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S'\xef\xbb\xbfThe Project Gutenberg EBook of Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne\r\n\r\nThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with\r\nalmost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or\r\nre-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included\r\nwith this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net\r\n\r\n\r\nTitle: Around the World in 80 Days\r\n\r\nAuthor: Jules Verne\r\n\r\nRelease Date: May 15, 2008 [EBook #103]\r\nLast updated: February 18, 2012\r\nLast updated: May 5, 2012\r\n\r\nLanguage: English\r\n\r\n\r\n*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS ***\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nAROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nCONTENTS\r\n\r\n\r\nCHAPTER\r\n\r\n      I  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PASSEPARTOUT ACCEPT EACH OTHER, THE\r\n         ONE AS MASTER, THE OTHER AS MAN\r\n\r\n     II  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND\r\n         HIS IDEAL\r\n\r\n    III  IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST\r\n         PHILEAS FOGG DEAR\r\n\r\n     IV  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT\r\n\r\n      V  IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN,\r\n         APPEARS ON \'CHANGE\r\n\r\n     VI  IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, BETRAYS A VERY NATURAL IMPATIENCE\r\n\r\n    VII  WHICH ONCE MORE DEMONSTRATES THE USELESSNESS OF PASSPORTS AS\r\n         AIDS TO dETECTIVES\r\n\r\n   VIII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TALKS RATHER MORE, PERHAPS, THAN IS PRUDENT\r\n\r\n     IX  IN WHICH THE RED SEA AND THE INDIAN OCEAN PROVE PROPITIOUS\r\n         TO THE DESIGNS OF PHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n      X  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF WITH THE LOSS\r\n         OF HIS SHOES\r\n\r\n     XI  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS OF CONVEYANCE\r\n         AT A FABULOUS PRICE\r\n\r\n    XII  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND HIS COMPANIONS VENTURE ACROSS THE\r\n         INDIAN FORESTS, AND WHAT ENSUED\r\n\r\n   XIII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT RECEIVES A NEW PROOF THAT FORTUNE FAVORS\r\n         THE BRAVE\r\n\r\n    XIV  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEAUTIFUL\r\n         VALLEY OF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF SEEING IT\r\n\r\n     XV  IN WHICH THE BAG OF BANKNOTES DISGORGES SOME THOUSANDS OF POUNDS\r\n         MORE\r\n\r\n    XVI  IN WHICH FIX DOES NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND IN THE LEAST WHAT IS\r\n         SAID TO HIM\r\n\r\n   XVII  SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG\r\n\r\n  XVIII  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG, PASSEPARTOUT, AND FIX GO EACH ABOUT HIS\r\n         BUSINESS\r\n\r\n    XIX  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER,\r\n         AND WHAT COMES OF IT\r\n\r\n     XX  IN WHICH FIX COMES FACE TO FACE WITH PHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n    XXI  IN WHICH THE MASTER OF THE "TANKADERE" RUNS GREAT RISK OF LOSING\r\n         A REWARD OF TWO HUNDRED POUNDS\r\n\r\n   XXII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT FINDS OUT THAT, EVEN AT THE ANTIPODES,\r\n         IT IS CONVENIENT TO HAVE SOME MONEY IN ONE\'S POCKET\r\n\r\n  XXIII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT\'S NOSE BECOMES OUTRAGEOUSLY LONG\r\n\r\n  XXIV  DURING WHICH MR. FOGG AND PARTY CROSS THE PACIFIC OCEAN\r\n\r\n    XXV  IN WHICH A SLIGHT GLIMPSE IS HAD OF SAN FRANCISCO\r\n\r\n   XXVI  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PARTY TRAVEL BY THE PACIFIC RAILROAD\r\n\r\n  XXVII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN\r\n         HOUR, A COURSE OF MORMON HISTORY\r\n\r\n XXVIII  IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN\r\n         TO REASON\r\n\r\n   XXIX  IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET\r\n         WITH ON AMERICAN RAILROADS\r\n\r\n    XXX  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY\r\n\r\n   XXXI  IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, CONSIDERABLY FURTHERS THE INTERESTS\r\n         OF PHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n  XXXII  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ENGAGES IN A DIRECT STRUGGLE WITH BAD\r\n         FORTUNE\r\n\r\n XXXIII  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SHOWS HIMSELF EQUAL TO THE OCCASION\r\n\r\n  XXXIV  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AT LAST REACHES LONDON\r\n\r\n   XXXV  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DOES NOT HAVE TO REPEAT HIS ORDERS TO\r\n         PASSEPARTOUT TWICE\r\n\r\n  XXXVI  IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG\'S NAME IS ONCE MORE AT A PREMIUM ON \'CHANGE\r\n\r\n XXXVII  IN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT PHILEAS FOGG GAINED NOTHING BY HIS TOUR\r\n         AROUND THE WORLD, UNLESS IT WERE HAPPINESS\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter I\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PASSEPARTOUT ACCEPT EACH OTHER,\r\nTHE ONE AS MASTER, THE OTHER AS MAN\r\n\r\n\r\nMr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington\r\nGardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814.  He was one of the\r\nmost noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to\r\navoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little\r\nwas known, except that he was a polished man of the world.  People said\r\nthat he resembled Byron--at least that his head was Byronic; but he was\r\na bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without\r\ngrowing old.\r\n\r\nCertainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was\r\na Londoner.  He was never seen on \'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the\r\ncounting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of\r\nwhich he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been\r\nentered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln\'s\r\nInn, or Gray\'s Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of\r\nChancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen\'s Bench, or the\r\nEcclesiastical Courts.  He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he\r\na merchant or a gentleman farmer.  His name was strange to the\r\nscientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part\r\nin the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London\r\nInstitution, the Artisan\'s Association, or the Institution of Arts and\r\nSciences.  He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies\r\nwhich swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the\r\nEntomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious\r\ninsects.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.\r\n\r\nThe way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple\r\nenough.\r\n\r\nHe was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit.\r\nHis cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current,\r\nwhich was always flush.\r\n\r\nWas Phileas Fogg rich?  Undoubtedly.  But those who knew him best could\r\nnot imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last\r\nperson to whom to apply for the information.  He was not lavish, nor,\r\non the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was\r\nneeded for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it\r\nquietly and sometimes anonymously.  He was, in short, the least\r\ncommunicative of men.  He talked very little, and seemed all the more\r\nmysterious for his taciturn manner.  His daily habits were quite open\r\nto observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that\r\nhe had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly\r\npuzzled.\r\n\r\nHad he travelled?  It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world\r\nmore familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear\r\nto have an intimate acquaintance with it.  He often corrected, with a\r\nfew clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the\r\nclub as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true\r\nprobabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so\r\noften did events justify his predictions.  He must have travelled\r\neverywhere, at least in the spirit.\r\n\r\nIt was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from\r\nLondon for many years.  Those who were honoured by a better\r\nacquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend\r\nto have ever seen him anywhere else.  His sole pastimes were reading\r\nthe papers and playing whist.  He often won at this game, which, as a\r\nsilent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went\r\ninto his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities.  Mr. Fogg\r\nplayed, not to win, but for the sake of playing.  The game was in his\r\neyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless,\r\nunwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may\r\nhappen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends,\r\nwhich is certainly more unusual.  He lived alone in his house in\r\nSaville Row, whither none penetrated.  A single domestic sufficed to\r\nserve him.  He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours\r\nmathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking\r\nhis meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and\r\nwent home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed.  He never\r\nused the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured\r\nmembers.  He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row,\r\neither in sleeping or making his toilet.  When he chose to take a walk\r\nit was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic\r\nflooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty\r\nred porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows.\r\nWhen he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club--its\r\nkitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy--aided to crowd his table\r\nwith their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters,\r\nin dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the\r\nviands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters,\r\nof a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his\r\ncinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled\r\nwith ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.\r\n\r\nIf to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that\r\nthere is something good in eccentricity.\r\n\r\nThe mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly\r\ncomfortable.  The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but\r\nlittle from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be\r\nalmost superhumanly prompt and regular.  On this very 2nd of October he\r\nhad dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought\r\nhim shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of\r\neighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house\r\nbetween eleven and half-past.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close\r\ntogether like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his\r\nknees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a\r\ncomplicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds,\r\nthe days, the months, and the years.  At exactly half-past eleven Mr.\r\nFogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair\r\nto the Reform.\r\n\r\nA rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where\r\nPhileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant,\r\nappeared.\r\n\r\n"The new servant," said he.\r\n\r\nA young man of thirty advanced and bowed.\r\n\r\n"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is\r\nJohn?"\r\n\r\n"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout,\r\na surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for\r\ngoing out of one business into another.  I believe I\'m honest,\r\nmonsieur, but, to be outspoken, I\'ve had several trades.  I\'ve been an\r\nitinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard,\r\nand dance on a rope like Blondin.  Then I got to be a professor of\r\ngymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a\r\nsergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire.  But I\r\nquitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of\r\ndomestic life, took service as a valet here in England.  Finding myself\r\nout of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact\r\nand settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in\r\nthe hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the\r\nname of Passepartout."\r\n\r\n"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg.  "You are well recommended\r\nto me; I hear a good report of you.  You know my conditions?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, monsieur."\r\n\r\n"Good!  What time is it?"\r\n\r\n"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an\r\nenormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.\r\n\r\n"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible--"\r\n\r\n"You are four minutes too slow.  No matter; it\'s enough to mention the\r\nerror.  Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m.,\r\nthis Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head\r\nwith an automatic motion, and went off without a word.\r\n\r\nPassepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master\r\ngoing out.  He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James\r\nForster, departing in his turn.  Passepartout remained alone in the\r\nhouse in Saville Row.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter II\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND HIS IDEAL\r\n\r\n\r\n"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I\'ve seen people at\r\nMadame Tussaud\'s as lively as my new master!"\r\n\r\nMadame Tussaud\'s "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much\r\nvisited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.\r\n\r\nDuring his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been\r\ncarefully observing him.  He appeared to be a man about forty years of\r\nage, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his\r\nhair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his\r\nface rather pale, his teeth magnificent.  His countenance possessed in\r\nthe highest degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a\r\nquality of those who act rather than talk.  Calm and phlegmatic, with a\r\nclear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure\r\nwhich Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas.  Seen\r\nin the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being\r\nperfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer.\r\nPhileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed\r\neven in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well\r\nas in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.\r\n\r\nHe was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was\r\neconomical alike of his steps and his motions.  He never took one step\r\ntoo many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he\r\nmade no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or\r\nagitated.  He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always\r\nreached his destination at the exact moment.\r\n\r\nHe lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and\r\nas he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and\r\nthat friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.\r\n\r\nAs for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris.  Since he had\r\nabandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he\r\nhad in vain searched for a master after his own heart.  Passepartout\r\nwas by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a\r\nbold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow,\r\nwith a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and\r\nserviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the\r\nshoulders of a friend.  His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund,\r\nhis figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his\r\nphysical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days.\r\nHis brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors\r\nare said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva\'s tresses,\r\nPassepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three\r\nstrokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.\r\n\r\nIt would be rash to predict how Passepartout\'s lively nature would\r\nagree with Mr. Fogg.  It was impossible to tell whether the new servant\r\nwould turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required;\r\nexperience alone could solve the question.  Passepartout had been a\r\nsort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so\r\nfar he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten\r\nEnglish houses.  But he could not take root in any of these; with\r\nchagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular,\r\nconstantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure.\r\nHis last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after\r\npassing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home\r\nin the morning on policemen\'s shoulders.  Passepartout, desirous of\r\nrespecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance\r\non such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave.  Hearing\r\nthat Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was\r\none of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from\r\nhome overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after.\r\nHe presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.\r\n\r\nAt half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the\r\nhouse in Saville Row.  He began its inspection without delay, scouring\r\nit from cellar to garret.  So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion\r\npleased him; it seemed to him like a snail\'s shell, lighted and warmed\r\nby gas, which sufficed for both these purposes.  When Passepartout\r\nreached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to\r\ninhabit, and he was well satisfied with it.  Electric bells and\r\nspeaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on\r\nthe mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg\'s\r\nbedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant.  "That\'s\r\ngood, that\'ll do," said Passepartout to himself.\r\n\r\nHe suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon\r\ninspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house.\r\nIt comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the\r\nmorning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past\r\neleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of\r\nservice, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the\r\nshaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at\r\ntwenty minutes before ten.  Everything was regulated and foreseen that\r\nwas to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at\r\nwhich the methodical gentleman retired.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg\'s wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste.  Each\r\npair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of\r\nyear and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing;\r\nand the same system was applied to the master\'s shoes.  In short, the\r\nhouse in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder\r\nand unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness,\r\ncomfort, and method idealised.  There was no study, nor were there\r\nbooks, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the\r\nReform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law\r\nand politics, were at his service.  A moderate-sized safe stood in his\r\nbedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but\r\nPassepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere;\r\neverything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.\r\n\r\nHaving scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a\r\nbroad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is\r\njust what I wanted!  Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I!\r\nWhat a domestic and regular gentleman!  A real machine; well, I don\'t\r\nmind serving a machine."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter III\r\n\r\nIN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST PHILEAS\r\nFOGG DEAR\r\n\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,\r\nand having put his right foot before his left five hundred and\r\nseventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and\r\nseventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall\r\nMall, which could not have cost less than three millions.  He repaired\r\nat once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a\r\ntasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn\r\ncolouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which\r\nhad already been laid for him.  His breakfast consisted of a side-dish,\r\na broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef\r\ngarnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel\r\nof Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of\r\ntea, for which the Reform is famous.  He rose at thirteen minutes to\r\none, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous\r\napartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings.  A flunkey handed him\r\nan uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed\r\nfamiliarity with this delicate operation.  The perusal of this paper\r\nabsorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard,\r\nhis next task, occupied him till the dinner hour.  Dinner passed as\r\nbreakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and\r\nsat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six.  Half an hour\r\nlater several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the\r\nfireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning.  They were Mr.\r\nFogg\'s usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John\r\nSullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and\r\nGauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England--all rich\r\nand highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the\r\nprinces of English trade and finance.\r\n\r\n"Well, Ralph," said Thomas Flanagan, "what about that robbery?"\r\n\r\n"Oh," replied Stuart, "the Bank will lose the money."\r\n\r\n"On the contrary," broke in Ralph, "I hope we may put our hands on the\r\nrobber.  Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports\r\nof America and the Continent, and he\'ll be a clever fellow if he slips\r\nthrough their fingers."\r\n\r\n"But have you got the robber\'s description?" asked Stuart.\r\n\r\n"In the first place, he is no robber at all," returned Ralph,\r\npositively.\r\n\r\n"What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no\r\nrobber?"\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"Perhaps he\'s a manufacturer, then."\r\n\r\n"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."\r\n\r\nIt was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers,\r\nwho made this remark.  He bowed to his friends, and entered into the\r\nconversation.  The affair which formed its subject, and which was town\r\ntalk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England.  A package\r\nof banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been\r\ntaken from the principal cashier\'s table, that functionary being at the\r\nmoment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and\r\nsixpence.  Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere.  Let it be\r\nobserved that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the\r\nhonesty of the public.  There are neither guards nor gratings to\r\nprotect its treasures; gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed, at\r\nthe mercy of the first comer.  A keen observer of English customs\r\nrelates that, being in one of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the\r\ncuriosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds.\r\nHe took it up, scrutinised it, passed it to his neighbour, he to the\r\nnext man, and so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was\r\ntransferred to the end of a dark entry; nor did it return to its place\r\nfor half an hour.  Meanwhile, the cashier had not so much as raised his\r\nhead.  But in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly.\r\nThe package of notes not being found when five o\'clock sounded from the\r\nponderous clock in the "drawing office," the amount was passed to the\r\naccount of profit and loss.  As soon as the robbery was discovered,\r\npicked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez,\r\nBrindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward\r\nof two thousand pounds, and five per cent. on the sum that might be\r\nrecovered.  Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those\r\nwho arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was\r\nat once entered upon.\r\n\r\nThere were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said,\r\nthat the thief did not belong to a professional band.  On the day of\r\nthe robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and with a\r\nwell-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying room\r\nwhere the crime was committed.  A description of him was easily\r\nprocured and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits, of whom\r\nRalph was one, did not despair of his apprehension.  The papers and\r\nclubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing\r\nthe probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was\r\nespecially agitated, several of its members being Bank officials.\r\n\r\nRalph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to\r\nbe in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly\r\nstimulate their zeal and activity.  But Stuart was far from sharing\r\nthis confidence; and, as they placed themselves at the whist-table,\r\nthey continued to argue the matter.  Stuart and Flanagan played\r\ntogether, while Phileas Fogg had Fallentin for his partner.  As the\r\ngame proceeded the conversation ceased, excepting between the rubbers,\r\nwhen it revived again.\r\n\r\n"I maintain," said Stuart, "that the chances are in favour of the\r\nthief, who must be a shrewd fellow."\r\n\r\n"Well, but where can he fly to?" asked Ralph.  "No country is safe for\r\nhim."\r\n\r\n"Pshaw!"\r\n\r\n"Where could he go, then?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, I don\'t know that.  The world is big enough."\r\n\r\n"It was once," said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone.  "Cut, sir," he added,\r\nhanding the cards to Thomas Flanagan.\r\n\r\nThe discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its\r\nthread.\r\n\r\n"What do you mean by `once\'?  Has the world grown smaller?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly," returned Ralph.  "I agree with Mr. Fogg.  The world has\r\ngrown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly\r\nthan a hundred years ago.  And that is why the search for this thief\r\nwill be more likely to succeed."\r\n\r\n"And also why the thief can get away more easily."\r\n\r\n"Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart," said Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nBut the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand was\r\nfinished, said eagerly: "You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that\r\nthe world has grown smaller.  So, because you can go round it in three\r\nmonths--"\r\n\r\n"In eighty days," interrupted Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"That is true, gentlemen," added John Sullivan.  "Only eighty days, now\r\nthat the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian\r\nPeninsula Railway, has been opened.  Here is the estimate made by the\r\nDaily Telegraph:\r\n\r\n  From London to Suez via Mont Cenis and\r\n    Brindisi, by rail and steamboats .................  7 days\r\n  From Suez to Bombay, by steamer .................... 13  "\r\n  From Bombay to Calcutta, by rail ...................  3  "\r\n  From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer ............. 