The Project Gutenberg EBook of Round the World in Eighty Days, by Jules Verne


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Title: Round the World in Eighty Days

Author: Jules Verne

Translator: Henry Frith

Release Date: June 25, 2010 [EBook #32972]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS ***




Produced by Alex Kirstukas




Transcriber's Note: _Round the World in Eighty Days_ (London:
Routledge, 1878) was the third English translation of Jules Verne's
_Le tour du monde en quatre-vingts jours_ to be published. It has
since been greatly overshadowed by the 1873 version by George
Makepeace Towle (available on Project Gutenberg as EText-No. 103).
This text version of Frith's translation was transcribed from a Google
Books scan of an 1879 edition published in London by George Routledge
and Sons. The text and images used were generously made available by
the Internet Archive. All of Frith's deviations from Verne's text
have been retained, including such unusual spellings as "Passe-partout"
for "Passepartout" and "Maudiboy" for "Mandiboy," but obvious
typographical errors have been corrected.





ROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS

By Jules Verne

Translated by Henry Frith



CHAPTER I.

In which Phileas Fogg and Passe-partout accept, relatively, the
positions of Master and Servant.



In the year of grace One thousand eight hundred and seventy-two, the
house in which Sheridan died in 1816--viz. No. 7, Saville Row,
Burlington Gardens--was occupied by Phileas Fogg, Esq., one of the
most eccentric members of the Reform Club, though it always appeared
as if he were very anxious to avoid remark. Phileas had succeeded to
the house of one of England's greatest orators, but, unlike his
predecessor, no one knew anything of Fogg, who was impenetrable,
though a brave man and moving in the best society. Some people
declared that he resembled Byron--merely in appearance, for he was
irreproachable in tone--but still a Byron with whiskers and moustache:
an impassible Byron, who might live a thousand years and not get old.

A thorough Briton was Phileas Fogg, though perhaps not a Londoner. He
was never seen on the Stock Exchange, nor at the Bank of England, nor
at any of the great City houses. No vessel with a cargo consigned to
Phileas Fogg ever entered the port of London. He held no Government
appointment. He had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court. He
had never pleaded at the Chancery Bar, the Queen's Bench, the
Exchequer, or the Ecclesiastical Courts. He was not a merchant, a
manufacturer, a farmer, nor a man of business of any kind. He was not
in the habit of frequenting the Royal Institution or any other of the
learned societies of the metropolis. He was simply a member of the
"Reform," and that was all!

If anyone ever inquired how it was that he had become a member of the
club, the questioner was informed that he had been put up by the
Barings, with whom he kept his account, which always showed a good
balance, and from which his cheques were regularly and promptly
honoured.

Was Phileas Fogg a rich man? Unquestionably. But in what manner he had
made his money even the best-informed gossips could not tell, and Mr.
Fogg was the very last person from whom one would seek to obtain
information on the subject. He was never prodigal in expenditure, but
never stingy; and whenever his contribution towards some good or
useful object was required he gave cheerfully, and in many cases
anonymously.

In short, he was one of the most uncommunicative of men. He talked
little, and his habitual taciturnity added to the mystery surrounding
him. Nevertheless, his life was simple and open enough, but he
regulated all his actions with a mathematical exactness which, to the
imagination of the quidnuncs, was in itself suspicious.

Had he ever travelled? It was very probable, for no one was better
informed in the science of geography. There was apparently no
out-of-the-way place concerning which he had not some exclusive
information. Occasionally, in a few sentences, he would clear away the
thousand-and-one rumours which circulated in the club concerning some
lost or some nearly-forgotten traveller; he would point out the true
probabilities; and it really appeared as if he were gifted with second
sight, so correctly were his anticipations justified by succeeding
events. He was a man who must have been everywhere--in spirit at
least.

One thing at any rate was certain, viz. that he had not been absent
from London for many a year. Those with whom he was on a more intimate
footing used to declare that no one had ever seen him anywhere else
but on his way to or from his club. His only amusement was a game of
whist, varied by the perusal of the daily papers. At whist, which was
a game peculiarly fitted to such a taciturn disposition as his, he was
habitually a winner; but his gains always were expended in charitable
objects. Besides, it was evident to everyone that Mr. Fogg played for
the game, not for the sake of winning money. It was a trial of skill
with him, a combat; but a fight unaccompanied by fatigue, and one
entailing no great exertion, and thus suiting him "down to the
ground!"

No one had ever credited Phileas Fogg with wife or child, which even
the most scrupulously honest people may possess; nor even had he any
near relatives or intimate friends, who are more rare in this world.
He lived alone in his house in Saville Row, and no one called upon
him, or at any rate entered there. One servant sufficed for him. He
took all his meals at his club, but he never shared a table with any
of his acquaintance, nor did he ever invite a stranger to dinner. He
only returned home to sleep at midnight precisely, for he never
occupied any one of the comfortable bedrooms provided by the "Reform"
for its members. Ten hours of the four-and-twenty he passed at home,
partly sleeping, partly dressing or undressing. If he walked, it was
in the entrance-hall with its mosaic pavement, or in the circular
gallery beneath the dome, which was supported by twenty Ionic columns.
Here he would pace with measured step. When he dined or breakfasted,
all the resources of the club were taxed to supply his table with the
daintiest fare; he was waited upon by the gravest black-coated
servants, who stepped softly as they ministered to his wants upon a
special porcelain service and upon the most expensive damask. His wine
was contained in decanters of a now unobtainable mould, while his
sherry was iced to the most excellent point of refrigeration of the
Wenham Lake.

If existence under such circumstances be a proof of eccentricity, it
must be confessed that something may be said in favour of it.

The house in Saville Row, without being luxurious, was extremely
comfortable. Besides, in accordance with the habits of the tenant, the
service was reduced to a minimum. But Phileas Fogg exacted the most
rigid punctuality on the part of his sole domestic--something
supernatural in fact. On this very day, the 2nd of October, Fogg had
given James Forster notice to leave, because the fellow had actually
brought up his master's shaving-water at a temperature of eighty-four
instead of eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit; and Phileas was now looking
out for a successor, who was expected between eleven and half-past.

Phileas Fogg was seated in his arm-chair, his feet close together at
the position of "attention;" his hands were resting on his knees, his
body was drawn up; with head erect he was watching the clock, which,
by a complexity of mechanism, told the hours, minutes, seconds, the
days of the week, and the month and year. As this clock chimed
half-past eleven, Mr. Fogg, according to custom, would leave the house
and walk down to his club.

Just then a knock was heard at the door of the room, and James
Forster, the outgoing servant, appeared and announced, "The new young
man" for the place.

A young fellow of about thirty entered and bowed.

"You are a Frenchman, and your name is John, eh?" inquired Phileas
Fogg.

"Jean, sir, if you have no objection," replied the newcomer. "Jean
Passe-partout, a surname which clings to me because I have a weakness
for change. I believe I am honest, sir; but to speak plainly, I have
tried a good many things. I have been an itinerant singer; a rider in
a circus, where I used to do the trapeze like Leotard and walk the
tight-rope like Blondin; then I became a professor of gymnastics; and,
finally, in order to make myself useful, I became a fireman in Paris,
and bear on my back to this day the scars of several bad burns. But it
is five years since I left France, and wishing to enjoy a taste of
domestic life I became a valet in England. Just now being out of a
situation, and having heard that you, sir, were the most punctual and
regular gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come here in the hope
that I shall be able to live a quiet life and forget my name of
Jack-of-all-trades--Passe-partout!"

"Passe-partout suits me," replied Mr. Fogg. "I have heard a very good
character of you, and you have been well recommended. You are aware of
my conditions of service?"

"Yes, sir."

"Very well. What o'clock do you make it?"

"Twenty-two minutes past eleven," replied the valet, as he consulted
an enormous silver watch.

"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.

"Excuse me, sir, that is impossible!"

"You are four minutes too slow. Never mind, it is enough to note the
error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes past eleven o'clock
in the forenoon upon this 2nd of October, 1872, you are in my
service!"

As he spoke, Phileas Fogg rose from his chair, took up his hat, put it
on his head as an automaton might have done, and left the room without
another word.

Passe-partout heard the street-door shut; it was his new master who
had gone out. Shortly afterwards he heard it shut again--that was his
predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn.

Passe-partout was then left alone in the house in Saville Row.





CHAPTER II.

Passe-partout is convinced that he has attained the object of his
ambition.



"Faith," muttered Passe-partout, who for the moment felt rather in a
flutter; "faith, I have seen creatures at Madame Tussaud's quite as
lively as my new master."

Madame Tussaud's "creatures" are all of wax, and only want the power
of speech.

During the short period that Passe-partout had been in Mr. Fogg's
presence, he had carefully scrutinised his future master. He appeared
to be about forty years of age, with a fine face; a tall and well-made
man, whose figure was not too stout. He had light hair and whiskers, a
clear brow, a somewhat pale face, and splendid teeth. He appeared to
possess in a very marked degree that attribute which physiognomists
call "repose in action," a faculty appertaining to those whose motto
is "Deeds, not words." Calm and phlegmatic, with a clear and steady
eye, he was the perfect type of those cool Englishmen whom one meets
so frequently in the United Kingdom, and whom Angelica Kauffmann has
so wonderfully portrayed. Mr. Fogg gave one the idea of being
perfectly balanced, like a perfect chronometer, and as well regulated.
He was, in fact, the personification of exactness, which was evident
in the very expression of his hands and feet; for amongst men, as
amongst the lower animals, the members are expressive of certain
passions.

Phileas Fogg was one of those mathematical people who, never in a
hurry, and always ready, are economical of their movements. He never
made even one step too many; he always took the shortest cut; he never
wasted a glance, nor permitted himself a superfluous gesture. No one
had ever seen him agitated or moved by any emotion. He was the last
man in the world to hurry himself, but he always arrived in time. He
lived quite alone, and, so to speak, outside the social scale. He knew
that in life there is a great deal of friction; and as friction always
retards progress, he never rubbed against anybody.

As for Jean, who called himself Passe-partout, he was a Parisian of
the Parisians. He had been for five years in England, and had taken
service in London as a valet-de-chambre, during which period he had in
vain sought for such a master as Mr. Fogg.

Passe-partout was not one of those Frontii or Mascarilles, who, with
high shoulders and snubbed noses, and plenty of assurance, are nothing
more than impudent dunces; he was a good fellow, with a pleasant face,
somewhat full lips, always ready to eat or to kiss, with one of those
good round heads that one likes to see on the shoulders of one's
friends. He had bright blue eyes, was somewhat stout, but very
muscular, and possessed of great strength. He wore his hair in a
somewhat tumbled fashion. If sculptors of antiquity were aware of
eighteen ways of arranging the hair of Minerva, Passe-partout knew but
one way of doing his, namely, with three strokes of a comb.

We will not go as far as to predict how the man's nature would accord
with Mr. Fogg's. It was a question whether Passe-partout was the exact
sort of servant to suit such a master. Experience only would show.
After having passed his youth in such a vagabond manner, he looked
forward to some repose.

Having heard of the proverbial method and coolness of the English
gentleman, he had come to seek his fortune in England; but up to the
present time fate had been adverse. He had tried six situations, but
remained in none. In all of them he had found either a whimsical, an
irregular, or a restless master, which did not suit Passe-partout. His
last master, the young Lord Longsferry, M.P., after passing the
evening in the Haymarket, was carried home on the policemen's
shoulders. Passe-partout, wishing above all things to respect his
master, remonstrated in a respectful manner; but as his expostulations
were so ill received, he took his leave. It was at that time that he
heard Phileas Fogg was in search of a servant, and he presented
himself for the situation. A gentleman whose life was so regular, who
never stayed away from home, who never travelled, who never was absent
even for a day, was the very master for him, so he presented himself
and was engaged, as we have seen.

Thus it came to pass that at half-past eleven o'clock, Passe-partout
found himself alone in the house in Saville Row. He immediately
commenced to look about him, and search the house from cellar to
garret. This well-arranged, severe, almost puritanical house pleased
him very much. It appeared to him like the pretty shell of a snail;
but a snail's shell lighted and warmed with gas would serve for both
those purposes. He soon discovered the room he was to occupy, and was
quite satisfied. Electric bells and indiarubber speaking-tubes put him
into communication with the rooms, below. Upon the chimney-piece stood
an electric clock, which kept time exactly with that in Phileas Fogg's
bedroom.

"This will suit me exactly," said Passe-partout to himself.

He also remarked in his room a notice fixed above the clock. It was
the programme of his daily duties. It included the whole details of
the service from eight o'clock in the morning, the hour at which Mr.
Fogg invariably arose, to half-past eleven, when he left the house to
breakfast at the Reform Club. It comprised everything--the tea and
toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving-water at
thirty-seven minutes past nine, and his attendance at his master's
toilet at twenty minutes to ten, and so on. Then from half-past eleven
a.m. until midnight, when the methodical Fogg retired to bed,
everything was noted down and arranged for. Passe-partout joyfully set
himself to study the programme and to master its contents.

Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was well stocked and wonderfully arranged. Every
pair of trousers, coat, or waistcoat bore a number, which was also
noted in a register of entries and exits, indicating the date on
which, according to the season, the clothes were to be worn. There
were even relays of shoes and boots.

In fact, in this house in Saville Row, which had been a temple of
disorder in the days of the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan,
cosiness reigned supreme. There was no library and no books, which
would have been useless to Mr. Fogg, since there were two
reading-rooms at the Reform Club. In his bedroom was a small safe,
perfectly burglar and fire proof. There were no firearms nor any other
weapons in the house; everything proclaimed the owner to be a man of
peaceable habits.

After having examined the house thoroughly, Passe-partout rubbed his
hands joyously, a genial smile overspread his rounded face, and he
muttered:

"This suits me completely. It is the very thing. We understand each
other thoroughly, Mr. Fogg and I. He is a thoroughly regular and
domestic man, a true machine. Well, I am not sorry to serve a
machine."





CHAPTER III.

In which a Conversation arises which is likely to cost Phileas Fogg
dear.



Phileas Fogg left home at half-past eleven, and having placed his
right foot before his left exactly five hundred and seventy-five
times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six
times, he arrived at the Reform Club in Pall Mall, and immediately
went up to the dining-room and took his place at his usual table,
where his breakfast awaited him. The meal was composed of one
"side-dish," a delicious little bit of boiled fish, a slice of
underdone roast beef with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart,
and some Cheshire cheese; the whole washed down with several cups of
excellent tea, for which the Reform Club is celebrated.

At forty-seven minutes after twelve he rose from table and went into
the drawing-room; there the servant handed him an uncut copy of _The
Times_, which Phileas Fogg folded and cut with a dexterity which
denoted a practised hand. The perusal of this journal occupied him
till a quarter to four, and then _The Standard_ sufficed till
dinner-time. This repast was eaten under the same conditions as his
breakfast, and at twenty minutes to six he returned to the saloon and
read _The Morning Chronicle_.

About half an hour later, several of Mr. Fogg's friends entered the
room and collected round the fireplace. These gentlemen were his usual
partners at whist, and, like him, were all inveterate players.

They comprised Andrew Stuart, an engineer; the bankers, John Sullivan
and Samuel Fallentin; Thomas Flanagan, the brewer; and Gauthier Ralph,
one of the directors of the Bank of England;--all rich, and men of
consequence, even in that club which comprised so many men of mark.

"Well, Ralph," asked Thomas Flanagan, "what about this robbery?"

"The bank must lose the money," replied Stuart.

"On the contrary," replied Ralph, "I am in hopes that we shall be able
to put our hand upon the thief. We have detectives in America and
Europe, at all the principal ports, and it will be no easy matter for
him to escape the clutches of the law."

"Then you have the robber's description, of course," said Andrew
Stuart.

"In the first place he is not a thief at all," replied Ralph
seriously.

"What do you mean? Is not a man a thief who takes away fifty-five
thousand pounds in bank-notes?"

"No," replied Ralph.

"He is then a man of business, I suppose?" said Sullivan.

"_The Morning Chronicle_ assures me he is a gentleman."

This last observation was uttered by Phileas Fogg, whose head rose up
from the sea of papers surrounding him, and then Phileas got up and
exchanged greetings with his acquaintances.

The subject of conversation was a robbery, which was in everyone's
mouth, and had been committed three days previously--viz. on the 29th
of September. A pile of bank-notes, amounting to the enormous sum of
fifty-five thousand pounds, had been stolen from the counter at the
Bank of England.

The astonishing part of the matter was that the robbery had been so
easily accomplished, and as Ralph, who was one of the deputy-governors,
explained, that when the fifty-five thousand pounds were stolen, the
cashier was occupied in carefully registering the receipt of three
shillings and sixpence, and of course could not have his eyes in every
direction at once.

It may not be out of place here to remark, which in some measure may
account for the robbery, that the Bank of England trusts greatly in
the honesty of the public. There are no guards, or commissionaires, or
gratings; gold, silver, and notes are all exposed freely, and, so to
speak, at the mercy of the first-comer. No one's honesty is suspected.
Take the following instance, related by one of the closest observers
of English customs. This gentleman was one day in one of the parlours
of the Bank, and had the curiosity to take up and closely examine a
nugget of gold weighing seven or eight pounds, which was lying on the
table. Having examined the ingot, he passed it to his neighbour, he to
the next man; and so the gold went from hand to hand quite down to the
dark entry, and was not returned for quite half an hour, and all the
time the bank official had not raised his head.

But on the 29th of September things did not work so nicely; the pile
of bank-notes was not returned; and when the hands of the magnificent
clock in the drawing-office pointed to the hour of five, at which time
the bank is closed, the sum of fifty-five thousand pounds was written
off to "profit and loss."

When it was certain that a robbery had been committed, the most
skilful detectives were sent down to Liverpool and Glasgow and other
principal ports, also to Suez, Brindisi, New York, &c., with promises
of a reward of two thousand pounds, and five per cent on the amount
recovered. In the meantime, inspectors were appointed to observe
scrupulously all travellers arriving at and departing from the several
seaports.

Now there was some reason to suppose, as _The Morning Chronicle_ put
it, that the thief did not belong to a gang, for during the 29th of
September a well-dressed gentlemanly man had been observed in the
bank, near where the robbery had been perpetrated. An exact
description of this person was fortunately obtained, and supplied to
all the detectives; and so some sanguine persons, of whom Ralph was
one, believed the thief could not escape.

As may be imagined, nothing else was talked about just then. The
probabilities of success and failure were warmly discussed in the
newspapers, so it was not surprising that the members of the Reform
Club should talk about it, particularly as one of the deputy-governors
of the bank was present.

Ralph did not doubt that the search would be successful because of the
amount of the reward, which would probably stimulate the zeal of the
detectives. But Andrew Stuart was of a different opinion, and the
discussion was continued between these gentlemen during their game of
whist. Stuart was Flanagan's partner, and Fallentin was Fogg's. While
they played they did not talk; but between the rubbers the subject
cropped up again.

"Well," said Stuart, "I maintain that the chances are in favour of the
thief, who must be a sharp one."

"But," replied Ralph, "there is no place a fellow can go to."

"Oh, come!"

"Well, where can he go to?"

"I can't tell," replied Stuart; "but the world is big enough, at any
rate."

"It used to be," said Phileas Fogg, in an undertone. "Cut, if you
please," he added, handing the cards to Flanagan.

Conversation was then suspended, but after the rubber Stuart took it
up again, saying:

"What do you mean by 'used to be?' Has the world grown smaller, then?"

"Of course it has," replied Ralph. "I am of Mr. Fogg's opinion; the
world has grown smaller, inasmuch as one can go round it ten times
quicker than you could a hundred years ago. That is the reason why, in
the present case, search will be more rapid, and render the escape of
the thief easier."

"Your lead, Mr. Stuart," said Fogg.

But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and he again returned to
the subject.

"I must say, Mr. Ralph," he continued, "that you have found an easy
way that the world has grown smaller, because one now go round it in
three months."

"In eighty days only," said Phileas Fogg.

"That is a fact, gentlemen," added John Sullivan. "You can make the
tour of the world in eighty days, now that the section of the Great
Indian Peninsular Railway is opened between Rothal and Allahabad, and
here is the estimate made by _The Morning Chronicle_:



London to Suez, by Mont Cenis and Brindisi, Rail and Steamer . . . 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, by Steamer . . . 6 "

Yokohama to San Francisco, by Steamer . . . 22 "

San Francisco to New York, by Rail . . . 7 "

New York to London, Steam and Rail . . . 9 "

Total . . . 80 days."



"Yes, eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who, being absorbed in his
calculations, made a mis-deal; "but that estimate does not take inter
consideration bad weather, head-winds, shipwreck, railway accidents,
&c."

"They are all included," remarked Fogg, as he continued to play, for
this time the conversation did not cease with the deal.

"Even if the Hindoos or Indians take up the rails? Suppose they stop
the trains, pillage the baggage-waggons, and scalp the travellers?"

"All included," replied Fogg quietly. "Two trumps," he added, as he
won the tricks.

Stuart, who was "pony," collected the cards, and said: "No doubt you
are right in theory, Mr. Fogg, but in practice--"

"In practice too, Mr. Stuart."

"I should like to see you do it."

"It only rests with you. Let us go together."

"Heaven forbid," cried Stuart; "but I will bet you a cool four
thousand that such a journey, under such conditions, is impossible."

"On the contrary, it is quite possible," replied Mr. Fogg.

"Well, then, why don't you do it?"

"Go round the world in eighty days, do you mean?"

"Yes."

"I will."

"When?"

"At once; only I give you warning I shall do it at your expense."

"Oh, this is all nonsense," replied Stuart, who began to feel a little
vexed at Fogg's persistence; "let us continue the game."

"You had better deal, then; that was a mis-deal."

Andrew Stuart took up the cards, and suddenly put them down again.

"Look here, Mr. Fogg," he said; "if you like, I will bet you four
thousand."

"My dear Stuart," said Fallentin, "don't be ridiculous; it is only a
joke."

"When I say I will bet," said Stuart, "I mean it."

"All right," said Mr. Fogg; then, turning towards the others, he said:
"I have twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring's. I will willingly
risk that sum."

"Twenty thousand pounds!" exclaimed Sullivan; "why, the slightest
accident might cause you to lose the whole of it. Anything
unforeseen--"

"The unforeseen does not exist," replied Fogg simply.

"But, Mr. Fogg, this estimate of eighty days is the very least time in
which the journey can be accomplished."

"A minimum well employed is quite sufficient."

"But to succeed you must pass from railways to steamers, from steamers
to railways, with mathematical accuracy."

"I will be mathematically accurate."

"Oh, this is a joke!"

"A true Englishman never jokes when he has a stake depending on the
matter. I bet twenty thousand against any of you that I will make the
tour of the world in eighty days or less; that is to say, in nineteen
hundred and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen thousand two
hundred minutes. Will you take me?"

"We do," replied the others, after consultation together.

"Very well, then," said Fogg, "the Dover mail starts at 8.45; I will
go by it."

"This evening?" said Stuart.

"Yes, this evening," replied Fogg. Then, referring to a pocket
almanack, he added: "This is Wednesday, the 2nd of October; I shall be
due in London, in this room, on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a
quarter to nine in the evening, or, in default, the twenty thousand at
Baring's, to my credit, will be yours, gentlemen. Here is my cheque
for that sum."

A memorandum of the conditions of the bet was made and signed by all
parties concerned. Phileas Fogg was as cool as ever. He had certainly
not bet to win the money, and he had only bet twenty thousand pounds,
half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he would probably have to
spend the other half to enable him to carry out this difficult if not
actually impossible feat. His opponents appeared quite agitated, not
on account of the value of their stake, but because they had some
misgivings and scruples about betting under such conditions.

Seven o'clock struck, and it was suggested that the game should stop,
while Mr. Fogg made his preparations for the journey.

"I am always ready," replied this impassible gentleman, as he dealt
the cards. "Diamonds are trumps," he added; "your lead, Mr. Stuart."





CHAPTER IV.

In which Phileas Fogg astonishes Passe-partout.



At twenty-five minutes past seven, Phileas Fogg, having won twenty
guineas at whist, took leave of his friends and left the club. At ten
minutes to eight he reached home.

Passe-partout, who had conscientiously studied his programme, was
astonished to see Mr. Fogg appear at such an unusual hour, for,
according to all precedent, he was not due in Saville Row till
midnight.

Phileas Fogg went straight up to his room and called for
Passe-partout.

Passe-partout did not reply. It was evident this could not refer to
him, it was not time.

"Passe-partout," cried Mr. Fogg again, but without raising his voice;
"this is the second time I have called you," said Mr. Fogg.

"But it is not midnight," replied Passe-partout, producing his watch.

"I know that," replied Fogg, "and I do not blame you. We start for
Dover and Calais in ten minutes."

A sort of grimace contracted the Frenchman's round face; he evidently
did not understand.

"Are you going out, sir," he asked.

"Yes," replied his master; "we are going around the world."

Passe-partout at this announcement opened his eyes to their greatest
extent, held up his arms, and looked the picture of stupefied
astonishment.

"Around the world!" he muttered.

"In eighty days," replied Mr. Fogg; "so we have not a moment to lose."

"But the luggage," said Passe-partout, who was wagging his head
unconsciously from side to side.

"We want no luggage; a carpet-bag will do. Pack up two night-shirts
and three pairs of socks, and the same for yourself. We will buy what
we want as we go along. Bring my mackintosh and travelling-cloak down
with you, and a couple of pairs of strong boots, although we shall
have little or no walking. Look alive."

Passe-partout wished to speak, but could not He left his master's
bedroom, and went upstairs to his own, fell into a chair, and
exclaimed:

"Well, this is coming it pretty strong, and for me too, who wanted to
be quiet!"

Mechanically he set about making preparations for departure. Around
the world in eighty days! Had he engaged himself with a maniac? No--it
was only a joke. But they were going to Dover and to Calais. So far so
good. After all, he did not object to that very much, for it was five
years since he had seen his native land. Perhaps they would even go on
to Paris, and he would be delighted to see the capital again. No doubt
a gentleman so economical of his steps would stop there; but on the
other hand, this hitherto very domestic gentleman was leaving home.
That was a fact.

At eight o'clock Passe-partout had packed the small bag which now
contained his master's luggage and his own, and in a very troubled
frame of mind he quitted his room, closed the door carefully, and went
downstairs to Mr. Fogg.

That gentleman was quite ready. Under his arm he carried a copy of
"Bradshaw's Continental Guide." He took the small bag from
Passe-partout, opened it, and placed therein a bulky roll of
bank-notes, which will pass in any country.

"You are sure you have not forgotten anything?" he asked.

"Quite sure, sir."

"You have my mackintosh and travelling-cloak?"

"Here they are, sir."

"All right, take the bag;" and Mr. Fogg handed it back to the man.
"You had better take care of it," he added, "there are twenty thousand
pounds in it."

Passe-partout nearly let the bag fall, as if it were weighted with the
twenty thousand pounds in gold.

Master and man went downstairs together; the door was shut and
double-locked. Phileas called a cab from the bottom of Saville Row,
and drove to Charing Cross Station. It was twenty minutes past eight
when they reached the railway. Passe-partout jumped out. His master
followed, and paid the cabman. At this moment a poor beggar-woman,
carrying a baby, looking very miserable with her naked feet and
tattered appearance, approached Mr. Fogg, and asked for alms.

Mr. Fogg drew from his waistcoat-pocket the twenty guineas he had won
at whist, and handing them to the beggar-woman, said: "Take these, my
good woman. I am glad I have met you." He then entered the station.

This action of his master brought the tears into Passe-partout's
susceptible eyes. Mr. Fogg had risen in his estimation. That eccentric
individual now told him to take two first-class tickets for Paris, and
as he turned round he perceived his five friends from the Reform Club.

"Well, gentlemen, you see I am about to start, and the visas on my
passport on my return will convince you that I have performed the
journey."

"Oh, Mr. Fogg," replied Gauthier Ralph politely, "that is quite
unnecessary. We believe you to be a man of your word."

"All the better," was Fogg's reply.

"You won't forget when you have to come back," observed Stuart.

"In eighty days," replied Mr. Fogg. "On Saturday, the 21st day of
December, 1872, at forty-five minutes past eight in the evening. _Au
revoir_, gentlemen."

At twenty minutes to nine Phileas Fogg and his servant took their
places in the train. At 8.45 the engine whistled and the train
started.

The night was dark, and a fine rain was falling. Mr. Fogg was
comfortably settled in his corner, and did not say a word.
Passe-partout, still rather in a state of stupefaction, mechanically
gripped the bag with the bank-notes.

But scarcely had the train rushed through Sydenham, than Passe-partout
uttered a cry of despair.

"What is the matter with you?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Oh dear me! In my hurry I quite forgot--"

"What?"

"I forgot to turn the gas off in my room!"

"Very well, my lad," replied Mr. Fogg coolly, "then it must burn while
we are away--at your expense."





CHAPTER V.

In which a New Kind of Investment appears on the Stock Exchange.



When Phileas Fogg quitted London, he had no doubt that his departure
would create a great sensation. The report of the bet spread from the
club to outsiders, and so to all the newspapers in the United Kingdom.

This question of going round the world in eighty days was commented
upon, discussed, and dissected, and argued as much as the Alabama
Claims had been. Some agreed with Phileas Fogg, but the majority were
against him. To accomplish the tour in fact was an impossibility,
under the present system of communication. It was sheer madness.

_The Times_, _The Standard_, _The Morning Chronicle_, and twenty other
respectable journals gave their verdict against Mr. Fogg. _The Daily
Telegraph_ was the only paper that to a certain extent supported him.
Phileas Fogg was generally looked upon as a maniac, and his friends at
the Reform Club were much blamed for having taken up the wager, which
only betrayed the want of brain of its proposer.

Extremely passionate but logical articles were written upon the
question. We all know the interest that the English take in any
geographical problem, and readers of every class devoured the columns
in which Mr. Fogg's expedition was debated.

For the first few days some bold spirits, principally women, espoused
his cause, particularly when _The Illustrated London News_ published
his portrait, and certain gentlemen went so far as to say: "Well, why
should he not after all? More extraordinary things have happened."
These were chiefly readers of _The Daily Telegraph_, but they very
soon felt that that journal itself began to waver.

On the 7th of October a long article appeared in the proceedings of
the Royal Geographical Society, the writer of which treated the
question from all points of view, and clearly demonstrated the
futility of the enterprise. According to that article, everything was
against the traveller--all obstacles material and physical were
against him. In order to succeed, it was necessary to admit miraculous
concordance in the hours of the arrival and departure of trains and
ships--a concordance which could not and did not exist. In Europe
perhaps he might be able to reckon upon the punctuality of trains, but
when three days are occupied in crossing India, and seven in
traversing the American continent, how was it possible that he could
count upon absolute success? Were not accidents to machinery, runnings
off the rails, collisions, bad weather, or snowdrifts all against
Phileas Fogg? On board ship in winter-time he would be at the mercy of
hurricanes or contrary winds. Even the best steamers of the
transoceanic lines experience a delay of sometimes two or three days.
Now, if only one such delay occurred, the chain of communication would
be irreparably severed. If Phileas Fogg lost a steamer by only a few
hours, he would be obliged to wait for the following boat; and that
fact alone would imperil the success of the whole undertaking.

This article made a great sensation. It was copied into almost all the
papers, and the "shares" of Phileas Fogg fell in proportion.

For the first few days after his departure a good deal of money was
laid on the success or failure of the enterprise. Everyone knows that
people in England are great gamblers; it comes natural to them. So the
public all went into the speculation. Phileas Fogg became a sort of
favourite, as in horse-racing. He was of a certain value on the Stock
Exchange. Fogg bonds were offered at par or at a premium, and enormous
speculations were entered into. But five days after his departure,
subsequently to the appearance of the article above quoted, the bonds
were at a discount, and they were offered to anybody who would take
them.

One supporter was still left to him, and that the paralytic Lord
Albemarle. This worthy gentleman, who was unable to leave his chair,
would have given his whole fortune to have made the tour of the world,
even in ten years, and he had laid fifty thousand pounds on Phileas
Fogg; and when people explained to him at the same time the folly and
uselessness of the expedition, he would merely reply: "If the thing
can be done, the first man to do it ought to be an Englishman."

Now as things were, the partisans of Phileas Fogg were becoming fewer
by degrees and beautifully less. Everybody, and not without reason,
was against him. People would only take fifty or even two hundred to
one, when, seven days after his departure, a quite unexpected incident
deprived him of support at any price. In fact, at nine o'clock on the
evening of the seventh day, the Chief Inspector of Metropolitan Police
received the following telegram:



"From Fix, Detective, Suez,

To Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard.

I have traced the bank-robber, Phileas Fogg. Send immediately
authority for arrest to Bombay.--Fix."



The effect of this despatch was immediately apparent. The honourable
man gave place to the "bank-robber." His photograph, deposited in the
Reform Club with those of other members, was narrowly scrutinised. It
appeared to be, feature by feature, the very man whose description had
been already furnished to the police. People now began to recollect
Fogg's mysterious manner, his solitary habits, and his sudden
departure. He must be the culprit, and it was evident that under the
pretext of a voyage round the world, under shelter of a ridiculous
bet, he had no other end in view but to throw the detectives off the
scent.





CHAPTER VI.

In which Fix, the Detective, betrays some not unnatural Impatience.



The circumstances under which the foregoing telegram had been
despatched were as follows:

On Wednesday, the 29th of October, the Peninsular and Oriental
Company's steamer _Mongolia_ was being anxiously expected at Suez.
This vessel made the passage between Brindisi and Bombay through the
Suez Canal. She is one of the swiftest of the Company's vessels, and
her usual speed is ten knots an hour between Brindisi and Suez, and
nine and a half between Suez and Bombay, and sometimes even more.

Pending the arrival of the _Mongolia_, two men were walking together
up and down the quay in the midst of the crowd of natives and visitors
who thronged the little town, which, thanks to the enterprise of M. de
Lesseps, was becoming a considerable place. One of these men was the
British Consular Agent at Suez, who, in spite of the prophecies of the
English Government, and the unfavourable opinion of Stephenson the
engineer, beheld daily English ships passing through the canal, thus
shortening by one-half the old route to India round the Cape.

The other was a small thin man with a nervous intelligent face.
Beneath his long eyelashes his eyes sparkled brightly, and at that
moment he was displaying unquestionable signs of impatience, moving
hither and thither, quite unable to keep still for one moment.

This man was Fix, the English detective, who had been sent out in
consequence of the bank robbery. He carefully scrutinised every
traveller, and if one of them bore any resemblance to the culprit he
would be arrested. Two days previously, Fix had received from London
the description of the criminal. It was that of the well-dressed
person who had been observed in the bank.

