never man was seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over
the sidewalk like a waterspout.
  In three minutes he was in Saville Row again, and staggered
breathless into Mr. Fogg's room.
  He could not speak.
  "What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
  "My master!" gasped Passepartout, -"marriage -impossible-"
  "Impossible?"
  "Impossible -for tomorrow."
  "Why so?"
  "Because tomorrow -is Sunday!"
  "Monday," replied Mr. Fogg.
  "No -today -is Saturday."
  "Saturday? Impossible!"
  "Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried Passepartout. "You have made a mistake
of one day! We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time; but there
are only ten minutes left!"
  Passepartout had seized his master by the collar, and was dragging
him along with irresistible force.
  Phileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without having time to think, left his
house, jumped into a cab, promised a hundred pounds to the cabman,
and, having run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached
the Reform Club.
  The clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the
great saloon.
  Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in
eighty days!
  Phileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!
  How was that a man so exact and fastidious could have made this
error of a day? How came he to think that he had arrived in London
on Saturday, the twenty-first day of December, when it was really
Friday, the twentieth, the seventy-ninth day only from his departure?
  The cause of the error is very simple.
  Phileas Fogg had, without suspecting it, gained one day on his
journey, and this merely because he had travelled constantly eastward;
he would, on the contrary, have lost a day, had he gone in the
opposite direction, that is, westward.
  In journeying eastward he had gone towards the sun, and the days
therefore diminished for him as many times four minutes as lie crossed
degrees in this direction. There are three hundred and sixty degrees
on the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty
degrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four hours
-that is, the day unconsciously gained. In other words, while
Phileas Fogg, going eastward, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty
times, his friends in London only saw it pass the meridian
seventy-nine times. This is why they awaited him at the Reform Club on
Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought.
  And Passepartout's famous family watch, which had always kept London
time, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well
as the hours and minutes!
  Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but as he had
spent nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was
small. His object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win
money. He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between
Passepartout and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no
grudge. He deducted, however, from Passepartout's share the cost of
the gas which had burned in his room for nineteen hundred and twenty
hours, for the sake of regularity.
  That evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said
to Aouda, "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"
  "Mr. Fogg," replied she, "it is for me to ask that question. You
were ruined, but now you are rich again."
  "Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you. If you had not
suggested our marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend
Samuel Wilson's, I should not have been apprised of my error, and-"
  "Dear Mr. Fogg!" said the young woman.
  "Dear Aouda!" replied Phileas Fogg.
  It need not be said that marriage took place forty-eight hours
after, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride
away. Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honor?
  The next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped
vigorously at his master's door. Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked,
"What's the matter, Passepartout?"
  "What is it, sir? Why, I've just this instant found out-"
  "What?"
  "That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight
days."
  "No doubt," returned Mr. Fogg, "by not crossing India. But if I
had not crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not
have been my wife, and-"
  Mr. Fogg quietly shut the door.
  Phileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around
the world in eighty days. To do this, he had employed every means of
conveyance -steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading vessels,
sledges, elephants. The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed
all his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude. But what
then? What had he really gained by all this trouble? What had he
brought back from this long and weary journey?
  Nothing, say you? Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who,
strange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!
  Truly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the
world?


                            -THE END-