13  "\r\n  From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer .....  6  "\r\n  From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ......... 22  "\r\n  From San Francisco to New York, by rail ............. 7  "\r\n  From New York to London, by steamer and rail ........ 9  "\r\n                                                       ------\r\n    Total ............................................ 80 days."\r\n\r\n"Yes, in eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement made a\r\nfalse deal.  "But that doesn\'t take into account bad weather, contrary\r\nwinds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on."\r\n\r\n"All included," returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the\r\ndiscussion.\r\n\r\n"But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails," replied Stuart;\r\n"suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans, and scalp the\r\npassengers!"\r\n\r\n"All included," calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the\r\ncards, "Two trumps."\r\n\r\nStuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on: "You\r\nare right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically--"\r\n\r\n"Practically also, Mr. Stuart."\r\n\r\n"I\'d like to see you do it in eighty days."\r\n\r\n"It depends on you.  Shall we go?"\r\n\r\n"Heaven preserve me!  But I would wager four thousand pounds that such\r\na journey, made under these conditions, is impossible."\r\n\r\n"Quite possible, on the contrary," returned Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Well, make it, then!"\r\n\r\n"The journey round the world in eighty days?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"I should like nothing better."\r\n\r\n"When?"\r\n\r\n"At once.  Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense."\r\n\r\n"It\'s absurd!" cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the\r\npersistency of his friend.  "Come, let\'s go on with the game."\r\n\r\n"Deal over again, then," said Phileas Fogg.  "There\'s a false deal."\r\n\r\nStuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put them\r\ndown again.\r\n\r\n"Well, Mr. Fogg," said he, "it shall be so: I will wager the four\r\nthousand on it."\r\n\r\n"Calm yourself, my dear Stuart," said Fallentin.  "It\'s only a joke."\r\n\r\n"When I say I\'ll wager," returned Stuart, "I mean it."  \r\n\r\n"All right," said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued:\r\n"I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring\'s which I will willingly\r\nrisk upon it."\r\n\r\n"Twenty thousand pounds!" cried Sullivan.  "Twenty thousand pounds,\r\nwhich you would lose by a single accidental delay!"\r\n\r\n"The unforeseen does not exist," quietly replied Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible\r\ntime in which the journey can be made."\r\n\r\n"A well-used minimum suffices for everything."\r\n\r\n"But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from the\r\ntrains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again."\r\n\r\n"I will jump--mathematically."\r\n\r\n"You are joking."\r\n\r\n"A true Englishman doesn\'t joke when he is talking about so serious a\r\nthing as a wager," replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly.  "I will bet twenty\r\nthousand pounds against anyone who wishes that I will make the tour of\r\nthe world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred and twenty hours,\r\nor a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes.  Do you accept?"\r\n\r\n"We accept," replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and\r\nRalph, after consulting each other.\r\n\r\n"Good," said Mr. Fogg.  "The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before\r\nnine.  I will take it."\r\n\r\n"This very evening?" asked Stuart.\r\n\r\n"This very evening," returned Phileas Fogg.  He took out and consulted\r\na pocket almanac, and added,  "As today is Wednesday, the 2nd of\r\nOctober, I shall be due in London in this very room of the Reform Club,\r\non Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine p.m.; or\r\nelse the twenty thousand pounds, now deposited in my name at Baring\'s,\r\nwill belong to you, in fact and in right, gentlemen.  Here is a cheque\r\nfor the amount."\r\n\r\nA memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six\r\nparties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical composure.  He\r\ncertainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty thousand\r\npounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might have to\r\nexpend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to say\r\nunattainable, project.  As for his antagonists, they seemed much\r\nagitated; not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had\r\nsome scruples about betting under conditions so difficult to their\r\nfriend.\r\n\r\nThe clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so\r\nthat Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.\r\n\r\n"I am quite ready now," was his tranquil response.  "Diamonds are\r\ntrumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter IV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT\r\n\r\n\r\nHaving won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends,\r\nPhileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his\r\nduties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the\r\ninexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to\r\nrule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout did not reply.  It could not be he who was called; it was\r\nnot the right hour.\r\n\r\n"Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.\r\n\r\nPassepartout made his appearance.\r\n\r\n"I\'ve called you twice," observed his master.\r\n\r\n"But it is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.\r\n\r\n"I know it; I don\'t blame you.  We start for Dover and Calais in ten\r\nminutes."\r\n\r\nA puzzled grin overspread Passepartout\'s round face; clearly he had not\r\ncomprehended his master.\r\n\r\n"Monsieur is going to leave home?"\r\n\r\n"Yes," returned Phileas Fogg.  "We are going round the world."\r\n\r\nPassepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his\r\nhands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied\r\nastonishment.\r\n\r\n"Round the world!" he murmured.\r\n\r\n"In eighty days," responded Mr. Fogg.  "So we haven\'t a moment to lose."\r\n\r\n"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head\r\nfrom right to left.\r\n\r\n"We\'ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and three\r\npairs of stockings for me, and the same for you.  We\'ll buy our clothes\r\non the way.  Bring down my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and some\r\nstout shoes, though we shall do little walking.  Make haste!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout tried to reply, but could not.  He went out, mounted to\r\nhis own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: "That\'s good, that is!\r\nAnd I, who wanted to remain quiet!"\r\n\r\nHe mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.\r\nAround the world in eighty days!  Was his master a fool?  No.  Was this\r\na joke, then?  They were going to Dover; good!  To Calais; good again!\r\nAfter all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years,\r\nwould not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again.  Perhaps they\r\nwould go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris\r\nonce more.  But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop\r\nthere; no doubt--but, then, it was none the less true that he was\r\ngoing away, this so domestic person hitherto!\r\n\r\nBy eight o\'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag,\r\ncontaining the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still\r\ntroubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended\r\nto Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg was quite ready.  Under his arm might have been observed a\r\nred-bound copy of Bradshaw\'s Continental Railway Steam Transit and\r\nGeneral Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of\r\nsteamers and railways.  He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped\r\ninto it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would pass\r\nwherever he might go.\r\n\r\n"You have forgotten nothing?" asked he.\r\n\r\n"Nothing, monsieur."\r\n\r\n"My mackintosh and cloak?"\r\n\r\n"Here they are."\r\n\r\n"Good!  Take this carpet-bag," handing it to Passepartout.  "Take good\r\ncare of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."\r\n\r\nPassepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds\r\nwere in gold, and weighed him down.\r\n\r\nMaster and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and\r\nat the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing\r\nCross.  The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes\r\npast eight.  Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master,\r\nwho, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when a\r\npoor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared\r\nwith mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a\r\ntattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl,\r\napproached, and mournfully asked for alms.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and\r\nhanded them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman.  I\'m glad that\r\nI met you;" and passed on.\r\n\r\nPassepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master\'s action\r\ntouched his susceptible heart.\r\n\r\nTwo first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr.\r\nFogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five\r\nfriends of the Reform.\r\n\r\n"Well, gentlemen," said he, "I\'m off, you see; and, if you will examine\r\nmy passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have\r\naccomplished the journey agreed upon."\r\n\r\n"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph politely.\r\n"We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour."\r\n\r\n"You do not forget when you are due in London again?"  asked Stuart.\r\n\r\n"In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter\r\nbefore nine p.m.  Good-bye, gentlemen."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class\r\ncarriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle\r\nscreamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.\r\n\r\nThe night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling.  Phileas Fogg,\r\nsnugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips.  Passepartout,\r\nnot yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the\r\ncarpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.\r\n\r\nJust as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly\r\nuttered a cry of despair.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Alas!  In my hurry--I--I forgot--"\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"To turn off the gas in my room!"\r\n\r\n"Very well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn--at\r\nyour expense."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter V\r\n\r\n\r\nIN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN, APPEARS ON\r\n\'CHANGE\r\n\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London would\r\ncreate a lively sensation at the West End.  The news of the bet spread\r\nthrough the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic of conversation\r\nto its members.  From the club it soon got into the papers throughout\r\nEngland.  The boasted "tour of the world" was talked about, disputed,\r\nargued with as much warmth as if the subject were another Alabama\r\nclaim.  Some took sides with Phileas Fogg, but the large majority shook\r\ntheir heads and declared against him; it was absurd, impossible, they\r\ndeclared, that the tour of the world could be made, except\r\ntheoretically and on paper, in this minimum of time, and with the\r\nexisting means of travelling.  The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and\r\nDaily News, and twenty other highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr.\r\nFogg\'s project as madness; the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly\r\nsupported him.  People in general thought him a lunatic, and blamed his\r\nReform Club friends for having accepted a wager which betrayed the\r\nmental aberration of its proposer.\r\n\r\nArticles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question, for\r\ngeography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columns\r\ndevoted to Phileas Fogg\'s venture were eagerly devoured by all classes\r\nof readers.  At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler\r\nsex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the\r\nIllustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied from a\r\nphotograph in the Reform Club.  A few readers of the Daily Telegraph\r\neven dared to say, "Why not, after all?  Stranger things have come to\r\npass."\r\n\r\nAt last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the bulletin\r\nof the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question from\r\nevery point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise.\r\n\r\nEverything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposed\r\nalike by man and by nature.  A miraculous agreement of the times of\r\ndeparture and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary\r\nto his success.  He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains at\r\nthe designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were relatively\r\nmoderate; but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and\r\nthe United States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon\r\naccomplishing his task?  There were accidents to machinery, the\r\nliability of trains to run off the line, collisions, bad weather, the\r\nblocking up by snow--were not all these against Phileas Fogg?  Would he\r\nnot find himself, when travelling by steamer in winter, at the mercy of\r\nthe winds and fogs?  Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers to be\r\ntwo or three days behind time?  But a single delay would suffice to\r\nfatally break the chain of communication; should Phileas Fogg once\r\nmiss, even by an hour; a steamer, he would have to wait for the next,\r\nand that would irrevocably render his attempt vain.\r\n\r\nThis article made a great deal of noise, and, being copied into all the\r\npapers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.\r\n\r\nEverybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of a\r\nhigher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament.\r\nNot only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavy\r\nwagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the betting\r\nbooks as if he were a race-horse.  Bonds were issued, and made their\r\nappearance on \'Change; "Phileas Fogg bonds" were offered at par or at a\r\npremium, and a great business was done in them.  But five days after\r\nthe article in the bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, the\r\ndemand began to subside:  "Phileas Fogg" declined.  They were offered\r\nby packages, at first of five, then of ten, until at last nobody would\r\ntake less than twenty, fifty, a hundred!\r\n\r\nLord Albemarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only\r\nadvocate of Phileas Fogg left.  This noble lord, who was fastened to\r\nhis chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of\r\nthe world, if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds on\r\nPhileas Fogg.  When the folly as well as the uselessness of the\r\nadventure was pointed out to him, he contented himself with replying,\r\n"If the thing is feasible, the first to do it ought to be an\r\nEnglishman."\r\n\r\nThe Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against him,\r\nand the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one; and a\r\nweek after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him of\r\nbackers at any price.\r\n\r\nThe commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o\'clock\r\none evening, when the following telegraphic dispatch was put into his\r\nhands:\r\n\r\nSuez to London.\r\n\r\nRowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard:\r\n\r\nI\'ve found the bank robber, Phileas Fogg.  Send with out delay warrant\r\nof arrest to Bombay.\r\n\r\nFix, Detective.\r\n\r\nThe effect of this dispatch was instantaneous.  The polished gentleman\r\ndisappeared to give place to the bank robber.  His photograph, which\r\nwas hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club, was\r\nminutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the description\r\nof the robber which had been provided to the police.  The mysterious\r\nhabits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden\r\ndeparture; and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round the\r\nworld on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view than\r\nto elude the detectives, and throw them off his track.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter VI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, BETRAYS A VERY NATURAL IMPATIENCE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas\r\nFogg was sent were as follows:\r\n\r\nThe steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Company,\r\nbuilt of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and five\r\nhundred horse-power, was due at eleven o\'clock a.m. on Wednesday, the\r\n9th of October, at Suez.  The Mongolia plied regularly between Brindisi\r\nand Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers\r\nbelonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour\r\nbetween Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and Bombay.\r\n\r\nTwo men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of\r\nnatives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling\r\nvillage--now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing\r\ntown.  One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies\r\nof the English Government, and the unfavourable predictions of\r\nStephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office window, English\r\nships daily passing to and fro on the great canal, by which the old\r\nroundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was\r\nabridged by at least a half.  The other was a small, slight-built\r\npersonage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering\r\nout from under eyebrows which he was incessantly twitching.  He was\r\njust now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing\r\nup and down, and unable to stand still for a moment.  This was Fix, one\r\nof the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the\r\nbank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who\r\narrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious\r\ncharacters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal,\r\nwhich he had received two days before from the police headquarters at\r\nLondon.  The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining\r\nthe splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited\r\nwith a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the\r\nsteamer Mongolia.\r\n\r\n"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this\r\nsteamer is never behind time?"\r\n\r\n"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul.  "She was bespoken yesterday at Port\r\nSaid, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft.  I\r\nrepeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by\r\nthe company\'s regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of\r\nspeed."\r\n\r\n"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"\r\n\r\n"Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she\r\nleft there Saturday at five p.m.  Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not\r\nbe late.  But really, I don\'t see how, from the description you have,\r\nyou will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the\r\nMongolia."\r\n\r\n"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than\r\nrecognises them.  You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a\r\nsixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling.  I\'ve\r\narrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and, if my thief\r\nis on board, I\'ll answer for it; he\'ll not slip through my fingers."\r\n\r\n"I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."\r\n\r\n"A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds!  We don\'t\r\noften have such windfalls.  Burglars are getting to be so contemptible\r\nnowadays!  A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope\r\nyou\'ll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy.  Don\'t you\r\nsee, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to\r\nan honest man?"\r\n\r\n"Consul," remarked the detective, dogmatically, "great robbers always\r\nresemble honest folks.  Fellows who have rascally faces have only one\r\ncourse to take, and that is to remain honest; otherwise they would be\r\narrested off-hand.  The artistic thing is, to unmask honest\r\ncountenances; it\'s no light task, I admit, but a real art."\r\n\r\nMr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.\r\n\r\nLittle by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors of\r\nvarious nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to\r\nand fro as if the steamer were immediately expected.  The weather was\r\nclear, and slightly chilly.  The minarets of the town loomed above the\r\nhouses in the pale rays of the sun.  A jetty pier, some two thousand\r\nyards along, extended into the roadstead.  A number of fishing-smacks\r\nand coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient\r\ngalleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.\r\n\r\nAs he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit, scrutinised\r\nthe passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.\r\n\r\nIt was now half-past ten.\r\n\r\n"The steamer doesn\'t come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.\r\n\r\n"She can\'t be far off now," returned his companion.\r\n\r\n"How long will she stop at Suez?"\r\n\r\n"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal.  It is thirteen hundred\r\nand ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and\r\nshe has to take in a fresh coal supply."\r\n\r\n"And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"\r\n\r\n"Without putting in anywhere."\r\n\r\n"Good!" said Fix.  "If the robber is on board he will no doubt get off\r\nat Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some\r\nother route.  He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in\r\nIndia, which is English soil."\r\n\r\n"Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd.  An English\r\ncriminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere\r\nelse."\r\n\r\nThis observation furnished the detective food for thought, and\r\nmeanwhile the consul went away to his office.  Fix, left alone, was\r\nmore impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on\r\nboard the Mongolia.  If he had indeed left London intending to reach\r\nthe New World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was\r\nless watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic.\r\nBut Fix\'s reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp\r\nwhistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia.  The porters and\r\nfellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the\r\nshore to go and meet the steamer.  Soon her gigantic hull appeared\r\npassing along between the banks, and eleven o\'clock struck as she\r\nanchored in the road.  She brought an unusual number of passengers,\r\nsome of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the\r\ntown, while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on\r\nthe quay.\r\n\r\nFix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure\r\nwhich made its appearance.  Presently one of the passengers, after\r\nvigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,\r\ncame up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English\r\nconsulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have\r\nvisaed.  Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance\r\nread the description of its bearer.  An involuntary motion of surprise\r\nnearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical\r\nwith that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.\r\n\r\n"Is this your passport?" asked he.\r\n\r\n"No, it\'s my master\'s."\r\n\r\n"And your master is--"\r\n\r\n"He stayed on board."\r\n\r\n"But he must go to the consul\'s in person, so as to establish his\r\nidentity."\r\n\r\n"Oh, is that necessary?"\r\n\r\n"Quite indispensable."\r\n\r\n"And where is the consulate?"\r\n\r\n"There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a house two\r\nhundred steps off.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll go and fetch my master, who won\'t be much pleased, however, to be\r\ndisturbed."\r\n\r\nThe passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter VII\r\n\r\nWHICH ONCE MORE DEMONSTRATES THE USELESSNESS OF PASSPORTS AS AIDS TO\r\nDETECTIVES\r\n\r\n\r\nThe detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the\r\nconsul\'s office, where he was at once admitted to the presence of that\r\nofficial.\r\n\r\n"Consul," said he, without preamble, "I have strong reasons for\r\nbelieving that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated\r\nwhat had just passed concerning the passport.\r\n\r\n"Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see the\r\nrascal\'s face; but perhaps he won\'t come here--that is, if he is the\r\nperson you suppose him to be.  A robber doesn\'t quite like to leave\r\ntraces of his flight behind him; and, besides, he is not obliged to\r\nhave his passport countersigned."\r\n\r\n"If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."\r\n\r\n"To have his passport visaed?"\r\n\r\n"Yes.  Passports are only good for annoying honest folks, and aiding in\r\nthe flight of rogues.  I assure you it will be quite the thing for him\r\nto do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."\r\n\r\n"Why not?  If the passport is genuine I have no right to refuse."\r\n\r\n"Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest\r\nhim from London."\r\n\r\n"Ah, that\'s your look-out.  But I cannot--"\r\n\r\nThe consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was\r\nheard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the\r\nservant whom Fix had met on the quay.  The other, who was his master,\r\nheld out his passport with the request that the consul would do him the\r\nfavour to visa it.  The consul took the document and carefully read it,\r\nwhilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes\r\nfrom a corner of the room.\r\n\r\n"You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the passport.\r\n\r\n"I am."\r\n\r\n"And this man is your servant?"\r\n\r\n"He is: a Frenchman, named Passepartout."\r\n\r\n"You are from London?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"And you are going--"\r\n\r\n"To Bombay."\r\n\r\n"Very good, sir.  You know that a visa is useless, and that no passport\r\nis required?"\r\n\r\n"I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by your\r\nvisa, that I came by Suez."\r\n\r\n"Very well, sir."\r\n\r\nThe consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he\r\nadded his official seal.  Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly\r\nbowed, and went out, followed by his servant.\r\n\r\n"Well?" queried the detective.\r\n\r\n"Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the\r\nconsul.\r\n\r\n"Possibly; but that is not the question.  Do you think, consul, that\r\nthis phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber\r\nwhose description I have received?"\r\n\r\n"I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions--"\r\n\r\n"I\'ll make certain of it," interrupted Fix.  "The servant seems to me\r\nless mysterious than the master; besides, he\'s a Frenchman, and can\'t\r\nhelp talking.  Excuse me for a little while, consul."\r\n\r\nFix started off in search of Passepartout.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the quay,\r\ngave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the    Mongolia in a\r\nboat, and descended to his cabin.  He took up his note-book, which\r\ncontained the following memoranda:\r\n\r\n"Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8.45 p.m.  "Reached Paris,\r\nThursday, October 3rd, at 7.20 a.m.  "Left Paris, Thursday, at 8.40\r\na.m.  "Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6.35 a.m.\r\n"Left Turin, Friday, at 7.20 a.m.  "Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday,\r\nOctober 5th, at 4 p.m.  "Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.\r\n"Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m.  "Total of hours\r\nspent, 158+; or, in days, six days and a half."\r\n\r\nThese dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,\r\nindicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the\r\nstipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point Paris, Brindisi,\r\nSuez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco,\r\nNew York, and London--from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December;\r\nand giving a space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered\r\non arrival at each locality.  This methodical record thus contained an\r\naccount of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was\r\nbehind-hand or in advance of his time.  On this Friday, October 9th, he\r\nnoted his arrival at Suez, and observed that he had as yet neither\r\ngained nor lost.  He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never\r\nonce thinking of inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who\r\nare wont to see foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter VIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TALKS RATHER MORE, PERHAPS, THAN IS PRUDENT\r\n\r\n\r\nFix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on\r\nthe quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to\r\nsee anything.\r\n\r\n"Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is your\r\npassport visaed?"\r\n\r\n"Ah, it\'s you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout.  "Thanks, yes,\r\nthe passport is all right."\r\n\r\n"And you are looking about you?"\r\n\r\n"Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.\r\nSo this is Suez?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"In Egypt?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly, in Egypt."\r\n\r\n"And in Africa?"\r\n\r\n"In Africa."\r\n\r\n"In Africa!" repeated Passepartout.  "Just think, monsieur, I had no\r\nidea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris\r\nwas between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in\r\nthe morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the\r\nwindows of a car, and in a driving rain!  How I regret not having seen\r\nonce more Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"\r\n\r\n"You are in a great hurry, then?"\r\n\r\n"I am not, but my master is.  By the way, I must buy some shoes and\r\nshirts.  We came away without trunks, only with a carpet-bag."\r\n\r\n"I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."\r\n\r\n"Really, monsieur, you are very kind."\r\n\r\nAnd they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they\r\nwent along.\r\n\r\n"Above all," said he; "don\'t let me lose the steamer."\r\n\r\n"You have plenty of time; it\'s only twelve o\'clock."\r\n\r\nPassepartout pulled out his big watch.  "Twelve!" he exclaimed; "why,\r\nit\'s only eight minutes before ten."\r\n\r\n"Your watch is slow."\r\n\r\n"My watch?  A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my\r\ngreat-grandfather!  It doesn\'t vary five minutes in the year.  It\'s a\r\nperfect chronometer, look you."\r\n\r\n"I see how it is," said Fix.  "You have kept London time, which is two\r\nhours behind that of Suez.  You ought to regulate your watch at noon in\r\neach country."\r\n\r\n"I regulate my watch?  Never!"\r\n\r\n"Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."\r\n\r\n"So much the worse for the sun, monsieur.  The sun will be wrong, then!"\r\n\r\nAnd the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant\r\ngesture.  After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed: "You left London\r\nhastily, then?"\r\n\r\n"I rather think so!  Last Friday at eight o\'clock in the evening,\r\nMonsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour\r\nafterwards we were off."\r\n\r\n"But where is your master going?"\r\n\r\n"Always straight ahead.  He is going round the world."\r\n\r\n"Round the world?" cried Fix.\r\n\r\n"Yes, and in eighty days!  He says it is on a wager; but, between us, I\r\ndon\'t believe a word of it.  That wouldn\'t be common sense.  There\'s\r\nsomething else in the wind."\r\n\r\n"Ah!  Mr. Fogg is a character, is he?"\r\n\r\n"I should say he was."\r\n\r\n"Is he rich?"\r\n\r\n"No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand new banknotes\r\nwith him.  And he doesn\'t spare the money on the way, either: he has\r\noffered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to\r\nBombay well in advance of time."\r\n\r\n"And you have known your master a long time?"\r\n\r\n"Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."\r\n\r\nThe effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited\r\ndetective may be imagined.  The hasty departure from London soon after\r\nthe robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his eagerness to reach\r\ndistant countries; the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet--all\r\nconfirmed Fix in his theory.  He continued to pump poor Passepartout,\r\nand learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who\r\nlived a solitary existence in London, was said to be rich, though no\r\none knew whence came his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in\r\nhis affairs and habits.  Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land\r\nat Suez, but was really going on to Bombay.\r\n\r\n"Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"Pretty far.  It is a ten days\' voyage by sea."\r\n\r\n"And in what country is Bombay?"\r\n\r\n"India."\r\n\r\n"In Asia?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly."\r\n\r\n"The deuce!  I was going to tell you there\'s one thing that worries\r\nme--my burner!"\r\n\r\n"What burner?"\r\n\r\n"My gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this moment\r\nburning at my expense.  I have calculated, monsieur, that I lose two\r\nshillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I\r\nearn; and you will understand that the longer our journey--"\r\n\r\nDid Fix pay any attention to Passepartout\'s trouble about the gas?  It\r\nis not probable.  He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.\r\nPassepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his\r\ncompanion to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss the\r\nsteamer, and hurried back to the consulate.  Now that he was fully\r\nconvinced, Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.\r\n\r\n"Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt.  I have spotted my man.\r\nHe passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in\r\neighty days."\r\n\r\n"Then he\'s a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on\r\nreturning to London after putting the police of the two countries off\r\nhis track."\r\n\r\n"We\'ll see about that," replied Fix.\r\n\r\n"But are you not mistaken?"\r\n\r\n"I am not mistaken."\r\n\r\n"Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had\r\npassed through Suez?"\r\n\r\n"Why?  I have no idea; but listen to me."\r\n\r\nHe reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation\r\nwith Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this man.\r\nAnd what are you going to do?"\r\n\r\n"Send a dispatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be dispatched\r\ninstantly to Bombay, take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my\r\nrogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him politely, with\r\nmy warrant in my hand, and my hand on his shoulder."\r\n\r\nHaving uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective\r\ntook leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph office, whence\r\nhe sent the dispatch which we have seen to the London police office.  A\r\nquarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small bag in his hand,\r\nproceeding on board the Mongolia; and, ere many moments longer, the\r\nnoble steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter IX\r\n\r\nIN WHICH THE RED SEA AND THE INDIAN OCEAN PROVE PROPITIOUS TO THE\r\nDESIGNS OF PHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n\r\nThe distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and\r\nten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one\r\nhundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it.  The Mongolia,\r\nthanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so\r\nrapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that\r\ntime.  The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for\r\nIndia some for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the\r\nnearest route thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.\r\nAmong the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of\r\nvarious grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British\r\nforces or commanding the Sepoy troops, and receiving high salaries ever\r\nsince the central government has assumed the powers of the East India\r\nCompany: for the sub-lieutenants get 280 pounds, brigadiers, 2,400\r\npounds, and generals of divisions, 4,000 pounds.  What with the\r\nmilitary men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels, and\r\nthe hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the\r\nMongolia.  The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at\r\nbreakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o\'clock supper, and the ladies\r\nscrupulously changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were\r\nwhirled away, when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.\r\n\r\nBut the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like most\r\nlong and narrow gulfs.  When the wind came from the African or Asian\r\ncoast the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearfully.  Then the\r\nladies speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing and\r\ndancing suddenly ceased.  Yet the good ship ploughed straight on,\r\nunretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.  What\r\nwas Phileas Fogg doing all this time?  It might be thought that, in his\r\nanxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind, the\r\ndisorderly raging of the billows--every chance, in short, which might\r\nforce the Mongolia to slacken her speed, and thus interrupt his\r\njourney.  But, if he thought of these possibilities, he did not betray\r\nthe fact by any outward sign.\r\n\r\nAlways the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no incident\r\ncould surprise, as unvarying as the ship\'s chronometers, and seldom\r\nhaving the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through the\r\nmemorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not care to\r\nrecognise the historic towns and villages which, along its borders,\r\nraised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and betrayed no fear\r\nof the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always\r\nspoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never\r\nventured without propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices.  How did\r\nthis eccentric personage pass his time on the Mongolia?  He made his\r\nfour hearty meals every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling\r\nand pitching on the part of the steamer; and he played whist\r\nindefatigably, for he had found partners as enthusiastic in the game as\r\nhimself.  A tax-collector, on the way to his post at Goa; the Rev.\r\nDecimus Smith, returning to his parish at Bombay; and a\r\nbrigadier-general of the English army, who was about to rejoin his\r\nbrigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr. Fogg, played whist\r\nby the hour together in absorbing silence.\r\n\r\nAs for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped sea-sickness, and took his\r\nmeals conscientiously in the forward cabin.  He rather enjoyed the\r\nvoyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in\r\nthe scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself with\r\nthe delusion that his master\'s whim would end at Bombay.  He was\r\npleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging\r\nperson with whom he had walked and chatted on the quays.\r\n\r\n"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person, with his most\r\namiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to\r\nguide me at Suez?"\r\n\r\n"Ah!  I quite recognise you.  You are the servant of the strange\r\nEnglishman--"\r\n\r\n"Just so, monsieur--"\r\n\r\n"Fix."\r\n\r\n"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I\'m charmed to find you on\r\nboard.  Where are you bound?"\r\n\r\n"Like you, to Bombay."\r\n\r\n"That\'s capital!  Have you made this trip before?"\r\n\r\n"Several times.  I am one of the agents of the Peninsular Company."\r\n\r\n"Then you know India?"\r\n\r\n"Why yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.\r\n\r\n"A curious place, this India?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, very curious.  Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,\r\ntigers, snakes, elephants!  I hope you will have ample time to see the\r\nsights."\r\n\r\n"I hope so, Monsieur Fix.  You see, a man of sound sense ought not to\r\nspend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a\r\nrailway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the\r\nworld in eighty days!  No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will\r\ncease at Bombay."\r\n\r\n"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural tone\r\nin the world.\r\n\r\n"Quite well, and I too.  I eat like a famished ogre; it\'s the sea air."\r\n\r\n"But I never see your master on deck."\r\n\r\n"Never; he hasn\'t the least curiosity."\r\n\r\n"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty days\r\nmay conceal some secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic mission?"\r\n\r\n"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would I\r\ngive half a crown to find out."\r\n\r\nAfter this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting\r\ntogether, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man\'s\r\nconfidence.  He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale\r\nin the steamer bar-room, which Passepartout never failed to accept with\r\ngraceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th, Mocha,\r\nsurrounded by its ruined walls whereon date-trees were growing, was\r\nsighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee-fields.\r\nPassepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and thought\r\nthat, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked like an\r\nimmense coffee-cup and saucer. The following night they passed through\r\nthe Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic The Bridge of Tears,\r\nand the next day they put in at Steamer Point, north-west of Aden\r\nharbour, to take in coal.  This matter of fuelling steamers is a\r\nserious one at such distances from the coal-mines; it costs the\r\nPeninsular Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year.  In these\r\ndistant seas, coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton.\r\n\r\nThe Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse\r\nbefore reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer\r\nPoint to coal up.  But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect\r\nPhileas Fogg\'s programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching\r\nAden on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived there on the\r\nevening of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport again\r\nvisaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them.  The visa procured, Mr. Fogg\r\nreturned on board to resume his former habits; while Passepartout,\r\naccording to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of\r\nSomalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the\r\ntwenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden.  He gazed with wonder upon\r\nthe fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian\r\nOcean, and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at\r\nwork, two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.\r\n\r\n"Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on\r\nreturning to the steamer.  "I see that it is by no means useless to\r\ntravel, if a man wants to see something new."  At six p.m.  the\r\nMongolia slowly moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on\r\nthe Indian Ocean.  She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to\r\nreach Bombay, and the sea was favourable, the wind being in the\r\nnorth-west, and all sails aiding the engine.  The steamer rolled but\r\nlittle, the ladies, in fresh toilets, reappeared on deck, and the\r\nsinging and dancing were resumed.  The trip was being accomplished most\r\nsuccessfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial\r\ncompanion which chance had secured him in the person of the delightful\r\nFix.  On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight of the\r\nIndian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board.  A range of\r\nhills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms\r\nwhich adorn Bombay came distinctly into view.  The steamer entered the\r\nroad formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past four she hauled\r\nup at the quays of Bombay.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber of the\r\nvoyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured\r\nall thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a\r\nbrilliant victory.\r\n\r\nThe Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.\r\nThis was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from\r\nLondon, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column\r\nof gains.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter X\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF WITH THE LOSS OF HIS\r\nSHOES\r\n\r\n\r\nEverybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base\r\nin the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces\r\nfourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally\r\na population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.  The British\r\nCrown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of\r\nthis vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,\r\ngovernors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor\r\nat Agra.\r\n\r\nBut British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred\r\nthousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one\r\nhundred and ten millions of inhabitants.  A considerable portion of\r\nIndia is still free from British authority; and there are certain\r\nferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent.  The\r\ncelebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the\r\nEnglish first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city\r\nof Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection.  It\r\ngradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the\r\nnative chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general\r\nand his subordinates, civil and military.  But the East India Company\r\nhas now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly\r\nunder the control of the Crown.  The aspect of the country, as well as\r\nthe manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.\r\n\r\nFormerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods\r\nof going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches;\r\nnow fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great\r\nrailway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its\r\nroute, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days.\r\nThis railway does not run in a direct line across India.  The distance\r\nbetween Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one\r\nthousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road\r\nincrease this distance by more than a third.\r\n\r\nThe general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows:\r\nLeaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continent\r\nopposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence\r\nnorth-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent\r\nterritory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,\r\nmeeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little,\r\nand, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town of\r\nChandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.\r\n\r\nThe passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at\r\nexactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the\r\nsteamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to\r\nbe at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which\r\nbeat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to\r\nthe passport office.  As for the wonders of Bombay--its famous city\r\nhall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,\r\nsynagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar\r\nHill, with its two polygonal towers--he cared not a straw to see them.\r\nHe would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or\r\nthe mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those\r\nfine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the\r\nisland of Salcette.\r\n\r\nHaving transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg\r\nrepaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.\r\nAmong the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended\r\na certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,\r\nfound it far from palatable.  He rang for the landlord, and, on his\r\nappearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."\r\n\r\n"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"\r\n\r\n"Mew, my lord!  What, a rabbit mew!  I swear to you--"\r\n\r\n"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were\r\nformerly considered, in India, as sacred animals.  That was a good\r\ntime."\r\n\r\n"For the cats, my lord?"\r\n\r\n"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"\r\n\r\nAfter which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner.  Fix had gone on\r\nshore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the\r\nheadquarters of the Bombay police.  He made himself known as a London\r\ndetective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs\r\nrelative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had\r\narrived from London.  It had not reached the office; indeed, there had\r\nnot yet been time for it to arrive.  Fix was sorely disappointed, and\r\ntried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay\r\npolice.  This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London\r\noffice, which alone could legally deliver the warrant.  Fix did not\r\ninsist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of the\r\nimportant document; but he was determined not to lose sight of the\r\nmysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay.  He did not doubt for\r\na moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain\r\nthere, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master\'s orders on\r\nleaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay\r\nas they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended\r\nat least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place.  He began\r\nto ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in\r\ngood earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,\r\ndespite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!\r\n\r\nHaving purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a\r\nleisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many\r\nnationalities--Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round\r\nturbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and\r\nlong-robed Armenians--were collected.  It happened to be the day of a\r\nParsee festival.  These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster--the most\r\nthrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among\r\nwhom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay--were\r\ncelebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows,\r\nin the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-coloured\r\ngauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect\r\nmodesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines.  It is\r\nneedless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with\r\nstaring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the\r\ngreenest booby imaginable.\r\n\r\nUnhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him\r\nunconsciously farther off than he intended to go.  At last, having seen\r\nthe Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps\r\ntowards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on\r\nMalabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its\r\ninterior.  He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to\r\nenter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in\r\nwithout first leaving their shoes outside the door.  It may be said\r\nhere that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a\r\ndisregard of the practices of the native religions.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,\r\nand was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation\r\nwhich everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself\r\nsprawling on the sacred flagging.  He looked up to behold three enraged\r\npriests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to\r\nbeat him with loud, savage exclamations.  The agile Frenchman was soon\r\nupon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his\r\nlong-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of\r\nhis toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could\r\ncarry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd\r\nin the streets.\r\n\r\nAt five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and\r\nhaving in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed\r\nbreathlessly into the station.\r\n\r\nFix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was\r\nreally going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform.  He had\r\nresolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if\r\nnecessary.  Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an\r\nobscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words\r\nto Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly, as\r\nhe got into the train.  Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed\r\nhis master without a word.  Fix was on the point of entering another\r\ncarriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.\r\n\r\n"No, I\'ll stay," muttered he.  "An offence has been committed on Indian\r\nsoil.  I\'ve got my man."\r\n\r\nJust then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out\r\ninto the darkness of the night.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS OF CONVEYANCE AT A\r\nFABULOUS PRICE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe train had started punctually.  Among the passengers were a number\r\nof officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo merchants,\r\nwhose business called them to the eastern coast.  Passepartout rode in\r\nthe same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a\r\nseat opposite to them.  This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr.\r\nFogg\'s whist partners on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps\r\nat Benares.  Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatly\r\ndistinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt.  He made India his\r\nhome, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals; and was\r\nalmost as familiar as a native with the customs, history, and character\r\nof India and its people.  But Phileas Fogg, who was not travelling, but\r\nonly describing a circumference, took no pains to inquire into these\r\nsubjects; he was a solid body, traversing an orbit around the\r\nterrestrial globe, according to the laws of rational mechanics.  He was\r\nat this moment calculating in his mind the number of hours spent since\r\nhis departure from London, and, had it been in his nature to make a\r\nuseless demonstration, would have rubbed his hands for satisfaction.