The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining the
large reward offered, and was awaiting the arrival of the _Mongolia_
with much impatience accordingly.

"So you say that the steamer is never behind its time," remarked Mr.
Fix to the Consul.

"No," replied the other. "She was signalled off Port Said yesterday,
and the length of the Canal is nothing to such a vessel as she is. I
repeat that the _Mongolia_ has always gained the twenty-five pounds
allowance granted by the Government for every advance of twenty-four
hours on the regulation time."

"Does she come from Brindisi direct?" asked Fix.

"Yes, direct. She takes the Indian mails on board there. She left on
Saturday afternoon at five o'clock. So be patient She will not be
late. But I really do not see how you will be able to recognise your
man from the description you have, even Supposing he be on board."

"One knows him by instinct more than by feature," replied Fix; "by
scent, as it were, more than sight. I have had to do with more than
one of these gentlemen in my time, and if the thief be on board I
guarantee he will not slip through my fingers."

"I hope you will catch him--it is a big robbery."

"First-rate," replied Fix enthusiastically; "fifty-five thousand
pounds. We don't often have such a windfall as that. These sort of
fellows are becoming scarce. The family of Jack Sheppard has died
out--people get 'lagged' now for a few shillings."

"You speak like an enthusiast, Mr. Fix," replied the Agent, "and I
hope you will succeed, but I fear under the circumstances you will
find it very difficult. Besides, after all, the description you have
received might be that of a very honest man."

"Great criminals always do resemble honest men," replied the detective
dogmatically. "You must understand that ruffianly-looking fellows
would not have a chance. They must remain honest or they would be
arrested at once. It is the honest appearance that we are obliged to
unmask; it is a difficult thing, I confess, and one that really is an
art."

It was evident that Mr. Fix thought a good deal of his profession.

Meanwhile the bustle on the quay increased. Sailors of all nations,
merchants, porters, and fellahs were crowding together. The steamer
was evidently expected shortly.

It was a beautiful day and the east wind cooled the air. The rays of
the sun lighted up the distant minarets of the town. Towards the south
the long jetty extended into the roadstead. A crowd of fishing-boats
dotted the waters of the Red Sea, and amongst them one could perceive
some ships of the ancient build of galleys.

Fix kept moving about amongst the crowd, scrutinising professionally
the countenances of its component members.

It was half-past ten o'clock.

"This steamer is not coming," he said, as he heard the clock strike.

"It can't be far off," said the Consul.

"How long will she stop at Suez?" said Fix.

"Four hours, to take her coal on board. From Suez to Aden it is
thirteen hundred and ten miles, so she is to take in a good supply."

"And from Suez the boat goes directly to Bombay?" asked Fix.

"Direct, without breaking bulk."

"Well," said Fix, "if the thief has taken this route, and by this
steamer, it will no doubt be his little game to land at Suez, so as to
reach the Dutch or French possessions in Asia by some other route. He
must know very well that he would not be safe in India, which is
British territory."

"I don't think he can be a very sharp fellow," replied the Consul,
"for London is the best place to hide in, after all."

The Consul having thus given the detective something to think about,
went away to his office close by. The detective, now alone, became
more and more impatient, as he had some peculiar presentiment that the
robber was on board the _Mongolia_; and if he had left England with
the intention to gain the new world, the route _via_ India, being less
open to observation, or more difficult to watch than the Atlantic
route, would naturally be the one chosen.

The detective was not left long to his reflections. A succession of
shrill whistles denoted the approach of the steamer. The whole crowd
of porters and fellahs hurried towards the quay in a manner somewhat
distressing for the limbs and clothes of the lookers-on. A number of
boats also put off to meet the _Mongolia_.

Her immense hull was soon perceived passing between the banks of the
Canal, and as eleven o'clock was striking she came to an anchor in the
roadstead, while a cloud of steam was blown off from her
safety-valves.

There were a great number of passengers on board. Some of them
remained upon the bridge, admiring the view, but the greater number
came ashore in the boats, which had put off to meet the vessel.

Fix carefully examined each one as they landed. As he was thus
employed, one of the passengers approached him, and vigorously pushing
aside the fellahs who surrounded him, inquired of the detective the
way to the British Consul's office; at the same time, the passenger
produced his passport, upon which he desired, no doubt, to have the
British _visa_.

Fix mechanically took the passport, and mastered its contents at a
glance. His hand shook involuntarily. The description on the passport
agreed exactly with the description of the thief.

"This passport does not belong to you?" he said to the passenger.

"No," replied the man addressed; "it is my master's."

"And where is your master?"

"He is on board."

"But," replied the detective, "he must come himself to the Consul's
office to establish his identity."

"Oh, is that necessary?"

"Quite indispensable."

"Where is the office?"

"In the corner of the square yonder," replied the detective,
indicating a house about two hundred paces off.

"Well then, I will go and fetch my master; but I can tell you he won't
thank you for disturbing him."

So saying, the passenger saluted Fix, and returned on board the
steamer.





CHAPTER VII.

Which once more shows the Futility of Passports where Policemen are
concerned.



The detective quickly traversed the quay once more in the direction of
the Consul's office. At his particular request he was at once ushered
into the presence of the official.

"I beg your pardon," he said to the Consul abruptly, "but I have great
reason to believe that my man _is_ really on board the _Mongolia_."
And then Mr. Fix related what had passed between him and the servant.

"Good," replied the Consul; "I should not be sorry to see the rascal's
face myself; but perhaps he will not present himself here if the case
stands as you believe it does. No thief likes to leave a trace behind
him; and moreover, the _visa_ to the passport is not necessary."

"If he is the sharp fellow he ought to be, he will come," replied Mr.
Fix.

"To have his passport examined?"

"Yes. Passports are no use, except to worry honest people and to
facilitate the escape of rogues. I have no doubt whatever that this
fellow's passport will be all right; but I hope you will not _visé_ it
all the same."

"Why not? If the passport is all regular I have no right to refuse my
_visa_," replied the Consul.

"Nevertheless, I must keep the fellow here until I have received the
warrant of arrest from London."

"Ah, Mr. Fix, that is _your_ business," said the Consul; "for my part
I must--"

The Consul did not conclude the sentence. At that moment a knock was
heard, and the servant introduced two strangers, one of whom was the
servant who had lately interviewed the detective on the quay. The
newcomers were master and servant. The former handed his passport to
the Consul, and laconically requested him to attach his _visa_.

The Consul took the passport and examined it narrowly, while Fix from
a corner devoured the stranger with his eyes. When the Consul had
perused the document, he said:

"You are Phileas Fogg?"

"Yes," replied that gentleman.

"And this man is your servant?"

"Yes; he is a Frenchman named Passe-partout."

"You have come from London?"

"Yes."

"And you are bound--whither?"

"To Bombay."

"Very well, sir. You are aware, perhaps, that this formality is
unnecessary, even useless. We only require to see the passport."

"I know that," replied Fogg; "but I want you to testify to my presence
at Suez."

"Very well, sir, so be it," replied the Consul, who thereupon attested
the passport. Mr. Fogg paid the fee, and bowing formally, departed,
followed by his servant.

"Well, what do you think, sir?" said the detective.

"I think he looks a perfectly honest man," replied the Consul.

"That may be," said Fix; "but that is not the point. Do you not
perceive that this cool gentleman answers in every particular to the
description of the thief sent out?"

"I grant you that; but you know all descriptions--"

"I will settle the business," replied Fix. "It strikes me that the
servant is more get-at-able than the master. Besides, he is a
Frenchman, and cannot help chattering. I will return soon, sir." As he
finished speaking, the detective left the Consul's office in search of
Passe-partout.

Meanwhile, Mr. Fogg, having left the Consul's house, proceeded down to
the quay. There he gave his servant some instructions, and then put
off in a boat to the Mongolia, and descended to his cabin. Taking out
his note-book, he made the following entries:



Left London, Wednesday, 2nd October, at 8.45 p.m.

Reached Paris, Thursday, at 8.40 a.m.

Arrived at Turin, _viâ_ Mont Cenis, Friday, 4th October, 6.35 a.m.

Left Turin, Friday, at 7.20 a.m.

Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday, 5th October, 4 p.m.

Embarked on _Mongolia_, Saturday, 5 p.m.

Reached Suez, Wednesday, 9th October, 11 a.m.

Total of hours occupied in the journey, 158-1/4, or 6-1/2 days.



Mr. Fogg made these entries in a journal ruled in columns, commencing
on the 2nd of October, and so on to the 21st of December, which
indicated respectively the month, the day of the month, and the day of
the week, as well as the days at which he was due at the principal
places _en route_--as, for instance, Paris, Brindisi, Suez, Bombay,
Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York,
Liverpool, London. There was also a column in which the gain or loss
upon the stipulated time could be entered against each place. This
methodical arrangement of dates showed Mr. Fogg whether he was in
advance or behindhand, and contained all necessary information.

So on that occasion, Wednesday, the 9th of October, was recorded as
the day of his arrival at Suez, and he perceived at a glance that he
had neither gained nor lost so far.

He then had his luncheon sent into his cabin. It did not occur to him
to go and look at the town; he was one of those gentlemen who are
quite content to see foreign countries through the eyes of their
servants.





CHAPTER VIII.

In which Passe-partout talks a little more than he ought to have done.



It was not very long before Fix rejoined Passe-partout on the quay.
The latter was looking about him, as he did not feel he was debarred
from seeing all he could.

"Well, my friend," said Fix, as he came up to him, "has your passport
been _viséd_ all right?"

"Ah! it is you," replied the valet. "I am much obliged to you. Yes,
everything was in order."

"And now you are seeing something of the place, I suppose?"

"Yes, but we are going on so fast that it seems to me like a dream.
And so we are in Suez, are we?"

"Yes, you are."

"In Egypt?"

"In Egypt, most decidedly."

"And in Africa?"

"Yes, in Africa."

"Well now," replied Passe-partout, "I could scarcely believe it. In
Africa, actually in Africa. Just fancy. I had not the slightest idea
that we should go beyond Paris, and all I saw of that beautiful city
was from 7.20 a.m. to 8.40, between the terminus of the Northern
Railway and the terminus of the Lyons line, and this through the
windows of a fiacre as we drove through the rain. I am very sorry for
it. I should like to have seen Pére La Chaise and the Circus in the
Champs Elysées again."

"You are in a very great hurry then?" said the detective.

"No, I am not in the least hurry," replied Passe-partout. "It is my
master. By-the-way, I must buy some shirts and a pair of shoes. We
came away without any luggage except a small carpet-bag."

"I will take you to a bazaar where you will find everything you want."

"Really, sir," replied Passe-partout, "you are extremely
good-natured."

So they started off together, Passe-partout talking all the time.

"I must take very good care I do not lose the steamer," said he.

"Oh, you have plenty of time," replied Fix; "it is only twelve
o'clock."

Passe-partout drew out his great watch. "Twelve o'clock," said he.
"Nonsense. It is fifty-two minutes past nine."

"Your watch is slow," replied Fix.

"Slow, my watch slow; why this watch has come to me from my
grandfather. It is an heirloom, and does not vary five minutes in a
year. It is a regular chronometer."

"I see how it is," replied Fix; "you have got London time, which is
about two hours slower than Suez time. You must take care to set your
watch at twelve o'clock in every country you visit."

"Not a bit of it," said Passe-partout, "I am not going to touch my
watch."

"Well, then, it won't agree with the sun."

"I can't help that. So much the worse for the sun; it will be wrong
then." And the brave fellow put his watch back in his pocket with a
contemptuous gesture.

After a few minutes' pause, Fix remarked, "You must have left London
very suddenly?"

"I believe you. Last Wednesday evening at eight o'clock, Mr. Fogg came
home from his club, and in three-quarters of an hour afterwards we
started."

"But where is your master going to?"

"Straight ahead--he is going round the world."

"Going round the world!" exclaimed Fix.

"Yes, in eighty days. He says it is for a wager, but between
ourselves, I don't believe a word of it. It is not common-sense. There
must be some other reason."

"This master of yours is quite an original, I should think."

"Rather," replied the valet.

"Is he very rich?"

"He must be; and he carries a large sum with him, all in new
bank-notes. He never spares expense. He promised a large reward to the
engineer of the _Mongolia_ if he reached Bombay well in advance of
time."

"Have you known your master long?"

"Oh dear no," replied Passe-partout. "I only entered his service the
very day we left."

The effect which all these replies had upon the suspicious nature of
the detective may be imagined.

The hurried departure from London, so soon after the robbery, the
large sum in bank-notes, the haste to reach India, under the pretext
of an eccentric bet, all confirmed Fix, and not unnaturally, in his
previously conceived ideas. He made up his mind to pump the Frenchman
a little more, and make certain that the valet knew no more concerning
his master than that he lived alone in London, was reported to be very
rich, though no one knew from whence his fortune was derived, and that
he was a very mysterious man, etc. But at the same time. Fix felt sure
that Phileas Fogg would not land at Suez, and would really go on to
Bombay.

"Is Bombay far off?" asked Passe-partout.

"Pretty well. It is ten days' steaming from here."

"And whereabouts is Bombay?"

"It is in India."

"In Asia?"

"Naturally."

"The devil! I was going to say that there is something on my mind, and
that is my burner."

"What burner?"

"Why, my gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off when I left London,
and which is still alight at my expense. Now I have calculated that I
lose two shillings every four-and-twenty hours, which is just sixpence
more than my wages. So you see that the longer our journey is--"

It is not very likely that Fix paid much attention to this question of
the gas; he was thinking of something else. The pair soon reached the
bazaar, and leaving his companion to make his purchases. Fix hastened
back to the Consul's office, and now that his suspicions were
confirmed he regained his usual coolness.

"I am quite certain now," he said to the Consul, "that this is our
man. He wishes to pass himself off as an eccentric person who wants to
go round the world in eighty days."

"He is a very sharp fellow, and he probably counts on returning to
London, after having thrown all the police off the scent."

"Well, we shall see," replied Fix.

"But are you sure you are right?" asked the Consul once more.

"I am sure I am not mistaken."

"Well then, how do you account for the fellow being so determined upon
proving he had been here by having his passport _viséd_?"

"Why--Well, I can't say," replied the detective; "but listen a
moment." And then in as few words as possible he communicated the
heads of his conversation with Passe-partout.

"Well, I must confess that appearances are very much against him,"
replied the Consul. "Now what are you going to do?"

"I shall telegraph to London, with a pressing request that a warrant
of arrest may be immediately transmitted to Bombay. I shall then
embark in the _Mongolia_, and so keep my eye on my man till we reach
Bombay, and then, on English ground, quietly arrest him."

As he coolly finished this explanation, the detective bowed to the
Consul, walked to the telegraph-office, and there despatched the
message we have already seen.

A quarter of an hour later, Mr. Fix, carrying his light baggage and
well furnished with money, embarked on board the _Mongolia_. In a
short time afterwards the vessel was ploughing her way at full speed
down the Red Sea.





CHAPTER IX.

In which the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean favour the Projects of
Phileas Fogg.



The distance between Suez and Aden is exactly three hundred and ten
miles, and the steamers are allowed one hundred and thirty-eight hours
to do it in. The _Mongolia_, however, was going at a speed which
seemed likely to bring her to her destination considerably before
time.

The majority of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for India,
some for Calcutta, some for Bombay; and since the railway crosses the
peninsula it is not necessary to go round by Ceylon.

Amongst the passengers were many military officers and civil servants
of every degree. The former included officers of the regular as well
as the Indian army, holding lucrative appointments, for the
sub-lieutenants get two hundred and eighty; brigadiers, two thousand
four hundred; and generals, four thousand pounds a year.

Society, therefore, on board the _Mongolia_ was very pleasant. The
purser feasted them sumptuously every day. They had early breakfast,
then tiffin at two o'clock, dinner at half-past five, and supper at
eight; and the tables groaned beneath the variety of dishes. The
ladies on board changed their toilettes twice a day, and there was
music and dancing when the weather was sufficiently favourable to
admit of those amusements.

But the Red Sea is very capricious; it is frequently very rough, like
all long and narrow gulfs. When the wind blew broadside on, the
_Mongolia_ rolled fearfully. At these times the ladies went below, the
pianos were silent, singing and dancing ceased. But notwithstanding
the wind and the sea, the vessel, urged by her powerful screw, dashed
onward to the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.

And what was Phileas Fogg doing all this time? Perhaps it may be
supposed that he was anxious and restless, thinking of the contrary
winds and the speed of the ship, which was likely to be retarded by
the storm, and so compromise the success of his undertaking. At any
rate, whether he did or did not concern himself with these things, he
never betrayed the least anxiety on the subject. He was as taciturn
and impassible as ever; a man whom no eventuality could surprise. He
did not appear to be any more interested than one of the ship's
chronometers. He was rarely seen on deck. He troubled himself very
little about the Red Sea, so full of interest, the scene of some of
the greatest incidents in the history of mankind. He never cared to
look at the towns standing out in relief against the sky. He had no
fear of the dangers of the Arabian Gulf, of which ancient writers,
Strabo, Arian, Artemidorus, etc., have always written with horror, and
upon which sailors of those days never dared to venture without first
making a propitiatory sacrifice.

How then did this eccentric gentleman occupy his time, cooped up in
his cabin? In the first place he regularly ate his four meals a day,
for neither pitching nor rolling had the least effect upon his
appetite. And he played whist, for he had made the acquaintance of
some lovers of the game as enthusiastic as himself, a collector of
revenue _en route_ to Goa, a clergyman, the Rev. Decimus Smith,
returning to Bombay, and an English general officer bound for Benares.
These three were as madly devoted to whist as Mr. Fogg himself, and
they spent whole days silently enjoying it.

As for Passe-partout, he had also escaped sea-sickness, and ate his
meals with pleasing regularity and in a conscientious manner, worthy
of imitation. The voyage after all did not displease him; he had made
up his mind; he gazed at the scenery as he went along, enjoyed his
meals, and was fully persuaded that all this absurd business would
come to an end at Bombay.

The day after their departure from Suez, viz. the 10th of October,
Passe-partout was by no means ill-pleased to meet upon deck the person
who had been so civil to him in Egypt.

"I'm sure I cannot be mistaken," he said. "Have I not the pleasure of
meeting the gentleman who was so polite to me at Suez?"

"Ah yes, I remember you now. You are the servant of that eccentric
Englishman."

"Exactly. Mr.--"

"Fix," replied the detective.

"Mr. Fix," continued Passe-partout, "I am delighted to find you on
board. Whither are you bound?"

"Like yourself, to Bombay."

"All the better. Have you ever made this voyage before?"

"Frequently. I am an agent of the P. and O. Company."

"Oh, then you know India very well, no doubt?"

"Well, yes," replied Fix, who did not wish to commit himself.

"It is a curious part of the world, isn't it?"

"Very much so. There are mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, serpents, and dancing-girls. It is to be hoped that you will
have time to see the country."

"I hope so too, Mr. Fix. You must be aware that a man can hardly be
expected to pass his whole existence in jumping from the deck of a
steamer into a train, and from the train to another steamer, under the
pretence of going round the world in eighty days. No; all these
gymnastics will end at Bombay, I trust."

"Is Mr. Fogg quite well?" asked Fix, politely.

"Quite well, thank you. So am I. I eat like an ogre. I suppose that is
the effect of the sea-air."

"I never see your master on deck."

"No, he has no curiosity whatever."

"Do you know, Mr. Passe-partout, that I fancy this pretended journey
round the world in eighty days is only a cover for a more important
object, a diplomatic mission perhaps?"

"Upon my word, Mr. Fix, I know nothing about it, I declare; and what
is more, I would not give half-a-crown to know!"

After this, Passe-partout and Fix frequently chatted together; the
detective doing all in his power to draw the valet out, whenever
possible. He would offer the Frenchman a glass of whisky or bitter
beer, which the latter accepted without ceremony, and pronounced Fix a
perfect gentleman.

Meantime the steamer plunged and ploughed on her way rapidly. Mocha
was sighted on the 13th, surrounded by its ruined walls, above which
some date-palms reared their heads. Beyond extended immense coffee
plantations. Passe-partout was delighted to gaze upon this celebrated
town, and fancied that it and its ruined walls bore a great
resemblance to a gigantic cup and saucer.

During the following night the _Mongolia_ cleared the strait of
Bab-el-Mandeb, which means the Gate of Tears, and the following day
they came to Steamer Point, to the N.W. of Aden harbour, where the
supply of coal was to be shipped.

It is no light task to provide the steamers with coal at such a
distance from the mines, and the P. and O. Company expend annually no
less a sum than eight hundred thousand pounds on this service. Depots
have to be established at distant ports, and the coal costs more than
three pounds a ton.

The _Mongolia_ had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to run before
she could reach Bombay, and she was therefore obliged to remain four
hours at Steamer Point to complete her coaling. But this delay was not
at all detrimental to the plans of Phileas Fogg. It had been foreseen.
Besides, the _Mongolia_, instead of reaching Aden on the 15th, had
made that port on the evening of the 14th, so there was a gain of
about fifteen hours.

Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore. The former wished to have his
passport _viséd_. Fix followed him unnoticed. The formality of the
_visé_ having been accomplished, Phileas Fogg returned on board to his
game of whist.

Passe-partout, as usual, lounged about amongst the mixed races which
make up the inhabitants of Aden. He admired the fortifications of this
eastern Gibraltar, and the splendid tanks at which the British
engineers were still at work, two thousand years after Solomon's
craftsmen.

"Very curious, very curious indeed," thought Passe-partout, as he
returned on board. "It is worth travelling if one can see something
new each time."

At six p.m. the _Mongolia_ weighed anchor, and made her way across the
Indian Ocean. She had now one hundred and sixty-eight hours in which
to make the passage to Bombay. The weather was good, with a pleasant
nor'-west wind; so the sails were hoisted to aid the screw.

The ship being thus steadied, the lady passengers took the opportunity
to reappear in fresh toilettes, and dancing and singing were again
indulged in. The voyage continued under most favourable conditions.
Passe-partout was delighted that he had such a pleasant companion as
Fix.

On Sunday, the 20th of October, about mid-day, they sighted the coast
of Hindostan. Two hours later the pilot came on board. A long range of
hills cut the sky-line, and soon palm-trees began to show themselves.
The mail steamer ran into the roadstead formed between the islands of
Salsette, Colaba, Elephanta, and Butcher, and at half-past four
o'clock the vessel came alongside the quay.

Phileas Fogg was just finishing his thirty-third rubber for that day.
His partner and he had succeeded in scoring a "treble," and thus
terminated the voyage with a stroke of luck.

The _Mongolia_ was not due at Bombay until the 22nd of October; she
had actually arrived on the 20th; so Mr. Fogg had really gained two
days upon the estimated period, and he entered the "profit"
accordingly in the column of his diary set apart for that purpose.





CHAPTER X.

In which Passe-partout thinks himself lucky in escaping with only the
Loss of his Shoes.



Everybody is aware that the peninsula of Hindostan has a superficial
area of one million four hundred thousand square miles, in which the
unequally-distributed population numbers one hundred and eighty
millions. The British Government rules absolutely over the greater
portion of this immense tract of country. The Governor-General resides
at Calcutta, and there are also governors of presidencies at Madras
and Bombay, and a deputy-governor at Agra, as well as a governor for
Bengal.

British India proper only includes an area of seven hundred thousand
square miles, and a population of one hundred to one hundred and ten
millions; so there is still a large portion of India independent, and,
in fact, there are rajahs in the interior who wield absolute
authority.

From the year 1756 to the great Sepoy Mutiny, the East India Company
was the supreme authority in British India; but now the country is
under the rule of the English Crown. The manners and customs of India
are in a continual state of change. Till lately, travelling was only
by antiquated modes of conveyance, but now steamers cover the Ganges,
and the railways have opened up the country, and one can go from
Bombay to Calcutta in three days. But the railroad does not cut the
peninsula in a direct line. As the crow flies, the distance from
Calcutta to Bombay is only about eleven hundred miles, and the trains
would not occupy three days in accomplishing that distance; but the
journey is lengthened at least one-third of that distance by the loop
the line describes up to Allahabad.

The Great Indian Peninsula Railway line is as follows: leaving Bombay
Island, it crosses Salsette, reaches the mainland at Tannah, crosses
the Western Ghauts, thence runs north-east to Burhampoor, skirts the
independent territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, and then,
turning eastward, meets the Ganges at Benares; then, quitting it
again, the line descends in a south-easterly direction, by Burdivan
and Chandernagore, to the terminal station at Calcutta.

It was half-past four p.m. when the Bombay passengers landed from the
_Mongolia_, and the train for Calcutta was timed to start at eight
o'clock.

Mr. Fogg took leave of his colleagues of the whist-table, and going
ashore, gave his servant orders concerning a few necessary purchases,
enjoining him to be at the railroad station before eight o'clock, and
then, at his own regular pace, he started for the Consul's office.

He saw nothing of the sights of Bombay--the town-hall, the magnificent
library, the forts, the docks, the cotton market, the bazaars,
mosques, &c., were all disregarded. Elephanta was ignored, and the
grottos of Salsette unexplored by Phileas Fogg.

After leaving the consulate, he walked calmly to the railroad station
and dined. The proprietor of the hotel particularly recommended "a
native rabbit." Phileas accepted the dish as put before him, but found
it horrible.

He rang the bell. The landlord was sent for.

"Is that a rabbit?" inquired Mr. Fogg.

"Yes, my lord, a jungle rabbit."

"Has that rabbit never mewed, do you think?"

"Oh, my lord, a jungle-rabbit mew! I swear--"

"Don't swear," said Fogg calmly, "and remember that formerly cats were
sacred animals in India. Those were happy days."

"For the cats, my lord?"

"And perhaps for travellers too," said Fogg, as he proceeded with his
dinner.

Soon afterwards Mr. Fix landed, and his first act was to go to the
police-office. He said who and what he was, and stated his business
and how matters stood regarding the robbery. Had any warrant been
forwarded? No, nothing of the kind had been received, and of course it
could not have reached Bombay, as it was despatched after Fogg's
departure.

Fix was disappointed. He wanted the Commissioner to grant him a
warrant on the spot, but the request was refused. The business was the
Home Government's affair, not his, and he could not issue the warrant.
This red-tapeism is quite British style. Fix of course did not insist,
and made up his mind to await the arrival of the warrant. But he
resolved not to lose sight of the robber meanwhile. He had no doubt
whatever that Fogg would remain some time in Bombay--we know that was
also Passe-partout's notion--and the warrant would probably arrive
before the criminal left the town.

But it was now evident to Passe-partout that his master intended to
push on from Bombay as rapidly as he had left Paris and Suez; that the
journey was not to end at Bombay, it was to be continued to Calcutta
at any rate, and perhaps even farther still. Passe-partout then began
to think that perhaps the bet was really the object, and that fate had
indeed condemned him, with all his wish for rest, to journey around
the world in eighty days.

However, having purchased some necessary articles, he walked about the
streets of Bombay. There were a great number of people about--Europeans
of all nationalities; Persians, wearing pointed caps; Buntryas, with
round turbans; Scindees, with square caps; Armenians, in their flowing
robes; Parsees, with black mitres. It was a Parsee festival that day.

These Parsees are followers of Zoroaster, and are the most industrious,
most intelligent, and most civilised of the native races, and to which
the majority of the Bombay merchants belong. On that occasion a sort
of religious carnival was being held; there were processions, and
numbers of dancing-girls clad in gauzy rose-coloured garments, who
danced modestly and gracefully to the sound of the tom-tom and viols.

Passe-partout, as may be imagined, drank in all these sights and
sounds with delight; and his expression at the unusual spectacle was
that of the greatest astonishment.

Unfortunately, his curiosity very nearly compromised the object of his
master's journey. He wandered on, after watching the carnival, on his
way to the station; but seeing the splendid pagoda on Malabar Hill, he
thought he would like to go in. He was quite unaware of two things:
first, that certain pagodas are closed to all Christians, and even the
believers can only obtain admittance by leaving their shoes or
slippers at the doors of the temple. The British Government,
respecting the native creed, severely punishes anyone attempting to
violate the sanctity of the native mosques or temples.

But Passe-partout, innocent of harm, tourist-like, went in, and was
admiring the pagoda and the lavish ornamentation of the interior, when
he suddenly found himself sprawling on his back on the pavement Over
him stood three angry men, who rushed upon him, tore off his shoes,
and began to pommel him soundly, uttering savage cries as they did so.

The agile Frenchman was quickly upon his feet again, and with a couple
of well-directed blows of his fists upset two of his adversaries, who
were much encumbered in their long robes; then, rushing out of the
temple, he quickly distanced the remaining Hindoo and evaded him in
the crowd.

At five minutes to eight he presented himself at the railroad station,
without his hat and shoes and minus the parcel in which all his
purchases were wrapped. Fix was there on the platform. Having tracked
Fogg, he perceived that that worthy was about to leave Bombay at once.
Fix made up his mind to go with him as far as Calcutta, and even
beyond if necessary. Passe-partout did not notice the detective, who
kept in the shade; but the policeman heard the recital of the valet's
adventures, which Passe-partout told to his master in a few sentences.

"I trust this will not happen again," replied Fogg, quietly, as he
took his seat in the carriage.

The poor lad, quite upset and minus his hat and shoes, took his place
also without replying.

Fix was getting into another compartment, when suddenly a thought
struck him, and he muttered:

"No, I will remain. An offence has been committed upon Indian ground.
I've got my man!"

At that moment the engine uttered a piercing whistle, and the train
moved out into the night.





CHAPTER XI.

Showing how Phileas Fogg purchased a "Mount" at a Fabulous Price.



The train started punctually, carrying the usual complement of
travellers, including officers of the civil and military classes and
merchants. Passe-partout was seated near his master, a third traveller
had secured a corner opposite.

This gentleman was General Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's
whist-party on board the _Mongolia_, who was _en route_ to take up his
command at Benares.

Sir Francis was a tall fair specimen of the British officer, about
fifty years old. He had greatly distinguished himself during the
Mutiny. He had been in India almost all his life, and only paid
occasional visits to his native country. He was a well-informed man,
and would willingly have imparted any information he possessed, had
Phileas Fogg chosen to apply to him. But the latter did nothing of the
kind. He never travelled. He merely made a track across country. He
was a heavy body, describing an orbit around the terrestrial globe,
according to certain mechanical laws. At that time he was actually
engaged in calculating how many hours had passed since he left London,
and he would have rubbed his hands joyfully, had he been one of those
people who indulge in these needless enthusiastic demonstrations.

Sir Francis Cromarty had already noticed the eccentricity of his
companion while at whist, and had questioned seriously whether a human
heart actually beat beneath that cold envelope of flesh, whether Fogg
really possessed a soul alive to the beauties of nature, and subject
to human failings and aspirations. That was what puzzled the gallant
soldier. None of the many original characters which it had been his
fortune to encounter had, in any way, resembled this product of the
action of exact science upon humanity.

Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis the object of his
journey round the world, nor the conditions under which he had
undertaken it. The general saw nothing in this wager but the
eccentricity of its surroundings, and the want of _transire
benefaciendo_ which ought to guide any reasonable man. If this
extraordinary man went on in this manner all his life, he would
finally quit the world, having done absolutely nothing for his own
benefit or for that of others.

An hour after leaving Bombay, the train crossed the viaduct carrying
the line from Salsette to the mainland. At Callyan station they left
the branch-line to Kandallah and Poona on the right, and proceeded to
Panwell. Here they traversed the gorges of the Western Ghauts,
composed of trap and basaltic rocks, the highest summits of which are
crowned with thick trees.

Sir Francis Cromarty and Phileas Fogg occasionally exchanged a few
words, and at one time the general picked up the thread of
conversation by remarking:

"A few years ago, Mr. Fogg, you would have experienced a considerable
impediment to your journey here, and would most likely have
compromised your success."

"How do you mean, Sir Francis?"

"Because the railway did not go beyond the base of these mountains,
and it was then necessary to make the journey in palanquins or on
ponies as far as Kandallah on the opposite slope."

"Such an interruption would not in any way have disarranged my plans,"
replied Mr. Fogg. "I have taken precautions against certain
obstacles."

"Nevertheless, Mr. Fogg, you very nearly had an awkward bit of
business on hand in consequence of yonder fellow's adventure."

Passe-partout was fast asleep, with his feet well muffled up in the
railway-rug, and was quite unconscious that he was the subject of
conversation.

"The British Government is extremely strict, and with reason, upon any
such offences," continued Sir Francis. "Above everything, it considers
that the religious feelings of the native races should be respected,
and if your servant had been arrested--"

"Well," interrupted Mr. Fogg, "well. Sir Francis, suppose he had been
taken and condemned and punished, he might have returned quietly to
Europe afterwards. That would not have been a reason for stopping his
master."

And then the conversation again languished. During the night the train
crossed the mountains, passed Nassik, and next day, the 21st October,
it traversed a comparatively flat district of Kandish. The
well-cultivated country was sprinkled with villages, above which the
minarets of the pagodas took the place of the English church-spires.
Numerous tributaries of the Godavery watered this fertile territory.

Passe-partout awoke and looked about him. He could not at first
believe that he actually was crossing India in a carriage upon the G.
I. P. Railway. It appeared quite incredible, but it was none the less
real. The locomotive, driven by an English engineer and fed with
English coal, puffed its steam over coffee, cotton, clove, and pepper
plantations. The smoke curled around the palm-trees, amid which
picturesque bungalows were frequently visible, and "viharis," a sort
of abandoned monasteries, as well as a few temples enriched with
wonderful Indian architecture, were here and there apparent. Farther
on, they passed immense tracts of land extending as far as the eye
could reach, and jungles in which serpents and tigers fled scared at
the roar and rattle of the train; then succeeded forests through which
the line passed, the abode of elephants which, with pensive gaze,
watched the speeding train.

During the forenoon our travellers traversed the blood-stained
district beyond Malligaum, sacred to the votaries of the goddess Kâli.
Not far from this arose the minarets of Ellora and its pagodas, and
the famous Aurungabad, the capital of the ferocious Aurung-Zeb, now
the chief town of one of the detached kingdoms of the Nizam. It was in
this country that Feringhea, chief of the Thugs--the King of
Stranglers--exercised sway. These assassins, united in an invisible
and secret association, strangled, in honour of the goddess of death,
victims of every age without shedding blood, and in time there was
scarcely a place where a corpse was not to be found. The English
Government has succeeded in checking very considerably these wholesale
massacres, but Thugs still exist and pursue their horrible vocation.

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampore, and Passe-partout
succeeded in obtaining a pair of slippers decorated with false pearls,
which he wore with evident conceit.

The passengers ate a hurried breakfast, and the train again started
for Assinghur, skirting for a moment the river Tapy, a small stream
which flows into the Gulf of Cambay, near Surat.

It may now not be out of place to record Passe-partout's reflections.
Until his arrival at Bombay he had cherished the idea that the journey
would not be continued farther. But now that he was being carried
across India he saw things in a different light. His old love of
wandering returned in full force. The fantastic ideas of his youthful
days came back to him again; he took his master's projects quite
seriously; he began to believe in the wager, and consequently in the
tour of the world to be completed in that maximum of eighty days which
must not on any account be exceeded. Even now he was beginning to feel
anxious about possible delays and accidents _en route_. He felt
interested in winning, and trembled when he considered that he had
actually compromised the whole thing by his stupidity on the previous
day. So he was much more restless than Mr. Fogg, because less
phlegmatic. He counted over and over again the days that had already
passed since he had started, cursed at the stoppages at stations,
found fault with the slow speed, and in his heart blamed Mr. Fogg for
not having "tipped" the engine-driver. He quite overlooked the fact
that, though such a thing was possible on board a steamer, it was out
of question on a railroad where the time of the trains is fixed and
the speed regulated.

Towards evening they penetrated the defiles of the mountains of
Sutpoor, which separate the territory of Khandeish from that of
Bundelcund.

Next day, the 22nd, Passe-partout replied, to a question of Sir
Francis Cromarty, that it was three a.m., but, as a matter of fact,
this wonderful watch was about four hours slow, as it was always kept
at Greenwich time, which was then nearly seventy-seven degrees west,
and the watch would of course get slower and slower.

Sir Francis corrected Passe-partout's time, respecting which he made a
remark similar to that made by Mr. Fix. He endeavoured to convince the
valet that he ought to regulate his watch by each new meridian, and as
he was still going east the days became shorter and shorter by four
minutes for every degree. But all this was useless. Whether the
headstrong fellow understood the general or not, he certainly did not
alter his watch, which was steadily kept at London time. At any rate
it was a delusion which pleased him and hurt nobody.

At eight o'clock in the morning the train stopped about fifteen miles
from Rothal, at a place where there were many bungalows and huts
erected. The guard passed along the line, crying out, "All change
here!"

Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty, who did not appear to
understand this unexpected halt.

Passe-partout, not less astonished, leaped down, and in a moment or
two returned, exclaiming, "There is no railway beyond this place,
sir."

"What do you mean?" inquired Sir Francis.

"I mean that the train does not go any farther."

The general immediately got out. Phileas Fogg followed quietly. Both
these gentlemen accosted the guard.

"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.

"At the village of Kholby, sir," replied the guard.

"Why do we stop here?"

"Because the line is not finished beyond."

"Not finished! How is that?"

"There are about fifty miles yet to be laid between this point and
Allahabad, where we take the train again."

"The papers announced the line complete."

"I cannot help that, sir; the papers were mistaken."

"But you book people 'through' from Bombay to Calcutta," persisted Sir
Francis, who was waxing angry.

"Certainly we do; but it is an understood thing that the passengers
provide their own conveyance between Kholby and Allahabad."

Sir Francis was furious. Passe-partout would have liked to have
knocked the guard down, if he had been able. He did not dare to look
at his master.

"We had better get on, Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg; "we must get to
Allahabad somehow; let us see how we can do so."

"It strikes me that this delay will upset your arrangements
considerably, Mr. Fogg," replied Sir Francis.

"Oh dear no! all this has been discounted," replied Fogg.

"What! did you know that the line was unfinished?"

"No; but I was quite sure that some obstacles would crop up to retard
me. Nothing is yet lost I have two days in reserve. The steamer does
not leave Calcutta for Hong Kong until the 23rd, at mid-day. This is
only the 22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in good time even now."

What could be urged against such an assured reply as this? It was only
too evident that the railway ceased at that point. Newspapers are so
fond of anticipating, and in this case they had been decidedly
premature in announcing the completion of the line. The majority of
the passengers had been made aware of the existing state of things,
and provided themselves with conveyance accordingly, whatever they
could obtain--"palkigharies" with four wheels, waggons drawn by zebus,
a sort of brahma ox, palanquins, ponies, &c. So it happened that there
was nothing left for Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty.

"I shall walk," said Phileas Fogg. Passe-partout, who was close to his
master, made a very expressive grimace when he gazed at his elegant
but very thin slippers. Fortunately he had made a discovery, but
hesitated a little to announce it.

"Sir," he said at length, "I think I have found means for our
transport."

"What is it?"

"An elephant. It belongs to a native who lives close by."

"Let us go and see this animal," said Mr. Fogg. Five minutes later Sir
Francis and Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Passe-partout, reached the hut,
which was surrounded by a palisade. In the hut resided the native;
inside the palisade the elephant lived. The former introduced the new
arrivals to the latter, at their particular request.

They found that the animal was half domesticated; it had originally
been purchased for a fighting elephant, not for carrying purposes.
With this end in view, the owner had begun to alter the naturally
placid disposition of the beast by irritating him, and getting him
gradually up to that pitch of fury called "mutsh" by the Hindoos, and
this is done by feeding the elephant on sugar and butter for three
months. This at first sight would appear scarcely the treatment likely
to conduce to such an object, but it is successfully employed.

Fortunately, however, for Mr. Fogg, the elephant in question had not
been subjected to this treatment for a very long time, and the "mutsh"
had not appeared.

Kiouni--for so was the animal called--was no doubt quite competent to
perform the journey required, and in the absence of other conveyance,
Phileas Fogg determined to hire him.

But elephants in India are dear, for they are becoming somewhat
scarce. The males, which only are suited to the circus training, are
much in request. They seldom breed when in a domesticated state, so
they can only be procured by hunting. They are, therefore, the objects
of much solicitude, and when Mr. Fogg asked the owner what he could
hire his elephant for, the man declined point-blank to lend him at
all.

Fogg persisted, and offered ten pounds an hour for the beast! It was
refused. Twenty? Still refused. Forty? Declined with thanks.
Passe-partout actually jumped at each "bid." But the native would not
yield to the temptation.

Nevertheless the price tendered was a handsome one. Supposing that the
elephant took fifteen hours to reach Allahabad, the price would amount
to six hundred pounds!

Phileas Fogg, without betraying the least irritation, then proposed to
the owner that he should sell the animal outright, and offered one
thousand pounds for him.

But the Hindoo declined; perhaps he thought he would make more by so
doing.

Sir Francis Cromarty then took Mr. Fogg aside, and requested him to
reflect ere he bid higher. Mr. Fogg replied that he was not in the
habit of acting on impulse, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
depended upon the accomplishment of the journey, that the elephant was
absolutely necessary, and if he paid twenty times the value of the
animal, it must be had.

So Mr. Fogg returned to the Indian, who perceived it was only a
question of asking. Phileas offered in quick succession twelve
hundred, fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, and finally two thousand
pounds. Passe-partout, usually so ruddy, was now pale with emotion. At
two thousand pounds the native yielded. "I declare by my slippers,
that's a pretty price for an elephant!" exclaimed Passe-partout.

This business over, there was nothing but to obtain a guide. That was
easily done. A young and intelligent-looking Parsee offered his
services. Mr. Fogg engaged him, and promised him a good reward, which
would naturally increase his intelligence.

The elephant was got ready without delay. The Parsee was quite skilled
in the business of a "mahout." He placed a sort of saddle on the
elephant's back, and at each end of it he fixed a small howdah.

Mr. Fogg paid the native the two thousand pounds in bank-notes, which
he took from the inexhaustible carpet-bag. Passe-partout writhed as
they were paid over. Then Mr. Fogg offered Sir Francis Cromarty a seat
on the elephant, which the general gratefully accepted. One traveller
more or less would not signify to such an animal.

Provisions were purchased. Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg each occupied a
howdah, while Passe-partout sat astride between them. The Parsee
seated himself upon the elephant's neck, and at nine o'clock they
quitted the village, the elephant taking a short cut through the thick
palm-forest.





CHAPTER XII.

Showing what happened to Phileas Fogg and his Companions as they
traversed the Forest.



The guide, hoping to shorten the journey, kept to the left of the
railroad line, which would be carried in a circuitous manner through
the Vindhia Mountains when completed. The Parsee, who was well
acquainted with all the byways, declared that twenty miles would be
saved by striking directly across the forest; so the party yielded.

Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, buried up to their necks in the howdahs, got
terribly shaken by the rough trotting of the elephant, which was urged
by the driver. But they put up with the inconvenience with true
British self-restraint; they spoke but seldom and scarcely looked at
each other.

Passe-partout was obliged to be very careful not to keep his tongue
between his teeth, else it would have been bitten off, so unmercifully
was he jogged up and down. The brave fellow, sometimes thrown forward
on the animal's neck, sometimes upon the croup, performed a series of
vaulting movements something like a circus clown on the
"spring-board." But all the time he joked and laughed at the
somersaults he performed so involuntarily; occasionally he took out a
lump of sugar from his pocket and handed it to Kiouni, who took it in
his trunk without slackening his pace for a second.

After proceeding thus for a couple of hours, the driver called a halt
and gave the elephant an hour's rest. The animal ate all the branches
and shrubs in the vicinity, as soon as he had quenched his thirst at a
neighbouring spring. Sir Francis did not complain of this delay; he
was terribly bruised. Mr. Fogg did not appear any more discomposed
than if he had only got out of bed.

"He is a man of iron!" exclaimed the general, as he gazed at his
companion admiringly.

"Of hammered iron," replied Passe-partout, who was preparing a hasty
breakfast.

At noon the driver gave the signal for departure. The country soon
became very wild. The dense forest was succeeded by groves of dates
and palms; then came extensive arid plains dotted here and there with
bushes, and sprinkled with immense blocks of syenite. The whole of
this region of Bundelcund, which is seldom traversed, is inhabited by
a fanatical people inured to the most fearful practices of the
Hindoos. The English Government has scarcely yet entirely obtained the
control over this region, which is ruled by rajahs, who are very
difficult to bring to book from their almost inaccessible mountain
fastnesses. Many times the travellers noticed bands of fierce natives,
who gesticulated angrily at perceiving the swift-footed elephant pass
by; and the Parsee took care to give them all a wide berth. They
encountered very few wild animals; even monkeys were not numerous, and
they fled away with grimaces and gestures, which amused Passe-partout
very much indeed.

One reflection, however, troubled Passe-partout exceedingly, and that
was how would his master dispose of the elephant when they reached
Allahabad? Would he take it on with him? That was scarcely possible.
The price of conveyance, added to the purchase-money, would be
ruinous. Would he sell the beast or set him free? No doubt the animal
deserved some consideration. Suppose Mr. Fogg made him, Passe-partout,
a present of the elephant? He would feel very much embarrassed. So
these considerations worried the valet not a little.

At eight o'clock they had crossed the principal heights of the Vindhia
chain, and at a ruined bungalow upon the southern slope of the
mountains our travellers halted again.

The distance traversed was about twenty-five miles, and they had still
as far to go to reach Allahabad. The night was quite chilly. A fire
lighted by the Parsee was very acceptable, and the travellers made an
excellent supper of the provisions they had purchased at Kholby. The
intermittent conversation soon gave way to steady snoring. The guide
kept watch by the elephant, which slept outside, supported by the
trunk of an enormous tree.

Nothing happened to disturb the party during the night. Now and then
the growls of wild animals, or the chattering of monkeys, broke the
silence, but nothing more terrible was heard, and the larger animals
did not disturb the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis Cromarty
"lay like a warrior taking his rest." Passe-partout, in a restless
sleep, appeared to be practising the gymnastics he had executed on the
elephant's back. As for Mr. Fogg, he slept as peacefully as if he were
in his quiet bed in Saville Row.

At six o'clock they resumed their journey. The guide hoped to reach
Allahabad that evening. In that case Mr. Fogg would only lose a
portion of the eight-and-forty hours already saved since the
commencement of the trip.

They descended the last slopes of the Vindhias. The elephant resumed
his rapid pace. Towards mid-day the guide passed round the village of
Kallenger on the Cani, one of the small affluents of the Ganges. He
appeared to avoid all inhabited places, feeling more secure in the
deserted tracts. Allahabad was thence only a dozen miles off in a
north-easterly direction. They halted once more under a banana-tree,
the fruit of which, as wholesome as bread and "as succulent as cream,"
as they said, was highly appreciated by our travellers.

At two o'clock they entered a dense forest, which they had to traverse
for some miles. The guide preferred to travel in the shade of the
woods. So far at any rate they had encountered nothing unpleasant, and
there was every reason to suppose that the journey would be
accomplished without accident, when the elephant, after a few
premonitory symptoms, stopped suddenly.

It was then four o'clock in the afternoon.

"What is the matter?" asked Sir Francis Cromarty, putting his head up
over the top of his howdah.

"I don't know, sir," replied the Parsee, listening intently to a
confused murmuring sound which came through the thickly-interlacing
branches.

Soon the sound became more defined. One might have fancied it was a
concert at a great distance; composed of human voices and brass
instruments all performing at once. Passe-partout was all eyes and
ears. Mr. Fogg waited patiently without uttering a word.

The Parsee leaped down, fastened the elephant to a tree, and plunged
into the thick underwood. In a few moments he came back, exclaiming:
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way! Let us hide ourselves if
we can."

As he spoke he loosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, bidding
the travellers to stay where they were. He was ready to remount should
flight be necessary, but he thought that the procession would pass
without noticing the party, for the thick foliage completely concealed
them.

The discordant sounds kept approaching--a monotonous kind of chant,
mingled with the beating of tom-toms and the clash of cymbals. The
head of the procession soon became visible beneath the trees about
fifty paces off, and Mr. Fogg and his party easily distinguished the
curious individuals who composed it.

The priests, wearing mitres and long robes trimmed with lace, marched
in front. They were surrounded by a motley crowd of men, women, and
children, who were chanting a sort of funeral hymn, broken at
intervals by the sound of the various instruments. Behind these came,
on a car (the large wheels of which, spokes and all, were ornamented
with the similitude of serpents), a hideous figure drawn by four
richly-caparisoned zebus. This idol had four arms, the body was
painted a dusky red, with staring eyes, matted hair, a protruding
tongue, and lips tinted with henna and betel. Round its neck was hung
a necklace of skulls, and it was girt with a zone of human hands; it
stood upright upon the headless trunk of a giant figure.

Sir Francis Cromarty recognised the idol at once.

"That is the goddess Káli," he whispered; "the goddess of love and of
death."

"Of death I can understand, but not of love," muttered Passe-partout;
"what a villainous hag it is!"

The Parsee signed to him to hold his tongue.

Around the idol a number of fakirs danced and twirled about.

These wretches were daubed with ochre, and covered with wounds, from
which the blood issued drop by drop; absurd idiots, who would throw
themselves under the wheels of Juggernaut's chariot had they the
opportunity.

Behind these fanatics marched some Brahmins, clad in all their
oriental sumptuousness of garb, dragging a woman along, who faltered
at each step.

This female was young, and as white as a European. Her head, neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and ankles were covered with jewels,
bracelets, or rings. A gold-laced tunic, over which she wore a thin
muslin robe, revealed the swelling contours of her form.

Behind this young woman, and in violent contrast to her, came a guard,
armed with naked sabres and long damascened pistols, carrying a dead
body in a palanquin.

The corpse was that of an old man clothed in the rich dress of a
rajah; the turban embroidered with pearls, the robe of silk tissue and
gold, the girdle of cashmere studded with diamonds, and wearing the
beautiful weapons of an Indian prince.

The musicians brought up the rear with a guard of fanatics, whose
cries even drowned the noise of the instruments at times. These closed
the _cortége_.

Sir Francis Cromarty watched the procession pass by and his face wore
a peculiarly saddened expression. Turning to the guide, he said:

"Is it a suttee?"

The Parsee made a sign in the affirmative, and put his fingers on his
lips. The long procession wended its way slowly amongst the trees, and
before long the last of it disappeared in the depths of the forest.
The music gradually died away, occasionally a few cries could be
heard, but soon they ceased, and silence reigned around.

Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis had said, and as soon as the
procession had passed out of sight, he said:

"What is a suttee?"

"A suttee," replied the general, "is a human sacrifice--but a
voluntary one. That woman you saw just now will be burned to-morrow
morning at daylight."

"The scoundrels!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who could not repress his
indignation.

"And that dead body?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Is that of her husband--a prince," replied the guide. "He was an
independent rajah in Bundelcund."

"Do you mean to say that these barbarous customs still obtain in
India--under British rule?" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any
emotion whatever.

"In the greater portion of India," replied Sir Francis Cromarty,
"these sacrifices do not take place; but we have no authority in the
savage districts, one of the principal of which is Bundelcund. The
entire district north of the Vindhia range is the theatre of pillage
and murder."

"Poor creature," exclaimed Passe-partout; "burned alive!"

"Yes," continued the general, "burned alive; and if she was not, you
have no idea to what a wretched condition she would be reduced by her
relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her very scantily upon
rice, and hold no communication with her, for she would be regarded as
unclean, and would die like a dog. The prospect of such treatment,
even more strongly than affection or religious fanaticism, often urges
the widows to submit themselves to suttee. Sometimes, however, the act
is really voluntary, and energetic interference by the Government is
necessary to prevent it. Some years ago, when I was in Bombay, a young
widow asked the governor's leave to be burned with her late husband's
body. As you may imagine, he refused her request. Then the
disconsolate widow left the town, took refuge with an independent
rajah, and burned herself, to the satisfaction of all concerned."

As the general proceeded, the guide nodded in assent to the
truthfulness of the relation, and when the speaker had finished, the
Parsee said:

"But the suttee to take place to-morrow is not voluntary."

"How do you know?"

"Everyone in Bundelcund knows that," replied the guide.

"Yet the unfortunate woman offered no resistance," said Sir Francis
Cromarty.

"Because she was drugged with hemp and opium," replied the Parsee.

"But whither are they taking her?"

"To the Pagoda of Pillaji, two miles away from here. There she will
pass the night, and wait for the hour appointed for the sacrifice."

"And the sacrifice will take place?"

"At dawn to-morrow."

As he spoke, the guide led forth the elephant and clambered up to his
seat on its neck; but just as he was about to whistle to the animal to
proceed, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and said to Sir Francis Cromarty,
"Suppose we save this woman?"

"Save her!" exclaimed the general.

"I have still twelve hours to spare," continued Fogg; "I can devote
that time to the purpose."

"Well, I declare you are a man with a heart in the right place," cried
Sir Francis.

"Sometimes it is," replied Mr. Fogg, smiling grimly, "when I have
time!"





CHAPTER XIII.

Showing how Passe-partout perceives once again that Fortune favours
the Brave.



The project was a difficult one and a bold, almost impossible to carry
out. Mr. Fogg was about to risk his life, or at least his liberty, and
consequently the success of his undertaking; but, nevertheless, he
hesitated not a moment. Besides, he found in Sir Francis Cromarty a
sturdy ally. Passe-partout also was at their disposal; he was quite
ready, and his opinion of his master was rising every moment. He
possessed a heart, after all, beneath that cold exterior.
Passe-partout was beginning to love Mr. Fogg.

The guide remained. What course would he take in this business? He
would probably side with the natives. At any rate, if he would not
assist, his neutrality must be assured.

Sir Francis put the question to him plainly.

"Your honour," replied the man, "I am a Parsee. The woman is a Parsee
also. You may dispose of me as you wish."

"Good," replied Sir Francis.

"But," continued the guide, "you must remember that not only do we
risk our lives in this affair, but we may be horribly tortured if we
are taken alive. So take care."

"We have made up our minds to run the risk," said Mr. Fogg. "I think
we had better wait till nightfall before we act."

"I think so too," said the guide, who then proceeded to give his
employers some information respecting the lady. He said she was a
Parsee, a celebrated Indian beauty, daughter of one of the richest
merchants in Bombay. She had received a complete English education;
her manners and tastes were all European. Her name was Aouda. She was,
moreover, an orphan, and had been married against her will to the
rajah. She had only been three months wed. Knowing the fate that
awaited her, she had attempted to escape, but was immediately retaken;
and the rajah's relatives, who were desirous, from motives of
interest, for her death, had devoted her to the suttee, which now
appeared inevitable.

These particulars only served to confirm Mr. Fogg and his companions
in their generous resolve. It was then decided that the guide should
take them as near to the pagoda as possible without attracting
attention.

In about half an hour the elephant was halted in the brushwood about
five hundred yards from the temple, which was not visible; but the
shouts of the fanatics were distinctly audible.

The best manner of releasing the intended victim was then discussed.
The guide was acquainted with the pagoda in which he declared the
young woman was imprisoned. Was it possible to enter by one of the
doors, when all the band of priests, etc., were wrapped in a drunken
sleep? or, should they enter through a hole in the wall? This could
only be decided when they reached the pagoda. But one thing was very
certain, and that was that the deed must be done at night, and not at
daybreak, when the victim was being led to the sacrifice. Then human
aid would be powerless to save her.

So the party waited till night. At about six o'clock in the evening it
would be dark, and then they would make a reconnaissance. The last
cries of the fakirs would by that time be hushed. The Hindoos would by
that time, according to custom, be wrapped in the intoxicating arms of
"bang"--liquid opium mixed with hemp; and it would be possible to
glide past them into the temple.

The whole party, guided by the Parsee, then advanced stealthily
through the forest. After ten minutes' creeping beneath the branches of
the trees, they reached a rivulet, whence, by the glare of the
torches, they were enabled to distinguish the funeral pyre, composed
of the fragrant sandal-wood, and already saturated with perfumed oil.
Upon this pile lay the dead body of the deceased prince, which was to
be burned with his widow. A hundred paces from the pyre was the
pagoda, the minarets of which uprose beyond the tops of the
surrounding trees.

"Come on," whispered the guide.

With increasing caution the Parsee, followed by his companions, glided
silently amongst the tall grasses. The murmur of the breeze through
the trees was the only sound that broke the silence.

The Parsee soon halted on the border of the clearing. Some torches lit
up the space. The ground was covered with groups of tipsy sleepers,
and bore a great resemblance to a battle-field strewn with dead
bodies. Men, women, and children lay all together. Some drunken
individuals still staggered about here and there. In the background
the temple loomed amid the thick trees. But greatly to the
disappointment of the guide, armed rajpoots kept watch by torchlight
upon the doors, in front of which they paced up and down with naked
swords. No doubt the priests within were equally vigilant.

The Parsee advanced no farther. He perceived at once that it was
impossible to force an entrance to the temple, and he led his
companions back again. Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg also understood that
no more could be done in that direction. They stopped and consulted
together in undertones.

"Let us wait a little," whispered the brigadier. "It is only eight
o'clock. Those sentries may go to sleep later."

"That is possible, certainly," said the Parsee.

So they all lay down under the trees and waited.

The time passed very slowly. At intervals the guide would go forward
and reconnoitre. But the guards were always there; the torches burned
brightly still, and an uncertain glimmer penetrated through the
windows of the temple from the inside.

They waited until nearly midnight. There was no change in the
situation. The sentries were sleepless, and it became evident that
they intended to keep watch all night. They were probably quite sober.
It now became necessary to try another plan and to cut through the
walls of the pagoda. There was then the chance of finding the priests
awake inside, watching their intended victim as closely as the
soldiers guarded the door.

After a final consultation, the guide expressed himself ready to
proceed. Mr. Fogg, Sir Francis, and Passe-partout followed. They made
a long detour with the intention of approaching the pagoda from
behind. About half-past twelve they gained the walls without having
encountered anyone. Evidently no watch was kept at the side, but it
was equally evident that there was neither window nor door at the
back.

The night was dark. The moon, then in her last quarter, appeared
scarcely above the horizon, and was covered frequently by thick
clouds. The trees also served to render the darkness more profound. It
was enough to have reached the wall, an opening must be discovered or
made. To accomplish this, Mr. Fogg and his companions had nothing but
their pocket-knives. Fortunately, the temple walls were only composed
of bricks and wood, which would not be very hard to cut through. Once
the first brick had been taken out, the rest was easy.

They set about the work immediately, and as noiselessly as possible.
The Parsee and Passe-partout worked away to loosen the bricks in a
space about two feet wide. The labour was continued, and they were
getting on capitally, when a cry was heard from the interior of the
temple, and was immediately succeeded by others from the outside.
Passe-partout and the guide ceased working. Had they been heard, and
had the alarm been given? Common prudence necessitated a retreat,
which was effected in company with Sir Francis Cromarty and Phileas
Fogg. They ensconced themselves again beneath the trees to wait until
the alarm, if it were an alarm, had subsided, and ready in that event
to resume their operations. But, alas! the guards now completely
surrounded the pagoda and prevented all approach. It would be
difficult to depict the disappointment of these four men at this
unfortunate _contretemps_. As they were prevented from approaching the
victim, how could they hope to save her? Sir Francis Cromarty clenched
his hands, Passe-partout was almost beside himself, and even the guide
had some difficulty in preserving his self-restraint. The impassible
Phileas Fogg alone preserved his equanimity.

"I suppose we may as well go away now?" whispered Sir Francis
Cromarty.

"That's all we can do," the guide assented.

"Don't be in a hurry," said Mr. Fogg. "It will suit me well enough if
we reach Allahabad at mid-day."

"But what do you expect to do if we remain here?" said Sir Francis.
"It will be daylight in a couple of hours, and--"

"We may get a chance at the last moment."

The brigadier would have liked to have been able to read the
expression of Mr. Fogg's face. What was he thinking about, this
cool-headed Englishman? Would he, at the last moment, throw himself
upon the burning pile, and snatch her from the clutches of her
executioners openly?

Such a proceeding would have been the height of folly, and no one
could for a moment imagine that Mr. Fogg was so foolhardy as that.
Nevertheless, Sir Francis consented to wait the _dénouement_ of this
terrible scene. But the guide led the party to the edge of the
clearing, where, from behind a thicket, they could observe all the
proceedings. Meanwhile, Passe-partout had been hatching a project in
his busy brain, and at last the idea came forth like a flash of
lightning. His first conception of the notion he had repudiated as
ridiculously foolish, but at length he began to look upon the project
as feasible. "It is a chance," he muttered, "but perhaps the only one
with such bigoted idiots." At any rate he wriggled himself to the end
of the lowest branch of a tree, the extremity of which almost touched
the ground.

The hours passed slowly on, and at length some faint indications of
day became visible in the sky. But it was still quite dark in the
neighbourhood of the pagoda.

This was the time chosen for the sacrifice. The sleeping groups arose
as if the resurrection had arrived. The tom-toms sounded. Chants and
cries were once more heard. The sublime moment had come!

Just then the doors of the pagoda were opened, and a strong light
flashed out from the interior. The victim could be perceived being
dragged by two priests to the door. It appeared to the spectators that
the unhappy woman, having shaken off the effects of her enforced
intoxication, was endeavouring to escape from her executioners. Sir
Francis Cromarty was deeply agitated, and seizing Mr. Fogg's hand
convulsively he perceived that the hand grasped an open knife.

The crowd now began to move about. The young woman had been again
stupefied with hemp-fumes, and passed between the lines of fakirs who
escorted her, uttering wild cries as they proceeded.

Phileas Fogg and his companions followed on the outskirts of the
crowd. Two minutes later they reached the bank of the stream, and
stopped about fifty paces from the funeral pyre, upon which the corpse
was extended. In the dim religious light, they could perceive the
outline of the victim close beside her deceased husband.

A lighted torch was then quickly applied to the pile of wood, which,
saturated with oil, was instantly in a blaze. Sir Francis Cromarty and
the guide had to exert all their strength to restrain Mr. Fogg, who,
in his generous indignation, appeared about to rush upon the blazing
pile.

But just as Phileas Fogg had succeeded in throwing them off, a change
came o'er the scene. A cry of terror rose from the natives, and they
bowed themselves to the earth in indescribable terror.

The old rajah was not dead after all; there he was standing upright
upon the fiery funeral pile, clasping his young wife in his arms;
ready to leap from amid the smoke into the midst of the
horror-stricken crowd. The fakirs, the guards, the priests were all
seized with superstitious fear, and lay, faces to the earth, not
daring to lift their eyes to behold such a stupendous miracle.

The resuscitated man was thus practically quite close to the place
where Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty were standing with the
guide.

"Let us be off," exclaimed the "spectre."

It was only Passe-partout, who had, unperceived, gained the pyre under
cover of the smoke, and had rescued the young lady from certain death.
It was Passe-partout himself who, thanks to his happy audacity, was
enabled to pass unharmed through the terrified assemblage.

In an instant the four friends had disappeared in the woods, and the
elephant was trotting rapidly away. But very soon the loud cries and
the clamour that arose told them that the trick had been discovered,
and a bullet whizzed by as an additional confirmation. For there upon
the blazing pile lay the rajah's corpse; and the priests quickly
understood that a rescue had been so far successfully accomplished.
They immediately dashed into the forest, accompanied by the soldiers,
who fired a volley; but the fugitives had got away, and in a few
moments more were out of reach of arrows and bullets both.





CHAPTER XIV.

In which Phileas Fogg descends the charming Valley of the Ganges,
without noticing its Beauties.



The rash attempt had proved successful. An hour later, Passe-partout
was laughing at the result of his venturous plan. Sir Francis Cromarty
had shaken hands with him. His master had said, "Well done!" which
from him was high commendation indeed. To which expressions of
approbation, Passe-partout had replied that all the credit of the
affair belonged to his master. His own share in it had been an absurd
notion after all; and he laughed again when he thought that he,
Passe-partout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant of the fire brigade, had
actually played the part of spouse of a beautiful young lady, the
widow of an embalmed rajah!

As for the young lady herself, she was still insensible, and quite
unconscious of all that was passing or had lately passed. Wrapped up
in a railroad-rug, she was now reclining in one of the howdahs.

Meanwhile the elephant, guided with unerring care by the Parsee, was
progressing rapidly through the still gloomy forest. After an hour's
ride, they arrived at an extensive plain. At seven o'clock they
halted. The young lady was still quite unconscious. The guide poured
some brandy down her throat, but she remained insensible for some time
afterwards. Sir Francis Cromarty, who was aware that no serious evil
effects supervened from the inhalation of the fumes of hemp, was in no
way anxious about her.

But if her restoration to consciousness was not a subject of anxiety
to the brigadier, he was less assured respecting her life in the
future. He did not hesitate to tell Mr. Fogg that if Madame Aouda
remained in India, she would sooner or later be taken by her would-be
executioners. Those fanatics were scattered everywhere through the
peninsula, and there was not a doubt that, despite the English police,
the Hindoos would claim their victim, no matter in what presidency she
might endeavour to take refuge. And in support of his assertion, Sir
Francis instanced a similar case which had recently taken place. His
opinion, therefore, was that she would only be in absolute safety when
she quitted India for ever.

Mr. Fogg replied that he would consider the matter, and give his
opinion later.

About ten o'clock the guide announced that they were close to
Allahabad. Then they would be able to continue their journey by the
railroad, and in about four-and-twenty hours they would reach
Calcutta. Phileas Fogg would in that case be in time to catch the Hong
Kong steamer, which was to sail at noon on the 25th of October. The
young woman was safely bestowed in a private waiting-room, while
Passe-partout was hurriedly despatched to purchase various necessary
articles of clothing, etc, for her use. His master supplied the funds
for the purpose.

Passe-partout hastened away, and ran through the streets of
Allahabad--the City of God--one of the most sacred cities of India,
inasmuch as it is built at the junction of the two holy streams of the
Ganges and the Jumna, whose waters attract pilgrims from every part of
the peninsula. We are also told that the Ganges has its source in
heaven, whence, owing to the influence of Bramah, it condescends to
earth.

While he made his purchases diligently, Passe-partout did not forget
to look about him and see something of the city. It was at one time
defended by a splendid fort, which has since become the State prison.
Commerce and business no longer occupy their former places in
Allahabad. Vainly did the worthy European seek for such emporiums as
he would have met in Regent Street; he could find nothing better than
the shop of an old Jew clothesman--a crusty old man he was too. From
him he purchased a tweed dress, a large cloak, and a magnificent
otter-skin pelisse which cost seventy-five pounds. With these garments
he returned in triumph to the railway station.

Mrs. Aouda had by that time partly recovered consciousness. The
influence of the drug administered by the priests was passing away by
degrees, and her bright eyes were once again resuming their soft and
charming Indian expression.

The poet-king, Uçaf Uddaul, celebrating the charms of the Queen of
Ahundnagara, thus sings:

"Her shining locks, parted in the centre of her forehead, set off the
harmonious contours of her white and delicate cheeks, all glowing in
their freshness. Her ebon brows have the shape and power of the bow of
Kama, the god of love; and beneath her silken lashes, her dark eyes
swim in liquid tenderness, as in the sacred lakes of the Himalayas is
reflected the celestial light. Her glittering, even, pearl-like teeth
shine between the smiling lips as the dewdrops in the half-closed
petals of the passion-flower. Her tiny ears, with curves divine, her
small hands, her little feet, tender as the buds of lotus, sparkle
with the pearls of Ceylon and the dazzling diamonds of the famed
Golconda. Her rounded, supple waist, which hand may circle round,
displays the curving outline of the hips, and swelling bosom, where
youth in all its loveliness expands its perfect treasures. Beneath the
tunic-folds the limbs seem formed within a silver mould by the
god-like hand of Vicvarcarnia, the immortal sculptor."

Without exactly comparing Mrs. Aouda with the foregoing description,
it may be stated that she was a most charming woman, in the fullest
acceptation of the term. She spoke English with fluency and purity,
and the guide had only stated the truth when he had averred that the
Parsee lady had been transformed by her education.

The train was about to start; Mr. Fogg was paying the Parsee guide his
hire as agreed--not a farthing in excess. This business-like
arrangement rather astonished Passe-partout, when he recalled all they
owed to the guide's devotion. In fact, the Parsee had risked his life
voluntarily by engaging in the affair at Pillaji, and if he should be
caught by the Hindoos he would very likely be severely dealt with.
There was still Kiouni, however. What was to be done with the
elephant, which had cost so much? But Phileas Fogg had already made up
his mind on that point.

"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been most useful and devoted
to us. I have paid for your services, but not for your devotion. Would
you like to have the elephant? If so, he is yours." The eyes of the
guide sparkled.

"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" he exclaimed.

"Take him," replied Mr. Fogg, "and then I shall still be in your
debt."