\r\nSir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his travelling\r\ncompanion--although the only opportunity he had for studying him had\r\nbeen while he was dealing the cards, and between two rubbers--and\r\nquestioned himself whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold\r\nexterior, and whether Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of\r\nnature.  The brigadier-general was free to mentally confess that, of\r\nall the eccentric persons he had ever met, none was comparable to this\r\nproduct of the exact sciences.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design of going\r\nround the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out; and the\r\ngeneral only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity and a lack of\r\nsound common sense.  In the way this strange gentleman was going on, he\r\nwould leave the world without having done any good to himself or\r\nanybody else.\r\n\r\nAn hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaducts and the\r\nIsland of Salcette, and had got into the open country.  At Callyan they\r\nreached the junction of the branch line which descends towards\r\nsouth-eastern India by Kandallah and Pounah; and, passing Pauwell, they\r\nentered the defiles of the mountains, with their basalt bases, and\r\ntheir summits crowned with thick and verdant forests.  Phileas Fogg and\r\nSir Francis Cromarty exchanged a few words from time to time, and now\r\nSir Francis, reviving the conversation, observed, "Some years ago, Mr.\r\nFogg, you would have met with a delay at this point which would\r\nprobably have lost you your wager."\r\n\r\n"How so, Sir Francis?"\r\n\r\n"Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, which the\r\npassengers were obliged to cross in palanquins or on ponies to\r\nKandallah, on the other side."\r\n\r\n"Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the least," said Mr.\r\nFogg.  "I have constantly foreseen the likelihood of certain obstacles."\r\n\r\n"But, Mr. Fogg," pursued Sir Francis, "you run the risk of having some\r\ndifficulty about this worthy fellow\'s adventure at the pagoda."\r\nPassepartout, his feet comfortably wrapped in his travelling-blanket,\r\nwas sound asleep and did not dream that anybody was talking about him.\r\n"The Government is very severe upon that kind of offence.  It takes\r\nparticular care that the religious customs of the Indians should be\r\nrespected, and if your servant were caught--"\r\n\r\n"Very well, Sir Francis," replied Mr. Fogg; "if he had been caught he\r\nwould have been condemned and punished, and then would have quietly\r\nreturned to Europe.  I don\'t see how this affair could have delayed his\r\nmaster."\r\n\r\nThe conversation fell again.  During the night the train left the\r\nmountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next day proceeded over\r\nthe flat, well-cultivated country of the Khandeish, with its straggling\r\nvillages, above which rose the minarets of the pagodas.  This fertile\r\nterritory is watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams,\r\nmostly tributaries of the Godavery.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realise that he was\r\nactually crossing India in a railway train.  The locomotive, guided by\r\nan English engineer and fed with English coal, threw out its smoke upon\r\ncotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations, while the steam\r\ncurled in spirals around groups of palm-trees, in the midst of which\r\nwere seen picturesque bungalows, viharis (sort of abandoned\r\nmonasteries), and marvellous temples enriched by the exhaustless\r\nornamentation of Indian architecture.  Then they came upon vast tracts\r\nextending to the horizon, with jungles inhabited by snakes and tigers,\r\nwhich fled at the noise of the train; succeeded by forests penetrated\r\nby the railway, and still haunted by elephants which, with pensive\r\neyes, gazed at the train as it passed.  The travellers crossed, beyond\r\nMilligaum, the fatal country so often stained with blood by the\r\nsectaries of the goddess Kali.  Not far off rose Ellora, with its\r\ngraceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad, capital of the ferocious\r\nAureng-Zeb, now the chief town of one of the detached provinces of the\r\nkingdom of the Nizam.  It was thereabouts that Feringhea, the Thuggee\r\nchief, king of the stranglers, held his sway.  These ruffians, united\r\nby a secret bond, strangled victims of every age in honour of the\r\ngoddess Death, without ever shedding blood; there was a period when\r\nthis part of the country could scarcely be travelled over without\r\ncorpses being found in every direction.  The English Government has\r\nsucceeded in greatly diminishing these murders, though the Thuggees\r\nstill exist, and pursue the exercise of their horrible rites.\r\n\r\nAt half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor where Passepartout\r\nwas able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with false\r\npearls, in which, with evident vanity, he proceeded to encase his feet.\r\nThe travellers made a hasty breakfast and started off for Assurghur,\r\nafter skirting for a little the banks of the small river Tapty, which\r\nempties into the Gulf of Cambray, near Surat.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie.  Up to his arrival\r\nat Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journey would end there;\r\nbut, now that they were plainly whirling across India at full speed, a\r\nsudden change had come over the spirit of his dreams.  His old vagabond\r\nnature returned to him; the fantastic ideas of his youth once more took\r\npossession of him.  He came to regard his master\'s project as intended\r\nin good earnest, believed in the reality of the bet, and therefore in\r\nthe tour of the world and the necessity of making it without fail\r\nwithin the designated period.  Already he began to worry about possible\r\ndelays, and accidents which might happen on the way.  He recognised\r\nhimself as being personally interested in the wager, and trembled at\r\nthe thought that he might have been the means of losing it by his\r\nunpardonable folly of the night before.  Being much less cool-headed\r\nthan Mr. Fogg, he was much more restless, counting and recounting the\r\ndays passed over, uttering maledictions when the train stopped, and\r\naccusing it of sluggishness, and mentally blaming Mr. Fogg for not\r\nhaving bribed the engineer.  The worthy fellow was ignorant that, while\r\nit was possible by such means to hasten the rate of a steamer, it could\r\nnot be done on the railway.\r\n\r\nThe train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains, which separate\r\nthe Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards evening.  The next day Sir\r\nFrancis Cromarty asked Passepartout what time it was; to which, on\r\nconsulting his watch, he replied that it was three in the morning.\r\nThis famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich meridian,\r\nwhich was now some seventy-seven degrees westward, was at least four\r\nhours slow.  Sir Francis corrected Passepartout\'s time, whereupon the\r\nlatter made the same remark that he had done to Fix; and upon the\r\ngeneral insisting that the watch should be regulated in each new\r\nmeridian, since he was constantly going eastward, that is in the face\r\nof the sun, and therefore the days were shorter by four minutes for\r\neach degree gone over, Passepartout obstinately refused to alter his\r\nwatch, which he kept at London time.  It was an innocent delusion which\r\ncould harm no one.\r\n\r\nThe train stopped, at eight o\'clock, in the midst of a glade some\r\nfifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows, and\r\nworkmen\'s cabins.  The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted,\r\n"Passengers will get out here!"\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but the\r\ngeneral could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of this forest of\r\ndates and acacias.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily returned,\r\ncrying: "Monsieur, no more railway!"\r\n\r\n"What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.\r\n\r\n"I mean to say that the train isn\'t going on."\r\n\r\nThe general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed\r\nhim, and they proceeded together to the conductor.\r\n\r\n"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.\r\n\r\n"At the hamlet of Kholby."\r\n\r\n"Do we stop here?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly.  The railway isn\'t finished."\r\n\r\n"What! not finished?"\r\n\r\n"No.  There\'s still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to\r\nAllahabad, where the line begins again."\r\n\r\n"But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."\r\n\r\n"What would you have, officer?  The papers were mistaken."\r\n\r\n"Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," retorted Sir Francis,\r\nwho was growing warm.\r\n\r\n"No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know that they\r\nmust provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to\r\nAllahabad."\r\n\r\nSir Francis was furious.  Passepartout would willingly have knocked the\r\nconductor down, and did not dare to look at his master.\r\n\r\n"Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg quietly, "we will, if you please, look\r\nabout for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."\r\n\r\n"No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."\r\n\r\n"What!  You knew that the way--"\r\n\r\n"Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or\r\nlater arise on my route.  Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days,\r\nwhich I have already gained, to sacrifice.  A steamer leaves Calcutta\r\nfor Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th.  This is the 22nd, and we shall\r\nreach Calcutta in time."\r\n\r\nThere was nothing to say to so confident a response.\r\n\r\nIt was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this\r\npoint.  The papers were like some watches, which have a way of getting\r\ntoo fast, and had been premature in their announcement of the\r\ncompletion of the line.  The greater part of the travellers were aware\r\nof this interruption, and, leaving the train, they began to engage such\r\nvehicles as the village could provide four-wheeled palkigharis, waggons\r\ndrawn by zebus, carriages that looked like perambulating pagodas,\r\npalanquins, ponies, and what not.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village from end\r\nto end, came back without having found anything.\r\n\r\n"I shall go afoot," said Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, who had now rejoined his master, made a wry grimace, as\r\nhe thought of his magnificent, but too frail Indian shoes.  Happily he\r\ntoo had been looking about him, and, after a moment\'s hesitation, said,\r\n"Monsieur, I think I have found a means of conveyance."\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"An elephant!  An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but a\r\nhundred steps from here."\r\n\r\n"Let\'s go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\nThey soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within some high\r\npalings, was the animal in question.  An Indian came out of the hut,\r\nand, at their request, conducted them within the enclosure.  The\r\nelephant, which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but\r\nfor warlike purposes, was half domesticated.  The Indian had begun\r\nalready, by often irritating him, and feeding him every three months on\r\nsugar and butter, to impart to him a ferocity not in his nature, this\r\nmethod being often employed by those who train the Indian elephants for\r\nbattle.  Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal\'s instruction in\r\nthis direction had not gone far, and the elephant still preserved his\r\nnatural gentleness.  Kiouni--this was the name of the beast--could\r\ndoubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and, in default of any other\r\nmeans of conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him.  But elephants are\r\nfar from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce, the males,\r\nwhich alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought, especially\r\nas but few of them are domesticated.  When therefore Mr. Fogg proposed\r\nto the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank.  Mr. Fogg\r\npersisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour for the\r\nloan of the beast to Allahabad.  Refused.  Twenty pounds?  Refused\r\nalso.  Forty pounds?  Still refused.  Passepartout jumped at each\r\nadvance; but the Indian declined to be tempted.  Yet the offer was an\r\nalluring one, for, supposing it took the elephant fifteen hours to\r\nreach Allahabad, his owner would receive no less than six hundred\r\npounds sterling.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed to\r\npurchase the animal outright, and at first offered a thousand pounds\r\nfor him.  The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a great\r\nbargain, still refused.\r\n\r\nSir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to reflect\r\nbefore he went any further; to which that gentleman replied that he was\r\nnot in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds\r\nwas at stake, that the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and\r\nthat he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his value.\r\nReturning to the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes, glistening with\r\navarice, betrayed that with him it was only a question of how great a\r\nprice he could obtain.  Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then\r\nfifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds.  Passepartout,\r\nusually so rubicund, was fairly white with suspense.\r\n\r\nAt two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.\r\n\r\n"What a price, good heavens!" cried Passepartout, "for an elephant."\r\n\r\nIt only remained now to find a guide, which was comparatively easy.  A\r\nyoung Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr.\r\nFogg accepted, promising so generous a reward as to materially\r\nstimulate his zeal.  The elephant was led out and equipped.  The\r\nParsee, who was an accomplished elephant driver, covered his back with\r\na sort of saddle-cloth, and attached to each of his flanks some\r\ncuriously uncomfortable howdahs.  Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with\r\nsome banknotes which he extracted from the famous carpet-bag, a\r\nproceeding that seemed to deprive poor Passepartout of his vitals.\r\nThen he offered to carry Sir Francis to Allahabad, which the brigadier\r\ngratefully accepted, as one traveller the more would not be likely to\r\nfatigue the gigantic beast.  Provisions were purchased at Kholby, and,\r\nwhile Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took the howdahs on either side,\r\nPassepartout got astride the saddle-cloth between them.  The Parsee\r\nperched himself on the elephant\'s neck, and at nine o\'clock they set\r\nout from the village, the animal marching off through the dense forest\r\nof palms by the shortest cut.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND HIS COMPANIONS VENTURE ACROSS THE INDIAN\r\nFORESTS, AND WHAT ENSUED\r\n\r\n\r\nIn order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of the\r\nline where the railway was still in process of being built.  This line,\r\nowing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia Mountains, did not\r\npursue a straight course.  The Parsee, who was quite familiar with the\r\nroads and paths in the district, declared that they would gain twenty\r\nmiles by striking directly through the forest.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in the\r\npeculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swift\r\ntrotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee;\r\nbut they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talking\r\nlittle, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other.  As for\r\nPassepartout, who was mounted on the beast\'s back, and received the\r\ndirect force of each concussion as he trod along, he was very careful,\r\nin accordance with his master\'s advice, to keep his tongue from between\r\nhis teeth, as it would otherwise have been bitten off short.  The\r\nworthy fellow bounced from the elephant\'s neck to his rump, and vaulted\r\nlike a clown on a spring-board; yet he laughed in the midst of his\r\nbouncing, and from time to time took a piece of sugar out of his\r\npocket, and inserted it in Kiouni\'s trunk, who received it without in\r\nthe least slackening his regular trot.\r\n\r\nAfter two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hour\r\nfor rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at a\r\nneighbouring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs round\r\nabout him.  Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and\r\nboth descended with a feeling of relief.  "Why, he\'s made of iron!"\r\nexclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on Kiouni.\r\n\r\n"Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing a\r\nhasty breakfast.\r\n\r\nAt noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure.  The country soon\r\npresented a very savage aspect.  Copses of dates and dwarf-palms\r\nsucceeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty\r\nshrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite.  All this portion of\r\nBundelcund, which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by a\r\nfanatical population, hardened in the most horrible practices of the\r\nHindoo faith.  The English have not been able to secure complete\r\ndominion over this territory, which is subjected to the influence of\r\nrajahs, whom it is almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible\r\nmountain fastnesses. The travellers several times saw bands of\r\nferocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant striding\r\nacross-country, made angry and threatening motions.  The Parsee avoided\r\nthem as much as possible.  Few animals were observed on the route; even\r\nthe monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces which\r\nconvulsed Passepartout with laughter.\r\n\r\nIn the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy\r\nservant.  What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got to\r\nAllahabad?  Would he carry him on with him?  Impossible!  The cost of\r\ntransporting him would make him ruinously expensive.  Would he sell\r\nhim, or set him free?  The estimable beast certainly deserved some\r\nconsideration.  Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a\r\npresent of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these\r\nthoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.\r\n\r\nThe principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the\r\nevening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined\r\nbungalow.  They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an\r\nequal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.\r\n\r\nThe night was cold.  The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few\r\ndry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased at\r\nKholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously.  The\r\nconversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave\r\nplace to loud and steady snores.  The guide watched Kiouni, who slept\r\nstanding, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree.\r\nNothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, although\r\noccasional growls from panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the\r\nsilence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostile\r\ndemonstration against the occupants of the bungalow.  Sir Francis slept\r\nheavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue.  Passepartout\r\nwas wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before.  As for\r\nMr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serene\r\nmansion in Saville Row.\r\n\r\nThe journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reach\r\nAllahabad by evening.  In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part of\r\nthe forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour.  Kiouni,\r\nresuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the\r\nVindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on\r\nthe Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges.  The guide avoided\r\ninhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which\r\nlies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river.\r\nAllahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east.  They stopped\r\nunder a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread and\r\nas succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.\r\n\r\nAt two o\'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended several\r\nmiles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods.  They had not\r\nas yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the\r\npoint of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming\r\nrestless, suddenly stopped.\r\n\r\nIt was then four o\'clock.\r\n\r\n"What\'s the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to a\r\nconfused murmur which came through the thick branches.\r\n\r\nThe murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant\r\nconcert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments.  Passepartout\r\nwas all eyes and ears.  Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word.  The\r\nParsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and\r\nplunged into the thicket.  He soon returned, saying:\r\n\r\n"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way.  We must prevent their\r\nseeing us, if possible."\r\n\r\nThe guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the same\r\ntime asking the travellers not to stir.  He held himself ready to\r\nbestride the animal at a moment\'s notice, should flight become\r\nnecessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful\r\nwould pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which\r\nthey were wholly concealed.\r\n\r\nThe discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and now\r\ndroning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.\r\nThe head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred\r\npaces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious\r\nceremony were easily distinguished through the branches.  First came\r\nthe priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace\r\nrobes.  They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a\r\nkind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the\r\ntambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with large\r\nwheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with each\r\nother.  Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus,\r\nstood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red,\r\nwith haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tinted\r\nwith betel.  It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate and\r\nheadless giant.\r\n\r\nSir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali; the\r\ngoddess of love and death."\r\n\r\n"Of death, perhaps," muttered back Passepartout, "but of love--that\r\nugly old hag?  Never!"\r\n\r\nThe Parsee made a motion to keep silence.\r\n\r\nA group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round the\r\nstatue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence\r\ntheir blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, in the great\r\nIndian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of\r\nJuggernaut.  Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental\r\napparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.\r\nThis woman was young, and as fair as a European.  Her head and neck,\r\nshoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and\r\ngems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with\r\ngold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her\r\nform.\r\n\r\nThe guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to\r\nher, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and\r\nlong damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin.  It was\r\nthe body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a\r\nrajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of\r\ntissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and\r\nthe magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince.  Next came the musicians\r\nand a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the\r\nnoise of the instruments; these closed the procession.\r\n\r\nSir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning\r\nto the guide, said, "A suttee."\r\n\r\nThe Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips.  The procession\r\nslowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in\r\nthe depths of the wood.  The songs gradually died away; occasionally\r\ncries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the\r\nprocession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"\r\n\r\n"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a\r\nvoluntary one.  The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow\r\nat the dawn of day."\r\n\r\n"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his\r\nindignation.\r\n\r\n"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent\r\nrajah of Bundelcund."\r\n\r\n"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the\r\nleast emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and\r\nthat the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"\r\n\r\n"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," replied\r\nSir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, and\r\nespecially here in Bundelcund.  The whole district north of the\r\nVindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."\r\n\r\n"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"\r\n\r\n"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive.  And, if she were not, you\r\ncannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from\r\nher relatives.  They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty\r\nallowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as\r\nan unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog.\r\nThe prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures\r\nto the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism.\r\nSometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires\r\nthe active interference of the Government to prevent it.  Several years\r\nago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the\r\ngovernor to be burned along with her husband\'s body; but, as you may\r\nimagine, he refused.  The woman left the town, took refuge with an\r\nindependent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."\r\n\r\nWhile Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,\r\nand now said: "The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn is\r\nnot a voluntary one."\r\n\r\n"How do you know?"\r\n\r\n"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."\r\n\r\n"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"\r\nobserved Sir Francis.\r\n\r\n"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and\r\nopium."\r\n\r\n"But where are they taking her?"\r\n\r\n"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night\r\nthere."\r\n\r\n"And the sacrifice will take place--"\r\n\r\n"To-morrow, at the first light of dawn."\r\n\r\nThe guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon his\r\nneck.  Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with\r\na peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir Francis\r\nCromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."\r\n\r\n"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"\r\n\r\n"I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."\r\n\r\n"Why, you are a man of heart!"\r\n\r\n"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT RECEIVES A NEW PROOF THAT FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable.\r\nMr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the\r\nsuccess of his tour.  But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir\r\nFrancis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.\r\n\r\nAs for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed.\r\nHis master\'s idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that\r\nicy exterior.  He began to love Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nThere remained the guide: what course would he adopt?  Would he not\r\ntake part with the Indians?  In default of his assistance, it was\r\nnecessary to be assured of his neutrality.\r\n\r\nSir Francis frankly put the question to him.\r\n\r\n"Officers," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a\r\nParsee.  Command me as you will."\r\n\r\n"Excellent!" said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall\r\nrisk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."\r\n\r\n"That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg.  "I think we must wait till night\r\nbefore acting."\r\n\r\n"I think so," said the guide.\r\n\r\nThe worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said,\r\nwas a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a\r\nwealthy Bombay merchant.  She had received a thoroughly English\r\neducation in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would\r\nbe thought an European.  Her name was Aouda.  Left an orphan, she was\r\nmarried against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing\r\nthe fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the\r\nrajah\'s relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice\r\nfrom which it seemed she could not escape.\r\n\r\nThe Parsee\'s narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in\r\ntheir generous design.  It was decided that the guide should direct the\r\nelephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached\r\nas quickly as possible.  They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a\r\ncopse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well\r\nconcealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs\r\ndistinctly.\r\n\r\nThey then discussed the means of getting at the victim.  The guide was\r\nfamiliar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the\r\nyoung woman was imprisoned.  Could they enter any of its doors while\r\nthe whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it\r\nsafer to attempt to make a hole in the walls?  This could only be\r\ndetermined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain\r\nthat the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of\r\nday, the victim was led to her funeral pyre.  Then no human\r\nintervention could save her.\r\n\r\nAs soon as night fell, about six o\'clock, they decided to make a\r\nreconnaissance around the pagoda.  The cries of the fakirs were just\r\nceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the\r\ndrunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be\r\npossible to slip between them to the temple itself.\r\n\r\nThe Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and\r\nin ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream,\r\nwhence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of\r\nwood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was\r\nto be burned with his wife.  The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above\r\nthe trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.\r\n\r\n"Come!" whispered the guide.\r\n\r\nHe slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his\r\ncompanions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of\r\nthe wind among the branches.\r\n\r\nSoon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up\r\nby the torches.  The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,\r\nmotionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with\r\nthe dead.  Men, women, and children lay together.\r\n\r\nIn the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed\r\ndistinctly.  Much to the guide\'s disappointment, the guards of the\r\nrajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to\r\nand fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching\r\nwithin.\r\n\r\nThe Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance\r\nto the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.\r\nPhileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be\r\nattempted in that direction.  They stopped, and engaged in a whispered\r\ncolloquy.\r\n\r\n"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may also\r\ngo to sleep."\r\n\r\n"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.\r\n\r\nThey lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.\r\n\r\nThe time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an\r\nobservation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by\r\nthe glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of\r\nthe pagoda.\r\n\r\nThey waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,\r\nand it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be\r\ncounted on.  The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the\r\nwalls of the pagoda must be made.  It remained to ascertain whether the\r\npriests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as\r\nwere the soldiers at the door.\r\n\r\nAfter a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for\r\nthe attempt, and advanced, followed by the others.  They took a\r\nroundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear.  They reached\r\nthe walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there\r\nwas no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.\r\n\r\nThe night was dark.  The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,\r\nand was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the\r\ndarkness.\r\n\r\nIt was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be\r\naccomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their\r\npocket-knives.  Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood,\r\nwhich could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had\r\nbeen taken out, the rest would yield easily.\r\n\r\nThey set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and\r\nPassepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an\r\naperture two feet wide.  They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a\r\ncry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly\r\nby other cries replying from the outside.  Passepartout and the guide\r\nstopped.  Had they been heard?  Was the alarm being given?  Common\r\nprudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas\r\nFogg and Sir Francis.  They again hid themselves in the wood, and\r\nwaited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding\r\nthemselves ready to resume their attempt without delay.  But, awkwardly\r\nenough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there\r\ninstalled themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.\r\n\r\nIt would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus\r\ninterrupted in their work.  They could not now reach the victim; how,\r\nthen, could they save her?  Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout\r\nwas beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage.  The\r\ntranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.\r\n\r\n"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.\r\n\r\n"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.\r\n\r\n"Stop," said Fogg.  "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."\r\n\r\n"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis.  "In a few hours it\r\nwill be daylight, and--"\r\n\r\n"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."\r\n\r\nSir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg\'s eyes.  What was\r\nthis cool Englishman thinking of?  Was he planning to make a rush for\r\nthe young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch\r\nher from her executioners?\r\n\r\nThis would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such\r\na fool.  Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this\r\nterrible drama.  The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where\r\nthey were able to observe the sleeping groups.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches\r\nof a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a\r\nflash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.\r\n\r\nHe had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he\r\nrepeated, "Why not, after all?  It\'s a chance,--perhaps the only one; and\r\nwith such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a\r\nserpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the\r\nground.\r\n\r\nThe hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of\r\nday, though it was not yet light.  This was the moment.  The slumbering\r\nmultitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries\r\narose; the hour of the sacrifice had come.  The doors of the pagoda\r\nswung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst\r\nof which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim.  She seemed,\r\nhaving shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape\r\nfrom her executioner.  Sir Francis\'s heart throbbed; and, convulsively\r\nseizing Mr. Fogg\'s hand, found in it an open knife.  Just at this\r\nmoment the crowd began to move.  The young woman had again fallen into\r\na stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who\r\nescorted her with their wild, religious cries.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the\r\ncrowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the\r\nstream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the\r\nrajah\'s corpse.  In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite\r\nsenseless, stretched out beside her husband\'s body. Then a torch was\r\nbrought, and the wood, heavily soaked with oil, instantly took fire.\r\n\r\nAt this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in\r\nan instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre.  But he\r\nhad quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed.\r\nA cry of terror arose.  The whole multitude prostrated themselves,\r\nterror-stricken, on the ground.\r\n\r\nThe old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a\r\nspectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in\r\nthe midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly\r\nappearance.\r\n\r\nFakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there,\r\nwith their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and\r\nbehold such a prodigy.\r\n\r\nThe inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which\r\nsupported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden.  Mr.\r\nFogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and\r\nPassepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.\r\n\r\nThe resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in an\r\nabrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"\r\n\r\nIt was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst\r\nof the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had\r\ndelivered the young woman from death!  It was Passepartout who, playing\r\nhis part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the\r\ngeneral terror.\r\n\r\nA moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and\r\nthe elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and\r\nnoise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg\'s hat, apprised\r\nthem that the trick had been discovered.\r\n\r\nThe old rajah\'s body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and\r\nthe priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction\r\nhad taken place.  They hastened into the forest, followed by the\r\nsoldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter\r\nrapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found\r\nthemselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XIV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY\r\nOF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF SEEING IT\r\n\r\n\r\nThe rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout\r\nlaughed gaily at his success.  Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow\'s\r\nhand, and his master said, "Well done!" which, from him, was high\r\ncommendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the\r\naffair belonged to Mr. Fogg.  As for him, he had only been struck with\r\na "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,\r\nPassepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse\r\nof a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah!  As for the young\r\nIndian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing,\r\nand now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the\r\nhowdahs.\r\n\r\nThe elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was\r\nadvancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after\r\nleaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain.  They made a halt at\r\nseven o\'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete\r\nprostration.  The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but\r\nthe drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off.  Sir\r\nFrancis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced\r\nby the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account.  But he\r\nwas more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate.  He told Phileas\r\nFogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall\r\nagain into the hands of her executioners.  These fanatics were\r\nscattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police,\r\nrecover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta.  She would only be\r\nsafe by quitting India for ever.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.\r\n\r\nThe station at Allahabad was reached about ten o\'clock, and, the\r\ninterrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach\r\nCalcutta in less than twenty-four hours.  Phileas Fogg would thus be\r\nable to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next\r\nday, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.\r\n\r\nThe young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station,\r\nwhilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various\r\narticles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master\r\ngave him unlimited credit.  Passepartout started off forthwith, and\r\nfound himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the City of God,\r\none of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the\r\ntwo sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract\r\npilgrims from every part of the peninsula.  The Ganges, according to\r\nthe legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma\'s\r\nagency, it descends to the earth.\r\n\r\nPassepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a good\r\nlook at the city.  It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has\r\nsince become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and\r\nPassepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to\r\nfrequent in Regent Street.  At last he came upon an elderly, crusty\r\nJew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dress\r\nof Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for\r\nwhich he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds.  He then returned\r\ntriumphantly to the station.\r\n\r\nThe influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began\r\ngradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes\r\nresumed all their soft Indian expression.\r\n\r\nWhen the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen of\r\nAhmehnagara, he speaks thus:\r\n\r\n"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious\r\ncontour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and\r\nfreshness.  Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama,\r\nthe god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest\r\nreflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of\r\nHimalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes.  Her teeth,\r\nfine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops\r\nin a passion-flower\'s half-enveloped breast.  Her delicately formed\r\nears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the\r\nlotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of\r\nCeylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda.  Her narrow and supple\r\nwaist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her\r\nrounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower\r\ndisplays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of\r\nher tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike\r\nhand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."\r\n\r\nIt is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda,\r\nthat she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of the\r\nphrase.  She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not\r\nexaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her\r\nbringing up.\r\n\r\nThe train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded to\r\npay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing\r\nmore; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master\r\nowed to the guide\'s devotion.  He had, indeed, risked his life in the\r\nadventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by the\r\nIndians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance.  Kiouni,\r\nalso, must be disposed of.  What should be done with the elephant,\r\nwhich had been so dearly purchased?  Phileas Fogg had already\r\ndetermined this question.\r\n\r\n"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted.\r\nI have paid for your service, but not for your devotion.  Would you\r\nlike to have this elephant?  He is yours."\r\n\r\nThe guide\'s eyes glistened.\r\n\r\n"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" cried he.\r\n\r\n"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your\r\ndebtor."\r\n\r\n"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout.  "Take him, friend.  Kiouni is a brave\r\nand faithful beast."  And, going up to the elephant, he gave him\r\nseveral lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."\r\n\r\nThe elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout\r\naround the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.\r\nPassepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which\r\nreplaced him gently on the ground.\r\n\r\nSoon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,\r\ninstalled in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were\r\nwhirling at full speed towards Benares.  It was a run of eighty miles,\r\nand was accomplished in two hours.  During the journey, the young woman\r\nfully recovered her senses.  What was her astonishment to find herself\r\nin this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and\r\nwith travellers who were quite strangers to her!  Her companions first\r\nset about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis\r\nnarrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which\r\nPhileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and\r\nrecounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of\r\nPassepartout\'s rash idea.  Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout,\r\nabashed, kept repeating that "it wasn\'t worth telling."\r\n\r\nAouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than\r\nwords; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.\r\nThen, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and\r\nrecalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda\'s mind, and offered,\r\nin order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might\r\nremain safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which she\r\neagerly and gratefully accepted.  She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,\r\nwho was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an\r\nEnglish city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.\r\n\r\nAt half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares.  The Brahmin legends\r\nassert that this city is built on the site of the ancient Casi, which,\r\nlike Mahomet\'s tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth;\r\nthough the Benares of to-day, which the Orientalists call the Athens of\r\nIndia, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartout\r\ncaught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of\r\ndesolation to the place, as the train entered it.\r\n\r\nBenares was Sir Francis Cromarty\'s destination, the troops he was\r\nrejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city.  He bade\r\nadieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hope\r\nthat he would come that way again in a less original but more\r\nprofitable fashion.  Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand.  The\r\nparting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis,\r\nbetrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty\r\nshake of the hand from the gallant general.\r\n\r\nThe railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of\r\nthe Ganges.  Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had\r\nglimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains\r\nclothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles\r\npeopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still\r\nthickly-leaved forests.  Elephants were bathing in the waters of the\r\nsacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and\r\nchilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions.  These were\r\nfervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being\r\nVishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural\r\nforces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators.  What\r\nwould these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, with\r\nsteamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls\r\nwhich float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and\r\nthe faithful dwelling upon its borders?\r\n\r\nThe panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam\r\nconcealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely\r\ndiscern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares,\r\nthe ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its\r\nfamous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on\r\nthe left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a\r\nlarge manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principal\r\nopium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is\r\nas English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries,\r\nedgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke\r\nheavenward.\r\n\r\nNight came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the\r\nroaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before the\r\nlocomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour,\r\nMurshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town\r\nof Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his\r\ncountry\'s flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.\r\n\r\nCalcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for\r\nHong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.\r\n\r\nAccording to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of\r\nOctober, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival.  He was\r\ntherefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time.  The two days gained\r\nbetween London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the\r\njourney across India.  But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg\r\nregretted them.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH THE BAG OF BANKNOTES DISGORGES SOME THOUSANDS OF POUNDS MORE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first, was\r\nfollowed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.\r\nPhileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in\r\norder to get Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage.  He was\r\nunwilling to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.\r\n\r\nJust as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and\r\nsaid, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"\r\n\r\n"I am he."\r\n\r\n"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to\r\nPassepartout.\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever.  The policeman was a\r\nrepresentative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.\r\nPassepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped\r\nhim with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.\r\n\r\n"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.\r\n\r\n"She may," replied the policeman.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri, a\r\nsort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took\r\ntheir places and were driven away.  No one spoke during the twenty\r\nminutes which elapsed before they reached their destination.  They\r\nfirst passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its\r\nmiserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the\r\n"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,\r\nshaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it\r\nwas early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages\r\nwere passing back and forth.\r\n\r\nThe carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which, however, did\r\nnot have the appearance of a private mansion.  The policeman having\r\nrequested his prisoners--for so, truly, they might be called--to descend,\r\nconducted them into a room with barred windows, and said:  "You will\r\nappear before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."\r\n\r\nHe then retired, and closed the door.\r\n\r\n"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.\r\n\r\nAouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg: "Sir,\r\nyou must leave me to my fate!  It is on my account that you receive\r\nthis treatment, it is for having saved me!"\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible.  It\r\nwas quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.\r\nThe complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.\r\nThere was some mistake.  Moreover, he would not, in any event, abandon\r\nAouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.\r\n\r\n"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.\r\n\r\n"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.\r\n\r\nIt was said so positively that Passepartout could not help muttering to\r\nhimself, "Parbleu that\'s certain!  Before noon we shall be on board."\r\nBut he was by no means reassured.\r\n\r\nAt half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,\r\nrequesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall.  It\r\nwas evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives\r\nalready occupied the rear of the apartment.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite\r\nthe desks of the magistrate and his clerk.  Immediately after, Judge\r\nObadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered.  He\r\nproceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it\r\nhurriedly on his head.\r\n\r\n"The first case," said he.  Then, putting his hand to his head, he\r\nexclaimed, "Heh!  This is not my wig!"\r\n\r\n"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."\r\n\r\n"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a\r\nclerk\'s wig?"\r\n\r\nThe wigs were exchanged.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big\r\nclock over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.\r\n\r\n"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.\r\n\r\n"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.\r\n\r\n"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Passepartout?"\r\n\r\n"Present," responded Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"Good," said the judge.  "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two\r\ndays on the trains from Bombay."\r\n\r\n"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.\r\n\r\n"You are about to be informed."\r\n\r\n"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"\r\n\r\n"Have you been ill-treated?"\r\n\r\n"Not at all."\r\n\r\n"Very well; let the complainants come in."\r\n\r\nA door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests\r\nentered.\r\n\r\n"That\'s it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were\r\ngoing to burn our young lady."