"Hurrah!" cried Passe-partout; "take him, my friend. Kiouni is a fine
animal;" and going up to the beast, he gave him some pieces of sugar,
saying, "Here, Kiouni, take this, and this."

The elephant gave vent to some grunts of satisfaction, and then
seizing Passe-partout by the waist with his trunk, he lifted him up.
Passe-partout, not in the least afraid, continued to caress the
animal, which replaced him gently on the ground, and to the pressure
of the honest Kiouni's trunk, Passe-partout responded with a kindly
blow.

Some short time after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and
Passe-partout were seated with Mrs. Aouda, who occupied the best place
in a comfortable compartment of the train, which was speeding towards
Benares. This run of eighty miles from Allahabad was accomplished in
two hours, and in that time the young lady had quite recovered from
the drugs she had inhaled. Her astonishment at finding herself in the
train, dressed in European garments, and with three travellers utterly
unknown to her, may be imagined.

Her companions in the first place showed her every attention, even to
the administration of a few drops of liqueur, and then the general
told her what had happened. He particularly dwelt upon the devotedness
of Phileas Fogg, who had risked his life to save hers, and upon the
termination of the adventure, of which Passe-partout was the hero. Mr.
Fogg made no remark whatever, and Passe-partout looked very bashful,
and declared it was not worth speaking of.

Mrs. Aouda thanked her deliverers effusively by tears at least as much
as by words. Her beautiful eyes even more than her lips expressed her
gratitude. Then her thoughts flew back to the suttee, and as she
remarked she was still on Indian territory, she shuddered with horror.
Phileas Fogg, guessing her thoughts, hastened to reassure her, and
quietly offered to escort her to Hong Kong, where she could remain
till the affair had blown over. This offer the lady moat gratefully
accepted, for--curiously enough--a relative of hers, a Parsee like
herself, was then residing at Hong Kong, and was one of the principal
merchants of that British settlement.

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. Brahmin legends
state that this town is built upon the site of the ancient Casi, which
was at one time suspended between heaven and earth, like Mahomet's
coffin. But in these practical days, Benares, which orientals call the
Athens of India, rests prosaically upon the ground, and Passe-partout
caught many a glimpse of brick houses and numerous clay huts, which
gave the place a desolate appearance, without any local colour.

Sir Francis Cromarty had now reached his destination; the troops he
was to command were encamped a few miles to the north of the town. He
took farewell of Phileas Fogg, wished him every success, and expressed
a hope that he would continue his journey in a more profitable and
less original manner. Mr. Fogg gently pressed his companion's hand.
Mrs. Aouda was more demonstrative; she could not forget what she owed
to Sir Francis Cromarty. As for Passe-partout, he was honoured with a
hearty shake of the general's hand, and was much impressed thereby. So
they parted.

From Benares the railway traverses the valley of the Ganges. The
travellers had many glimpses of the varied country of Behar, the hills
covered with verdure, and a succession of barley, wheat, and com
fields, jungles full of alligators, neat villages, and thick forests.
Elephants and other animals were bathing in the sacred river, as were
also bands of Hindoos of both sexes, who, notwithstanding the advanced
season of the year, were accomplishing their pious ablutions. These
devotees were declared enemies of Buddhism, and were strict Brahmins,
believing in Vishnu, the sun god; Shiva, the personification of
nature; and Brahma, the head of priests and rulers. But how do Brahma,
Shiva, and Vishnu regard India, now completely Anglicised, with
hundreds of steamers darting and screaming along the holy waters of
the Ganges, frightening the birds and beasts and faithful followers of
the gods dwelling along the banks?

The landscape passed rapidly by, and was occasionally hidden by the
stream. The travellers could now discern the fort of Chunar, twenty
miles south-west of Benares; then Ghazipore and its important
rose-water manufactories came in sight; then they caught a glimpse of
the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, which rises on the left bank of the
river; then the fortified town of Buxar; Patna, the great commercial
city and principal opium-market of India; Monghir, an European town,
as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its foundries, factories,
and tall chimneys vomiting forth volumes of black smoke.

Night fell, and still the train rushed on, in the midst of the roaring
and growling of wild animals, which fled from the advancing
locomotive. Nothing could of course then be seen of those wonders of
Bengal, Golconda, the ruins of Gom, and Morschabad, Burdwan, the
ancient capital, Hooghly, Chandernagore, in French territory, where
Passe-partout would have been glad to see his country's ensign.

At last, at seven o'clock in the morning, they reached Calcutta. The
steamer for Hong Kong was not to leave till mid-day, so Phileas Fogg
had still five hours to spare.

According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th
October--twenty-three days from London; and at Calcutta he was as
arranged. He had neither gained nor lost so far. Unfortunately, the
two days he had had to spare he spent as we have seen while crossing
the peninsula; but we must not suppose that Phileas Fogg regretted his
actions for a moment.





CHAPTER XV.

In which the Bag of Bank-notes is lightened by some Thousands of
Pounds more.



Passe-partout was the first to alight from the train; Mr. Fogg
followed, and helped out his fair companion. Phileas had counted upon
proceeding directly to the steamer, so as to settle Mrs. Aouda
comfortably on board. He was unwilling to leave her so long, as she
was on such dangerous ground.

As Mr. Fogg was leaving the station a policeman approached him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg, is it not?"

"It is," replied Phileas.

"And this is your servant?" continued the policeman, indicating
Passe-partout.

"Yes."

"Will you be so good as to follow me?"

Mr. Fogg did not appear in the least degree surprised. The policeman
was a representative of the law, and to an Englishman the law is
sacred. Passe-partout, like a Frenchman, wanted to argue the point,
but the policeman touched him with his cane, and his master made him a
sign to obey.

"This young lady can accompany us?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Certainly," replied the policeman.

Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout were then conducted to a
"palkighari," a sort of four-wheeled carriage, holding four people,
and drawn by two horses. They drove away, and no one spoke during the
twenty minutes' drive.

The carriage passed through the "Black Town," and then through the
European quarter, which, with its brick houses, well-dressed people,
and handsome equipages, presented a marked contrast to the native
town. The carriage stopped before a quiet-looking house, which,
however, did not appear to be a private mansion. The policeman
directed his prisoners--for so we may term them--to alight, and
conducted them to a room, the windows of which were barred.

"At half-past eight," he said, "you will be brought before Judge
Obadiah." He then went out and locked the door.

"So we are prisoners," exclaimed Passe-partout, dropping into a chair.

Mrs. Aouda, turning to Mr. Fogg, said tearfully: "Oh sir, pray do not
think of me any longer. It is on my account that you have been
arrested. It is for having saved me."

Phileas Fogg calmly replied that such a thing was not possible. It was
quite out of the question that they could be arrested on account of
the suttee. The complainants would not dare to present themselves.
There must be some mistake, and Mr. Fogg added that in any case he
would see the young lady safe to Hong Kong.

"But the steamer starts at twelve o'clock," said Passe-partout.

"We shall be on board before that," replied the impassible Fogg.

This was said so decidedly that Passe-partout could not help
muttering, "That's all right then, we shall be on board in time no
doubt." But in his soul he was not so very certain of it.

At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman entered, and
conducted the friends into an adjoining room. This was the court, and
was pretty well filled by Europeans and natives. The three companions
were allotted seats on a bench lacing the magistrate's desk. Judge
Obadiah, followed by the clerk, entered almost immediately. He was a
fat, round-faced man. He took down a wig from a nail and put it on.

"Call the first case," he began, but immediately putting his hand to
his head he said, "This is not my wig."

"The fact is, your honour, it is mine," replied the clerk.

"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can you expect a judge to administer
justice in a clerk's wig?"

The exchange was made. All this time Passe-partout was boiling over
with impatience, for the hands of the clock were getting on terribly
fast towards noon.

"Now, then, the first case," said the judge.

"Phileas Fogg," called out the clerk.

"Here I am."

"Passe-partout."

"Here."

"Good," said the judge.

"For two days we have been awaiting you."

"But of what do you accuse us?" cried Passe-partout impatiently.

"You are going to hear," said the judge quietly.

"Your honour," said Mr. Fogg, "I am a British citizen, and I have the
right--"

"Have you not been properly treated?" asked the judge,

"Oh yes, but--"

"Very well, then. Call the plaintiffs."

As the judge spoke the door opened, and three Hindoo priests were
introduced by an usher.

"It is that, after all," muttered Passe-partout. "Those are the
fellows that wanted to burn our young lady."

The priests stood erect before the judge, and the clerk read aloud the
complaint of sacrilege against Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were
accused of having defiled a place consecrated to the Brahmin religion.

"You hear the charge," said the judge to Phileas Fogg.

"Yes, your honour," replied the accused, looking at his watch, "and I
confess it."

"You admit it?"

"I admit it, and I wait to see what these priests in their turn will
confess respecting their doings at the Pagoda of Pillaji."

The priests looked at each other. They evidently did not understand
the reference.

"Of course," cried Passe-partout impetuously, "at the Pagoda of
Pillaji, where they were about to burn their victim."

The priests looked stupefied, and the judge was almost equally
astonished.

"What victim?" he asked. "To burn whom? In Bombay?"

"Bombay!" exclaimed Passe-partout.

"Of course. We are not talking of the Pagoda of Pillaji but of the
Pagoda of Malabar Hill at Bombay."

"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the shoes of the profaner
of the temple;" and he placed a pair of shoes upon the desk as he
spoke.

"My shoes!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was surprised into this
incautious admission.

One can imagine the confusion which ensued. The incident at the pagoda
in Bombay had been quite forgotten by both master and man, and it was
on account of that that they were both detained.

The detective Fix had seen at once the advantage he could derive from
that _contretemps_; so, delaying his departure for twelve hours, he
consulted with the priests at Malabar Hill and had promised them a
large reward, knowing very well that the English Government would
punish with extreme severity any trespass of such a description. Then
he had sent the priests by train on the track of the offenders. Owing
to the time spent by Phileas Fogg and his party in releasing the young
widow from the suttee, Fix and the Hindoo priests had reached Calcutta
first, but in any case Mr. Fogg and his servant would have been
arrested as they left the train in consequence of a telegraphic
despatch which had been forwarded to Calcutta by the authorities. The
disappointment of Fix may be imagined when he heard on his arrival
that Fogg had not reached Calcutta. He thought that his victim had
stopped at one of the intermediate stations, and Had taken refuge in
the southern provinces. For four-and-twenty hours Fix had restlessly
paced the railway station at Calcutta. What was his joy when that very
morning he perceived his man descending from the train in company with
a lady whose presence he could not account for. He had immediately
directed a policeman to arrest Mr. Fogg, and that is how the whole
party came to be brought before Judge Obadiah.

If Passe-partout had been less wrapped up in his own business he would
have noticed the detective seated in the corner of the court, watching
the proceedings with an interest easy to be understood, for at
Calcutta, as heretofore, he still wanted the warrant to arrest the
supposed thief.

But Judge Obadiah had noticed the avowal, which Passe-partout would
have given the world to recall.

"So the facts are admitted," said the judge.

"They are," replied Fogg coldly.

"Well," continued the judge, "inasmuch as the English law is intended
to protect rigorously, and without distinction, all religions in
India, and as this fellow, Passe-partout, has confessed his crime, and
is convicted of having violated with sacrilegious feet the Pagoda of
Malabar Hill at Bombay during the day of the 20th of October, the said
Passe-partout is condemned to fifteen days' imprisonment and to pay a
fine of three hundred pounds."

"Three hundred pounds!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was scarcely
conscious of anything but the amount of the fine.

"Silence!" shouted the usher.

"And," continued the judge, "seeing that it is not proved that this
sacrilege was connived at by the master, but as he must be held
responsible for the acts and deeds of his servant, the said Phileas
Fogg is sentenced to eight days' imprisonment and a fine of one
hundred and fifty pounds. Usher, call the next case."

Fix, in his corner, rubbed his hands to his satisfaction. Phileas Fogg
detained eight days at Calcutta! This was fortunate, by that time the
warrant would have arrived from England. Passe-partout was completely
dumbfoundered. This conviction would ruin his master. His wager of
twenty thousand pounds would be lost; and all because he, like an
idiot, had gone into that cursed pagoda.

But Phileas Fogg was as cool and collected as if he were in no way
concerned in the matter. At the moment the usher was calling on the
next cause, Phileas rose and said, "I offer bail."

"That is within your right," said the judge.

Fix's blood ran cold; but he revived again, when he heard the judge
say, that as the prisoners were strangers, a bail of a thousand pounds
each would be necessary. So it would cost Mr. Fogg two thousand
pounds, if he did not put in an appearance when called upon.

"I will pay the money now," said that gentleman; and from the bag
which Passe-partout still held, he drew bank-notes for two thousand
pounds, and placed them on the clerk's desk.

"This sum will be restored to you, when you come out of prison," said
the judge. "Meantime you are free on bail."

"Come along," said Phileas Fogg to his servant.

"But I suppose they will give me back my shoes?" said Passe-partout
angrily.

They gave him back his shoes. "They have cost us pretty dearly," he
muttered, "more than one thousand pounds apiece, without counting the
inconvenience to myself;" and with the most hang-dog appearance,
Passe-partout followed his master, who had offered his arm to the
young lady. Fix was still in hopes that his prey would not abandon
such a sum as two thousand pounds; so he followed Mr. Fogg closely.

Phileas took a fly, and the whole party were driven down to the quays.
Half-a-mile from the pier the _Rangoon_ was moored, the "blue-peter"
at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking, so Mr. Fogg had an hour
to spare. Fix saw him put off in a boat, with Mrs. Aouda and his
servant. The detective stamped with rage.

"The rascal!" he exclaimed; "he is going then. Two thousand pounds
sacrificed. He is as reckless as a thief. I will follow him to the end
of the world, if necessary; but at the rate he is going, the stolen
money will soon be spent."

The detective was not far wrong. In fact, since he had left London,
what with travelling expenses, "tips," the money paid for the
elephant, in fines, and in bail, Phileas Fogg had already disbursed
more than five thousand pounds, so that the percentage upon the sum
likely to be recovered by the detective (as he imagined) was growing
small by degrees and beautifully less.





CHAPTER XVI.

Fix does not at all understand what is said to him.



The _Rangoon_, one of the P. and O. Company's vessels, plying between
India, China, and Japan, was an iron screw steamer of about one
thousand seven hundred and seventy tons, with engines of four hundred
horse-power. She was as fast but not so comfortable as the _Mongolia_,
and Mrs. Aouda was scarcely as well accommodated as Phileas Fogg would
have wished. But as the voyage was only three thousand five hundred
miles, that is to say eleven or twelve days' steaming, and the young
lady was not difficult to please, it was no great matter.

During the first portion of the voyage she became well acquainted with
Phileas Fogg, and gave expression to her great gratitude on every
occasion. That phlegmatic gentleman listened to her protestations with
the most unmoved exterior, not an expression, not a movement evidenced
the slightest emotion; but he took care that the young lady should
want for nothing. He saw her at certain hours every day, if not to
talk, at least to listen to her conversation; he exhibited towards her
the greatest politeness, but the politeness of an automaton. Mrs.
Aouda did not know what to think of him, though Passe-partout had
given her a few hints about his eccentric master, and had told her of
the wager about going round the world. Mrs. Aouda had rather ridiculed
the idea, but after all did she not owe him her life? And Mr. Fogg
would not lose by being regarded through the glasses of gratitude.

Mrs. Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's explanation of her past
history. She was, in fact, of the highest native caste.

Many Parsee merchants had made great fortunes in cotton in India. One
of them, Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, has been made a baronet by the
English Government, and Mrs. Aouda was connected with this personage,
who was then living in Bombay. It was a cousin of his whom she hoped
to join at Hong Kong, and with whom she trusted to find protection.
She could not say whether she would be received or not; but Mr. Fogg
told her not to trouble herself, as all would come mathematically
square. These were the words he used. It was uncertain whether the
young lady quite understood him. She fixed her great eyes--"those eyes
as limpid as the sacred lakes of the Himalayas"--upon him; but Mr.
Fogg was as impassive as ever, and did not show any disposition to
throw himself into those lakes.

The first portion of the voyage passed very pleasantly. Everything was
favourable. The _Rangoon_ soon sighted the great Andaman, with its
picturesque mountain called Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred
feet high, a landmark for all sailors. They skirted the coast, but
they saw none of the inhabitants. The appearance of the islands was
magnificent. Immense forests of palm, teak, and gigantic mimosas
(tree-ferns), covered the foreground of the landscape, while at the
back rose the undulating profile of the hills. The cliffs swarmed with
that species of swallows which build the edible nests so prized in
China.

But the islands were soon passed, and the _Rangoon_ rapidly steamed
towards the Straits of Malacca, which give access to the Chinese Sea.

Now what is Fix doing all this time? Having left instructions for the
transmission of the warrant to Hong Kong, he had embarked on board the
_Rangoon_ without being perceived by Passe-partout, and was in hopes
to be able to keep out of sight until the steamer should have reached
her destination. In fact, it would be difficult to explain his
presence on board without awakening the suspicions of Passe-partout,
who thought him in Bombay. But fate obliged him to resume acquaintance
with the lad, as we shall see later.

All the aspirations and hopes of the detective were now centred in
Hong Kong, for the steamer would not stop at Singapore long enough for
him to do anything there. It was at Hong Kong that the arrest must be
made, or the thief would escape, and, so to speak, for ever.

Hong Kong, in fact, was English territory, but the last British
territory which they would see on the route. Beyond that, China,
Japan, and America would offer an almost secure asylum to Mr. Fogg. If
they should find the warrant of arrest at Hong Kong, Fix could hand
Fogg over to the local police, and have done with him. But after
leaving the island a simple warrant would not be sufficient; a warrant
of extradition would be necessary, which would give rise to delays of
all kinds, and of which the criminal might take advantage and escape;
so if he did not arrest him at Hong Kong, he might give up the idea
altogether.

"Now," said Fix to himself, "either the warrant will be at Hong Kong,
and I shall arrest my man, or it will not be there; and this time I
must delay his departure at any cost. I have failed both at Bombay and
Calcutta, and if I make a mess of it at Hong Kong, my reputation is
gone. I must succeed, at any cost; but what means shall I adopt to
stop him if the worst comes to the worst?"

Fix then, as a last resource, made up his mind to tell Passe-partout
everything, and what sort of a man his master was, for he was not his
accomplice evidently. Passe-partout would no doubt under those
circumstances assist him (Fix). But in any case this was a dangerous
expedient, and one not to be employed except under pressure. A hint
from Passe-partout to his master would upset the whole thing at once.

The detective, therefore, was very much embarrassed, and the presence
of Mrs. Aouda on board gave him more food for thought. Who was this
woman? and how did it happen that she was in Fogg's society? They must
have met between Bombay and Calcutta, but at what place? Was it by
chance, or had he purposely gone to seek this charming woman? for she
was charming no doubt--Fix had seen as much in the court at Calcutta.

He was puzzled, and began to think that perhaps there had been an
elopement. He was certain of it. This idea now took complete
possession of Fix, and he began to think what advantage he could gain
from the circumstance: whether the young lady was married or not,
there was still the elopement; and he might make it so unpleasant for
Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he would not be able to get away by paying
money.

But the _Rangoon_ had to get to Hong Kong first, and could he wait?
for Fogg had an unpleasant habit of jumping from one steamer to
another, and might be far away before anything had been settled. The
thing to do, therefore, was to give notice to the English authorities,
and to signal the _Rangoon_ before she arrived. This was not
difficult, as the steamer stopped at Singapore, and he could telegraph
thence to Hong Kong.

In any case, before taking decisive action, he determined to question
Passe-partout. He knew it was not difficult to make the lad talk, and
Fix decided to make himself known. There was no time to lose, for the
steamer would reach Singapore the following day.

That afternoon, therefore. Fix left his cabin, and seeing
Passe-partout on deck, the detective rushed towards him, exclaiming:

"What, you on board the _Rangoon_?"

"Mr. Fix, is it really you?" said Passe-partout, as he recognised his
fellow voyager of the _Mongolia_. "Why, I left you at Bombay, and here
you are on the way to Hong Kong. Are you also going round the world?"

"No," replied Fix, "I think of stopping at Hong Kong for a few days,
at any rate."

"Ah!" said Passe-partout, "but how is it I have not seen you on board
since we left Calcutta?"

"The fact is I have not been very well, and obliged to stay below. The
Bay of Bengal does not suit me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how is
your master, Mr. Phileas Fogg?"

"Oh, quite well, and as punctual to his time as ever; but Mr. Fix, you
do not know that we have got a young lady with us."

"A young lady?" repeated the detective, who pretended not to
understand what was said.

Passe-partout nodded, and immediately proceeded to give him the
history of the business at the pagoda, the purchase of the elephant,
the suttee, the rescue of Aouda, the judgment of the Calcutta court,
and their release on bail. Fix, who was quite familiar with the last
incidents, pretended to be ignorant of all, and Passe-partout was
quite delighted to have such an interested listener.

"But," said Fix, when his companion had ceased, "does your master wish
to carry this young lady to Europe?"

"By no means, Mr. Fix, by no means. We are simply going to Hong Kong,
to place her under the care of a relative of hers, a rich merchant
there."

"Nothing to be done on that line," said the detective to himself, as
he concealed his disappointment. "Come and have a glass of gin,
monsieur."

"With all my heart, Mr. Fix; the least we can do is to have a friendly
glass to our meeting on board the _Rangoon_."





CHAPTER XVII.

What happened on the Voyage between Singapore and Hong Kong.



After that, Passe-partout and the detective met frequently, but the
latter was very reserved and did not attempt to pump his companion
respecting Mr. Fogg. He only encountered that gentleman once or twice,
for he kept very much in the cabin, attending on Mrs. Aouda, or
engaged in a game of whist.

As for Passe-partout, he began to meditate very seriously upon the
curious chance which had brought Mr. Fix once again on his master's
track, and it certainly was somewhat astonishing. How was it that this
amiable, good-natured gentleman, whom they had met first at Suez, and
on board the _Mongolia_, who had landed at Bombay, where he said he
was going to remain, was now on board the _Rangoon_ bound for Hong
Kong, and, in a word, following Mr. Fogg step by step--that was the
question? It certainly was a most extraordinary coincidence, and what
did Fix want? Passe-partout was ready to wager his Indian shoes, which
all this time he had carefully preserved, that this man Fix would
leave Hong Kong with them, and probably on board the same steamer.

If Passe-partout had worried his head for a hundred years, he never
would have hit upon the real object of the detective. It would never
have occurred to him that Phileas Fogg was being tracked round the
globe for a robbery. But as it is only human nature to find some
explanation for everything, this is how Passe-partout interpreted
Fix's unremitting attention, and after all it was not an unreasonable
conclusion to arrive at. In fact, he made up his mind that Fix was an
agent sent after Mr. Fogg by the members of the Reform Club, to see
that the conditions of the wager were properly carried out.

"That's it," repeated Passe-partout to himself, very proud of his
shrewdness. "He is a spy these gentlemen have sent out. It is scarcely
a gentlemanly thing to do, Mr. Fogg is so honourable and
straightforward. Fancy sending a spy after us! Ah, gentlemen of the
Reform Club, this shall cost you dearly."

Passe-partout, quite delighted with the discovery, determined to say
nothing to his master on the subject, lest he should be very justly
offended at his opponents' distrust, but he determined to chaff Fix at
every opportunity without betraying himself.

On Wednesday, the 30th of October, the _Rangoon_ entered the Straits
of Malacca, which separate that peninsula from Sumatra, and at four
o'clock the next morning the _Rangoon_, having gained half a day in
advance of time, anchored at Singapore to coal.

Phileas Fogg having noted the gain in his book, went ashore
accompanied by Mrs. Aouda, who expressed a wish to land for a few
hours.

Fix, who was very suspicious of Fogg's movements, followed without
being noticed; and Passe-partout, who was secretly amused at the
detective's manoeuvres, went about his usual business.

The island of Singapore, though not grand or imposing, still has its
peculiar beauties. It is a park traversed by pleasant roads. A
well-appointed carriage took Phileas Fogg and Aouda through
palm-groves and clove-plantations, various tropical plants perfumed
the air, while troops of monkeys gambolled in the trees; the woods,
also, were not innocent of tigers, and to those travellers who were
astonished to learn why these terrible animals were not destroyed in
such a small island, the reply would be that they swam across from the
mainland.

After a couple of hours' drive, Mr. Fogg and Aouda returned to the
town and went on board ship again, all the time followed by the
detective. Passe-partout was awaiting them on deck; the brave fellow
had purchased some beautiful mangoes, and was enabled to offer them to
Mrs. Aouda, who received them gracefully.

At eleven o'clock the _Rangoon_ resumed her voyage and a few hours
later Malacca had sunk below the horizon. They had about thirteen
hundred miles to traverse to reach Hong Kong, and Phileas Fogg hoped
to get there in six days, so as to be able to catch the steamer for
Yokohama on the 6th of November.

The weather, which had hitherto been very fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. There was a high wind, fortunately favourable,
and a very heavy sea.

The captain set the sails at every opportunity, and the _Rangoon_,
under these circumstances, made rapid progress. But in very rough
weather extra precautions were necessary, and steam had to be reduced.
This delay did not appear to affect Phileas Fogg in the least, but it
worried Passe-partout tremendously. He swore at the captain, the
engineers, and the company, and consigned all concerned to a warmer
climate than Hong Kong. Perhaps the thought of the gas that was still
burning in his room in London may have had something to do with his
impatience.

"You seem in a great hurry to reach Hong Kong," said Fix to him one
day.

"I am," replied Passe-partout. "You think Mr. Fogg is anxious to catch
the steamer for Yokohama?"

"Very anxious indeed."

"You believe in this journey round the world, then?"

"Most decidedly; don't you?"

"Not a bit of it."

"You are a sly one," replied Passe-partout with a wink.

This remark rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Could the
Frenchman have discovered who he was? He did not know what to do. But
how could Passe-partout have found out his real object? And yet in
speaking as he did, Passe-partout must certainly have had some
ulterior motive.

On a subsequent occasion the valet went still further, and said, half
maliciously:

"Well, Mr. Fix, shall we be so unfortunate as to lose the pleasure of
your society at Hong Kong?"

"Well," replied Fix, somewhat embarrassed, "I am not quite sure. You
see--"

"Ah," said Passe-partout, "if you would only come with us I should be
so delighted. An agent of the company cannot stop halfway, you know.
You were only going to Bombay, and here you are almost in China.
America is not far off, and from America to Europe is but a step."

Fix looked very hard at his companion, whose face was perfectly
innocent, and laughed too. But Passe-partout was in the humour for
quizzing, and asked him if he made much by his present business.

"Yes and no," replied Fix, without flinching. "We have our good and
bad times, but of course I do not travel at my own expense."

"Of that I am quite sure," said Passe-partout, laughing.

Fix then returned to his cabin, where he remained deep in thought.
Somehow or another the Frenchman had found him out, but had he told
his master? Was he his accomplice or not? And must the whole thing be
given up? The detective passed many hours considering the matter in
all its bearings, and was as undecided at the end as he had been at
the beginning.

But he retained his presence of mind, and resolved at length to deal
frankly with Passe-partout, if he could not arrest Fogg at Hong Kong.
Either the servant was an accomplice, knowing everything, and he would
fail; or the servant knew nothing, and then his interest would be to
quit the service of the criminal.

Such was the state of affairs, and meantime Phileas Fogg appeared
perfectly indifferent to everything. But nevertheless there was a
disturbing cause not far off, which might be able to produce an
influence on his heart; but no, Mrs. Aouda's charms had no effect, to
the great surprise of Passe-partout.

Yes, it certainly was a matter of astonishment to that worthy man, who
every day read the lady's gratitude to his master in Mrs. Aouda's
eyes. Phileas Fogg must certainly be heartless; brave he was no doubt,
but sympathetic, no. There was no proof that the incidents of the
journey had wakened any feelings in his breast, while Passe-partout
was continually indulging in reverie.

One day he was contemplating the working of the machinery, when a
pitch of the vessel threw the screw out of the water. The steam roared
through the valves, and Passe-partout exclaimed, indignantly: "The
escape valves are not sufficiently charged! We make no way! That is
English all over. Ah! if this were only an American ship--we might
blow up, perhaps, but at any rate we should go quicker meantime."





CHAPTER XVIII.

In which Phileas Fogg, Passe-partout, and Fix severally go each about
his own business.



During the latter part of the voyage the weather was very bad; the
wind was blowing freshly--almost a gale--right in the teeth of the
_Rangoon_, which rolled considerably, and disturbed the passengers
very much.

In fact, on the 3rd and 4th of November there was quite a tempest, and
the _Rangoon_ was obliged to proceed slowly. All the sails were
furled, and the captain was of opinion that they would be twenty hours
late at Hong Kong, or perhaps more, if the storm lasted.

Phileas Fogg gazed at the turbulent sea as coolly as ever; he betrayed
no impatience, even though twenty hours' delay would upset his
calculations, by causing him to lose the Yokohama steamer. It seemed
almost as if the storm were part of his programme, and Mrs. Aouda, who
sympathised with him, was surprised to find him quite unmoved.

But Fix did not look upon these things with unconcern; he was very
glad that the storm had happened, and would have been delighted if the
_Rangoon_ had been obliged to scud before the tempest. All these
delays were in his favour, because they tended towards detaining Mr.
Fogg at Hong Kong; he did not mind the sea-sickness he suffered, and
while his body was tortured, his spirit was exultant.

But Passe-partout was very much annoyed by this bad weather. All had
gone well till now. Everything had appeared to favour his master,
hitherto. Steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam had united
to assist him. Was it possible that the hour of misfortune had struck?
Passe-partout felt as if the wager of twenty thousand pounds was to
come out of his own purse. The storm exasperated him, the wind made
him furious, and he would liked to have whipped this disobedient sea.
Poor fellow! Fix all the time carefully concealed his personal
satisfaction, for had Passe-partout perceived it, Fix would have had a
bad time.

Passe-partout remained on deck as long as the storm lasted, for it was
quite impossible for him to go down below. He assisted the crew in
every way in his power, and astonished the sailors by his activity. He
questioned the captain, the officers, and the men hundreds of times as
to their progress, and got laughed at for his pains. He wanted to know
how long the tempest would last, and was referred to the barometer,
which had evidently not made up its mind to rise; even when
Passe-partout shook it, it would not change its mind.

At last the storm subsided, and the wind veered round to the south,
which was in their favour. Passe-partout regained his serenity as the
weather improved. Sails were once more set on the _Rangoon_ and she
resumed her route at great speed, but she could not make up for lost
time. It could not be helped, however, and land was not signalled till
five o'clock on the morning of the 6th of November. The itinerary of
Phileas Fogg showed that they ought to have arrived the day before, so
they were twenty-four hours behindhand, and the Yokohama steamer would
be missed.

At six o'clock the pilot came on board. Passe-partout longed to ask
the man if the Yokohama steamer had sailed, but he preferred to nurse
his hopes till the last moment. He had confided his troubles to Fix,
who, sly fellow as he was, pretended to sympathise with him, and told
him he would be in time if his master took the next steamer, a remark
which put Passe-partout into a violent rage.

But if he did not like to ask the pilot, Mr. Fogg, having consulted
his Bradshaw, did not hesitate to inquire when the steamer left for
Yokohama.

"To-morrow, at the morning's flood-tide," replied the pilot.

"Ah, indeed," said Mr. Fogg, without manifesting any emotion.

Passe-partout could have embraced the pilot for this information,
while Fix would gladly have twisted his neck.

"What is the name of the steamer?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"The _Carnatic_," replied the pilot.

"Ought she not to have sailed yesterday?"

"Yes; but one of her boilers required repairing, so she will not start
till to-morrow."

"Thank you," replied Mr. Fogg, as he descended quietly to the cabin.

Passe-partout wrung the pilot's hand, exclaiming, "Well, you are a
good fellow."

Probably to this day the pilot has not the slightest idea of what
Passe-partout was driving at. He merely whistled, and went back to his
station on the bridge to guide the steamer through a flotilla of
junks, tankas, and fishing-boats, and a crowd of other vessels which
encumbered the waters of Hong Kong.

At one o'clock the steamer was alongside the quay, and the passengers
went ashore.

On this occasion it must be confessed that fortune had singularly
favoured Phileas Fogg. But for the necessary repairs to her boilers,
the _Carnatic_ would have sailed on the 5th, and the travellers bound
for Japan would have been obliged to wait for eight days for the next
steamer. Mr. Fogg, it is true, was twenty-four hours behindhand, but
this would not seriously affect his journey.

In fact, the steamer which plied from Yokohama to San Francisco was
connected with the Hong Kong boat, and would not start till the
arrival of the latter; so, if he were twenty-four hours late at
Yokohama, he would make it up in crossing the Pacific. At present,
however, Phileas Fogg found himself twenty-four hours late during the
thirty-five days since he quitted London.

The _Carnatic_ would sail the next morning at five o'clock, so Mr.
Fogg had still sixteen hours to devote to Mrs. Aouda. He landed with
the young lady upon his arm, and conducted her to the Club-house
Hotel, where apartments were engaged for her accommodation. Mr. Fogg
then went in search of her relatives, telling Passe-partout to remain
until his return, so that the young lady might not feel herself quite
alone.

Mr. Fogg made his way to the exchange, for he rightly conjectured that
such a rich man as Jejeeb would be most likely heard of in that
direction.

The broker to whom Mr. Fogg addressed himself knew the man for whom he
was inquiring, but he had left China two years before, and gone to
live in Holland, he thought; for he had principally traded with Dutch
merchants.

Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, and informed Mrs. Aouda that her
cousin had left Hong Kong, and had gone to live in Holland.

Mrs. Aouda made no reply for a moment; she passed her hand across her
brow, and appeared lost in thought. At length, in a gentle voice, she
said, "What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"

"Your course is simple enough," he replied; "come on to Europe."

"But I cannot intrude upon you."

"You do not intrude in the least. Passe-partout."

"Sir."

"Go to the _Carnatic_ and secure three berths."

Passe-partout was delighted to think that the young lady was going to
continue her journey with them, for she had been very kind to him. He
accordingly quitted the hotel to execute his master's orders
cheerfully.





CHAPTER XIX.

Showing how Passe-partout took too great an interest in his Master,
and what came of it.



Hong Kong is only an island, which fell into the possession of the
English by the Treaty of Nankin, in 1843. In a few years the
colonising enterprise of the British made of it an important city and
a fine port--Victoria. The island is at the mouth of the Canton river,
sixty miles only from Macao, upon the opposite bank. Hong Kong has
beaten the other port in the struggle for commercial supremacy, and
the greater traffic in Chinese merchandise finds its way to the
island. There are docks, hospitals, wharfs, warehouses, a cathedral, a
Government house, macadamised roads, &c., which give to Hong Kong as
English an aspect as a town in Kent or Surrey, which had by some
accident fallen to the antipodes.

Passe-partout, with his hands in his pockets, wandered towards Port
Victoria, gazing at the people as they passed, and admiring the
palanquins and other conveyances. The city appeared to him like
Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore; or like any other town colonised by
the English.

At the port situated at the mouth of the Canton river was a regular
confusion of ships of all nations, commercial and warlike: junks,
sempas, tankas, and even flower-boats, like floating garden-borders.
Passe-partout remarked several of the natives, elderly men, clothed in
nankeen; and when he went to a barber's to be shaved, he inquired of
the man, who spoke pretty good English, who they were, and was
informed that these men were all eighty years of age, and were
therefore permitted to wear the imperial colour, namely yellow.
Passe-partout, without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.

After being shaved, he went to the quay from which the _Carnatic_ was
to start, and there he found Fix walking up and down, in a very
disturbed manner.

"Ho, ho!" thought Passe-partout, "this does not look well for the
Reform Club;" and with a merry smile he accosted the detective without
appearing to have noticed his vexation. Fix had indeed good reasons
for feeling annoyed. The warrant had not arrived. No doubt it was on
its way, but it was quite impossible it could reach Hong Kong for
several days, and as this was the last British territory at which Mr.
Fogg would touch, he would escape if he could not be detained somehow.

"Well, Mr. Fix," said Passe-partout, "have you decided to come to
America with us?"

"Yes," replied Fix, between his clenched teeth.

"Come along, then," said Passe-partout, laughing loudly; "I knew you
could not leave us. Come and engage your berth."

So they went to the office, and took four places. But the clerk
informed them that the _Carnatic_, having had her repairs completed,
would sail that evening at eight o'clock, and not next morning, as
previously announced.

"Very good," said Passe-partout, "that will suit my master exactly. I
will go and tell him."

And now Fix determined to make a bold move. He would tell
Passe-partout everything. This was perhaps the only way by which he
could keep Phileas Fogg at Hong Kong.

As they quitted the office. Fix offered his companion some
refreshment, which Passe-partout accepted. They saw a tavern close by,
which they entered, and reached a large well-decorated room, at the
end of which was a large camp-bedstead furnished with cushions. On
this lay a number of men asleep. About thirty people were seated at
small tables drinking beer, porter, brandy, or other liquors; and the
majority of drinkers were smoking long pipes of red clay filled with
little balls of opium steeped in rose-water. From time to time a
smoker would subside under the table, and the waiters would carry him
and place him on the bed at the end of the room. There were about
twenty of these stupefied smokers altogether.

Fix and Passe-partout perceived that they had entered a smoking-house,
patronised by those wretched idiots devoted to one of the most
injurious vices of humanity--the smoking of opium, which the English
merchants sell every year to the value of one million four hundred
thousand pounds. The Chinese Government has vainly endeavoured by
stringent laws to remedy the evil, but in vain. The habit has
descended from the rich to the poorest classes, and now opium is
smoked everywhere at all times by men and women, and those accustomed
to it cannot do without it A great smoker can consume eight pipes a
day, but he dies in five years.

It was to one of these dens that Fix and Passe-partout had come for
refreshment; the latter had no money, but accepted his companion's
treat, hoping to return the civility at some future time. Fix ordered
two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman paid considerable
attention, while Fix, more cautious, watched his companion narrowly.
They talked upon many subjects, and particularly respecting Fix's
happy determination to sail in the _Carnatic_; and that put
Passe-partout in mind that he ought to go and inform his master
respecting the alteration in the time of the steamer's departure,
which, as the bottles were empty, he proceeded to do.

"Just one moment," said Fix, detaining him.

"What do you want, Mr. Fix?"

"I want to speak to you seriously."

"Seriously!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "Well, then, let us talk
to-morrow, I have no time to-day."

"You had better wait," said Fix; "it concerns your master."

Passe-partout looked closely at his companion, and as the expression
of his face was peculiar he sat down again.

"What have you got to say to me?" he said.

Fix placed his hand on his companion's arm, and said, in a low voice,
"You have guessed who I am, eh?"

"Rather," replied Passe-partout.

"Well, then, I am going to tell you everything."

"Yes, now that I know everything, my friend. That's pretty good.
However, go on; but first let me tell you that those gentlemen have
sent you on a wild-goose chase."

"It is evident that you do not know how large the sum in question is,"
said Fix.

"Oh yes, but I do," said Passe-partout, "it is twenty thousand
pounds."

"Fifty-five thousand," replied Fix, shaking the Frenchman's hand.

"What!" exclaimed Passe-partout, "has Mr. Fogg risked fifty-five
thousand pounds? Well, then, all the more reason we should not lose
any time," he added, as he rose from his chair.

"Fifty-five thousand pounds," continued Fix, pressing his companion
into his seat again, as a flask of brandy was placed before them; "and
if I succeed I shall get a percentage of two thousand pounds. If you
will assist me I will give you five hundred."

"Assist you!" exclaimed Passe-partout, as he stared wildly at the
detective.

"Yes, assist me to keep Mr. Fogg here for some hours longer."

"What is that you say?" said Passe-partout. "Not content with tracking
my master, do these gentlemen suspect his good face and wish to put
obstacles in his way? I am ashamed of them."

"What are you talking about?" said Fix.

"I say it is a piece of meanness; they might just as well pick Mr.
Fogg's pocket."

"That is just the very thing we want to do."

"Then it is a conspiracy, is it?" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was
getting excited by the brandy which he unconsciously had swallowed, "a
regular conspiracy; and they call themselves gentlemen and friends!"

Fix began to feel very puzzled.

"Friends!" exclaimed Passe-partout, "members of the Reform Club,
indeed! Do you know, Mr. Fix, that my master is an honest man, and
when he has made a bet he wins it fairly?"

"But can you guess who I am?" said Fix, looking steadily at
Passe-partout.

"An agent of the members of the club, whose business it is to hinder
my master; and a dirty job it is, too; so although I have found you
out long ago, I did not like to betray you to Mr. Fogg."

"Then he knows nothing about it," said Fix quickly.

"Nothing," replied Passe-partout, emptying his glass once more.

The detective passed his hand over his eyes and considered what he was
to do. Passe-partout appeared sincere, and this rendered his plan all
the more difficult; he evidently was not his master's accomplice. "He
will, therefore, help me," said Fix to himself.

There was no time to lose. At any risk Fogg must be stopped at Hong
Kong.

"Listen," said Fix, in a sharp tone; "I am not what you think me."

"Bah!" said Passe-partout.

"I am a detective, sent out by the police authorities in London."

"You a detective?"

"Yes, I can prove it. Here is my authority;" and drawing a paper from
his pocketbook, he exhibited his instructions to the stupefied
Passe-partout, who was unable to utter a word.

"This wager of Mr. Fogg's," continued Fix, "is merely to blindfold you
and his colleagues at the Reform Club. He had a motive in securing
your unconscious complicity."

"But why?" said Passe-partout.

"For this reason. On the 28th of last September, the sum of fifty-five
thousand pounds was stolen from the Bank of England, by a person whose
description is fortunately known. That description tallies exactly
with Mr. Fogg's appearance."

"Absurd," exclaimed Passe-partout, striking the table with his fist;
"my master is the most honest man in the world."

"What do you know about it?" replied Fix. "You only entered his
service on the day he left on a mad excursion, without luggage, and
carrying an immense sum in bank-notes; and do you dare to maintain
that he is an honest man?"

"Yes, yes," repeated the other mechanically.

"Do you wish to be arrested as an accomplice?"

Passe-partout clutched his head with both hands; he was stupefied. He
did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg a robber! This
brave, generous man, the rescuer of Aouda, a thief? And yet
circumstantial evidence was strong. Passe-partout did not wish to
believe it. He could not believe in his master's guilt.

"Well, then, what do you want me to do?" he said, with an effort.

"Look here," said Fix: "I have tracked Mr. Fogg so far, but as yet I
have not received a warrant, which I asked to be sent from London. You
must help me to keep your master in Hong Kong."

"But I--"

"If so, I will share with you the reward of two thousand pounds
promised by the bank."

"Never!" replied Passe-partout, who attempted to rise, but fell back
utterly exhausted and stupefied.

"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even if you have told the truth, supposing
my master is the thief you are searching for--which I deny--I have
been, I am still in his service; he is kind and generous to me, and I
will never betray him for all the gold in the world."

"You refuse, then?"

"Absolutely."

"Well, then," said Fix, "forget all I have said. And now let us have a
drink."

"Yes, let us have another glass."

Passe-partout felt that the liquor was overcoming him more and more.
Fix having made up his mind that he must be separated from his master
at any price, determined to finish the matter. On the table were some
pipes of opium. Fix handed one of these to Passe-partout, who took a
few puffs and fell back perfectly insensible.

"At last," muttered Fix, as Passe-partout collapsed. "Mr. Fogg will
not hear of the change of time for the sailing of the _Carnatic_, and
if so, he will have to go without this infernal Frenchman."

Then paying the score, he quitted the tavern.





CHAPTER XX.

Showing how Fix and Fogg come face to face.



While these events, which gravely compromised Mr. Fogg's future, were
passing, that gentleman and Mrs. Aouda were walking through the town.
Since she had accepted Mr. Fogg's escort to England, she wished to
make some purchases for the voyage, for a lady could not travel with a
hand-bag, as a gentleman might do. So she bought some necessary
clothing, etc., and Mr. Fogg overcame all her excuses with his
characteristic generosity.

"It is in my own interest," he invariably replied; "a part of my
programme."

Having purchased what they required, they returned to dinner at the
hotel Mrs. Aouda subsequently retired to rest, leaving Mr. Fogg
reading _The Times_ and _Illustrated News_.

Had Mr. Fogg been a man likely to be astonished at anything, he would
have been surprised at the absence of his servant at bedtime; so
believing that the steamer did not start for Yokohama till the
following morning, he did not trouble himself; but Passe-partout did
not appear when Mr. Fogg rang for him next morning, and then he learnt
that his servant had not come in during the night. Without a word Mr.
Fogg packed his bag, and sent to call Mrs. Aouda and for a palanquin.
It was eight o'clock, and the _Carnatic_ was to sail at high-water at
half-past nine. Mr. Fogg and his companion got into the palanquin and
reached the quay. Then, and not till then, they were informed that the
_Carnatic_ had left the previous evening.

Mr. Fogg, who had made up his mind to find the steamer and the servant
both awaiting him, was obliged to go without either. He showed no
anxiety, merely remarking to Mrs. Aouda, "An incident of travel,
madam, nothing more."

At this moment, a man who had been watching them approached. It was
Fix. He approached Mr. Fogg, and said:

"Were you not one of the passengers on board the _Rangoon_ yesterday,
as well as myself?"

"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly; "but I have not the honour--"

"Excuse me, but I expected to find your servant here."

"Do you know where he is?" asked the young lady quickly.

"What!" exclaimed Fix, in feigned surprise, "is he not with you?"

"No," replied Mrs. Aouda, "he has been absent since yesterday. Perhaps
he has sailed in the _Carnatic_."

"Without you, madam?" said the detective. "You will excuse my
question, but you counted on leaving in that steamer?"

"Yes, sir."

"So did I, madam; and I am terribly disappointed. The fact is, the
_Carnatic_ was ready for sea twelve hours sooner than was expected, and
now we shall have to wait twelve days for another steamer."

Fix was delighted as he said this. In eight days the warrant would
arrive. His chances were good. But his disgust may be guessed when he
heard Fogg say, in his usual calm tone, "I suppose there are other
ships besides the _Carnatic_ in Hong Kong harbour;" and offering his
arm to Mrs. Aouda, he turned away towards the docks.

Fix followed him in a dogged sort of manner. He appeared to be
attached to Fogg by some invisible cord. But fortune had evidently
abandoned Phileas Fogg. For three mortal hours he wandered about the
docks, endeavouring to charter a vessel to take him to Yokohama; but
all the ships were either loading or unloading, and could not go. The
detective's spirits rose again.

But Mr. Fogg was not discouraged. He made up his mind to continue his
search, even if he had to cross to Macao. At length he was accosted by
a sailor.

"Is your honour looking for a boat?"

"Have you a boat ready to sail?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"I have. A pilot-boat, No. 43; the best in the harbour."

"Can she sail fast?"

"She can make eight or nine knots an hour, or more. Would you like to
see her?"

"Yes."

"You will be pleased, I am sure. Is it for a trip that you require
her?"

"Somewhat more than that; for a voyage."

"A voyage?"

"I want you to take me to Yokohama."

The sailor folded his arms and looked steadily at Mr. Fogg. "Is your
honour serious?" he said.

"Yes. I have lost the _Carnatic_, and I must be at Yokohama on the
14th, at latest, to catch the steamer for San Francisco."

"I am very sorry," replied the pilot, "but it is impossible."

"I will give you a hundred pounds a day and a bonus of two hundred
pounds, if you arrive in time."

"Are you in earnest?" asked the pilot.

"Very much so," replied Mr. Fogg.

The pilot took a turn up and down the wharf; he looked out to sea, and
was evidently struggling between his wish to get the money and his
fear of venturing so far. Fix, all this time, was on tenter-hooks.

Mr. Fogg turned to Mrs. Aouda, and asked her if she were afraid.

"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," replied the young lady.

Just then the pilot returned, twirling his hat in his hands.

"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Well, your honour," replied the pilot; "I cannot risk my life, or my
men, or even you in such a voyage, in so small a ship, at this time of
year. Besides, we could not get to Yokohama in time. It is one
thousand six hundred and fifty miles away."

"Only one thousand six hundred," said Mr. Fogg.

"Oh, it is all the same." Fix breathed again. "But," continued the
pilot, "we might manage it in another way."

Fix scarcely dared to breathe.

"How do you mean?" asked Fogg.

"By going to Nagasaki, which is only eleven hundred miles, or to
Shanghai, which is eight hundred. In the latter case we shall be able
to keep close in-shore, and have advantage of the current."

"But," replied Fogg, "I must take the American mail steamer at
Yokohama, and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."

"Well, why not?" replied the pilot. "The _San Francisco_ does not
start from Yokohama; it starts from Shanghai, and only calls at
Yokohama and Nagasaki."

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"Certain."

"And when does she leave Shanghai?"

On the 11th, at seven o'clock in the evening. So we have four days,
which are ninety-six hours; and at the rate of eight knots an hour, if
the wind hold, we shall be able to reach Shanghai in time."

"And when will you be able to start?"

"In an hour. I only want to buy some provisions and bend the sails."

"Well, it is a bargain. Are you the owner?"

"Yes; my name is John Bunsby, owner of the _Tankadere_."

"Would you like something on account?"

"If convenient to your honour."

"Here are two hundred pounds. Sir," continued Fogg, turning to Fix,
"if you would like to take advantage of this opportunity--"

"Thank you, sir," replied Fix. "I was about to beg the favour of you."

"Well, then, we shall be ready in half an hour."

"But what shall we do about the servant?" said Mrs. Aouda, who was
much distressed at Passe-partout's absence.

"I will do all I can for him," replied Fogg; and while they directed
their steps towards the police-office. Fix went on board the
pilot-boat. Phileas left the description of his servant with the
police, and a sum of money to be spent in seeking him. The same
formality was gone through at the French Consulate; and then procuring
their luggage, which had been sent back to the hotel, they went down
to the wharf.

Three o'clock struck; the pilot-boat No. 43 was ready to start. She
was a pretty little schooner, about twenty tons, built for speed, like
a racing-yacht. She was as bright and clean as possible, and Bunsby
evidently took a pride in his little craft. Her masts raked rather.
She carried foresail and the usual sails for a ship of her tonnage.
She could evidently make good way, as indeed she had proved by winning
several prizes.

The crew consisted of the owner and four other men, all well
acquainted with the neighbouring seas, which they scoured in search of
ships wanting pilots. John Bunsby was a man of about five-and-forty,
vigorous and full of decision and energy, calculated to reassure the
most nervous passengers.

Phileas Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went on board, where they found Fix
already installed. The accommodation was not extensive, but everything
was clean and neat.

"I am sorry I have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix.
The latter bowed without replying, for he felt somewhat humiliated in
accepting Mr. Fogg's kindness under the circumstances.

"At any rate," he thought, "if he is a rascal he is a very polite
one."

At ten minutes past three the sails were hoisted, the English flag was
run up to the peak; the passengers took a last look at the quays in
the hope of descrying Passe-partout, but they were disappointed. Fix
was somewhat afraid that some chance might bring the lad whom he had
treated so badly in that direction, and then an explanation would
surely have ensued of a nature by no means satisfactory to the
detective. But the Frenchman did not turn up, and no doubt he was
still under the influence of the opium.

So John Bunsby stood out to sea, and the _Tankadere_, with the wind on
the quarter, went bounding briskly over the waves.





CHAPTER XXI.

Showing how the Owner of the _Tankadere_ nearly lost the Bonus of Two
Hundred Pounds.



This voyage of eight hundred miles was one of great risk at that
season of the year in those seas, which are usually very rough,
particularly during the equinoxes, and it was then the beginning of
November.

It would have been very much to the advantage of the owner of the
_Tankadere_ to have gone on to Yokohama, as he was paid so much a day,
but such a voyage would have been extremely rash. It was a risk to go
to Shanghai; still, John Bunsby had confidence in his ship, which
sailed like a bird, and perhaps he was right.

"There is no need for me to urge you to speed," said Fogg to Bunsby,
when they had got out to sea.

"Your honour may depend upon me," replied Bunsby; "I will do all I
can."

"Well, it is your business and not mine, pilot, and I trust you
thoroughly."

Phileas Fogg, standing upright, with his legs stretched apart, was as
steady as a sailor as he gazed over the foaming sea. Mrs. Aouda,
seated aft, was somewhat nervous as she contemplated the ocean. The
sails bellied out overhead like great wings, and the schooner ran
before the wind at a great pace. Night fell. The moon was only in the
first quarter, and her light would soon be quenched beneath the
horizon. Clouds were rising in the east, and already banking up.

The pilot hung out the vessel's lights, an indispensable proceeding,
for collisions were by no means unfrequent, and any such occurrence,
at the speed they were now going, would shatter the gallant little
craft to pieces.

Fix, seated up in the bows, held himself aloof, as he knew Fogg was
not much of a talker; besides, he did not quite like to enter into
conversation with this man whose good offices he had accepted. He
thought of the future, for it now seemed certain that Fogg would not
stop at Yokohama, but would immediately take the steamer for San
Francisco, so as to reach America, where he would be safe. Fogg's plan
seemed to the detective to be very simple.

Instead of embarking in England for the United States, like a common
swindler, Fogg had made a tour three-parts round the globe, so as to
gain the American continent more safely; and once there, he could
enjoy himself comfortably with his spoil. But what could Fix do in the
United States? Should he give up the man? No, certainly not; and until
he had obtained an act of extradition, he would not lose sight of him.
This was his duty, and he would carry it out to the bitter end. There
was one thing, at any rate, to be thankful for, Passe-partout was not
now with his master; and after Fix's confidence imparted to him, it
was very important that the servant should not see his master again in
a hurry.

Phileas Fogg was himself thinking about his servant, who had so
curiously disappeared. But after consideration of the circumstances,
it did not appear improbable that the young man had gone on board the
_Carnatic_ at the last moment. This was also Mrs. Aouda's opinion, for
she deeply regretted the worthy fellow's absence, as she was so deeply
indebted to him. They might, therefore, find him at Yokohama, and if
he were on the _Carnatic_, it would be easy to ascertain the fact.

About ten o'clock the breeze began to freshen, and though it might
have been prudent to take in a reef or two, the pilot, after taking an
observation, let the sails stand, for the _Tankadere_ carried her
canvas well; but everything was prepared to furl the sails in case of
necessity.

At midnight, Phileas Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went below. Fix had already
turned in, but the owner and his crew remained on deck all night.

By sunrise next morning the schooner had made a hundred miles. The log
showed they were going about eight or nine knots an hour. They were
still carrying on, and, if the wind held, the chances were in their
favour. The vessel made her way along the coast all that day. The sea
was not so rough, as the wind blew off-shore, which was a very
fortunate circumstance for such a small vessel.

About noon the breeze fell a little, and shifted to the south-east.
The owner spread his topsails, but furled them again, as the breeze
showed signs of freshening once more.

Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda did not suffer from sea-sickness, and ate with
a good appetite, and Fix, invited to partake of the meal, was obliged
to accept very unwillingly. He did not like to travel and eat at the
expense of the man he was tracking; but yet he was obliged to eat, and
so he ate.

After dinner he found an opportunity to speak to Mr. Fogg privately.
"Sir," he said--this term scorched his lips, so to speak, and he had
to control himself; his impulse was to arrest this "gentleman"--"sir,"
said he, "it is very good of you to give me a passage; but although I
cannot spend money as freely as you do, I shall be happy to pay my
expenses."

"You need not say anything about that," replied Mr. Fogg.

"But if I insist upon it?"

"No, sir," replied Fogg, in a tone which admitted of no discussion,
"this is included in my general expenses."

Fix bowed, he felt half stifled; and going forward, he sat down and
did not speak for the whole day.

Meantime they were making good progress. John Bunsby was in hopes of
succeeding, and frequently said to Mr. Fogg that "they would be in
time;" to which Fogg merely replied that "he counted upon it." The
crew, also inspired by the hope of reward, worked hard. Not a sheet
required bracing, not a sail that was not well hoisted, not one
unnecessary lurch could be attributed to the steersman. They could not
have worked the schooner better if they had been sailing a match in
the Royal Yacht Club Regatta.

By the evening the log showed that they had run two hundred and twenty
miles, and Mr. Fogg hoped that when he arrived at Yokohama he would
not have to record any delay in his journal. If so, the only check he
had met with since he left London would not affect his journey.

Towards morning the _Tankadere_ entered the Straits of Fo-kien, which
separate Formosa from the Chinese coasts. The sea was very rough, and
it was difficult to stand on deck. At daybreak the wind freshened
still more, and there was every appearance of a storm. The mercury
rose and fell at intervals. In the south-east the sea rose in a long
swell, which betokened a tempest.

The pilot studied the aspect of the heavens for a long time, and at
last said to Mr. Fogg:

"I suppose I may tell your honour what I think?"

"Of course," replied Fogg.

"Well, then, we are going to have a storm."

"From the north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg calmly.

"From the south. A typhoon is approaching."

"I am glad it is coming from the south, it will help us on."

"Oh, if you look on it in that light," said Bunsby, "I have no more to
say."

The presentiments of Bunsby were fulfilled. During the summer the
typhoon would have been probably dissipated in an electric cascade,
but in the winter it would probably have its course. So the pilot took
his precautions. He took in his sails and set merely the storm-jib,
and waited.

The pilot begged his passengers to go below, but in such a narrow and
confined space the imprisonment was far from agreeable, so none of
them would quit the deck.

About eight o'clock the hurricane, with torrents of rain, burst upon
them. With nothing but the small jib, the _Tankadere_ was almost
lifted out of the water by the tempest. She darted through the sea
like a locomotive at full-speed.

All that day the vessel was hurried towards the north, borne on the
top of the monstrous waves. Time after time she was almost engulfed,
but the careful steering of the pilot saved her. The passengers were
drenched with spray, but took it philosophically. Fix grumbled, no
doubt; but the brave Aouda regarded her companion and admired his
coolness, while she endeavoured to imitate it. As for Phileas Fogg, he
took it as a matter of course.

Hitherto the _Tankadere_ had been sailing northwards, but towards
evening, as the pilot had feared, the wind veered round to the
north-west The schooner plunged terribly in the trough of the sea, and
it was fortunate she was so solidly built. The tempest increased if
possible at night, and John Bunsby began to feel anxious; he consulted
his crew as to what they should do.

He then came to Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think we should make for one of
the ports hereabouts."

"So do I," replied Fogg.

"Yes," said the pilot; "but which?"

"I only know of one," said Fogg quietly.

"And that is--?"

"Shanghai."

This reply took the pilot aback rather at first; but recognising Mr.
Fogg's firmness, he said: "Yes, your honour is right, Shanghai be it."

So they kept their course.

The night was fearful; it seemed a miracle that the little vessel did
not founder. Twice she was caught in the trough of the sea, and would
have gone down, but that everything was let fly. Mrs. Aouda was
knocked about, and more than once Mr. Fogg rushed to her assistance,
though she made no complaint.

At daybreak the storm was still raging, but suddenly the wind backed
to the south-east. This was a change for the better, and the
_Tankadere_ again proceeded on her course, though the cross-sea gave
her some tremendous blows, sufficient to have crushed a less solid
craft. The coast was occasionally visible through the mist, but not a
sail was in sight.

At noon the weather cleared a little, the gale had blown itself out,
and the travellers were enabled to take some rest. The night was
comparatively quiet, and the pilot was induced to set a little more
sail, and at day-break next morning John Bunsby was able to declare
that they were less than a hundred miles from Shanghai.

A hundred miles, and only one day to accomplish the distance. On that
evening they ought to be at Shanghai if they wished to catch the
steamer for Yokohama; but for the storm, which had delayed them
several hours, they would then have been within thirty miles of their
destination.

The breeze continued to fall, and the sea went down. All canvas was
spread, and at twelve o'clock the Tankadere was only forty-five miles
from Shanghai. Six hours still remained, and all were afraid they
could not do it. Everyone on board, except Phileas Fogg no doubt, felt
the keenest anxiety. They must maintain a speed of nine knots an hour,
and the wind was falling rapidly, and coming in puffs.

Nevertheless, the schooner was so light and carried such a spread of
canvas, besides being aided by the shore currents, that at six o'clock
Bunsby reckoned they were only ten miles from the Shanghai river. The
town itself was situated about twelve miles higher up.

At seven o'clock they were still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot
swore a formidable oath as he perceived the bonus of two hundred
pounds slipping away from him. He looked at Mr. Fogg; Mr. Fogg was
impassible, although his whole fortune was in the balance.

At this moment a long black funnel, from which a thick train of smoke
was issuing, appeared. This was the American steamer leaving Shanghai
at the proper time.

"Confound it!" cried Bunsby, as he kept the schooner away a point.

"Signal her," said Fogg quietly.

There was a small brass cannon on the forecastle, which was used
during fogs.

This piece was charged to the muzzle, but just as the pilot was going
to fire, Phileas said:

"Hoist your flag."

The ensign was run up half-mast. This was a signal of distress, and
they hoped that the steamer would see it and heave-to to assist them.

"Fire!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg.

And the report of the little cannon immediately boomed over the sea.





CHAPTER XXII.

Showing how Passe-partout finds out that, even at the Antipodes, it is
prudent to have Money in his Pocket.



The _Carnatic_, bound for Japan, left Hong Kong on the 7th of
November. Two cabins were unoccupied--they had been engaged by Mr.
Phileas Fogg. The following morning the sailors were astonished to
perceive a dishevelled, half-stupefied figure emerge from the
fore-cabin and sit down on deck.

This passenger was Passe-partout, and this is what had happened:

Soon after Fix had left the opium-tavern, two waiters had laid
Passe-partout upon the couch reserved for smokers; three hours later
Passe-partout, haunted by one idea, woke up and struggled against the
stupefying influence of the drug. The thought of his unfulfilled
duties assisted him to shake off his torpor. He left the den of
drunkenness, and guiding himself by the walls, he staggered on, crying
out, as in a dream: "The _Carnatic_, the _Carnatic_!"

The steamer was alongside the wharf, ready to start. Passe-partout had
but a few paces to traverse; he rushed across the gangway, and fell
senseless on the deck just as the paddles began to revolve. The
sailors, accustomed to this sort of thing, took him down to the
fore-cabin, and when he awoke he was fifty miles from Hong Kong.

This is how he found himself on board the _Carnatic_, inhaling the
sea-air, which sobered him by degrees. He began to collect his
thoughts, which was no easy matter, but at length he was able to
recall the occurrences of the day before--Fix's confidence and the
opium-smoking, etc.

"The fact is," he thought, "I have been very tipsy. What will Mr. Fogg
say? At any rate, I have not missed the steamer, and that is the
principal thing;" then he thought of Fix. "As for him," he muttered,
"I trust he has not dared to follow us on board this ship, as he said.
A detective tracking my master, and accusing him of robbing the Bank
of England! Bosh! he is no more a robber than I am an assassin."

Now, was he to tell all this to his master? Would it not be better to
wait till they all reached London, and when the detective had followed
them all round the world, to have a good laugh at him? This was a
point to be considered. The first thing was to find Mr. Fogg and ask
his pardon.

Passe-partout accordingly got up; the sea was rough, and the ship
rolled considerably. It was with some difficulty he reached the
quarterdeck, but could not see anyone at all like his master or Mrs.
Aouda.

"All right," he thought, "the lady is not up yet, and Mr. Fogg is
probably playing whist as usual."

Passe-partout accordingly went down to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not
there. All he could do now was to ask the purser for his master's
cabin. That individual replied that he knew no passenger by the name
of Fogg.

"Excuse me," said Passe-partout, "he is a tall, cool, quiet-looking
gentleman, and is accompanied by a young lady."

"There is no young lady on board," said the purser. "However, here is
the passenger-list, and you can see for yourself."

Passe-partout did so. His master's name was not entered.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he said: "Am I on the
_Carnatic_?"

"Yes," replied the purser.

"On the way to Hong Kong?"

"Yes, decidedly."

Passe-partout for the moment was afraid he had got on the wrong ship,
but if he was on the _Carnatic_ it was evident his master was not.

Passe-partout fell back on a chair. He was thunder-struck. All at once
the light broke in upon his mind; he remembered that the hour of the
ship sailing had been altered, that he ought to have told his master,
and he had not done so. It was therefore his fault that they had
missed the vessel.

His fault no doubt, but still more the fault of that traitor who had
endeavoured to keep his master at Hong Kong, and had made him
(Passe-partout) tipsy. He saw it all now. His master was ruined,
arrested, and imprisoned perhaps. Passe-partout was furious. Ah, if
Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of accounts there
would be!

Passe-partout by degrees recovered his composure, and began to look
things in the face. He was on his route to Japan, at any rate, but he
had no money in his pocket, and this was not a pleasant reflection. He
literally did not possess a penny. Fortunately his passage had been
paid, so he had five or six days to make up his mind. He ate
accordingly for the whole party, and as if there was nothing to be got
to eat when he reached Japan.

The _Carnatic_ entered the harbour of Yokohama on the morning tide of
the 13th, and came alongside the quay, near the Custom House, amidst a
crowd of ships of every nationality.

Passe-partout went on shore to this curious land without any
enthusiasm; he had nothing to do but to wander aimlessly through the
streets. He first found himself in a thoroughly European quarter of
the town, with houses ornamented with verandahs and elegant
peristyles. This portion of the town occupied all the space between
the promontory of the Treaty and the river, and included docks and
warehouses, with many streets and squares. Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta, were a crowd of Americans, English, Chinese, and Dutch
merchants ready to buy or sell almost anything, and Passe-partout felt
as strange amongst them as a Hottentot might have done.

He had one resource at any rate, he could apply to the French or
English consuls; but he shrank from telling his adventures, which were
so intimately connected with his master. So before doing so, he
thought he would try every other chance for a livelihood.

After traversing the European quarter, he entered the Japanese
district, and made up his mind to push on to Yeddo if necessary.

The native quarter of Yokohama is called Benter, after the sea-goddess
worshipped on the neighbouring islands. Here he noticed beautiful
groves of fir and cedar; sacred gates of peculiar construction;
bridges, enclosed by bamboos and reeds; and temples, surrounded by
immense and melancholy-looking cedars, wherein Buddhist priests and
votaries of Confucius resided. There were long streets with crowds of
infants, who looked as if they were cut out of Japanese screens, and
who were playing with bandy-legged poodles, and with yellow cats
without tails, of a very lazy and very affectionate disposition.

The streets were crowded with people passing and repassing: priests,
policemen, custom-house officers, and soldiers--the Mikado's guard, in
silken doublets and coats of mail, as well as other soldiers of all
descriptions; for in Japan the army is as much regarded as it is
despised in China. There were friars, pilgrims with long robes, and
civilians with long black hair, large heads, long waists, thin legs,
and short of stature; with complexions, some copper-colour, some pale,
but never yellow like the Chinese, from whom the Japanese differ
essentially. Amongst the carriages, the palanquins, the barrows with
sails, bamboo litters, he noticed many very pretty women moving about
with tiny steps, on tiny feet, and shod with canvas shoes, with straw
sandals and wooden clogs. They appeared to have small eyes, fiat
chests, black teeth, according to fashion; but wearing gracefully the
national robe called "kirimon," a sort of dressing-gown, crossed with
a silk scarf and tied behind in a large knot, a mode which Parisian
ladies have borrowed from the Japanese.

Passe-partout wandered about in the crowd for some hours, looking at
the shops, at the glittering jewellers' establishments; the
restaurants, which he could not enter; the tea-houses, where they
drank "saki," a liquor made from the fermentation of rice; and
comfortable-looking tobacco-shops, where they smoked, not opium, which
is almost unknown in Japan, but a fine tobacco. Thence he went on into
the fields amongst the rice-plantations; there were flowers of all
sorts, giving forth their last perfumes--beautiful camellias, not on
bushes, but on trees; and bamboo enclosures, with cherry, plum, and
apple trees, Which the natives cultivate rather for their blossom than
their fruit. On almost every cedar-tree an eagle was perched, and on
the willows were melancholy herons, standing on one leg; and crows,
ducks, hawks, wild geese, and a quantity of cranes, which are looked
upon as sacred by the Japanese, as conferring upon them long life and
happiness.

As he wandered on, Passe-partout noted some violets amid the grass.
"Good," he said, "here is my supper;" but he found they were
scentless.

"No chance there," he thought.

Certainly, as a precaution, he had taken care to have a good meal
before he left the _Carnatic_, but after walking a whole day, he felt
somewhat hungry. He had already remarked that the butchers' shops
displayed neither mutton, pork, nor kids; and as he knew that it was
forbidden to kill oxen, which are reserved for farming, he concluded
that meat was scarce in Japan. He was not mistaken, but he could have
put up with wild boar even, partridges, quails, fish, or fowl, which
the Japanese eat almost exclusively with rice. However, he kept his
spirits up, and looked forward to a meal next day.

Night fell, and Passe-partout re-entered the native quarter, where he
wandered through the streets in the midst of coloured lanterns,
looking on at the conjurers, and at the astrologers, who had collected
a crowd round their telescopes. Then he wandered back to the harbour,
lighted up by the fishermen's torches.