\r\n\r\nThe priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk\r\nproceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against\r\nPhileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a\r\nplace held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.\r\n\r\n"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."\r\n\r\n"You admit it?"\r\n\r\n"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,\r\nwhat they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."\r\n\r\nThe priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand what\r\nwas said.\r\n\r\n"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where\r\nthey were on the point of burning their victim."\r\n\r\nThe judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.\r\n\r\n"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah.  "Burn whom?  In Bombay itself?"\r\n\r\n"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"Certainly.  We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the\r\npagoda of Malabar Hill, at Bombay."\r\n\r\n"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator\'s very\r\nshoes, which he left behind him."\r\n\r\nWhereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.\r\n\r\n"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this\r\nimprudent exclamation to escape him.\r\n\r\nThe confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair at\r\nBombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.\r\n\r\nFix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout\'s\r\nescapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had\r\nconsulted the priests of Malabar Hill.  Knowing that the English\r\nauthorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanour, he\r\npromised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to\r\nCalcutta by the next train.  Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of\r\nthe young widow, Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before\r\nMr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having been already warned by\r\na dispatch to arrest them should they arrive.  Fix\'s disappointment\r\nwhen he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in\r\nCalcutta may be imagined.  He made up his mind that the robber had\r\nstopped somewhere on the route and taken refuge in the southern\r\nprovinces.  For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish\r\nanxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout\r\narrive, accompanied by a young woman, whose presence he was wholly at a\r\nloss to explain.  He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the\r\nparty came to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.\r\n\r\nHad Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied\r\nthe detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room, watching the\r\nproceedings with an interest easily understood; for the warrant had\r\nfailed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and Suez.\r\n\r\nJudge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout\'s rash exclamation,\r\nwhich the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.\r\n\r\n"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.\r\n\r\n"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.\r\n\r\n"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally and\r\nsternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man Passepartout\r\nhas admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill, at\r\nBombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout to\r\nimprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."\r\n\r\n"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness\r\nof the sum.\r\n\r\n"Silence!" shouted the constable.\r\n\r\n"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the act\r\nwas not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and as\r\nthe master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his\r\npaid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week\'s imprisonment and a\r\nfine of one hundred and fifty pounds."\r\n\r\nFix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could be\r\ndetained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant\r\nto arrive.  Passepartout was stupefied.  This sentence ruined his\r\nmaster.  A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a\r\nprecious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the least\r\nconcern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being\r\npronounced.  Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and\r\nsaid, "I offer bail."\r\n\r\n"You have that right," returned the judge.\r\n\r\nFix\'s blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the\r\njudge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one\r\nthousand pounds.\r\n\r\n"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills\r\nfrom the carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on\r\nthe clerk\'s desk.\r\n\r\n"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison," said\r\nthe judge.  "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."\r\n\r\n"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.\r\n\r\n"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout\r\nangrily.\r\n\r\n"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to\r\nhim.  "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the\r\ncrestfallen Passepartout.  Fix still nourished hopes that the robber\r\nwould not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him, but\r\nwould decide to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on Mr.\r\nFogg\'s traces.  That gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon\r\nlanded on one of the quays.\r\n\r\nThe Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal of\r\ndeparture hoisted at the mast-head.  Eleven o\'clock was striking; Mr.\r\nFogg was an hour in advance of time.  Fix saw them leave the carriage\r\nand push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet with\r\ndisappointment.\r\n\r\n"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed.  "Two thousand pounds\r\nsacrificed!  He\'s as prodigal as a thief!  I\'ll follow him to the end\r\nof the world if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on, the stolen\r\nmoney will soon be exhausted."\r\n\r\nThe detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture.  Since\r\nleaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of\r\nthe elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than\r\nfive thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum\r\nrecovered from the bank robber promised to the detectives, was rapidly\r\ndiminishing.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XVI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH FIX DOES NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND IN THE LEAST WHAT IS SAID TO\r\nHIM\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company\'s boats plying\r\nin the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron,\r\nweighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of\r\nfour hundred horse-power.  She was as fast, but not as well fitted up,\r\nas the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board\r\nof her as Phileas Fogg could have wished.  However, the trip from\r\nCalcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred\r\nmiles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not\r\ndifficult to please.\r\n\r\nDuring the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted\r\nwith her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude\r\nfor what he had done.  The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,\r\napparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner\r\nbetraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the\r\nwatch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda\'s comfort.  He visited\r\nher regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,\r\nas to sit and hear her talk.  He treated her with the strictest\r\npoliteness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of\r\nwhich had been arranged for this purpose.  Aouda did not quite know\r\nwhat to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of\r\nhis master\'s eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the\r\nwager which was sending him round the world.  After all, she owed\r\nPhileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the exalting\r\nmedium of her gratitude.\r\n\r\nAouda confirmed the Parsee guide\'s narrative of her touching history.\r\nShe did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.\r\nMany of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing\r\nin cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet\r\nby the English government.  Aouda was a relative of this great man, and\r\nit was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.\r\nWhether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr.\r\nFogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything\r\nwould be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged.  Aouda\r\nfastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"\r\nupon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem\r\nat all inclined to throw himself into this lake.\r\n\r\nThe first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable\r\nweather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great\r\nAndaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its\r\npicturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming\r\nabove the waters.  The steamer passed along near the shores, but the\r\nsavage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not,\r\nas has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.\r\n\r\nThe panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.  Vast\r\nforests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and\r\ntree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful\r\noutlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the\r\ncoasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a\r\nluxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire.  The varied\r\nlandscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and\r\nthe Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave\r\naccess to the China seas.\r\n\r\nWhat was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,\r\ndoing all this while?  He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at\r\nCalcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,\r\nif the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong\r\nKong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.\r\nIt would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without\r\nawakening Passepartout\'s suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.\r\nBut necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance\r\nwith the worthy servant, as will be seen.\r\n\r\nAll the detective\'s hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for\r\nthe steamer\'s stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to\r\ntake any steps there.  The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the\r\nrobber would probably escape him for ever.  Hong Kong was the last\r\nEnglish ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,\r\nAmerica offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge.  If the warrant\r\nshould at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him\r\nand give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no\r\nfurther trouble.  But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no\r\navail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would result\r\nin delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take advantage to\r\nelude justice.\r\n\r\nFix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he\r\nspent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the\r\nwarrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or\r\nit will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I\r\nshould delay his departure.  I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed\r\nat Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost:  Cost what\r\nit may, I must succeed!  But how shall I prevent his departure, if that\r\nshould turn out to be my last resource?"\r\n\r\nFix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a\r\nconfidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his\r\nmaster really was.  That Passepartout was not Fogg\'s accomplice, he was\r\nvery certain.  The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid\r\nof being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an\r\nally of the detective.  But this method was a dangerous one, only to be\r\nemployed when everything else had failed.  A word from Passepartout to\r\nhis master would ruin all.  The detective was therefore in a sore\r\nstrait.  But suddenly a new idea struck him.  The presence of Aouda on\r\nthe Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for\r\nreflection.\r\n\r\nWho was this woman?  What combination of events had made her Fogg\'s\r\ntravelling companion?  They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay\r\nand Calcutta; but where?  Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone\r\ninto the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel?  Fix was\r\nfairly puzzled.  He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked\r\nelopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he\r\ndetermined to make use of the supposed intrigue.  Whether the young\r\nwoman were married or not, he would be able to create such difficulties\r\nfor Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount\r\nof money.\r\n\r\nBut could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong?  Fogg had an\r\nabominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before\r\nanything could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.\r\n\r\nFix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the\r\nRangoon before her arrival.  This was easy to do, since the steamer\r\nstopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.\r\nHe finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to\r\nquestion Passepartout.  It would not be difficult to make him talk;\r\nand, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.\r\n\r\nIt was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon\r\nwas due at Singapore.\r\n\r\nFix emerged from his cabin and went on deck.  Passepartout was\r\npromenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer.  The\r\ndetective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and\r\nexclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"\r\n\r\n"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished\r\nPassepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia.  "Why, I left you\r\nat Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong!  Are you going\r\nround the world too?"\r\n\r\n"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some\r\ndays."\r\n\r\n"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed.  "But\r\nhow is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"\r\n\r\n"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I\'ve been staying in my berth.  The Gulf\r\nof Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean.  And how\r\nis Mr. Fogg?"\r\n\r\n"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time!  But, Monsieur\r\nFix, you don\'t know that we have a young lady with us."\r\n\r\n"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what\r\nwas said.\r\n\r\nPassepartout thereupon recounted Aouda\'s history, the affair at the\r\nBombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds,\r\nthe rescue, the arrest, and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the\r\nrestoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail.  Fix, who was\r\nfamiliar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all\r\nthat Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so\r\ninterested a listener.\r\n\r\n"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"\r\n\r\n"Not at all.  We are simply going to place her under the protection of\r\none of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."\r\n\r\n"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his\r\ndisappointment.  "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"\r\n\r\n"Willingly, Monsieur Fix.  We must at least have a friendly glass on\r\nboard the Rangoon."\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XVII\r\n\r\nSHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG\r\n\r\n\r\nThe detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,\r\nthough Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to\r\ndivulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg.  He caught a glimpse of\r\nthat mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined\r\nhimself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his\r\ninveterate habit, took a hand at whist.\r\n\r\nPassepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance\r\nkept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing.  It was\r\nreally worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent\r\nperson, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board\r\nthe Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his\r\ndestination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was\r\nfollowing Mr. Fogg\'s tracks step by step.  What was Fix\'s object?\r\nPassepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously\r\npreserved--that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with\r\nthem, and probably on the same steamer.\r\n\r\nPassepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without\r\nhitting upon the real object which the detective had in view.  He never\r\ncould have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber\r\naround the globe.  But, as it is in human nature to attempt the\r\nsolution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an\r\nexplanation of Fix\'s movements, which was in truth far from\r\nunreasonable.  Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg\'s\r\nfriends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain\r\nthat he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.\r\n\r\n"It\'s clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his\r\nshrewdness.  "He\'s a spy sent to keep us in view!  That isn\'t quite the\r\nthing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man!  Ah,\r\ngentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to\r\nhis master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the\r\npart of his adversaries.  But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had\r\nthe chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray\r\nhis real suspicions.\r\n\r\nDuring the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered\r\nthe Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from\r\nSumatra.  The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of\r\nthis noble island from the view of the travellers.  The Rangoon weighed\r\nanchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having\r\ngained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival.  Phileas Fogg\r\nnoted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who\r\nbetrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.\r\n\r\nFix, who suspected Mr. Fogg\'s every movement, followed them cautiously,\r\nwithout being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his\r\nsleeve at Fix\'s manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.\r\n\r\nThe island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no\r\nmountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions.  It is a park\r\ncheckered by pleasant highways and avenues.  A handsome carriage, drawn\r\nby a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda\r\ninto the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of\r\nclove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.\r\nPepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields;\r\nsago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of\r\nthis tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air\r\nwith a penetrating perfume.  Agile and grinning bands of monkeys\r\nskipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.\r\n\r\nAfter a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg\r\nreturned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,\r\nirregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical\r\nfruits and plants; and at ten o\'clock they re-embarked, closely\r\nfollowed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit\r\nas large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a\r\nbright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords\r\ngourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck.  He was\r\nonly too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very\r\ngracefully for them.\r\n\r\nAt eleven o\'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a\r\nfew hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited\r\nby the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.\r\nSingapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of\r\nHong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.\r\nPhileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be\r\nin time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for\r\nYokohama, the principal Japanese port.\r\n\r\nThe Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked\r\nat Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,\r\nMalays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.\r\n\r\nThe weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last\r\nquarter of the moon.  The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals\r\nrose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus\r\naided the steamer\'s progress.  The captain as often as possible put up\r\nhis sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel\r\nmade rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China.  Owing\r\nto the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual\r\nprecautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of\r\ntime which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout\r\nout of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.\r\nPassepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and\r\nconsigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the\r\npepper grows.  Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly\r\nburning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot\r\nimpatience.\r\n\r\n"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach\r\nHong Kong?"\r\n\r\n"A very great hurry!"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"\r\n\r\n"Terribly anxious."\r\n\r\n"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"\r\n\r\n"Absolutely.  Don\'t you, Mr. Fix?"\r\n\r\n"I?  I don\'t believe a word of it."\r\n\r\n"You\'re a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.\r\n\r\nThis expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why.  Had the\r\nFrenchman guessed his real purpose?  He knew not what to think.  But\r\nhow could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective?  Yet,\r\nin speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.\r\n\r\nPassepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his\r\ntongue.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as\r\nto lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"\r\n\r\n"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don\'t know; perhaps--"\r\n\r\n"Ah, if you would only go on with us!  An agent of the Peninsular\r\nCompany, you know, can\'t stop on the way!  You were only going to\r\nBombay, and here you are in China.  America is not far off, and from\r\nAmerica to Europe is only a step."\r\n\r\nFix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene\r\nas possible, and laughed with him.  But Passepartout persisted in\r\nchaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.\r\n\r\n"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such\r\nthings.  But you must understand that I don\'t travel at my own expense."\r\n\r\n"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.\r\n\r\nFix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his\r\nreflections.  He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the\r\nFrenchman had found out that he was a detective.  But had he told his\r\nmaster?  What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or\r\nnot?  Was the game, then, up?  Fix spent several hours turning these\r\nthings over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then\r\npersuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then\r\nundecided what course it was best to take.\r\n\r\nNevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved\r\nto deal plainly with Passepartout.  If he did not find it practicable\r\nto arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave\r\nthat last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell\r\nPassepartout all.  Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,\r\nand in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;\r\nor else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his\r\ninterest would be to abandon the robber.\r\n\r\nSuch was the situation between Fix and Passepartout.  Meanwhile Phileas\r\nFogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious\r\nindifference.  He was passing methodically in his orbit around the\r\nworld, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him.  Yet\r\nthere was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star,\r\nwhich might have produced an agitation in this gentleman\'s heart.  But\r\nno! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout\'s great\r\nsurprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more\r\ndifficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery\r\nof Neptune.\r\n\r\nIt was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in\r\nAouda\'s eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master.  Phileas Fogg,\r\nthough brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless.  As to\r\nthe sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was\r\nclearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in\r\nperpetual reveries.\r\n\r\nOne day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was\r\nobserving the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the\r\nscrew out of the water.  The steam came hissing out of the valves; and\r\nthis made Passepartout indignant.\r\n\r\n"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed.  "We are not\r\ngoing.  Oh, these English!  If this was an American craft, we should\r\nblow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XVIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG, PASSEPARTOUT, AND FIX GO EACH ABOUT HIS BUSINESS\r\n\r\n\r\nThe weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage.  The wind,\r\nobstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale, and retarded the\r\nsteamer.  The Rangoon rolled heavily and the passengers became\r\nimpatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised before\r\ntheir path.  A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall\r\nknocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running high.  The\r\nRangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much,\r\nwhistling and shaking amid the squall.  The steamer was forced to\r\nproceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach Hong\r\nKong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be\r\nstruggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity.  He\r\nnever changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty\r\nhours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost\r\ninevitably cause the loss of the wager.  But this man of nerve\r\nmanifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm\r\nwere a part of his programme, and had been foreseen.  Aouda was amazed\r\nto find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.\r\n\r\nFix did not look at the state of things in the same light.  The storm\r\ngreatly pleased him.  His satisfaction would have been complete had the\r\nRangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.\r\nEach delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable\r\nthat Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now\r\nthe heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.\r\nIt mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this\r\ninconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects,\r\nhis spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.\r\nEverything had gone so well till now!  Earth and sea had seemed to be\r\nat his master\'s service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and\r\nsteam united to speed his journey.  Had the hour of adversity come?\r\nPassepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were\r\nto come from his own pocket.  The storm exasperated him, the gale made\r\nhim furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.\r\nPoor fellow!  Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction,\r\nfor, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained\r\nhimself from personal violence.\r\n\r\nPassepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being\r\nunable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the\r\nprogress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew.  He overwhelmed\r\nthe captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his\r\nimpatience, with all sorts of questions.  He wanted to know exactly how\r\nlong the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the\r\nbarometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising.  Passepartout\r\nshook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor\r\nmaledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.\r\n\r\nOn the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened\r\nits violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.\r\nPassepartout cleared up with the weather.  Some of the sails were\r\nunfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed.  The time lost\r\ncould not, however, be regained.  Land was not signalled until five\r\no\'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.\r\nPhileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama\r\nsteamer would, of course, be missed.\r\n\r\nThe pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to\r\nguide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.\r\nPassepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;\r\nbut he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which\r\nstill remained till the last moment.  He had confided his anxiety to\r\nFix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg\r\nwould be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put\r\nPassepartout in a passion.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the\r\npilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave\r\nHong Kong for Yokohama.\r\n\r\n"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.\r\n\r\n"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the\r\npilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.\r\n\r\n"What is the steamer\'s name?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"The Carnatic."\r\n\r\n"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her\r\ndeparture was postponed till to-morrow."\r\n\r\n"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.\r\n\r\nPassepartout clasped the pilot\'s hand and shook it heartily in his\r\ndelight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"\r\n\r\nThe pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him\r\nthis enthusiastic greeting.  He remounted the bridge, and guided the\r\nsteamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which\r\ncrowd the harbour of Hong Kong.\r\n\r\nAt one o\'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were\r\ngoing ashore.\r\n\r\nChance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic\r\nbeen forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left\r\non the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been\r\nobliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer.  Mr. Fogg\r\nwas, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not\r\nseriously imperil the remainder of his tour.\r\n\r\nThe steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco\r\nmade a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not\r\nsail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four\r\nhours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily\r\nregained in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific.  He found\r\nhimself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days\r\nafter leaving London.\r\n\r\nThe Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.\r\nMr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,\r\nwhich was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.\r\n\r\nOn landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to\r\nthe Club Hotel.  A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,\r\nafter seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her\r\ncousin Jeejeeh.  He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel\r\nuntil his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one\r\nwould know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee\r\nmerchant.  Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh\r\nhad left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an\r\nimmense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe--in Holland the\r\nbroker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally\r\ntraded.  Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment\'s\r\nconversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that\r\nJeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.\r\n\r\nAouda at first said nothing.  She passed her hand across her forehead,\r\nand reflected a few moments.  Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:\r\n"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"\r\n\r\n"It is very simple," responded the gentleman.  "Go on to Europe."\r\n\r\n"But I cannot intrude--"\r\n\r\n"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.\r\nPassepartout!"\r\n\r\n"Monsieur."\r\n\r\n"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."\r\n\r\nPassepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to\r\nhim, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk\r\ngait to obey his master\'s order.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XIX\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER, AND\r\nWHAT COMES OF IT\r\n\r\n\r\nHong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by\r\nthe Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius\r\nof the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent\r\nport.  The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is\r\nseparated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on\r\nthe opposite coast.  Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the\r\nChinese trade, and now the greater part of the transportation of\r\nChinese goods finds its depot at the former place.  Docks, hospitals,\r\nwharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,\r\ngive to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey\r\ntransferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.\r\n\r\nPassepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the\r\nVictoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other\r\nmodes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans\r\nwho passed to and fro in the streets.  Hong Kong seemed to him not\r\nunlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed\r\neverywhere the evidence of English supremacy.  At the Victoria port he\r\nfound a confused mass of ships of all nations: English, French,\r\nAmerican, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and\r\nChinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many\r\nfloating parterres.  Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the\r\nnatives who seemed very old and were dressed in yellow.  On going into\r\na barber\'s to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at\r\nleast eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow,\r\nwhich is the Imperial colour.  Passepartout, without exactly knowing\r\nwhy, thought this very funny.\r\n\r\nOn reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was\r\nnot astonished to find Fix walking up and down.  The detective seemed\r\nvery much disturbed and disappointed.\r\n\r\n"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform\r\nClub!"  He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived\r\nthat gentleman\'s chagrin.  The detective had, indeed, good reasons to\r\ninveigh against the bad luck which pursued him.  The warrant had not\r\ncome!  It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now\r\nreach Hong Kong for several days; and, this being the last English\r\nterritory on Mr. Fogg\'s route, the robber would escape, unless he could\r\nmanage to detain him.\r\n\r\n"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with\r\nus so far as America?"\r\n\r\n"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.\r\n\r\n"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily.  "I knew you could\r\nnot persuade yourself to separate from us.  Come and engage your berth."\r\n\r\nThey entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.\r\nThe clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs\r\non the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that\r\nvery evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.\r\n\r\n"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout.  "I will\r\ngo and let him know."\r\n\r\nFix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout\r\nall.  It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg\r\nseveral days longer at Hong Kong.  He accordingly invited his companion\r\ninto a tavern which caught his eye on the quay.  On entering, they\r\nfound themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of\r\nwhich was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions.  Several persons\r\nlay upon this bed in a deep sleep.  At the small tables which were\r\narranged about the room some thirty customers were drinking English\r\nbeer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes\r\nstuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose.  From\r\ntime to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip\r\nunder the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and\r\nfeet, carried and laid him upon the bed.  The bed already supported\r\ntwenty of these stupefied sots.\r\n\r\nFix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by\r\nthose wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English\r\nmerchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the\r\namount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted\r\nto one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity!  The\r\nChinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by\r\nstringent laws.  It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at\r\nfirst exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its ravages\r\ncould not be arrested.  Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by\r\nmen and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the\r\nvictims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily\r\ncontortions and agonies.  A great smoker can smoke as many as eight\r\npipes a day; but he dies in five years.  It was in one of these dens\r\nthat Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found\r\nthemselves.  Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix\'s\r\ninvitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.\r\n\r\nThey ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample\r\njustice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention.  They chatted\r\nabout the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea\r\nthat Fix was going to continue it with them.  When the bottles were\r\nempty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the\r\ntime of the sailing of the Carnatic.\r\n\r\nFix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."\r\n\r\n"What for, Mr. Fix?"\r\n\r\n"I want to have a serious talk with you."\r\n\r\n"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that\r\nwas left in the bottom of his glass.  "Well, we\'ll talk about it\r\nto-morrow; I haven\'t time now."\r\n\r\n"Stay!  What I have to say concerns your master."\r\n\r\nPassepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.  Fix\'s face\r\nseemed to have a singular expression.  He resumed his seat.\r\n\r\n"What is it that you have to say?"\r\n\r\nFix placed his hand upon Passepartout\'s arm, and, lowering his voice,\r\nsaid, "You have guessed who I am?"\r\n\r\n"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.\r\n\r\n"Then I\'m going to tell you everything--"\r\n\r\n"Now that I know everything, my friend!  Ah! that\'s very good.  But go\r\non, go on.  First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have\r\nput themselves to a useless expense."\r\n\r\n"Useless!" said Fix.  "You speak confidently.  It\'s clear that you\r\ndon\'t know how large the sum is."\r\n\r\n"Of course I do," returned Passepartout.  "Twenty thousand pounds."\r\n\r\n"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion\'s hand.\r\n\r\n"What!" cried the Frenchman.  "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five\r\nthousand pounds!  Well, there\'s all the more reason for not losing an\r\ninstant," he continued, getting up hastily.\r\n\r\nFix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five\r\nthousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.  If\r\nyou\'ll help me, I\'ll let you have five hundred of them."\r\n\r\n"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.\r\n\r\n"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."\r\n\r\n"Why, what are you saying?  Those gentlemen are not satisfied with\r\nfollowing my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put\r\nobstacles in his way!  I blush for them!"\r\n\r\n"What do you mean?"\r\n\r\n"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery.  They might as well\r\nwaylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"\r\n\r\n"That\'s just what we count on doing."\r\n\r\n"It\'s a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more\r\nexcited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without\r\nperceiving it.  "A real conspiracy!  And gentlemen, too. Bah!"\r\n\r\nFix began to be puzzled.\r\n\r\n"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout.  "You must know,\r\nMonsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes\r\na wager, he tries to win it fairly!"\r\n\r\n"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.\r\n\r\n"Parbleu!  An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to\r\ninterrupt my master\'s journey.  But, though I found you out some time\r\nago, I\'ve taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."\r\n\r\n"He knows nothing, then?"\r\n\r\n"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.\r\n\r\nThe detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he\r\nspoke again.  What should he do?  Passepartout\'s mistake seemed\r\nsincere, but it made his design more difficult.  It was evident that\r\nthe servant was not the master\'s accomplice, as Fix had been inclined\r\nto suspect.\r\n\r\n"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he\r\nwill help me."\r\n\r\nHe had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he\r\nresolved to make a clean breast of it.\r\n\r\n"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly.  "I am not, as you think, an agent\r\nof the members of the Reform Club--"\r\n\r\n"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.\r\n\r\n"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."\r\n\r\n"You, a detective?"\r\n\r\n"I will prove it.  Here is my commission."\r\n\r\nPassepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this\r\ndocument, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fogg\'s wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and\r\nthe gentlemen of the Reform are dupes.  He had a motive for securing\r\nyour innocent complicity."\r\n\r\n"But why?"\r\n\r\n"Listen.  On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five\r\nthousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose\r\ndescription was fortunately secured.  Here is his description; it\r\nanswers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."\r\n\r\n"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.\r\n"My master is the most honourable of men!"\r\n\r\n"How can you tell?  You know scarcely anything about him.  You went\r\ninto his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish\r\npretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes.  And\r\nyet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.\r\n\r\n"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"\r\n\r\nPassepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his\r\nhands, and did not dare to look at the detective.  Phileas Fogg, the\r\nsaviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber!  And yet how\r\nmany presumptions there were against him!  Passepartout essayed to\r\nreject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not\r\nwish to believe that his master was guilty.\r\n\r\n"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.\r\n\r\n"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as\r\nyet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to\r\nLondon.  You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"\r\n\r\n"I!  But I--"\r\n\r\n"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the\r\nBank of England."\r\n\r\n"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,\r\nexhausted in mind and body.\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my\r\nmaster is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have\r\nbeen, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and\r\nI will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world.  I come\r\nfrom a village where they don\'t eat that kind of bread!"\r\n\r\n"You refuse?"\r\n\r\n"I refuse."\r\n\r\n"Consider that I\'ve said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."\r\n\r\n"Yes; let us drink!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the\r\nliquor.  Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from\r\nhis master, wished to entirely overcome him.  Some pipes full of opium\r\nlay upon the table.  Fix slipped one into Passepartout\'s hand.  He took\r\nit, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,\r\nbecoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.\r\n\r\n"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious.  "Mr. Fogg will\r\nnot be informed of the Carnatic\'s departure; and, if he is, he will\r\nhave to go without this cursed Frenchman!"\r\n\r\nAnd, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XX\r\n\r\nIN WHICH FIX COMES FACE TO FACE WITH PHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n\r\nWhile these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,\r\nunconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly\r\nescorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the\r\nnecessary purchases for the long voyage before them.  It was all very\r\nwell for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with\r\na carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under\r\nsuch conditions.  He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity,\r\nand invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who\r\nwas confused by his patience and generosity:\r\n\r\n"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."\r\n\r\nThe purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a\r\nsumptuously served table-d\'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with\r\nher protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest.\r\nMr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The\r\nTimes and Illustrated London News.\r\n\r\nHad he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been\r\nnot to see his servant return at bedtime.  But, knowing that the\r\nsteamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did\r\nnot disturb himself about the matter.  When Passepartout did not appear\r\nthe next morning to answer his master\'s bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying\r\nthe least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-bag,\r\ncalling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.\r\n\r\nIt was then eight o\'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide,\r\nthe Carnatic would leave the harbour.  Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the\r\npalanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half\r\nan hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark.  Mr.\r\nFogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before.  He\r\nhad expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was\r\nforced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his\r\nface, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;\r\nnothing more."\r\n\r\nAt this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.\r\nIt was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg:  "Were you not, like me,\r\nsir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"\r\n\r\n"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly.  "But I have not the honour--"\r\n\r\n"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."\r\n\r\n"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.\r\n\r\n"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise.  "Is he not with you?"\r\n\r\n"No," said Aouda.  "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.\r\nCould he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"\r\n\r\n"Without you, madam?" answered the detective.  "Excuse me, did you\r\nintend to sail in the Carnatic?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, sir."\r\n\r\n"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed.  The Carnatic, its\r\nrepairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated\r\ntime, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for\r\nanother steamer."\r\n\r\nAs he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy.  Fogg detained at\r\nHong Kong for a week!  There would be time for the warrant to arrive,\r\nand fortune at last favoured the representative of the law.  His horror\r\nmay be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But\r\nthere are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the\r\nharbour of Hong Kong."\r\n\r\nAnd, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks\r\nin search of some craft about to start.  Fix, stupefied, followed; it\r\nseemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.\r\nChance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had\r\nhitherto served so well.  For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about\r\nthe docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to\r\ncarry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were\r\nloading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail.  Fix\r\nbegan to hope again.\r\n\r\nBut Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,\r\nresolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted\r\nby a sailor on one of the wharves.\r\n\r\n"Is your honour looking for a boat?"\r\n\r\n"Have you a boat ready to sail?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."\r\n\r\n"Does she go fast?"\r\n\r\n"Between eight and nine knots the hour.  Will you look at her?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Your honour will be satisfied with her.  Is it for a sea excursion?"\r\n\r\n"No; for a voyage."\r\n\r\n"A voyage?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"\r\n\r\nThe sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is\r\nyour honour joking?"\r\n\r\n"No.  I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the\r\n14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."\r\n\r\n"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."\r\n\r\n"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two\r\nhundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."\r\n\r\n"Are you in earnest?"\r\n\r\n"Very much so."\r\n\r\nThe pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,\r\nevidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the\r\nfear of venturing so far.  Fix was in mortal suspense.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would\r\nyou, madam?"\r\n\r\n"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.\r\n\r\nThe pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.\r\n\r\n"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or\r\nmy little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time\r\nof year.  Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is\r\nsixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."\r\n\r\n"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"It\'s the same thing."\r\n\r\nFix breathed more freely.\r\n\r\n"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."\r\n\r\nFix ceased to breathe at all.\r\n\r\n"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to\r\nShanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here.  In going to\r\nShanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,\r\nwhich would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and\r\nwould aid us."\r\n\r\n"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,\r\nand not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."\r\n\r\n"Why not?" returned the pilot.  "The San Francisco steamer does not\r\nstart from Yokohama.  It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it\r\nstarts from Shanghai."\r\n\r\n"You are sure of that?"\r\n\r\n"Perfectly."\r\n\r\n"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"\r\n\r\n"On the 11th, at seven in the evening.  We have, therefore, four days\r\nbefore us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good\r\nluck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those\r\neight hundred miles to Shanghai."\r\n\r\n"And you could go--"\r\n\r\n"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails\r\nput up."\r\n\r\n"It is a bargain.  Are you the master of the boat?"\r\n\r\n"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."\r\n\r\n"Would you like some earnest-money?"\r\n\r\n"If it would not put your honour out--"\r\n\r\n"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,\r\nturning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"\r\n\r\n"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."\r\n\r\n"Very well.  In half an hour we shall go on board."\r\n\r\n"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the\r\nservant\'s disappearance.\r\n\r\n"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nWhile Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,\r\nthe others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.\r\nPhileas Fogg there gave Passepartout\'s description, and left a sum of\r\nmoney to be spent in the search for him.  The same formalities having\r\nbeen gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having\r\nstopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,\r\nthey returned to the wharf.\r\n\r\nIt was now three o\'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on\r\nboard, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.\r\n\r\nThe Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully\r\nbuilt as if she were a racing yacht.  Her shining copper sheathing, her\r\ngalvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride\r\ntaken by John Bunsby in making her presentable.  Her two masts leaned a\r\ntrifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and\r\nstanding-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she\r\nseemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by\r\ngaining several prizes in pilot-boat races.  The crew of the Tankadere\r\nwas composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who\r\nwere familiar with the Chinese seas.  John Bunsby, himself, a man of\r\nforty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly\r\nexpression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,\r\nwould have inspired confidence in the most timid.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already\r\ninstalled.  Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged\r\nout in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a\r\ntable provided with a swinging lamp.  The accommodation was confined,\r\nbut neat.\r\n\r\n"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,\r\nwho bowed without responding.\r\n\r\nThe detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the\r\nkindness of Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"It\'s certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite\r\none!"\r\n\r\nThe sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.