At length the streets began to get empty, and to the crowd succeeded
the patrols. These officers, in their splendid uniforms and followed
by their attendants, looked like ambassadors; and every time
Passe-partout met one of these parties, he said to himself:

"Good, good; another Japanese embassy going to Europe."





CHAPTER XXIII.

In which Passe-partout's Nose gets immeasurably long.



Next morning, Passe-partout, very tired and very hungry, began to
think that he ought to eat something, and the sooner the better. He
still had his watch, which he could sell, but he would rather die of
hunger than do that; so now or never, he must make use of his
powerful, if not melodious, voice, with which nature had endowed him.
He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to make the
attempt. The Japanese were no doubt fond of music, since they were
always beating cymbals, tomtoms, and drums, and they would no doubt
appreciate European talent.

But perhaps it was somewhat early to start a concert, and the
_dilettanti_, awakened inopportunely, would not, perhaps, pay him in
current coin of the realm. So Passe-partout decided to wait; and
meantime it occurred to him that he might as well change his clothes
for some more in keeping with his present position, and afterwards he
might be able to purchase something to eat.

He immediately set about to carry out the idea, and after a long
search he discovered a dealer in old clothes, with whom he made an
exchange, and left the shop dressed in a Japanese robe and discoloured
turban; but he had some money in his pocket also.

"All right," he thought; "I must only fancy myself at a carnival."

Passe-partout's first care was to enter a quiet-looking tea-house, and
then, with a portion of fowl and some rice, he breakfasted like a man
who had not yet solved the problem as to where dinner was to come
from.

"Now," he thought, after a hearty meal, "I must consider what I am
about. All I can do now is to sell this dress for another still more
Japanesey. I must think of some means of quitting this Country of the
Sun as quickly as possible, and I shall not have a very pleasant
recollection of it."

He accordingly went to look at the steamers about to sail to America,
for he intended to offer himself as a cook or steward, in exchange for
his passage and food. Once at San Francisco he would manage to get on.
The important thing was to cross the ocean. He was not the man to
think about a thing very long, so he went at once to the docks; but
his project, which had appeared so simple in idea, was not so easy to
execute. What need was there for a cook or steward on board an
American mail-boat? And how could they trust him in his present
costume? What reference or recommendation could he offer?

As he was turning these questions over in his mind his gaze fell upon
a placard, which a circus clown was carrying through the streets. The
notice was in English, and read as follows:



   THE
   HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR'S TROUPE
   OF
   JAPANESE ACROBATS.

   POSITIVELY THE LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR
   DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA,

   OF THE

   LONG - NOSES - LONG - NOSES.

   _Under the Special Patronage of the God Tingou._

   GREAT ATTRACTION!



"The United States of America!" exclaimed Passe-partout; "that suits
me all round."

He followed the "sandwich-man," and was soon in the Japanese quarter
once again. In about a quarter of an hour they stopped before a large
hut, adorned with flags, upon which a troupe of jugglers were
depicted, without any attempt at perspective.

This was the establishment of the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, a sort of
Barnum, a director of a troupe of acrobats and jugglers, who were
giving their last representations, prior to their departure to the
United States. Passe-partout entered and asked for the proprietor. Mr.
Batulcar appeared in person.

"What do you want?" he said to Passe-partout, whom he took for a native.

"Do you need a servant, sir?" asked Passe-partout.

"A servant!" echoed the Barnum, as he stroked his beard; "I have two,
obedient and faithful, who have never left me, and serve me for
nothing but nourishment; and here they are," he added, as he extended
his brawny arms, on which the great veins stood out like whipcord.

"So I can be of no use to you, then?"

"Not the least."

"The devil! It would have been very convenient if I could have sailed
with you."

"Ah, yes," said the Honourable Batulcar; "you are just about as much a
Japanese as I am a baboon, I guess. What are you dressed up like that
for?"

"One is obliged to dress as one can."

"That's a fact. You are a Frenchman, ain't you?"

"Yes; a Parisian."

"Then I suppose you know how to make grimaces?"

"Well," replied Passe-partout, somewhat vexed that his nationality
should provoke such a question. "It is true that we Frenchmen do know
how to make grimaces, but no better than Americans."

"That's so. Well, if I cannot take you as a servant I can engage you
as a clown. You see, my lad, this is how it is: in France they exhibit
foreign clowns, and in foreign countries French clowns."

"I see."

"You are pretty strong, I suppose?"

"More particularly when I get up after dinner."

"And you know how to sing?"

"Yes," replied Passe-partout, who at one time had sung in the street
concerts.

"But can you sing standing on your head with a top spinning on the
sole of your left foot, and a sword balanced on your right foot?"

"Something of that sort," replied Passe-partout, who recalled the
acrobatic performances of his youth.

"Well, that is the whole business," replied the Honourable Mr.
Batulcar.

And the engagement was ratified there and then.

At length Passe-partout had found something to do. He was engaged to
make one of a celebrated Japanese troupe. This was not a high
position, but in eight days he would be on his way to San Francisco.

The performance was advertised to commence at three o'clock, and
although Passe-partout had not rehearsed the "business," he was
obliged to form one of the human pyramid composed of the "Long-Noses
of the God Tingou." This was the great attraction, and was to close
the performance.

The house was crowded before three o'clock by people of all races,
ages, and sexes. The musicians took up their positions, and performed
vigorously on their noisy instruments.

The performance was very much the same as all acrobatic displays; but
it must be stated that the Japanese are the cleverest acrobats in the
world. One of them, with a fan and a few bits of paper, did the
butterfly and flower trick; another traced in the air with the smoke
of his pipe a compliment to the audience; another juggled with some
lighted candles which he extinguished successively as they passed his
mouth, and which he relit one after the other without for a moment
ceasing his sleight-of-hand performances; another produced a series of
spinning-tops which, in his hands, played all kinds of pranks as they
whirled round--they ran along the stems of pipes, on the edges of
swords, upon wires, and even on hairs stretched across the stage; they
spun round crystal goblets, crossed bamboo ladders, ran into all the
comers of the stage, and made strange music, combining various tones,
as they revolved. The jugglers threw them up in the air, knocked them
from one to the other like shuttlecocks, put them into their pockets
and took them out again, and all the time they never ceased to spin.

But after all the principal attraction was the performance of the
"Long-Noses," which has never been seen in Europe.

These "Long-Noses" were the select company under the immediate
patronage of the god Tingou. Dressed in a costume of the Middle Ages,
each individual wore a pair of wings; but they were specially
distinguished by the inordinate length of their noses and the uses
they made of them. These noses were simply bamboos from five to ten
feet long, some straight, some curved, some ribbed, and some with
warts painted on them. On these noses, which were firmly fixed on
their natural ones, they performed their acrobatic feats. A dozen of
these artists lay upon their backs, while their comrades, dressed to
represent lightning-conductors, leaped from one to the other of their
friends' noses, performing the most skilful somersaults.

The whole was to conclude with the "Pyramid," as had been announced,
in which fifty "Long-Noses" were to represent the "Car of Juggernaut."
But instead of forming the pyramid on each other's shoulders, these
artistes mounted on each others noses. Now one of them, who used to
act as the base of the car, had left the troupe, and as only strength
and adroitness were necessary for the position, Passe-partout had been
selected to fill it on this occasion.

That worthy fellow felt very melancholy when he had donned his
costume, adorned with parti-coloured wings, and had fixed his six-foot
nose to his face; but, at any rate, the nose would procure him
something to eat, and he made up his mind to do what he had to do.

He went on the stage and joined his colleagues; they all lay down on
their backs, and then another party placed themselves on the long
noses of the first, another tier of performers climbed up on them,
then a third and a fourth; and upon the noses a human monument was
raised almost to the flies.

Then the applause rose loud and long. The orchestra played a deafening
tune, when suddenly the pyramid shook, one of the noses at the base
fell out, and the whole pyramid collapsed like a house of cards!

It was all owing to Passe-partout. Clearing himself from the scramble,
and leaping over the footlights, without the aid of his wings, he
scaled the gallery, and fell at the feet of one of the spectators,
crying out, as he did so, "Oh my master, my master!"

"You!"

"Yes, it is I."

"Well then, under those circumstances you had better go on board the
steamer."

So Mr. Fogg, Aouda, who accompanied him, and Passe-partout hastened
out of the theatre. At the door they met the Honourable Mr. Batulcar,
who was furious, and demanded damages for the breaking of the
"Pyramid." Mr. Fogg quickly appeased him by handing him a roll of
notes.

At half-past six, the appointed hour for the sailing of the vessel,
Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout, who still wore his wings and
long nose, stepped upon the deck of the American mail-steamer.





CHAPTER XXIV.

In which the Pacific Ocean is crossed.



The reader will easily guess what happened at Shanghai. The signals
made by the _Tankadere_ were perceived by the mail-steamer, and soon
afterwards, Phileas Fogg having paid the price agreed upon, as well as
a bonus of five hundred and fifty pounds, he and his party were soon
on board the steamer.

They reached Yokohama on the 14th, and Phileas Fogg, leaving Fix to
his own devices, went on board the _Carnatic_, where he heard, to
Aouda's great delight, and probably to his own though he did not
betray it, that a Frenchman named Passe-partout had arrived in her the
day before.

Mr. Fogg, who was obliged to leave for San Francisco that very
evening, immediately set about searching for his servant. To no
purpose was it that he inquired at the Consulate or walked about the
streets, and he gave up the search. Was it by chance or presentiment
that he visited Mr. Batulcar's entertainment? He would not certainly
have recognised his servant in his eccentric dress, but Passe-partout
had spied his master out. He could not restrain a movement of the
nose, and so the collapse had occurred.

All this Passe-partout learnt from Mrs. Aouda, who also told him how
they had come from Hong Kong with a certain Mr. Fix.

Passe-partout did not even wink at the name of Fix, for he thought the
moment had not yet come to tell his master what had passed; so in his
recital of his own adventures, he merely said that he had been
overtaken by opium.

Mr. Fogg listened coldly to his excuses, and then lent him money
sufficient to obtain proper clothes. In about an hour he had got rid
of his nose and wings, and was once more himself again.

The steamer in which they were crossing was called the _General
Grant_, and belonged to the Pacific Mail Company. She was a
paddle-steamer of two thousand five hundred tons, had three masts, and
at twelve knots an hour would not take more than twenty-one days to
cross the ocean; so Phileas Fogg was justified in thinking that he
would reach San Francisco on the 2nd of December, New York on the
11th, and London on the 20th, so gaining several hours on the fatal
21st.

Nothing of any consequence occurred on the voyage. The Pacific fully
bore out its name, and was as calm as Mr. Fogg himself. Mrs. Aouda
felt more and more attached to this taciturn man by even stronger ties
than gratitude. She was more deeply impressed than she was aware of,
and almost unconsciously gave herself up to emotion, which, however,
did not appear to have any effect upon Mr. Fogg. Besides, she took the
greatest interest in his projects--anything that threatened to
interfere with his plans disquieted her extremely. She frequently
consulted with Passe-partout, and he, guessing how deeply she was
interested, praised his master all day long. He calmed her
apprehensions, insisted that the most difficult part of the journey
had been accomplished, that they would be soon in civilised countries,
and the railway to New York and the transatlantic steamer to Liverpool
would bring them home within their time.

Nine days after leaving Yokohama, Mr. Fogg had traversed just exactly
one half of the globe. On the 23rd of November this _General Grant_
passed the 180th meridian, the antipodes of London. Of the eighty days
he had had, he had, it is true, spent fifty-two, and only twenty-eight
remained; but it must be remarked that if he had only gone halfway,
according to the difference of meridians, he had really accomplished
two-thirds of his journey. He had been obliged to make long detours;
but had he followed the 50th parallel, which is that of London, the
distance would only have been twelve thousand miles, whereas by the
caprices of locomotion he had actually been obliged to travel
twenty-six thousand miles, of which he had now finished seventeen
thousand five hundred. But now it was all plain sailing, and Fix was
not there to interfere with him.

It also happened on that day that Passe-partout made a great
discovery. It may be remembered that he had insisted on keeping London
time with his famous family watch, and despised all other timekeepers
on the journey. Now on this day, although he had not touched it, his
watch agreed exactly with the ship's chronometer. His triumph was
complete, and he almost wished Fix had been there that he might crow
over him.

"What a lot of falsehoods the fellow told me about the meridians, the
sun, and the moon. Nice sort of time we should keep if we listened to
such as he. I was quite sure that the sun would regulate itself by my
watch one of these days."

Passe-partout did not know that if his watch had been divided into the
twenty-four hours like Italian clocks, the hands would now show that
it was nine o'clock in the evening instead of nine o'clock in the
morning--that is to say, the one-and-twentieth hour after midnight,
which is the difference between London time and that at the 180th
meridian. But this Passe-partout would not have acknowledged even if
he understood it, and, in any case, if the detective had been on
board. Passe-partout would have argued with him on any subject.

Now, where was Fix at that moment?

Fix was actually on board the _General Grant_.

In fact, when he reached Yokohama, the detective immediately went to
the English Consulate, where he found the warrant which had come by
the _Carnatic_, on which steamer they thought he himself had arrived.
His disappointment may be guessed, for the warrant was now useless,
and an act of extradition would be difficult to cause Fogg to be
arrested.

"Well," he thought, when his first anger had evaporated, "if the
warrant is no use here it will be in England. The fellow is returning
to his native land, thinking he has put the police off the scent. I
will follow him; but I hope to goodness some of this money will be
left. He must already have spent more than five thousand pounds;
however, the bank can afford it."

So he made up his mind to proceed on the _General Grant_, and was
actually on board when Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda arrived. He was
surprised to recognise Passe-partout in such a dress, but he quickly
went down-stairs to avoid explanation, and hoped, thanks to the number
of passengers, that he would remain unperceived by his enemy. But that
very day he came face to face with Passe-partout.

Passe-partout, without a word, caught him by the throat, and greatly
to the delight of the bystanders, who immediately made bets on the
result, he proved the superiority of the French system of boxing over
the English.

Passe-partout was much refreshed by this exercise. Fix rose in a very
dishevelled condition, and asked his adversary "whether he had quite
finished?"

"For the present, yes."

"Then let me speak to you."

"But--"

"It is all in your master's interest."

Passe-partout seemed conquered by the detective's coolness, and
followed Fix to the fore part of the ship.

"You have given me a licking," said the detective. "So far, so good. I
expected it; but just now you must listen to me. Hitherto I have been
playing against Mr. Fogg. I am now in his favour."

"Oh, then you believe him honest at last?"

"By no means. I think he is a thief. Be quiet, hear me out. So long as
Mr. Fogg was on British territory, I did all I could to detain him
till the warrant for his arrest arrived. It was I who put the Bombay
priests on your track. I hocussed you at Hong Kong. I separated you
from your master, and caused him to lose the Yokohama steamer."

Passe-partout clenched his fists as he listened.

"But now," continued Fix, "Mr. Fogg appears likely to return to
England. All right, I will follow him. But in future I will do as much
to keep his way clear, as I have done to prevent his progress. I have
changed my game, and have done so for my own interest; your interest
is the same as mine, for it will be only in England that you will ever
find out whether your master is honest or not."

Passe-partout listened attentively, and felt that Fix meant what he
said.

"Are we friends?" asked Fix.

"Friends, no; allies, yes; but only to a certain point, for at the
least sign of treason, I will twist your neck."

"That's a bargain," said the detective calmly.

Eleven days afterwards, viz. on the 3rd of December, the _General
Grant_ entered the Golden Gate of San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a day.





CHAPTER XXV.

A Glimpse of San Francisco. A Political Meeting.



At seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Fogg and his companions landed in
America, or rather upon the floating pier at which the steamers load
and unload. There they mingled with ships and steamers of all
nationalities, and steam ferry-boats with two or three decks which
performed the service on the Sacramento and its affluents.

Passe-partout was so delighted to reach America, that he thought it
necessary to execute one of his most active leaps. But when he landed
upon the quay, he found the planks worm-eaten, and he went through
them. His cry of alarm frightened all the birds which perched upon
these floating quays.

Mr. Fogg's first care was to ascertain when the next train left for
New York. It started at six o'clock, so they had a whole day before
them. Then hiring a carriage, they drove to the International Hotel.
From his position on the box of the vehicle, Passe-partout observed
with great curiosity the wide streets, the rows of lofty houses, the
churches and other places of worship built in the Anglo-Saxon gothic
style, immense docks, palatial warehouses, innumerable cabs,
omnibuses, and tramway-cars; while Americans, Europeans, Chinese, and
Indians occupied the pathways. San Francisco surprised Passe-partout.
It was no longer the habitation of bandits, incendiaries, and
assassins, who gambled for gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a
knife in the other. This "good time" had passed. The city was now the
hive of commerce. The tower of the city-hall overlooked the labyrinth
of streets and avenues, which crossed each other at right angles,
amongst which verdant squares extended; and the Chinese quarter looked
like an importation from the Celestial Empire in a toy-puzzle.
Sombreros, red shirts, and Indian head-dresses had given way to silk
hats and black coats, and some of the principal streets were lined
with splendid shops, offering the products of the whole world for
sale.

When Passe-partout reached the International Hotel, he could scarcely
recognise that he was not in England. The ground-floor of this immense
building was occupied by a bar, at which free lunch of cold meat,
oyster soup, biscuits and cheese, was always to be had; wine or beer
had to be paid for. The restaurant was comfortable. Mr. Fogg and Mrs.
Aouda sat down to a table, and were waited on by the blackest of
negroes.

After breakfast, Phileas Fogg, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda, went to the
English Consul to have his passport _viséd_. On the pavement he met
his servant, who wanted to know whether he should not purchase some
revolvers and rifles. Passe-partout had heard of Sioux and Pawnees,
who are in the habit of stopping the trains. His master replied that
the precaution was needless, but permitted him to do what he pleased
in the matter, and pursued his way to the Consulate.

He had not gone very far when, of course by the merest chance, he met
Fix. The detective appeared very much astonished. Was it possible that
he and Mr. Fogg had crossed in the same steamer, and never met? Fix
professed himself honoured at meeting the gentleman to whom he owed so
much. Business called him to Europe, and he would be proud to travel
in such agreeable company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his, and thereupon Fix, who
had made up his mind not to lose sight of the other, requested
permission to accompany Mr. Fogg in his walks about the city, which
was granted.

So the three travellers soon found themselves in Montgomery Street,
and on the outskirts of a great crowd. People were everywhere looking
on and shouting, going about carrying large printed bills; flags, and
streamers were waving, and everyone was calling out "Hurrah for
Camerfield!" or "Hurrah for Maudiboy!"

It was a political meeting, at least Fix thought so; and said to Mr.
Fogg that it might perhaps be better not to mingle with the crowd for
fear of accidents.

Mr. Fogg agreed, and added "that blows, even though inflicted in a
political sense, were nevertheless blows."

Fix smiled, and then in order to be able to see without being hustled,
the three travellers mounted a flight of steps at the upper end of the
street. Opposite was a large platform towards which the crowd appeared
to be moving.

Mr. Fogg could not form any opinion as to what the meeting was about.
Perhaps it was the nomination of a governor of a State, or of a member
of Congress, which was not unlikely. Just then the excitement of the
crowd became greater, fists were raised as if to register a vote by a
show of hands. The crowd swayed backwards and forwards, flags were
displayed and immediately torn to pieces, hats were smashed, and the
greater part of the crowd seemed to have grown suddenly shorter.

"It is evidently a political meeting," said Fix; "perhaps it is about
the Alabama Claims, although they are settled by this time."

"Perhaps it is," replied Mr. Fogg.

"At any rate," continued Fix, "here are the candidates. The Honourable
Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Maudiboy have met."

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, was regarding the tumult with
curiosity, and Fix was about to ask the reason of the disturbance when
the uproar increased to a terrific extent. The crowd became more
excited, blows were exchanged, boots and shoes were sent whirling
through the air, and the spectators thought they could hear the crack
of revolvers mingling with the cries of men. The combatants approached
the steps on which the party had taken refuge. One of the candidates
had evidently been repulsed, but whether Camerfield or Maudiboy had
got the best of it, mere spectators could not tell.

"I think we had better retire," said Fix; "if there is any discussion
about England, and we were recognised, we might receive some injury."

"An Englishman--" began Mr. Fogg.

But he never finished the sentence, for a tremendous uproar arose on
the terrace just behind them, and there were loud shouts for Maudiboy,
a party of whose adherents were taking their opponents in the flank.

Our travellers were now between two fires; it was too late to escape;
the torrent of men armed with life-preservers and sticks could not be
withstood. Phileas Fogg and Fix did all they could to protect their
fair companions with the weapons nature had provided, but
unsuccessfully. A great ruffian, with a red beard, who appeared to be
the chief of the band, was about to strike Mr. Fogg, and would
probably have done him serious injury if Fix had not stepped in and
received the blow in his stead, thereby getting his hat completely
smashed.

"You low Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg contemptuously.

"You English beast!" replied the other.

"We shall meet again."

"Whenever you please."

"What is your name?"

"Phileas Fogg; and yours?"

"Colonel Stamp Proctor."

And the tide of humanity swept past, overturning Fix, who, however,
speedily regained his feet, and though much dishevelled was not
seriously hurt. His overcoat was torn in two, and his trousers were
more like those worn by the Indians; but fortunately Aouda had
escaped, and Fix only showed any traces of the encounter.

"Thank you," said Mr. Fogg to the detective when they were out of the
crowd.

"Don't mention it," replied Fix; "let us go on."

"Where to?"

"To a tailor's."

In fact this course had become necessary, for the clothes of both men
were torn as badly as if they had taken an active part in the contest,
but in an hour they were newly clad and safely back at the hotel
again.

There they found Passe-partout waiting and armed with a dozen
six-barrelled central-fire revolvers. When he perceived Fix with Mr.
Fogg he frowned, but when Mrs. Aouda had told him all that had passed
his brow cleared. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy; he was an
ally, and was adhering to his agreement.

After dinner they took a carriage and drove to the railway-station. As
Mr. Fogg was getting into the cab he said to Fix, "Have you seen that
Colonel Proctor since?"

"No," replied Fix.

"I will make a point of coming back to America to find him out,"
replied Fogg coolly. "It would never do for an Englishman to allow
himself to be treated as he treated us."

The detective smiled, but made no reply. It was evident, however, that
Mr. Fogg was of that race of Britons who, though they do not permit
duelling at home, fight in foreign countries when their honour is in
any way attacked.

At a quarter to six the travellers reached the railway-station, and
found the train ready. Mr. Fogg called a porter and asked him the
reason of the excitement that afternoon.

"It was a meeting, sir," replied the porter.

"I thought there was some great commotion in the streets."

"It was merely an election meeting."

"For a commander-in-chief, no doubt?" suggested Mr. Fogg.

"Oh dear no," replied the man. "It was for a justice of the peace."

On this reply Phileas Fogg entered the train, which started almost
immediately.





CHAPTER XXVI.

Showing how Mr. Fogg and Party journeyed in the Pacific Express.



"From ocean to ocean," as the Americans say, and this sentence is the
usual expression to intimate the crossing of the continent by the
Pacific Railway. That line is really divided into two, viz. the
Central Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden; and the Union
Pacific, between Ogden and Omaha. There are five trunk-lines from
Omaha to New York.

New York and San Francisco are thus united by a continuous iron road
more than three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles in length;
between the Pacific and Omaha the railroad traverses a country still
inhabited by Indians and wild beasts, and a vast extent of territory
which the Mormons began to colonise in 1845, when they were driven out
from Illinois.

Formerly, under the most favourable circumstances, the journey from
New York to San Francisco occupied six months, now it is accomplished
in seven days.

It was in 1862 that, notwithstanding the opposition of Confederate
members of Congress, who desired a more southerly route, the railroad
track was planned between the forty-first and the forty-second
parallels of latitude. President Lincoln himself fixed the termination
of the new line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was immediately begun
and continued with characteristic American energy, which is neither
red-tapeish nor bureaucratic. The rapidity of the work did not affect
its completeness; they laid a mile and a half of line across the
prairie every day; an engine, carrying the rails to be used next day,
ran on the line only just laid, and advanced as quickly as they were
fixed.

The Pacific railroad has several branches in the States of Iowa,
Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. When it leaves Omaha the line runs along
the left bank of the river Platte, as far as the mouth of the northern
branch, follows the south branch, crosses the Laramine territory and
the Wahsatch Mountains to Salt Lake City (the Mormon capital), plunges
into the Tuilla Valley across the desert, Mounts Cedar and Humboldt,
the Humboldt river and the Sierra Nevada, and then descends by
Sacramento to the Pacific; the gradient all the way, even over the
Rocky Mountains, not exceeding a hundred and twelve feet to the mile.

Such was the line along which Phileas Fogg hoped to be carried to New
York in seven days in time to reach the Steamer to Liverpool on the
11th.

The car in which our travellers were seated was a sort of long
omnibus, with four wheels at each end, without compartments; rows of
seats were placed at each side, a passage running between them from
end to end of this carriage, and practically of the train, for every
carriage was closely connected with the next. There were drawing-room
cars, smoking-cars, and restaurants. The only thing wanting was the
theatre-car, but no doubt that will some day be supplied. Vendors of
books and papers, eatables, drinkables, and tobacco, continually
passed through the train.

The train started from Oakland Station at six p.m. It was already
dark, and snow was threatening; the pace did not exceed twenty miles
an hour, including stoppages. There was not much conversation amongst
the passengers, and most of them soon went to sleep. Passe-partout was
next to the detective, but did not address him, for after what had
happened there could be no sympathy between them. Fix had not altered,
but Passe-partout was extremely reserved, and on the least suspicion
would have strangled his former friend.

In about an hour snow began to fall, but not sufficiently thick to
hinder the progress of the train. Nothing could be seen from the
windows but an immense white sheet, against which the steam of the
engine looked gray.

At eight o'clock the steward entered and said that bed-time had come.
The backs of the seats were thrown down, bedsteads were pulled out,
and berths improvised in a few moments. By this ingenious system each
passenger was provided with a bed, and protected by curtains from
prying eyes. The sheets were clean, the pillows soft. There was
nothing to do but to go to bed and sleep, which everybody did as if
they were on board ship, while the train rushed on across the State of
California.

The territory between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly,
and the railroad runs in a north-easterly direction along the American
river which falls into the Bay of San Pablo. The hundred and twenty
miles' distance between these cities was accomplished in six hours,
and as it was midnight when they passed through Sacramento, the
travellers could see nothing of the city.

Leaving Sacramento and passing Junction, Rochin, Auburn, and Colfax,
the railroad passes through the Sierra Nevada range, and the train
reached Cisco at seven o'clock. An hour afterwards the sleeping-car
was retransformed to an ordinary carriage, and the passengers were
enabled to look out upon the magnificent scenery of this mountainous
country. The track followed all the caprices of the mountains, at
times suspended over a precipice, boldly rounding angles, penetrating
narrow gorges which had apparently no outlet. The engine, with fire
gleaming from the grate and black smoke issuing from its funnel, the
warning-bell ringing, the "cow-catcher" extending like a spur, mingled
its whistlings and snortings with the roar of torrents and waterfalls,
and twining its black smoke around the stems of the pine-trees. There
are few tunnels or bridges on this portion of the route, for the line
winds round the sides of the mountains and does not penetrate them.

About nine o'clock the train entered the State of Nevada by the Carson
Valley, still proceeding in a north-easterly direction. At midday the
train quitted Reno, where it had stopped twenty minutes for luncheon.

After lunch the passengers took their places in the car again, and
admired the scenery. Sometimes great troops of buffaloes were massed
like an immense moveable dam on the horizon. These immense troops
frequently oppose an impassable barrier to the trains, for they cross
the track in close array in thousands and thousands, occupying several
hours in their passage. On these occasions the train is brought to a
standstill and obliged to wait till the track is clear.

In fact, an incident of this kind happened on this occasion. About
three o'clock in the afternoon a troop of ten or twelve thousand
beasts blocked the line. The engineer slackened speed and tried to
proceed slowly, but he could not pass the mass of buffaloes.

The passengers could see the buffaloes defiling quietly across the
track, and now and then bellowing loudly. They were larger than
European bulls, the head and shoulders being covered with a long mane,
beneath which rises a hump; the legs and tails are short. No one would
ever think of attempting to turn them aside. When once they have taken
a certain direction, they cannot be forced to swerve from it. They
compose a torrent of living flesh which no dam can withstand.

The passengers gazed on this curious spectacle, but the man most
interested of all in the speedy progress of the train, Phileas Fogg,
remained calmly in his place to wait till the buffaloes had passed by.
Passe-partout was furious at the delay which the animals caused, and
wished to discharge his armoury of revolvers at them.

"What a country this is!" he exclaimed. "Fancy a whole train being
stopped by a herd of cattle, which do not hurry themselves in the
least, as if they were not hindering us; I should like to know whether
Mr. Fogg anticipated this delay. And here we have an engine-driver who
is afraid to run his train against a few cows."

The engine-driver certainly did not attempt to do so, and he was quite
right. No doubt he might have killed two or three of the first
buffaloes he came in contact with; but the engine would soon have been
thrown off the line, and progress would have been hopeless.

The best thing to do, then, was to wait patiently, and trust to make
up time when the buffaloes had passed; but the procession of animals
lasted for fully three hours, and it was night before the track was
clear. The head of the column had ere this disappeared below the
southern horizon.

It was eight o'clock when the train had traversed the defiles of the
Humboldt range, and half-past nine when it entered Utah, the region of
the great Salt Lake and the curious Mormon territory.





CHAPTER XXVII.

Showing how Passe-partout went through a Course of Mormon History, at
the rate of Twenty Miles an Hour.



During the night of the 5-6th December, the train kept in a
south-easterly direction for about fifty miles, and then went up in a
north-east course towards Salt Lake.

About nine o'clock in the morning, Passe-partout went out upon the
platform to get a breath of fresh air. The weather was cold and the
sky was dull, but there was no snow falling then. The sun in the mist
looked like an enormous disc of gold, and Passe-partout was
calculating what it would be worth in English money, when he was
disturbed by the appearance of a very curious personage.

This individual, who had got into the train at Elko, was tall and of
dark complexion, had a black moustache, wore black stockings, and
black hat and clothes, except his necktie, which was white, and his
gloves, which were dog-skin. He looked like a minister. He went the
whole length of the train, and fastened a small notice-bill on the
door of every car. Passe-partout read one of these "posters," and
learnt that the Honourable Elder William Hitch, Mormon Missionary,
would take advantage of the occasion to deliver a lecture upon
Mormonism, in car No. 117, at eleven o'clock in the fore-noon till
twelve noon, and invited all those who wished to learn something about
the "Latter-day Saints" to attend the lecture.

"Faith, I'll go," muttered Passe-partout, who knew nothing about
Mormonism, except the plurality of wives.

The news spread rapidly amongst the passengers, and about thirty out
of the hundred travellers were attracted to car No. 117. Passe-partout
took a front seat. Neither his master nor Fix troubled themselves
about the matter.

At the hour named the elder William Hitch got up, and in a somewhat
irritable manner, as if he had been already contradicted, cried out:

"I tell you that Joe Smith is a martyr, and his brother Hiram is
another, and the way the Government is persecuting Brigham Young will
make him a martyr also. Now who dares say anything to the contrary?"

No one ventured to contradict him, and his vehemence certainly
contrasted strangely with his calm features. But no doubt his anger
was kindled by the indignities to which the Mormons had been actually
exposed. The United States Government had certainly had a great deal
of trouble to bring these fanatics to reason. It was now master of
Utah, after having imprisoned Brigham Young on the charges of
rebellion and polygamy. Since that time the followers of the prophet
had redoubled their efforts, and, if not by deeds, by words resisted
the authority of the United States Government. Elder W. Hitch, as we
have seen, was endeavouring to gain converts in the railroad-cars.

Then he went on to recite passionately the history of Mormonism from
patriarchal times. How in Israel a Mormon prophet of the tribe of
Joseph published the annals of the new religion, and left them to his
son Morom; and how, many centuries later, a translation of this
wonderful book was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who
revealed himself as a prophet in 1823, when the angel appeared to him
and gave him the sacred roll of the book.

About this time several of the audience left the car, but the lecturer
continued to relate how Smith, junior, his father and brothers, and a
few disciples founded the religion of the Latter-day Saints, which can
count its converts not only in America, but in Scandinavia, England,
and Germany. Also how a colony was established in Ohio, where a temple
was erected at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town
built at Kirkland. How Smith became an opulent banker, and received a
papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several celebrated Egyptians.

The narrative being very tiresome, the greater part of the audience
decamped, but the lecturer nevertheless continued his tale respecting
Joe Smith, his bankruptcy, his tarring and feathering, his
reappearance at Independence, Missouri, as the head of a flourishing
community of about three thousand disciples, his pursuit, and
settlement in the Far West.

By this time Passe-partout and ten others were all that remained of
the audience, who were informed that after much persecution Smith
reappeared in Illinois and founded the beautiful city of Nauvoo, on
the Mississippi, of which he became chief magistrate; how he became a
candidate for the Presidency of the United States; how he was drawn
into an ambuscade at Carthage, imprisoned, and assassinated by a band
of masked murderers.

Passe-partout was now absolutely the only listener, and the lecturer
looking him steadily in the face recalled to his memory the actions of
the pious Brigham Young, and showed him how the colony of Mormon had
flourished.

"And this is why the jealousy of Congress is roused against us. Shall
we yield to force? Never! Driven from State to State we shall yet find
an independent soil on which to rest and erect our tents. And you," he
continued to Passe-partout, "and you, my brother, will not you pitch
your tent beneath the shadow of our flag?"

"No," replied Passe-partout firmly, as he walked away, leaving the
Mormon elder by himself.

While the lecturer had been holding forth the train had been
progressing rapidly, and had reached the north-west extremity of Salt
Lake. From that point the passengers could see this immense inland
sea--the Dead Sea, as it is sometimes called, and into which an
American Jordan flows. It is even now a splendid sheet of water, but
time and the falling-in of the banks have in some degree reduced its
ancient size.

Salt Lake is seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, and is more than
three miles above the level of the sea. Though quite different from
Lake Asphaltites, it contains salt in large quantities. The specific
gravity of the water is one thousand one hundred and seventy; the same
distilled is one thousand. No fish can live in it; and though brought
down by the Jordan, Weber, and other rivers, soon perish; but it is
not true that its density is so great that no men can swim in it.

The surrounding country is well cultivated, for the Mormons are great
farmers, and various flowers, etc., would have been observed later.
Just then the ground was sprinkled with snow.

The train got to Ogden at two o'clock, and did not start again until
six; so Mr. Fogg and party had time to visit the City of the Saints by
the branch-line to Ogden. They passed a couple of hours in that very
American town, built, like all cities in the Union, with the
"melancholy sadness of right angles," as Victor Hugo said. In America,
where everything is supposed to be done on the square, though the
people do not reach that level, cities, houses, and follies are all
done "squarely."

At three o'clock our travellers were walking about the city. They
remarked very few churches, but the public buildings were the house of
the prophet, the court, the arsenal; houses of blue brick, with
porches and verandahs surrounded by gardens, in which were palm-trees
and acacias, etc. A stone wall ran round the city. In the principal
street was the market-place and several hotels; amongst them Salt Lake
House rose up.

There was no crowd in the streets, except near the temple. There was a
superabundance of females, which was accounted for by the peculiar
tenets of Mormons; but it is a mistake to suppose that all the Mormons
are polygamists. They can do as they please; but it may be stated that
the females are chiefly anxious to wed, as unmarried women are not
admitted to the full privileges of membership. These poor creatures do
not appear to be well off or happy. Some perhaps are rich and clothed
in European style, but the majority were dressed _à la Indienne_.

Passe-partout beheld these women with some degree of awe, but above
all he pitied the husbands of these wives. It seemed to him to be an
awful thing to guide so many wives through all the mazes of life, and
to conduct them to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of meeting
the glorious Joe Smith, who no doubt was there a shining light. He
felt quite disgusted, and he fancied--perhaps he was mistaken--that
some of the young ladies gazed at him alarmingly, and in a manner to
compromise his liberty.

Fortunately his sojourn in the City of the Saints was not of long
duration. At four o'clock the travellers took their places in the
return train. The whistle sounded, but just as the train began to move
a cry was heard, "Stop, stop!"

But the train did not stop. The gentleman who uttered these cries was
a Mormon too late for the train. He ran till he was out of breath.
Fortunately the railroad was quite open, there were no barriers nor
gates to pass. He rushed along the line, jumped upon the footboard of
the last carriage, and then threw himself panting into the nearest
seat. Passe-partout, who had been watching him intently, learnt that
he had run away after some domestic quarrel, and when the Mormon had
recovered his breath Passe-partout plucked up courage to inquire how
many wives the fugitive had left, as, judging from his anxiety to get
away, he must have had twenty at least.

"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms to heaven. "One, sir;
and, by thunder, that one was quite enough!"





CHAPTER XXVIII.

In which Passe-partout cannot make anyone listen to the Language of
Reason.



The train leaving Salt Lake and Ogden Station went on northwards as
far as Weber River, about nine hundred miles from San Francisco; from
this point it turned to the west across the Wahsatch range. It was in
this part of the State that the American engineers had found the
greatest difficulty. In this portion of the line also the Government
subsidy had been raised to forty-eight thousand dollars a mile,
instead of the sixteen thousand dollars a mile on the plains; but the
engineers, so it is said, had stolen a march on nature, turned all the
difficulties instead of cutting through them, and pierced only one
tunnel of fourteen thousand feet in length.

At Salt Lake the line reached its greatest altitude--from that point
it took a long curve towards Bitter-creek Valley, and then rose again
to the watershed between the valley and the Pacific Creeks were
numerous hereabout, and Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others were
successively crossed on culverts. As they approached the end of their
journey Passe-partout became more and more impatient, while Fix was
very anxious to get on, for he feared delays and accidents, and was
more anxious to reach England than even Phileas Fogg.

The train stopped for a short time at Fort Bridger at ten o'clock, and
twenty miles farther on entered Wyoming State, formerly Dakota. The
next day, the 7th of December, they stopped at Green River. Sleet had
fallen during the night, but not sufficient to interfere with the
traffic. However, this bad weather annoyed Passe-partout very much,
for any great fall of snow would have compromised the success of the
journey.

"Any way, it is absurd of my master having undertaken such a journey
in winter; he might just as well have waited for fine weather and had
a better chance."

But while the honest fellow was worrying himself about the weather,
Mrs. Aouda was disquieted for an entirely different reason, as amongst
the passengers who had alighted at Green River she recognised Colonel
Stamp Proctor, who had insulted Mr. Fogg at the San Francisco meeting.
She drew back, as she did not wish to be recognised, but the
circumstance affected her deeply.

In fact she had become attached to the man who, notwithstanding his
coldness of manner, betrayed every day the interest he took in her. No
doubt she herself was not aware of the depth of the sentiment with
which he inspired her, which she believed to be gratitude, but was
doubtless a deeper feeling. Her heart almost ceased to beat at the
moment she recognised Mr. Fogg's enemy. Evidently it was mere chance
which had led Colonel Proctor to this particular train, but he and Mr.
Fogg must be kept apart at all hazards.

She took an opportunity, when Mr. Fogg was asleep, to tell them whom
she had seen.

"That man Proctor on the train!" cried Fix. "Well, you may be quite
easy, madam; before he sees Mr. Fogg he has to settle with me. It
seems to me that in this matter I have been the most insulted of any."

"And I have a little business with him also, though he is a colonel,"
added Passe-partout.

"Mr. Fix," replied Mrs. Aouda, "Mr. Fogg would permit nobody to
interfere with his quarrel. He has declared that he will come back to
America to find out that man who insulted him. If then he sees Colonel
Proctor, we cannot prevent a meeting which might have most deplorable
results. They must not see each other."

"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting would spoil
everything. Whether victor or not, Mr. Fogg would be delayed, and--"

"And," added Passe-partout, "that would just play into the hands of
the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. If during that
time my master does not leave his car, the chances are he will not
meet the American. At any rate, we must try to prevent a meeting."

The conversation ceased, for Mr. Fogg just then awoke and looked out
of window at the snow. Shortly afterwards Passe-partout whispered to
the detective, "Would you really fight for him?"

"I would do anything in the world to get him back to Europe alive,"
replied the detective in a determined tone.

Passe-partout shuddered, but his confidence in his master was
unshaken.

And now the question was, how could they detain Mr. Fogg in the car
and prevent him meeting the Colonel? It ought not to be a very
difficult matter, for Phileas was naturally of a sedentary
disposition. However, the detective found a way, for shortly
afterwards he said to Mr. Fogg:

"The time passes very slowly."

"Yes," replied Fogg, "but it does pass."

"On board the steamer," continued the detective, "you used to like a
game of whist."

"Yes," replied Fogg, "but here I have neither cards nor partners."

"Ah, we can easily purchase cards. As for partners, if madam can take
a hand--"

"Certainly," replied the young lady. "I know whist, it is part of an
English education."

"And," continued Fix, "I also have some little knowledge of the game,
so we can play dummy."

"As you like," said Fogg, delighted to play his favourite game even in
the train.

Passe-partout was immediately despatched to the steward, and he
quickly returned with two packs of cards, some markers, and a board
covered with cloth.

The game commenced, Mrs. Aouda played fairly well, and was
complimented by Phileas. As for the detective, he was a first-rate
player, and a worthy opponent of Mr. Fogg.

"Now," thought Passe-partout, "we have got him down and he won't
move."

At eleven o'clock in the morning the train reached the watershed at
Bridger Pass, at an elevation of seven thousand five hundred and
twenty-four feet above the level of the sea. After traversing about
two hundred miles more, the travellers found themselves in one of
those extensive plains which proved so convenient to the laying of the
railway.

At half-past twelve the travellers got a glimpse of Fort Halleck, and
in a few hours afterwards they had crossed the Rocky Mountains. They
were now in hopes that no accident would imperil the journey; the snow
had ceased, and the air was frosty. Some large birds, startled by the
locomotive, rose up, but no wild beasts appeared; the whole plain was
a desert.

After a comfortable breakfast in his own car, Mr. Fogg and his
companions resumed their whist. Just then a loud whistling was heard,
and the train came to a stop. Passe-partout put his head out, but
could see no cause for the stoppage. Mrs. Aouda and Fix were afraid
that Mr. Fogg would get up and see what was the matter, but he merely
told his servant to ascertain the reason of the delay.

Passe-partout jumped down. He found a number of passengers already on
the ground, and amongst them Colonel Proctor.

The train had been stopped by signal. The engine-driver and guard were
talking excitedly with the signalman, whom the station-master at
Medicine Bow had sent down. The passengers joined in the discussion,
and prominent amongst them was Colonel Proctor.

Passe-partout, as he joined the group, heard the signalman say: "You
cannot pass. The bridge is unsafe, and will not bear the weight of the
train."

The viaduct in question was a suspension-bridge over a rapid about a
mile farther on. The signalman said that many of the supports were
broken, and that it was impossible to cross; he did not exaggerate the
danger, and it may be taken for granted that when an American is
prudent there is good reason for not being rash.

Passe-partout did not dare to tell his master, but remained, listening
with clenched teeth, motionless as a statue.

"That is all very fine," said Colonel Proctor, "but I guess we ain't
going to stop here to take root in the snow."

"We have telegraphed to Omaha for a train, Colonel," said the guard;
"but it can't reach Medicine Bow in less than six hours."

"Six hours!" exclaimed Passe-partout.

"Yes," replied the guard; "but it will take us that time to reach
Medicine Bow on foot."

"Why, it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.

"Only a mile, but on the other side of the river."

"And can't we cross in a boat?" asked the Colonel.

"Quite impossible; the creek has swollen with the rains; we shall have
to go round ten miles to a ford."

The Colonel vented a choice collection of oaths, condemning the
company, the guard, and creation generally; and Passe-partout, who was
very angry, felt inclined to join him. Here was a material obstacle
which all his master's money would not be able to remove.

The disappointment of the passengers was general, for, without
reckoning the delay, they found themselves obliged to walk fifteen
miles in the snow. The commotion would have attracted Phileas Fogg's
attention had he not been entirely absorbed in his game.

Nevertheless, Passe-partout would have told him of it if the engineer,
a true Yankee, named Foster, had not said:

"Perhaps there is a way we can get over after all, gentlemen."

"Over the bridge?" asked a passenger.

"Yes."

"With the train, do you mean?" asked the Colonel.

"With the train."

Passe-partout stopped and listened anxiously for the engineer's
explanation.

"But the bridge is almost broken," said the guard.

"Never mind," replied Foster: "I think that by putting on full-steam
we may have a chance of getting across."

"The devil!" muttered Passe-partout.

But a certain number of the passengers were attracted by the
suggestion; Colonel Proctor was particularly pleased, and thought the
plan quite feasible. He related various anecdotes concerning
engineers, whom he had known, who crossed over rivers without any
bridges at all by merely putting on full-steam, etc. The end of it was
that many of the passengers agreed with the engineer.

"The chances are fifty to a hundred about our getting over," said one.

"Sixty!" said another.

"Eighty, ninety!" said a third.

Passe-partout was dumfounded, and although he was very anxious to
cross the river, he thought the proposed plan a little too American.

"Besides," he thought, "there is an easier way, which does not seem to
have occurred to either of them;" so he said aloud to one of the
passengers:

"The engineer's plan seems to me somewhat dangerous; but--"

"Eighty chances!" replied the person addressed, turning away.

"I know that," replied Passe-partout, as he spoke to another; "but an
idea--"

"Ideas are no use," replied the American; "the engineer tells us we
can cross."

"No doubt," replied Passe-partout; "but perhaps it would be more
prudent--"

"What, prudent!" exclaimed Colonel Proctor, who was ready to quarrel
with anyone suggesting prudence. "Do you not understand that we are
going across at full speed? Do you hear, at full speed?"

"I know, I know," said Passe-partout, whom no one would allow to
finish his sentence; "but it would be, if not more prudent, since that
word displeases you, at any rate more natural--"

"Who is this, what's this? Who is talking about natural?" cried the
passengers on all sides.

Poor Passe-partout did not know which way to turn.

"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.

"I afraid?" cried Passe-partout; "you think so, do you? I will show
these people when a Frenchman can be as American as themselves."

"All aboard!" cried the guard.

"Yes, all get in," muttered Passe-partout; "but you cannot prevent my
thinking that it would be much more natural for us to cross the bridge
on foot and let the train follow."

But no one heard this wise reflection, and if so, probably no one
would have acknowledged its justice.

The passengers took their places, as did Passe-partout, without saying
what had happened. The whist-players were still deep in their game.

The engine-driver whistled and then backed his train for nearly a
mile, then whistling again he started forward. The speed increased to
a fearful extent, and rushing along at a pace of nearly a hundred
miles an hour, seemed hardly to touch the rails at all.

They passed over like a flash of lightning. No one saw anything of the
bridge; the train leaped, as it were, from bank to bank, and could not
be stopped till it had passed the station for some miles.

Scarcely had the train crossed the bridge when the whole structure
fell with a tremendous crash into the rapids beneath!





CHAPTER XXIX.

In which certain Incidents are told which are never met with except on
Railroads in the United States.



That evening the train proceeded without interruption; passed Fort
Saunders, crossed Cheyenne Pass, and arrived at Evans' Pass. Here the
railroad reached its greatest elevation, eight thousand and ninety-one
feet above the sea. The track was now downhill all the way to the
Atlantic, across naturally level plains. From here the Grand Trunk
Line led to Denver, the capital of Colorado State, rich in gold and
silver mines, and boasting more than fifty thousand inhabitants.

Three days and three nights had now been passed in accomplishing one
thousand three hundred and eighty-two miles; four days and four nights
more would suffice to reach New York, and Phileas Fogg had not lost
time.

During the night they had passed Camp Walbach, and entered Nebraska at
eleven, passing Julesburg on the south branch of the Platte river. It
was here that General Dodge inaugurated the Union Pacific road on the
23rd of October, 1867. Here two powerful locomotives with nine
carriages full of guests stopped, three cheers were given, the Sioux
and Pawnee Indians had a sham fight, fireworks were let off, and the
first number of a paper called _The Railway Pioneer_ was printed in a
press carried in the train.

Fort MacPherson was passed at eight in the morning; they had still
three hundred and fifty-seven miles to go to Omaha. At nine o'clock
the train stopped at North Platte, a town built between the two arms
of the river.

The hundred-and-first meridian was now passed.

Mr. Fogg and his partner had resumed their whist; none of them, not
even the dummy, complained of the length of the journey. Fix had at
first won several guineas which he now seemed about to lose, but he
was not a less passionate player than Fogg. Fortune distinctly
favoured that gentleman, and showered trumps and honours upon him.

On one occasion he was on the point of playing a spade, when a voice
behind him said, "I should play a diamond."

The players all looked up, and beheld Colonel Proctor. He and Fogg
recognised each other at the same moment.

"Oh, you are that Britisher, are you?" exclaimed the Colonel. "So you
are going to play a spade?"

"Yes, and I play it too," replied Fogg coldly, as he threw down the
ten.

"Well, I choose to have diamonds," said Proctor insolently. He made a
movement as if to seize the card just played, adding, "You know
nothing about whist."

"Perhaps I do, as well as other people," said Fogg, rising.

"You have only got to try, you son of a John Bull," said the stout
man.

Mrs. Aouda now turned very pale; she seized Fogg by the arm, and
pulled him back. Passe-partout was quite ready to throw himself upon
the American, who continued to regard his adversary with an insolent
stare, but Fix rose and said, "You forget that this is my business,
sir; I was not only insulted, but struck."

"Mr. Fix, excuse me," said Fogg; "this is entirely my business. By
pretending that I did not know how to play, the Colonel has insulted
me, and shall give me satisfaction."

"When and where you please," said the American; "name your weapons."

Aouda tried to keep Mr. Fogg back; the detective also tried to make
the quarrel his own; Passe-partout wanted to throw the Colonel out of
the window, but a sign from his master checked him. Mr. Fogg left the
car, and the American followed him to the platform.

"Sir," said Fogg, "I am in a great hurry to return to Europe; any
delay will be very prejudicial to my interest."

"What is all that to me?" said the Colonel.

"Sir," continued Fogg, very politely, "after our dispute at San
Francisco, I had promised myself to return to America and find you
out, when I had finished my business in England."

"Really!"

"Will you meet me six months hence?"

"Why don't you say six years?"

"I said six months," said Fogg, "and I shall not fail to be at the
rendezvous."

"This is all humbug," cried Proctor; "it must be now or never."

"Very well," said Mr. Fogg; "are you going to New York?"

"No."

"To Chicago?"

"No."

"To Omaha?"

"It can't matter to you. Do you know Plum Creek?"

"No," replied Mr. Fogg.

"It is the next station. We shall stop there ten minutes; we shall
have lots of time to exchange shots."

"All right," replied Mr. Fogg; "I will stop at Plum Creek."

"I guess you will stay there altogether," replied the American, with
unparalleled insolence.

"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, entering the car as coolly as ever, and
commenced to reassure Mrs. Aouda, by telling her that braggarts need
never be feared. He then asked Fix to be his second in the approaching
duel, which Fix could not well refuse to be; and then Phileas Fogg sat
down quietly and resumed his whist, without betraying the least
emotion.

At eleven o'clock the whistle of the engine announced their approach
to Plum Creek. Mr. Fogg got up, and followed by Fix and Passe-partout,
carrying a brace of revolvers, went out upon the platform. Mrs. Aouda
remained in the car, as pale as death.

At that moment the door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor
appeared, followed by his second, a Yankee of the same stamp as
himself. They were about to descend when the guard ran up and said,
"You cannot get out, gentlemen."

"Why not?" demanded the Colonel.

"We are twenty minutes late, and cannot stop."

"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."

"I am very sorry," said the guard, "but we must be off at once; there
is the bell ringing."

As he was speaking the train started.

"I am really extremely grieved, gentlemen," said the guard, "and under
any other circumstances I should have been able to have obliged you.
But though you cannot stop to fight, there is nothing to prevent your
doing so as you go along."

"Perhaps that would not suit that gentleman," said the Colonel in a
jeering tone.

"It will suit me quite well," replied Phileas Fogg.

"Well, we are actually in America, I see," thought Passe-partout; "and
the guard is a gentleman of the highest standing."

The two adversaries, their seconds, and the guard passed down to the
rear of the train. The last car had only about a dozen passengers in
it, and the conductor asked them if they would mind moving, as the two
gentlemen had a little affair of honour to settle.

The passengers were very glad to oblige the gentlemen, and they
retired accordingly.

The car, about fifty feet long, was very suitable for the purpose. The
combatants could advance towards one another between the seats, and
fire at their leisure. Never had there been a duel more easy to
arrange. Mr. Fogg and Colonel Proctor, each carrying a six-barrelled
revolver, entered the car. Their seconds, having locked them in,
withdrew to the platform. The duellists were to begin to fire at the
first whistle of the engine, then, after a lapse of two minutes, what
remained of the two gentlemen would be taken from the car.

Nothing could be easier. It was even so simple, that Fix and
Passe-partout could hear their hearts beating as they listened.

Everyone was on the _qui vive_ for the first whistle, when suddenly
savage cries resounded, accompanied by shots, which certainly did not
come from the duellists. On the contrary, the reports rose all along
the train; cries of terror were heard inside the cars.

Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, were hastily
released, and rushed forward into the thick of the struggle, when they
perceived that the train had been attacked by a band of Sioux. This
was not the first time that this hardy tribe had attacked the train.
According to custom, they leaped on the footboards as the train
proceeded, as easy as a circus-rider would mount a horse at full
gallop. The Sioux were armed with guns, to which the passengers
replied with revolvers. The Indians had first mounted the engine, and
stunned the engine-driver and firemen with blows on the head. A chief
wished to stop the train, but not knowing how to do so had opened
instead of closing the regulator, and the train was now proceeding at
tremendous speed. Others of the tribe had entered the cars as actively
as apes, and were now engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the
passengers. They pillaged the baggage-waggon, and were all the time
fighting incessantly.

The travellers defended themselves courageously; they barricaded some
of the cars which were besieged like forts, carried along at the rate
of forty or fifty miles an hour. Mrs. Aouda had been most courageous.
Revolver in hand, she defended herself heroically, firing through the
broken windows whenever she caught sight of a savage. As many as
twenty Sioux had fallen, and lay crushed by the wheels; and many
passengers, grievously wounded, lay stretched upon the seats.

But it was necessary to put an end to the fight, which had lasted for
ten minutes, and would result in a victory for the Indians if the
train were not stopped. Fort Kearney Station, where there was a guard,
was only a couple of miles farther on, and if that were passed, the
Indians would be masters of the train till the next station was
reached. The guard was fighting bravely by the side of Mr. Fogg, when
he was shot down. As he fell he cried, "If the train is not stopped in
less than five minutes, we are all lost!"

"It shall be stopped," said Fogg, who was about to rush out.

"Stay where you are, sir," said Passe-partout, "this is my business."

His master had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, unseen by the
Indians, managed to creep along beneath the carriages, and then
calling all his agility to his aid, with marvellous dexterity he
managed to reach the fore part of the train without being seen. There,
suspended by one hand between the baggage-waggon and the tender, with
the other hand he unfastened the coupling-chains; but owing to the
great tension, he was not able to loose the draw-bar, but it was
fortunately jerked out as the train jolted. The locomotive, thus
detached, sped along at a tremendous pace in front, while the train
gradually slackened speed, and the breaks assisting it, it was pulled
up within a hundred feet of Fort Kearney. The soldiers, attracted by
the sound of firing, hastily turned out; but the Indians did not wait
for them. They all disappeared before the train stopped.

But when the travellers came to count the passengers, they found that
several were missing, and amongst the absentees was the brave
Frenchman who had devoted himself to save them.





CHAPTER XXX.

In which Phileas Fogg simply does his Duty.



Three of the travellers, including Passe-partout, had disappeared, but
it was impossible to say whether they had been killed or taken
prisoners.

Several were wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of
the most severely hurt; he had fought bravely, and was carried with
the other wounded into the station, where he was attended to as well
as the circumstances admitted of.

Mrs. Aouda was safe, and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the midst of
the fight, had not received a scratch. Fix had a flesh-wound in the
arm, but Passe-partout was missing, and Aouda could not help weeping.
Meanwhile the travellers all got out of the train, the wheels of which
were covered with blood and jagged pieces of flesh. Red tracks were
visible on the whitened plain. The Indians were disappearing in the
south along the Republican River.

Mr. Fogg was standing motionless with folded arms, and Aouda looked at
him without speaking, but he understood her; he had to make up his
mind. If his servant were a prisoner, ought he not to rescue him from
the Indians?

"I will find him, living or dead," he said simply to Aouda.

"Oh Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed the young lady, seizing his hands, upon which
her tears fell fast.

"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we lose no time."

By this resolution Phileas Fogg sacrificed everything, he pronounced
his own ruin. A delay of even one day would lose the steamer at New
York and his wager. But he thought it was his duty, and did not
hesitate.

The commandant of Fort Kearney was present; his company were under
arms to repel any further attack.

"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to him, "three passengers are missing."

"Dead?" asked the captain.

"Dead or prisoners," replied Fogg; "I must find out which. Is it your
intention to pursue the Sioux?"

"That would be a very serious thing," replied the captain. "The
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
undefended."

"Sir," replied Fogg, "the lives of three men are in question."

"No doubt; but can I risk fifty to save three?"

"I do not know if you can, sir; but I know you ought."

"Sir," replied the captain, "no one here is fit to teach me my duty."

"Very well," said Fogg coldly, "I will go alone."

"You, sir!" exclaimed Fix, who now approached. "Do you mean to go
alone in pursuit of the Indians?"

"Do you wish me to leave that unfortunate man to perish to whom
everyone here owes his life? I shall certainly go."

"No, sir, you shall not go alone," said the captain, who was moved in
spite of himself. "You are a brave fellow. Now, then, thirty
volunteers," he added, turning to the troops.

The whole company advanced at once. The captain had only to pick his
men. Thirty were chosen, and a steady old non-commissioned officer put
in command.

"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.

"You will let me go with you?" said Fix.

"You can do as you please, sir, but if you wish to do me a service you
will remain with Mrs. Aouda. Should anything happen to me--"

The detective turned very pale. Should he separate from the man he had
followed so persistently? Should he leave him to wander thus in the
prairie? Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg, and notwithstanding his
suspicions and the struggle going on within him, his eyes fell before
that frank look.

"I will remain," he said.

In a few moments Mr. Fogg, having shaken hands with the young lady and
confided his precious bag to her care, departed with the soldiers. But
before marching away he said to his escort, "My friends, I will divide
a thousand pounds amongst you if we save the prisoners."

It was then a little past midday.

Mrs. Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she remained thinking
of the generosity and courage of Phileas Fogg, who had sacrificed his
fortune and was now risking his life for what he believed to be his
duty. In her eyes Mr. Fogg was a hero.

But Fix's thoughts were very different; he could scarcely conceal his
agitation; he walked up and down the station and soon recovered
himself. Now that Fogg had gone, Fix perceived how foolish he had been
to let him go. He began to accuse himself in pretty round terms, as if
he had been his own inspector.

"What a fool I have been," he thought. "The fellow has gone and won't
come back. How is it that I, actually with a warrant for his arrest in
my pocket, could have been so played upon? Well, I am an ass!"

Thus reasoned the detective as he walked up and down the platform. He
did not know what to do. Sometimes he thought he would tell Aouda
everything, but he knew how she would receive his confidence. He then
thought of following Fogg over the prairie, and he thought it not
impossible he might find him, as the footsteps of the escort would be
imprinted in the snow. But after a further fall they would soon be
obliterated.

Fix became discouraged, and felt inclined to give up the whole thing.
He had now an opportunity to leave Kearney Station and pursue his way
homewards. In fact about two o'clock, in the midst of a snowstorm,
long whistles were heard from eastward; a great shadow was slowly
advancing; no train was expected from that direction. The assistance
telegraphed for could not possibly arrive so soon, and the train to
San Francisco was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon
explained.

It was the runaway locomotive that was approaching. After it had left
the train, it had run a long distance till the fire got low and the
steam went down. Then it stopped, still bearing the half-conscious
engine-driver and firemen. When they found themselves alone in the
prairie they understood what had happened, and they had no doubt they
would find the train somewhere on the track, helpless. The
engine-driver did not hesitate. To go on to Omaha would be only
prudent, while to return would be dangerous. He nevertheless built up
the fire and ran back to Fort Kearney, whistling through the mist as
he went.

The travellers were all delighted to see the engine attached to the
train once more. They could now resume their journey, so fatally
interrupted.

When the engine was coupled on, Mrs. Aouda asked the guard if he were
really going to start?

"Right away, ma'am," he replied.

"But the prisoners, our unfortunate companions--"

"I cannot interrupt the service," he replied; "we are three hours late
already."

"And when will the next train arrive from San Francisco?"

"To-morrow evening."

"That will be too late. It must wait."

"That is impossible. If you wish to go on, please get in."

"I will not go," replied the lady.

Fix heard this conversation. A short time before, when there was no
chance of his going on, he had decided to leave Kearney, and now that
it was necessary for him to take his place, something seemed to detain
him. The conflict in his mind waxed fiercer, he wished to fight it
out.

Meantime the passengers, some of them wounded, including Colonel
Proctor, took their places in the train, which started immediately and
soon disappeared, the steam mingling with the falling snow.

Fix had remained behind.

Some hours passed away. The weather was wretched and very cold. Fix
remained seated, apparently asleep, on a bench. Aouda, notwithstanding
the tempest, continually came out of the room set apart for her, and
walking to the extremity of the platform, attempted to penetrate the
thick falling snow, as she listened intently for some sound of the
return of the escort. But she saw and heard nothing, and would return
chilled to the bone, only to sally forth once more in vain.

Night fell, the troops had not returned; the commandant began to feel
anxious, though he did not betray his anxiety. The snow fell less
thickly now, but the cold was intense; absolute silence reigned
around. All night Mrs. Aouda kept wandering about, filled with the
most dismal forebodings--her imagination suggested a thousand dangers,
and her anxiety was terrible.

Fix remained immovable, but he did not sleep either. A man approached
him once and spoke to him, but a shake of the head was the only reply
he received.

Thus passed the night. At sunrise it was possible to distinguish
objects at the distance of two miles; but towards the south, in which
direction the party had gone, there was no sign. It was then seven
o'clock.

The captain, who was now seriously alarmed, did not know what to do.
Should he send a second detachment after the first, and sacrifice more
men on the slender chance of saving those who had already gone? But he
did not hesitate long, and was on the point of ordering a
reconnaissance to be made, when the sound of firing was heard. The
soldiers rushed out of the fort and perceived the little troop
returning in good order.

Mr. Fogg was marching at their head. Close to him were Passe-partout
and the other two passengers, rescued from the hands of the Sioux.
They had encountered the Indians ten miles from Kearney. Just before
they arrived Passe-partout and his companions had turned upon their
captors, three of whom the Frenchman had knocked down with his fists,
when his master and the escort came to his assistance.

The party was welcomed most joyously.

Phileas Fogg distributed the promised reward to the soldiers, while
Passe-partout muttered, and not without reason, "I must confess that I
cost my master pretty dearly."

Fix looked at Mr. Fogg without speaking, and it would have been
difficult to analyse his thoughts at that moment. Mrs. Aouda, whose
feelings were too deep for expression, took Mr. Fogg's hands in hers
and pressed them without speaking.

Ever since his return Passe-partout had been looking for the train; he
hoped to find it there ready to start for Omaha, and trusted that the
lost time might be regained.

"But where is the train?" he exclaimed.

"Gone," replied Fix.

"When is the next train due here?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Not until this evening."

"Ah!" replied the impassible gentleman simply.





CHAPTER XXXI.

In which the Detective forwards Mr. Fogg's Interest considerably.



Phileas Fogg was twenty hours behind time, and Passe-partout, the
involuntary cause of the delay, was desperate; he had decidedly ruined
his master.

The detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking at him attentively,
said, "Seriously, sir, are you really in such a hurry?"

"Very seriously I am," replied Fogg.

"It is absolutely necessary, then, for you to be in New York on the
11th--before the departure of the English mail-steamer?"

"I have a very great interest in so doing."

"If, then, your voyage had not been interrupted, you would have
reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"

"Yes, with twelve hours to spare."

"Well, you are now twenty hours late. Twelve from twenty leaves
eight--you must regain those eight hours. Do you wish to try?"

"On foot?"

"No, on a sledge," replied Fix; "on a sledge with sails; a man has
proposed it to me."

It was, in fact, the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and
whose offer he had refused.

Mr. Fogg did not immediately reply, but Fix pointed out the man, and
Fogg went up and spoke to him. Shortly after they entered a hut built
just beyond the fort. Here Mr. Fogg was shown a very curious
vehicle--a sort of sledge, with room for five or six people. A high
mast was firmly supported by wire rigging, and carried a large sail;
it was also furnished with a rudder. In fact it was a sledge rigged
like a cutter. During the winter, on the frozen plains, the trains
cannot run, and these sledges make rapid passages from station to
station, and when running before the wind they equal, if they do not
exceed, the speed of the train.

The arrangement was soon made. The strong west wind was in their
favour. The snow was hard, and Mr. Mudge, the owner, was confident of
being able to reach Omaha in a few hours. Thence were plenty of trains
to Chicago and New York. It was just possible to recover the lost
time, and they did not hesitate to make the attempt.

Mr. Fogg did not wish to expose Aouda to the cold, and suggested that
she should remain at the station with Passe-partout, who would escort
her to England under more favourable circumstances; but she refused to
leave Mr. Fogg, greatly to the delight of Passe-partout, who would not
leave his master alone with Fix.

The detective's thoughts would be difficult to guess. Was his
conviction shaken by Fogg's return, or did he still regard him as a
scoundrel who hoped to be safe in England on his return? Perhaps Fix's
opinion concerning Fogg had altered; but he would do his duty,
nevertheless; and he would do his duty and hasten his return to
England as much as possible.

At eight o'clock the sledge was ready. The passengers took their
places, the sails were hoisted, and the vehicle sped over the snow at
forty miles an hour. The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as
the crow flies, is two hundred miles at most. If the wind held they
could reach Omaha by one o'clock, if no accident happened.

What a journey it was! The travellers huddled close together, unable
to speak in consequence of the intense cold. The sledge glided over
the snow like a boat on a lake, and when the wind rose it was almost
lifted off the ground. Mudge steered in a straight line, and
counteracted the occasional lurches of the vessel. They hoisted all
sail, and certainly could not be going less than forty miles an hour.

"If nothing carries away," said Mudge, "we shall get there in time."

Mr. Mudge had an interest in accomplishing the journey, for Mr. Fogg,
as usual, had promised him a handsome reward.

The prairie was as flat as possible, and Mudge steered perfectly
straight, taking the chord of the arc described by the railroad, which
follows the right bank of the Platte River. Mudge was not afraid of
being stopped by the stream, for it was frozen over. So the way was
free from all obstacles, and there were but two things to fear--an
accident or a change of wind. But the breeze blew steadily in the same
direction, and even increased in force. The wire lashing hummed like
the chords of a musical instrument, and the sledge sped along
accompanied by a plaintive harmony of peculiar intensity.

"Those wires give us the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.

These were the only words he spoke throughout the passage. Mrs. Aouda
was well wrapped up in furs. Passe-partout's face was as red as the
setting sun, and, with his usual confidence, began to hope again.
Instead of reaching New York in the morning they would get there in
the evening, perhaps before the departure of the steamer for
Liverpool. Passe-partout had a great desire to clasp Fix by the hand,
for he did not forget that it was the detective who had procured the
sledge, the only means of reaching Omaha in good time; but some
presentiment induced him to remain quiet. However, Passe-partout would
never forget Mr. Fogg's devotion in rescuing him from the Indians.

The sledge still flew along. The plain and the streams were covered
with the mantle of snow. A great uninhabited island appeared to be
enclosed between the Union and Pacific Railroad and the branch-line
which unites Kearney with St. Joseph. Not a house was in sight. They
occasionally passed some gaunt tree, and sometimes flocks of wild
birds rose about them, or a band of starving wolves pursued the
sledge. On these occasions Passe-partout, revolver in hand, was ready
to fire on those which came too near. Had an accident happened, the
wolves would have made short work of the travellers; but the sledge
held on its course, and soon left the howling brutes behind.

At midday Mudge thought they were crossing the Platte River. He said
nothing, but he was sure that Omaha was only twenty miles farther on.
And in fact in less than an hour their skilful steersman left the helm
and hauled down his sails, while the sledge ran on with its acquired
impetus. At length it stopped, and Mudge, pointing to a cluster of
snow-covered houses, said, "Here we are!"

They had arrived at the desired station, which was in constant
communication with the Eastern States. Passe-partout and Fix jumped
down and stretched their stiffened limbs. They then assisted Mr. Fogg
and Mrs. Aouda to alight. The former paid Mudge handsomely.
Passe-partout shook his hands warmly, and then the whole party rushed
towards the railway-station.

A train was ready to start, and they had only just time to jump in;
though they had seen nothing of Omaha, they did not regret it, as they
were not travelling for pleasure.

The train rushed across the State of Iowa, past Conneil Bluffs, Des
Morines, and Iowa city. During the night they crossed the Mississippi
at Davenport and entered Illinois. Next day, the 10th, at four p.m.,
they reached Chicago, which had risen from its ashes, and, more
proudly than ever, was seated on the borders of the beautiful Lake of
Michigan.

They were still nine hundred miles from New York, but there were
plenty of trains. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one train to another,
which started at full-speed as if it knew he had no time to lose. It
crossed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like lightning,
through towns with antique names containing streets and tramways, but
as yet no houses. At length the Hudson Plain appeared, and at a
quarter-past eleven p.m., on the 11th, the train stopped in the
station on the right bank of the river, before the very pier from
which the Cunard, otherwise known as the British and North American,
Royal Mail Steam Packet Company's steamers start.

The _China_ had left for Liverpool three-quarters of an hour
previously.





CHAPTER XXXII.

In which Phileas Fogg struggles against Ill-luck.



The _China_ seemed to have carried off Mr. Fogg's last hope, for no
other steamers of any other line would be of use. The _Pereire_, of
the French Transatlantic Company, did not leave till the 14th, while
the boats of the Hamburg American Company also went to Havre, and not
direct to Liverpool or London; and this extra passage from Havre to
Southampton would upset his calculations.

The Inman steamer _City of Paris_ would not start till next day--that
would be too late. Nor would the White Star Line serve his purpose;
all of which Mr. Fogg learnt from "Bradshaw." Passe-partout was
completely upset; it was maddening to lose the steamer by
three-quarters of an hour, and it was his fault, too, for putting
obstacles in his master's way; and when he looked back at the
incidents of the journey, the sums expended on his account, the
enormous wager, and tremendous charges of the now useless trip, he was
overwhelmed. Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him, but as he
quitted the pier, said: "We will see to-morrow what is best to be
done. Come along."

The party crossed the river, and drove to the St. Nicholas Hotel, in
Broadway, where they engaged rooms; but Fogg was the only one who
slept. Next day was the 12th of December. From that day, at seven in
the morning, to the 21st, at a quarter to nine in the evening, was a
period of nine days, thirteen hours, and forty-five minutes; so if
Phileas Fogg had sailed in the _China_, he would have reached London
in time to win his wager.

Mr. Fogg left the hotel by himself, telling the others to wait his
return, but to be ready to leave at a moment's notice. He went down to
the Hudson River, to see if there were any vessels about to start.
Several were getting ready to go to sea, but the majority of them were
sailing ships, which of course did not suit Mr. Fogg. He appeared to
have lost his last hope, when he perceived a small screw-steamer
moored off the battery; the funnel was pouring forth black smoke, and
everything looked like a speedy departure. Mr. Fogg hailed a boat, and
soon found himself on board the _Henrietta_, which was an iron
steamer. The captain was on board, and approached Mr. Fogg to answer
his inquiries. This captain was a man about fifty, a regular sea-wolf.

"Are you the captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"I am."

"I am Phileas Fogg, of London."

"And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."

"You are about to sail, I suppose?"

"In an hour."

"Where are you bound?"

"For Bordeaux."

"And your cargo?"

"I am only in ballast."

"Have you any passengers?"

"I never take passengers; they are always in the way, and always
talking."

"Does your ship steam well?"

"Between eleven and twelve knots. The _Henrietta_ is well known."

"Would you like to take me and my three friends to Liverpool?"

"To Liverpool! Why not China at once?"

"I said Liverpool."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I tell you. I am bound for Bordeaux, and to Bordeaux I shall go."

"Will money have any effect?"

"Not the least."

The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of argument.

"But the owners of the _Henrietta_?" began Fogg.

"I am the owner. The vessel belongs to me."

"I will hire it from you."

"No."

"I will buy it, then."

"No."

Mr. Fogg did not betray the slightest disappointment, notwithstanding
the gravity of the situation. Things were not at New York as at Hong
Kong, nor was the captain of the _Henrietta_ like the pilot of the
_Tankadere_. Hitherto money had smoothed all obstacles. Now it failed.

Nevertheless, some means of crossing the Atlantic must be found, and
Phileas Fogg, apparently, had an idea, for he said to the captain:

"Will you take me to Bordeaux, then?"

"Not if you gave me two hundred dollars."

"I will give you two thousand dollars."

"What, for each passenger?"

"Yes."

"And there are four of you?"

"Yes."

This reply caused Captain Speedy to scratch his head. There were eight
thousand dollars to be gained, by simply going his own route; and such
a sum might well overcome his antipathy to passengers. Besides,
passengers at two thousand dollars apiece become valuable merchandise.

"I start at nine o'clock," said Captain Speedy quietly; "and if you
and your party are ready, why, there you are."

"We shall be on board at nine," replied Mr. Fogg, not less quietly.

It was then half-past eight. To land again, drive up to the hotel, and
bring off his party to the _Henrietta_, did not take Mr. Fogg very
long. He even offered a passage to the inseparable Fix. All this was
done by Mr. Fogg as coolly as possible.

They were all on board by the time the _Henrietta_ was ready to start.

When Passe-partout heard what the voyage was going to cost, he uttered
a prolonged "Oh!" which descended through all the notes of the gamut.

As for Fix, he concluded at once that the Bank of England would not
recover much of the money, for by the time they reached England, if
Mr. Fogg did not throw away any more money, at least seven thousand
pounds would have been spent.





CHAPTER XXXIII.

In which Phileas Fogg rises to the Occasion.



An hour later the _Henrietta_ passed the light-ship at the mouth of
the Hudson, rounded Sandy Hook, and skirting Fire Island and Long
Island, steamed rapidly eastward.

At noon next day Phileas Fogg mounted the bridge, to ascertain the
ship's position, for Captain Speedy was safely locked up in his cabin,
where he was using some very strong, but, under the circumstances,
excusable language.

The fact was that Mr. Fogg wished to go to Liverpool, and the captain
did not; and had made such good use of the time he had been on board,
and of his money, that he had won the whole crew, who were not on the
best terms with the captain, over to his side. And this is why Phileas
Fogg was in command, why the captain was shut up in his cabin, and why
the ship was heading for Liverpool. By the way Mr. Fogg managed the
vessel, it was evident he had been a sailor.

How the adventure ended will be seen later on. Aouda was anxious, but
said nothing. Fix had been completely upset from the first; but
Passe-partout thought the manoeuvre simply splendid. The captain had
said that the _Henrietta_ could make between eleven and twelve knots,
and he had not exaggerated.

If, then--for there were still ifs--if the sea did not get too rough,
nor the wind shift to the east, nor any accident happen to the
machinery, it was possible for the _Henrietta_ to cross the Atlantic
in nine days. But it was not improbable that, when he reached
Liverpool, Mr. Fogg would have to answer some awkward questions about
the _Henrietta_, as well as about the bank business.

For the first few days everything went well, and the _Henrietta_
steamed and sailed like a transatlantic liner.

Passe-partout was charmed. This last exploit of his master delighted
him above everything; he was the life and soul of the crew, and his
good spirits were infectious. He had forgotten the past vexation, and
only looked forward to the future. He kept his eye warily upon Fix,
but scarcely spoke, for the old intimacy no longer existed between
them.

It must be confessed that Fix did not understand what was going on.
The seizure of the _Henrietta_, the bribery of the crew, and Fogg's
seamanlike qualities perfectly astounded him; he did not know what to
think; for a gentleman who had begun by stealing fifty-five thousand
pounds might end by stealing a vessel, and Fix not unnaturally came to
the conclusion that the _Henrietta_ would not reach Liverpool at all,
but proceed to some port where Mr. Fogg, turned pirate, would be in
safety. The detective was sorry he had gone into the business.

All this time Captain Speedy continued to grumble and swear in his
cabin, and Passe-partout, who took him his meals, was obliged to be
very circumspect. Mr. Fogg did not seem to care whether there was a
captain on board or not.

On the 13th they passed the Banks of Newfoundland. This was a
dangerous part of the coast, particularly in winter, when fogs and
gales are frequent. On this occasion the barometer had been falling
all the preceding day, and during the night the cold became more
intense, and the wind chopped to the south-east.

This was unfortunate. Mr. Fogg furled his sails and put on full-steam;
nevertheless the speed fell off, as the vessel pitched heavily. The
wind rose, and the position of the _Henrietta_ became precarious.

Passe-partout's face darkened as the sky, and for two days he was in
mortal terror. But Mr. Fogg was a bold sailor, and kept the ship head
to sea without even reducing the steam. The _Henrietta_ rushed through
the waves and deluged her decks. Sometimes the screw was clear out of
the water, but still they kept on.

Although the wind did not increase to a tempest, it held to the
south-east, so the sails were rendered useless, and a great aid to the
screw was thus lost.

The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Fogg's departure
from London, and half the voyage across the Atlantic had been
accomplished, and the worst was over. In the summer, success would
have been assured, but in winter the weather had them at its mercy.
Passe-partout said nothing, but consoled himself with the reflection
that the steam would not fail them, and he hoped on.

One day the engineer came on deck and spoke anxiously to Mr. Fogg.
This consultation made Passe-partout very uneasy; he would have given
his ears to have heard what they were saying; he managed to catch a
few words, and heard his master say, "Are you sure?"

"Quite certain," replied the engineer; "you must not forget that we
have been piling up the fire ever since we left, and though we had
sufficient coal to go under easy steam to Bordeaux, we had not enough
to carry us to Liverpool at full pressure."

"I will think about it," said Mr. Fogg; and then Passe-partout
understood it all.

The coal was failing!

"If my master can get over this," he thought, "he will be a clever
fellow."

He was so agitated he could not help imparting his knowledge to Fix,
who replied, "Then you really think we are going to Liverpool?"

"Of course we are."

"You idiot!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders, as he
turned away.

Passe-partout would have revenged himself for this insult if he had
not reflected that the unlucky Fix was very probably disappointed and
humiliated at having followed a false scent all the way round the
world.

But what would Phileas Fogg do now? No one could say; but he himself
appeared as cool as ever, and to have decided, for he told the
engineer, the same evening, to keep the full-steam on till the coal
was exhausted.

So the _Henrietta_ proceeded at full-steam until, on the 18th, the
coals began to give out, as the engineer had foretold.

"Keep up the steam as much as possible," said Mr. Fogg.

About midday, Phileas Fogg, having taken the ship's reckoning, told
Passe-partout to release Captain Speedy. The Frenchman would rather
have unloosed a tiger, and said, as he went aft, "What an awful rage
he will be in."

A few minutes later a bomb appeared on deck. This bomb was Captain
Speedy, and looked ready to burst.

"Where are we?" was his first remark, as soon as his anger would allow
him to speak. "Where are we?" he repeated, looking round.

"Seven hundred and seventy miles from Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg
calmly.

"Pirate!" roared Andrew Speedy.

"I requested your attendance, sir."

"You robber!"

"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, "I wish to ask you to sell me your vessel."

"Never, by all the devils!"

"Then I shall be obliged to burn her."

"Burn my ship?"

"Yes, at least the upper works, as we are in want of fuel."

"Burn my ship!" roared Captain Speedy; "why she is worth fifty
thousand dollars!"

"Here are sixty thousand dollars," replied Fogg, as he offered him a
roll of bank-notes.

This had a great effect upon Captain Speedy. In an instant he forgot
his anger, his incarceration, and all his complaints. The ship was
twenty years old, he would make his fortune. The bomb would not burst
after all. Mr. Fogg had extinguished the fuze.

"I shall still keep the hulk, I suppose?"

"The hulk and the engine are yours. Is it a bargain?"

"Yes." And Speedy, seizing the proffered money, put it (speedily) into
his pocket.

All this time Passe-partout was as pale as a ghost, while Fix looked
as if he were going into a fit. Twenty thousand pounds expended, and
the captain still possessed the hull and the machinery, the most
valuable portion of the vessel! It was true that fifty-five thousand
pounds had been stolen.

When Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him: "Don't be
astonished at all this; you must know that if I do not reach London on
the 21st of December, I shall lose twenty thousand pounds. Now you see
I lost the steamer at New York--you refused to take me to Liverpool--"

"And I was right," replied the captain, "for I have made twenty
thousand dollars by the refusal." Then he added, more seriously:

"Do you know one thing, Captain--"

"Fogg," said that worthy.

"Captain Fogg; you've got a spice of the Yankee in you!" And having
paid him this compliment, as he fancied, he was going below, when Fogg
said, "Now the vessel is mine!"

"Certainly; from truck to keelson--the wood I mean!"

"All right. Please have all the woodwork cut away and burnt."

It was absolutely necessary to burn the dry wood for fuel; and that
day the poop, cabin fittings, bunks, and the spar-deck were consumed.

Next day, the 19th December, they burned the masts and spars. The crew
worked with a will, and Passe-partout sawed away as lustily as any ten
men. Next day the upper works disappeared, and the _Henrietta_ was
then only a hulk. But on that day they sighted the Fastnet Light and
the Irish coast. By ten o'clock they passed Queenstown. Phileas Fogg
had now only twenty-four hours left to reach Liverpool, even if he
kept up full-speed; and the steam was likely to give out apparently.

"Sir," said Speedy, who was now almost as much interested as the rest,
"I should really suggest your giving up the game. Everything is
against you. We are only just passing Queenstown."

"Ah," exclaimed Fogg, "is that Queenstown where the lights are?"

"Yes."

"Cannot we enter the harbour?"

"Not before three o'clock; the tide will not serve."

"Let us wait then," said Fogg calmly, without betraying any emotion
that, by a last effort, he was about to conquer his ill-luck.

Queenstown is the port at which the American mails are landed, which
are then forwarded to Dublin by an express train, and from thence to
Liverpool[A] by fast steamers, thus gaining twelve hours upon the
fastest vessels.



[Footnote A: Holyhead.--_Trans_.]



Mr. Fogg calculated upon gaining this space of time, and so, instead
of reaching Liverpool next evening, he would be there at noon, and be
able to reach London by a quarter to nine p.m.

About one a.m. the _Henrietta_ entered Queenstown, and Mr. Fogg,
exchanging a clasp of the hand with Captain Speedy, left that
personage upon the vessel, now a mere hulk.

All the party went ashore at once. Fix was much inclined to arrest
Fogg on the spot, but refrained. Why? Did he think he was mistaken
after all? At any rate he would not abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got
into the train at half-past one a.m., and were in Dublin at daybreak,
and immediately embarked on the mail-steamer which, disdaining to ride
over the waves, cut through them.

At twenty minutes to twelve (noon) Mr. Fogg disembarked at
Liverpool.[B] He was within six hours' run from London now.



[Footnote B: Holyhead.--_Trans_.]



But at that moment Fix approached him, and putting his hand upon Mr.
Fogg's shoulder, said:

"Are you really Phileas Fogg?"

"Yes," was the reply.

"Then I arrest you in the Queen's name!"





CHAPTER XXXIV.

In which Passe-partout uses Strong Language.



Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the Custom House,
pending his removal to London.

Passe-partout would have attacked Fix when he arrested his master, had
not some policemen prevented him. Mrs. Aouda was quite upset by the
occurrence, which was quite unintelligible to her. Passe-partout
explained to her how it had come to pass, and the young lady, who was
of course powerless, wept bitterly.

Fix had merely done his duty, whether Mr. Fogg was guilty or not
guilty. The judge would decide that.

It then occurred to Passe-partout that this was all his fault. Why had
he not communicated the facts to Mr. Fogg? He should have told him who
Fix was and his errand. Thus forewarned he could have given proofs of
his innocence, and at any rate the detective would not in that case
have travelled at Mr. Fogg's expense, and arrested him the moment he
landed. As he thought of all this Passe-partout was ready to shoot
himself. Neither he nor Aouda left the Custom House, notwithstanding
the cold weather. They were anxious to see Mr. Fogg once more.

As for that gentleman he was completely ruined, and at the very moment
he had succeeded in his attempt. The arrest was fatal. He had just
eight hours and forty-five minutes to reach the Reform Club, and six
hours would have sufficed to get to London.

Could anyone have seen Mr. Fogg they would have found him seated
calmly on a form in the Custom House, as cool as ever. Resigned is
scarcely the word to apply to him, but to all appearance he was as
unmoved as ever. If he was raging within he did not betray any
symptoms of anger. Was it possible that he still hoped to succeed?

At any rate he had carefully placed his watch on the table before him,
and was watching it intently. Not a word escaped him, but his eyes
wore a curious fixed expression. Honest or not, he was caught and
ruined.

Was he thinking of escape, did he think of looking for an outlet? It
was not unlikely, for every now and then he got up and walked round
the room. But the door and window were both firmly closed and barred.
He sat down, and drawing his journal from his pocket, read:



"21st December, Saturday, Liverpool."



To this he added--



"Eightieth day, 11.40 a.m."



Then he waited. The clock of the Custom House struck one. Mr. Fogg
perceived that his watch was two minutes fast.

Two o'clock came! Admitting that he could at that moment get into an
express train, he might yet arrive in London and reach the Reform Club
in time.

At 2.33 he heard a noise outside of opening doors. He could
distinguish Passe-partout and Fix's voices. Mr. Fogg's eyes glittered.
The door was flung open and Mrs. Aouda, Fix, and Passe-partout rushed
in.

"Ah sir!" exclaimed Fix, hurrying up to the prisoner, "a thousand
pardons--an unfortunate resemblance! The true thief is arrested. You
are free, free!"

Phileas Fogg was free. He walked quietly up to the detective, looked
him steadily in the face for a second, and with a movement of his arm
knocked him down!

"Well hit!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "By jingo, that's a proper
application of the art of self-defence!"

Fix lay flat on the ground, and did not say a word. He had only
received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passe-partout immediately
quitted the Custom House, jumped into a cab, and drove to the
railway-station.

Mr. Fogg inquired when there would be a train for London. It was 2.40;
the train had left five-and-thirty minutes before. Mr. Fogg ordered a
"special."

There were plenty of engines capable of running at a high speed, but
the train could not be got in readiness before three. At that hour Mr.
Fogg having said a few words to the engine-driver respecting a certain
"tip," was rushing up to London, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda and his
faithful Passe-partout.

The distance was accomplished in five hours and a half, a very easy
thing when the line is clear, but there were some unavoidable delays,
and when the special arrived in London the clock pointed to ten
minutes to nine.

Thus Phileas Fogg, having accomplished his journey round the world,
had returned five minutes too late!

He had lost his wager.





CHAPTER XXXV.

Passe-partout obeys Orders quickly.



The inhabitants of Saville Row would have been astonished, next day,
if they had been told that Mr. Fogg had returned, for the doors and
windows of his house were still shut, and there was no change visible
exteriorly.

When he left the railway-station, Mr. Fogg had told Passe-partout to
purchase some provisions, and then he quietly went home.

Mr. Fogg preserved his usual impassibility under the trying
circumstances; he was ruined, and all through the fault of that
blundering detective. After having achieved his long journey, overcome
a thousand obstacles, braved a thousand dangers, and even found time
to do some good on the way, to fail at the very moment that success
was certain was indeed terrible. A very small portion remained to him
of the large sum he had taken away with him; his whole fortune was
comprised in the twenty thousand pounds deposited at Baring's, and
that sum he owed to his colleagues at the club. After having paid all
expenses, even had he won he would have been none the richer, and it
is not likely he wished to be richer, for he was one of those men who
bet for reputation; but this wager would ruin his altogether. However,
he had fully made up his mind what to do.

A room had been set aside for Aouda, who felt Mr. Fogg's ruin very
deeply. From certain words she had heard she understood he was
meditating some serious measures. Knowing that Englishmen of an
eccentric turn of mind sometimes commit suicide, Passe-partout kept
watch on his master unobserved; but the first thing the lad did was to
extinguish the gas in his room, which had been burning for eighty
days. In the letter-box he had found the gas company's bill, and
thought it was quite time to put a stop to such an expense.

The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but it is doubtful whether he
slept. Aouda was quite unable to rest, and Passe-partout kept watch
like a dog at his master's door.

Next day, Mr. Fogg told him, shortly, to attend to Mrs. Aouda's
breakfast, while he would have a cup of tea and a chop. He excused
himself from joining Aouda at meals on the plea of putting his affairs
in order, and it was not till evening that he asked for an interview
with the young lady.

Passe-partout having received his orders had only to obey them, but he
found it impossible to leave his master's room. His heart was full,
his conscience was troubled with remorse, for he could not help
blaming himself for the disaster. If he had only warned his master
about Fix, Mr. Fogg would not have brought the detective to Liverpool,
and then--

Passe-partout could hold out no longer.

"Oh, Mr. Fogg!" he exclaimed, "do you not curse me? It is all my
fault--"

"I blame no one," replied Phileas Fogg, in his usual calm tone. "Go!"

Passe-partout quitted the room and sought Mrs. Aouda, to whom he
delivered his message.

"Madam," he added, "I am powerless. I have no influence over my
master's mind; perhaps you may have."

"What influence can I have?" she replied; "Mr. Fogg will submit to no
one. Has he really ever understood how grateful I am to him? Has he
ever read my heart? He must not be left alone an instant. You say he
is going to see me this evening?"

"Yes, madam. No doubt to make arrangements for your sojourn in
England."

"Let us wait, then," replied the young lady, becoming suddenly
thoughtful.

So, through all that Sunday, the house in Saville Row appeared
uninhabited; and for the first time since he had lived in it, Phileas
Fogg did not go to his club as Big Ben was striking half-past eleven.

And why should he go to the Reform Club? His friends did not expect
him. As he had not appeared in time to win the wager, it was not
necessary for him to go to the bank and draw his twenty thousand
pounds. His antagonists had his blank cheque; it only remained for
them to fill it up and present it for payment.

As Mr. Fogg, then, had no object in going out, he stayed in his room
and arranged his business matters. Passe-partout was continually
running up and down stairs, and thought the day passed very slowly. He
listened at his master's door, and did not think it wrong; he looked
through the keyhole, for every instant he feared some catastrophe.
Sometimes he thought of Fix, but without any animosity. Fix, like
everyone else, had been mistaken, and had only done his duty in
following Mr. Fogg, while he (Passe-partout)-- The thought haunted
him, and he thought himself the most wretched of men.

He was so unhappy that he could not bear to remain alone, so he
knocked at Mrs. Aouda's sitting-room, and, permitted to enter, sat
down in a corner, without speaking. She, too, was very pensive.

About half-past seven Mr. Fogg asked permission to go in; he took a
chair and sat close by the fireplace, opposite to the young lady; he
betrayed no emotion--the Fogg who had come back was the same as the
Fogg who had gone away. There was the same calmness, the same
impassibility.

For five minutes he did not speak, then he said: "Madam, can you
forgive me for having brought you to England?"

"I, Mr. Fogg!" exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, trying to check the beating of
her heart.

"Pray allow me to finish," continued Mr. Fogg. "When I asked you to
come to this country I was rich, and had determined to place a portion
of my fortune at your disposal. You would have been free and happy.
Now I am ruined."

"I know it, Mr. Fogg," she replied; "and I, in my turn, have to ask
your pardon for having followed you, and, who knows, retarded you, and
thus contributed to your ruin."

"You could not have remained in India," replied Mr. Fogg, "and your
safety was only assured by taking you quite away from those fanatics
who wished to arrest you."

"So, Mr. Fogg," she replied, "not satisfied with having saved me from
death, you wished to insure my comfort in a foreign country."

"I did," replied Fogg; "but fate was unpropitious. However, I wish to
place at your disposal the little I have left."

"But," she exclaimed, "what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"

"Of me, madam? I am in want of nothing."

"But," she continued, "how can you bear to look upon the fate in store
for you?"

"As I always look at everything," replied Mr. Fogg; "in the best way I
can."

"At any rate," said Aouda, "your friends will not permit you to want
anything."

"I have no friends, madam."

"Your relations, then."

"I have no relations now."

"Oh then indeed I pity you, Mr. Fogg. Solitude is a terrible thing.
Not a single person to whom you can confide your sorrow? Though they
say that even grief, shared with another, is more easily supported."

"So they say, madam."

"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and extending her hand to him, "do you
care to possess at the same time a relative and a friend? Will you
take me for your wife?"

Mr. Fogg had risen also. There was an unusual gleam in his eyes, and
his lips trembled. Aouda looked at him. In this regard of a noble
woman, who had dared everything to save the man to whom she owed her
life, her sincerity, firmness, and sweetness were all apparent. He was
at first astonished, and then completely overcome. For a moment his
eyes closed, as if to avoid her glance, and when he opened them again
he said simply:

"I love you. By all I hold sacred, I love you dearly; and I am yours
for ever."

"Ah!" exclaimed Mrs. Aouda, as she pressed her hand upon her bosom.

Passe-partout was immediately summoned. Mr. Fogg was still holding the
lady's hand. Passe-partout understood it all, and his face became
radiant.

Mr. Fogg asked him if it were too late to notify the Rev. Samuel
Wilson, of Marylebone Church, about the wedding.

Passe-partout smiled, as he replied, "It is never too late." It was
then five minutes past eight.

"Will the wedding take place to-morrow, Monday?" he said

"Shall we say to-morrow?" asked Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.

"If you please," she replied, blushing.

Passe-partout hurried away as fast as he could go.





CHAPTER XXXVI.

In which Phileas Fogg's Name is once again at a Premium on the
Exchange.



It is now time to say something of the change which English opinion
underwent when the true bank robber, one James Strand, was arrested in
Edinburgh on the 17th of December.

Three days before Fogg was a criminal, followed by the police; now he
was a gentleman, who had only been taking an eccentric journey round
the world. There was great discussion in the papers, and those who had
laid wagers for or against Mr. Fogg rose once more as if by magic. The
"Fogg Bonds" were once more negotiated, and Phileas Fogg's name was at
a premium.

The members of the Reform Club passed those three days in great
discomfort. Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten, return? Where
was he on that 17th of December, which was the seventy-sixth day after
his departure, and they had had no news of him? Had he given in, and
renounced the struggle, or was he continuing the journey at a more
reasonable rate, and would he appear on Saturday, the 21st of
December, at a quarter to nine in the evening, as agreed upon?

We cannot depict the intense agitation which moved all classes of
society during those three days. Telegrams were sent to America and
Asia for news of Mr. Fogg, and people were sent, morning and night, to
Saville Row; but there was no news. Even the police did not know what
had become of Fix. But all these things did not prevent bets being
made, even to a greater amount than formerly. Bonds were quoted no
longer at a hundred per cent. discount, but went up to ten and five;
and even old Lord Albemarle was betting at evens.

So that Saturday night a great crowd was assembled in Pall Mall and
the Reform Club. Traffic was impeded; disputes, arguments, and bets
were raging in every direction. The police had the greatest difficulty
to keep back the crowd, and as the hour when Mr. Fogg was due
approached, the excitement rose to fever-heat.

That evening that gentleman's five friends had assembled in the
drawing-room of the club. There were the two bankers, John Sullivan
and Samuel Fallentin; Andrew Stuart, the engineer; Gauthier Ralph, the
director of the Bank of England; and Thomas Flanagan, the brewer; all
awaiting Mr. Fogg's return with the greatest anxiety.

At twenty minutes past eight Stuart rose and said: "Gentlemen, in
twenty-five minutes the time agreed upon will have expired."

"At what time was the last train due from Liverpool?" asked Flanagan.

"At 7.23," replied Ralph; "and the next does not arrive till past
midnight."

"Well, then, gentlemen," replied Stuart, "if Mr. Fogg had arrived by
the 7.23, he would have been here before now, so we may look upon the
bet as won."

"Do not be in too great a hurry," replied Fallentin. "You know that
our friend is very eccentric, and his punctuality is proverbial. I,
for one, shall be astonished if he does not turn up at the last
minute."

"For my part," said Stuart, who was very nervous, "if I should see him
I could not believe it was he."

"In fact," replied Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg's project was insane. No matter
how punctual he may be, he cannot prevent some delay; and a day or two
would throw all his arrangements out of gear."

"And you will remark besides," said Sullivan, "that we have not
received any news from him all the time he has been away, although
there are telegraphs all along his route."

"He has lost, gentlemen," said Stuart, "a hundred times over. The only
ship he could have come by and been in time was the _China_, and she
arrived yesterday. Here is a list of the passengers, and Phileas
Fogg's name is not included. On the most favourable computation our
friend can scarcely have reached America. I do not expect him for the
next twenty days, and my Lord Albemarle will lose his five thousand
pounds."

"Then we have nothing to do," replied Ralph, "but to present his
cheque at Baring's to-morrow."

The hands of the clock were then pointing to twenty minutes to nine.

"Five minutes more," said Stuart.

The five friends looked at each other. One could almost hear their
hearts beating, for it must be confessed that even for such seasoned
players the stakes were pretty high, but they did not wish their
anxiety to be remarked, and on Fallentin's suggestion they sat down to
whist.

"I would not give up my four thousand pounds," said Stuart as he sat
down, "if anyone were to offer me three thousand nine hundred and
ninety-nine."

The clock pointed to eighteen minutes to nine.

The players took up their cards, but kept looking at the clock. No
matter how safe they felt, the minutes had never appeared so long.

"8.43," said Flanagan, as he cut the pack Ralph passed to him.

At that moment the silence was profound, but the cries of the crowd
outside soon rose again. The clock beat out the seconds with
mathematical regularity, and each of the players checked every tick of
the pendulum.

"8.44," said Sullivan, in a voice which betrayed his nervousness.

One minute more and they would have won their bet. They laid down
their cards and counted the seconds.

At the fortieth second no news; at the fiftieth still nothing. At the
fifty-fifth second a loud roar was heard from the street mingled with
cheers and oaths.

All the players rose simultaneously.

At the fifty-seventh second the door of the room was thrust open, and
before the pendulum had marked the minute Phileas Fogg advanced into
the room, followed to the door by an excited crowd who had forced
their way in, and he said in his usual calm tone,

"Here I am, gentlemen."





CHAPTER XXXVII.

Showing how Phileas Fogg gained only Happiness by his Tour round the
World.



Yes, it was Phileas Fogg in person.

Our readers will recollect that at five minutes after eight that
evening--about twenty-five hours after our travellers' arrival in
London--Passe-partout had been requested to arrange about a certain
marriage with the Rev. Samuel Wilson. Passe-partout had gone on his
mission rejoicing, but the clergyman was not at home. He naturally
waited, but he was kept at least twenty minutes.

It was 8.35 when he left the clergyman's house, but what a state he
was in! His hair was disordered, he ran home without his hat,
overturning the passers-by as he went rushing along the pathway.

In three minutes he was back in Saville Row, and he rushed
breathlessly into Mr. Fogg's room.

He was unable to speak.

"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Oh, sir--the marriage--impossible."

"Impossible?"

"Impossible for to-morrow."

"Why so?"

"Because to-morrow is--Sunday."

"It is Monday," said Mr. Fogg.

"No, to-day is Saturday."

"Saturday? impossible."

"It is, it is!" exclaimed Passe-partout. "You have made a mistake of
one day. We arrived twenty-four hours before our time, but we have
only ten minutes left now."

As he spoke Passe-partout fairly dragged his master out of his chair.

Phileas Fogg, thus seized, had no choice. He rushed downstairs, jumped
into a cab, promised the driver a hundred pounds, ran over two dogs,
came into collision with five cabs, and reached the Reform Club at
8.45.

So Phileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty
days, and had won his bet of twenty thousand pounds.

Now how was it that such a methodical man could have made a mistake of
a day? How could he imagine that he had got back on Saturday the 21st
when it was really Friday the 20th, seventy-nine days after his
departure?

The reason is very simple.

Phileas Fogg had unconsciously gained a day, simply because he
journeyed always eastward, whereas, had he journeyed westward, he
would have lost a day.

In fact, travelling towards the east, he had gone towards the south,
and consequently the days got shorter as many times four minutes as he
crossed degrees in that direction. There are three hundred and sixty
degrees, and these multiplied by four minutes give exactly twenty-four
hours; that is the day Fogg gained. In other words, while Phileas
Fogg, going east, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty times, his
friends in London only saw it seventy-nine times, and that is why on
that day, which was Saturday, and not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought,
they expected him at the Reform Club.

Passe-partout's wonderful watch, which had always kept London time,
would have confirmed this had it only marked the days as well as the
hours and minutes.

So Phileas Fogg had won his twenty thousand pounds, but as he had
expended nearly nineteen thousand pounds, his gain was small. However,
he had not bet for money. He actually divided the thousand pounds that
remained between honest Passe-partout and the unfortunate Fix, against
whom he bore no malice. But from Passe-partout's share he deducted, on
principle, the cost of the gas which had been burning for one thousand
nine hundred and twenty hours. That same evening Mr. Fogg, as
tranquilly as ever, said to Aouda, "Is the prospect of our marriage
still agreeable to you?"

"Mr. Fogg," she replied, "it is I who ought to have asked you that
question. You were ruined then, but now you are rich."

"Excuse me, madam," he replied, "this fortune belongs to you. If you
had not thought of the wedding, my servant would never have gone to
see Mr. Wilson, and I should not have found out my mistake."

"Dear Mr. Fogg," said the young lady.

"My dearest Aouda," replied Phileas Fogg.

The marriage took place forty-eight hours afterwards, and
Passe-partout, beaming and resplendent, gave the bride away. Had he
not saved her life, and was he not entitled to the honour?

On the wedding morning Passe-partout knocked at his master's door.

"What is the matter, Passe-partout?"

"Well, sir, I have just this moment found out that we might have gone
round the world in seventy-eight days only."

"No doubt," replied Mr. Fogg, "if we had not crossed India; but if I
had not crossed India we should not have rescued Mrs. Aouda, and she
would never have been my wife."

And Mr. Fogg shut the door quietly.

So Phileas Fogg won his wager, and made the tour of the world in
eighty days. To do this he had made use of every means of
transport--steamers, railways, carriages, yacht, trading-ship,
sledges, and elephants. That eccentric gentleman had displayed all
through his most marvellous qualities of coolness and exactness; and
after all what had he really gained? What had he brought back?

"Nothing," do you say? Well, perhaps so, if a charming woman is
nothing, who, however extraordinary it may appear, made him the
happiest of men.

And in truth, reader, would not you go round the world for less than
that?



THE END.







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