\r\nMr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the\r\nquay, in the hope of espying Passepartout.  Fix was not without his\r\nfears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,\r\nwhom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an\r\nexplanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have\r\nensued.  But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was\r\nstill lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.\r\n\r\nJohn Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the\r\nTankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and\r\nstanding-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH THE MASTER OF THE "TANKADERE" RUNS GREAT RISK OF LOSING A\r\nREWARD OF TWO HUNDRED POUNDS\r\n\r\n\r\nThis voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of\r\ntwenty tons, and at that season of the year.  The Chinese seas are\r\nusually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and especially\r\nduring the equinoxes; and it was now early November.\r\n\r\nIt would clearly have been to the master\'s advantage to carry his\r\npassengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he\r\nwould have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent\r\neven to attempt to reach Shanghai.  But John Bunsby believed in the\r\nTankadere, which rode on the waves like a seagull; and perhaps he was\r\nnot wrong.\r\n\r\nLate in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong\r\nKong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favourable winds, conducted\r\nherself admirably.\r\n\r\n"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open\r\nsea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."\r\n\r\n"Trust me, your honour.  We are carrying all the sail the wind will let\r\nus.  The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going\r\ninto port."\r\n\r\n"It\'s your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a\r\nsailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters.  The young\r\nwoman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out\r\nupon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had\r\nventured in so frail a vessel.  Above her head rustled the white sails,\r\nwhich seemed like great white wings.  The boat, carried forward by the\r\nwind, seemed to be flying in the air.\r\n\r\nNight came.  The moon was entering her first quarter, and her\r\ninsufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.\r\nClouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the\r\nheavens.\r\n\r\nThe pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these\r\nseas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not\r\nuncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock\r\nwould shatter the gallant little craft.\r\n\r\nFix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation.  He kept apart\r\nfrom his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg\'s taciturn tastes;\r\nbesides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had\r\naccepted.  He was thinking, too, of the future.  It seemed certain that\r\nFogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for\r\nSan Francisco; and the vast extent of America would ensure him impunity\r\nand safety.  Fogg\'s plan appeared to him the simplest in the world.\r\nInstead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a\r\ncommon villain, he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to\r\ngain the American continent more surely; and there, after throwing the\r\npolice off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune\r\nstolen from the bank.  But, once in the United States, what should he,\r\nFix, do?  Should he abandon this man?  No, a hundred times no!  Until\r\nhe had secured his extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an\r\nhour.  It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end.  At all\r\nevents, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not\r\nwith his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences\r\nFix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have speech with\r\nhis master.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely\r\ndisappeared.  Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did\r\nnot seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have\r\nembarked on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda\'s\r\nopinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom\r\nshe owed so much.  They might then find him at Yokohama; for, if the\r\nCarnatic was carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he\r\nhad been on board.\r\n\r\nA brisk breeze arose about ten o\'clock; but, though it might have been\r\nprudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the\r\nheavens, let the craft remain rigged as before.  The Tankadere bore\r\nsail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was\r\nprepared for high speed in case of a gale.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been\r\nalready preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots.  The\r\npilot and crew remained on deck all night.\r\n\r\nAt sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had made more\r\nthan one hundred miles.  The log indicated a mean speed of between\r\neight and nine miles.  The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was\r\naccomplishing her greatest capacity of speed.  If the wind held as it\r\nwas, the chances would be in her favour.  During the day she kept along\r\nthe coast, where the currents were favourable; the coast, irregular in\r\nprofile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most five\r\nmiles distant.  The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off\r\nland--a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing\r\nto its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.\r\n\r\nThe breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the\r\nsouth-west.  The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again\r\nwithin two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate\r\nwith a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he\r\naccepted with secret chagrin.  To travel at this man\'s expense and live\r\nupon his provisions was not palatable to him.  Still, he was obliged to\r\neat, and so he ate.\r\n\r\nWhen the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir"--this\r\n"sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid\r\ncollaring this "gentleman"--"sir, you have been very kind to give me a\r\npassage on this boat.  But, though my means will not admit of my\r\nexpending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share--"\r\n\r\n"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"But, if I insist--"\r\n\r\n"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a reply.\r\n"This enters into my general expenses."\r\n\r\nFix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and, going forward, where he\r\nensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high\r\nhope.  He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai\r\nin time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it.\r\nThe crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be\r\ngained.  There was not a sheet which was not tightened, not a sail which\r\nwas not vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at\r\nthe helm.  They worked as desperately as if they were contesting in a\r\nRoyal yacht regatta.\r\n\r\nBy evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been\r\naccomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be\r\nable to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his journal; in\r\nwhich case, the many misadventures which had overtaken him since he\r\nleft London would not seriously affect his journey.\r\n\r\nThe Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the island\r\nof Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and\r\ncrossed the Tropic of Cancer.  The sea was very rough in the straits,\r\nfull of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the chopping waves\r\nbroke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.\r\n\r\nAt daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed\r\nto predict a gale.  The barometer announced a speedy change, the\r\nmercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the\r\nsouth-east, raised long surges which indicated a tempest.  The sun had\r\nset the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the\r\nphosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.\r\n\r\nJohn Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,\r\nmuttering indistinctly between his teeth.  At last he said in a low\r\nvoice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honour?"\r\n\r\n"Of course."\r\n\r\n"Well, we are going to have a squall."\r\n\r\n"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.\r\n\r\n"South.  Look! a typhoon is coming up."\r\n\r\n"Glad it\'s a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward."\r\n\r\n"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I\'ve nothing more to\r\nsay." John Bunsby\'s suspicions were confirmed.  At a less advanced\r\nseason of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist,\r\nwould have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but\r\nin the winter equinox it was to be feared that it would burst upon them\r\nwith great violence.\r\n\r\nThe pilot took his precautions in advance.  He reefed all sail, the\r\npole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows.  A\r\nsingle triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib,\r\nso as to hold the wind from behind.  Then they waited.\r\n\r\nJohn Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this\r\nimprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat\r\nbouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant.  Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix,\r\nnor Aouda consented to leave the deck.\r\n\r\nThe storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o\'clock.\r\nWith but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a\r\nwind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given.  To compare her\r\nspeed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be\r\nbelow the truth.\r\n\r\nThe boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by\r\nmonstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to\r\ntheirs.  Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these\r\nmountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit management of\r\nthe pilot saved her.  The passengers were often bathed in spray, but\r\nthey submitted to it philosophically.  Fix cursed it, no doubt; but\r\nAouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed\r\nher, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm.  As\r\nfor Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his\r\nprogramme.\r\n\r\nUp to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north;\r\nbut towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from\r\nthe north-west.  The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook\r\nand rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence.  At\r\nnight the tempest increased in violence.  John Bunsby saw the approach\r\nof darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings.  He\r\nthought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken\r\nspeed.  After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I\r\nthink, your honour, that we should do well to make for one of the ports\r\non the coast."\r\n\r\n"I think so too."\r\n\r\n"Ah!" said the pilot.  "But which one?"\r\n\r\n"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.\r\n\r\n"And that is--"\r\n\r\n"Shanghai."\r\n\r\nThe pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely\r\nrealise so much determination and tenacity.  Then he cried, "Well--yes!\r\nYour honour is right.  To Shanghai!"\r\n\r\nSo the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.\r\n\r\nThe night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did\r\nnot founder.  Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew\r\nhad not been constantly on the watch.  Aouda was exhausted, but did not\r\nutter a complaint.  More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from\r\nthe violence of the waves.\r\n\r\nDay reappeared.  The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but\r\nthe wind now returned to the south-east.  It was a favourable change,\r\nand the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though\r\nthe waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks\r\nwhich would have crushed a craft less solidly built.  From time to time\r\nthe coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in\r\nsight.  The Tankadere was alone upon the sea.\r\n\r\nThere were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct\r\nas the sun descended toward the horizon.  The tempest had been as brief\r\nas terrific.  The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a\r\nlittle, and take some repose.\r\n\r\nThe night was comparatively quiet.  Some of the sails were again\r\nhoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good.  The next morning at\r\ndawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that\r\nthey were not one hundred miles from Shanghai.  A hundred miles, and\r\nonly one day to traverse them!  That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at\r\nShanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama.  Had\r\nthere been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would\r\nbe at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.\r\n\r\nThe wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.  All\r\nsails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five\r\nmiles of Shanghai.  There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish\r\nthat distance.  All on board feared that it could not be done, and\r\nevery one--Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with\r\nimpatience.  The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour,\r\nand the wind was becoming calmer every moment!  It was a capricious\r\nbreeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became\r\nsmooth.  Still, the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught\r\nthe fickle zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the currents John\r\nBunsby found himself at six o\'clock not more than ten miles from the\r\nmouth of Shanghai River.  Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve\r\nmiles up the stream.  At seven they were still three miles from\r\nShanghai.  The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred\r\npounds was evidently on the point of escaping him.  He looked at Mr.\r\nFogg.  Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole fortune was\r\nat this moment at stake.\r\n\r\nAt this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of\r\nsmoke, appeared on the edge of the waters.  It was the American\r\nsteamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.\r\n\r\n"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a\r\ndesperate jerk.\r\n\r\n"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.\r\n\r\nA small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for\r\nmaking signals in the fogs.  It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as\r\nthe pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg\r\nsaid, "Hoist your flag!"\r\n\r\nThe flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of\r\ndistress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would\r\nchange her course a little, so as to succour the pilot-boat.\r\n\r\n"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg.  And the booming of the little cannon resounded\r\nin the air.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT FINDS OUT THAT, EVEN AT THE ANTIPODES, IT IS\r\nCONVENIENT TO HAVE SOME MONEY IN ONE\'S POCKET\r\n\r\n\r\nThe Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th\r\nof November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan.  She\r\ncarried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers.  Two\r\nstate-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied--those which had been\r\nengaged by Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nThe next day a passenger with a half-stupefied eye, staggering gait,\r\nand disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to\r\ntotter to a seat on deck.\r\n\r\nIt was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:\r\nShortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the\r\nunconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved for\r\nthe smokers.  Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed\r\nidea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the stupefying\r\ninfluence of the narcotic.  The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off\r\nhis torpor, and he hurried from the abode of drunkenness.  Staggering\r\nand holding himself up by keeping against the walls, falling down and\r\ncreeping up again, and irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he\r\nkept crying out, "The Carnatic! the Carnatic!"\r\n\r\nThe steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.\r\nPassepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he\r\ncrossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was\r\nmoving off.  Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this\r\nsort of scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin,\r\nand Passepartout did not wake until they were one hundred and fifty\r\nmiles away from China.  Thus he found himself the next morning on the\r\ndeck of the Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze.\r\nThe pure air sobered him.  He began to collect his sense, which he\r\nfound a difficult task; but at last he recalled the events of the\r\nevening before, Fix\'s revelation, and the opium-house.\r\n\r\n"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably\r\ndrunk!  What will Mr. Fogg say?  At least I have not missed the\r\nsteamer, which is the most important thing."\r\n\r\nThen, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are well\r\nrid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us on\r\nboard the Carnatic.  A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of\r\nrobbing the Bank of England!  Pshaw!  Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than\r\nI am a murderer."\r\n\r\nShould he divulge Fix\'s real errand to his master?  Would it do to tell\r\nthe part the detective was playing?  Would it not be better to wait\r\nuntil Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an\r\nagent of the metropolitan police had been following him round the\r\nworld, and have a good laugh over it?  No doubt; at least, it was worth\r\nconsidering.  The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologise\r\nfor his singular behaviour.\r\n\r\nPassepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the rolling\r\nof the steamer, to the after-deck.  He saw no one who resembled either\r\nhis master or Aouda.  "Good!"  muttered he; "Aouda has not got up yet,\r\nand Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist."\r\n\r\nHe descended to the saloon.  Mr. Fogg was not there.  Passepartout had\r\nonly, however, to ask the purser the number of his master\'s state-room.\r\nThe purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of\r\nFogg.\r\n\r\n"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently.  "He is a tall\r\ngentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young\r\nlady--"\r\n\r\n"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser.  "Here is a\r\nlist of the passengers; you may see for yourself."\r\n\r\nPassepartout scanned the list, but his master\'s name was not upon it.\r\nAll at once an idea struck him.\r\n\r\n"Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"On the way to Yokohama?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly."\r\n\r\nPassepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;\r\nbut, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.\r\n\r\nHe fell thunderstruck on a seat.  He saw it all now.  He remembered\r\nthat the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed\r\nhis master of that fact, and that he had not done so.  It was his\r\nfault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer.  Yes, but\r\nit was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate\r\nhim from his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled\r\nhim into getting drunk!  He now saw the detective\'s trick; and at this\r\nmoment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself\r\nperhaps arrested and imprisoned!  At this thought Passepartout tore his\r\nhair.  Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of\r\naccounts there would be!\r\n\r\nAfter his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to\r\nstudy his situation.  It was certainly not an enviable one.  He found\r\nhimself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got there?\r\nHis pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling, not so much as a\r\npenny.  His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he\r\nhad five or six days in which to decide upon his future course.  He\r\nfell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and\r\nhimself.  He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert,\r\nwhere nothing to eat was to be looked for.\r\n\r\nAt dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama.  This is\r\nan important port of call in the Pacific, where all the mail-steamers,\r\nand those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and\r\nthe Oriental islands put in.  It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and\r\nat but a short distance from that second capital of the Japanese\r\nEmpire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the\r\nMikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own.  The\r\nCarnatic anchored at the quay near the custom-house, in the midst of a\r\ncrowd of ships bearing the flags of all nations.\r\n\r\nPassepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the\r\nSons of the Sun.  He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for\r\nhis guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama.  He\r\nfound himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses\r\nhaving low fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he\r\ncaught glimpses of neat peristyles.  This quarter occupied, with its\r\nstreets, squares, docks, and warehouses, all the space between the\r\n"promontory of the Treaty" and the river.  Here, as at Hong Kong and\r\nCalcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, Americans and English,\r\nChinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.\r\nThe Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had\r\ndropped down in the midst of Hottentots.\r\n\r\nHe had, at least, one resource,--to call on the French and English\r\nconsuls at Yokohama for assistance.  But he shrank from telling the\r\nstory of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of\r\nhis master; and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other\r\nmeans of aid.  As chance did not favour him in the European quarter, he\r\npenetrated that inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if\r\nnecessary, to push on to Yeddo.\r\n\r\nThe Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of\r\nthe sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about.  There\r\nPassepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a\r\nsingular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and\r\nreeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where were\r\nsheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable\r\nstreets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked\r\nchildren, who looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens,\r\nand who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish\r\ncats, might have been gathered.\r\n\r\nThe streets were crowded with people.  Priests were passing in\r\nprocessions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house\r\nofficers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres\r\nhung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes,\r\nand bearing guns; the Mikado\'s guards, enveloped in silken doubles,\r\nhauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all\r\nranks--for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it\r\nis despised in China--went hither and thither in groups and pairs.\r\nPassepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple\r\ncivilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts,\r\nslender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper-colour\r\nto a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the\r\nJapanese widely differ.  He did not fail to observe the curious\r\nequipages--carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and\r\nlitters made of bamboo; nor the women--whom he thought not especially\r\nhandsome--who took little steps with their little feet, whereon they\r\nwore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who\r\ndisplayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened,\r\nand gowns crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind\r\nan ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from\r\nthe dames of Japan.\r\n\r\nPassepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley\r\ncrowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the\r\njewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the\r\nrestaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where\r\nthe odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from\r\nthe fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses, where\r\nthey were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a\r\nvery fine, stringy tobacco.  He went on till he found himself in the\r\nfields, in the midst of vast rice plantations.  There he saw dazzling\r\ncamellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth\r\ntheir last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and\r\nwithin bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees, which the\r\nJapanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and\r\nwhich queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the\r\nsparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds.  On the branches\r\nof the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the\r\nweeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every\r\nhand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a multitude of cranes,\r\nwhich the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds symbolise\r\nlong life and prosperity.\r\n\r\nAs he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among the\r\nshrubs.\r\n\r\n"Good!" said he; "I\'ll have some supper."\r\n\r\nBut, on smelling them, he found that they were odourless.\r\n\r\n"No chance there," thought he.\r\n\r\nThe worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty a\r\nbreakfast as possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he had been\r\nwalking about all day, the demands of hunger were becoming importunate.\r\nHe observed that the butchers stalls contained neither mutton, goat,\r\nnor pork; and, knowing also that it is a sacrilege to kill cattle,\r\nwhich are preserved solely for farming, he made up his mind that meat\r\nwas far from plentiful in Yokohama--nor was he mistaken; and, in\r\ndefault of butcher\'s meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild\r\nboar or deer, a partridge, or some quails, some game or fish, which,\r\nwith rice, the Japanese eat almost exclusively.  But he found it\r\nnecessary to keep up a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he craved\r\ntill the following morning.  Night came, and Passepartout re-entered\r\nthe native quarter, where he wandered through the streets, lit by\r\nvari-coloured lanterns, looking on at the dancers, who were executing\r\nskilful steps and boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open\r\nair with their telescopes.  Then he came to the harbour, which was lit\r\nup by the resin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their\r\nboats.\r\n\r\nThe streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of\r\nwhich, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,\r\nPassepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling\r\ncrowd.  Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to\r\nhimself: "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT\'S NOSE BECOMES OUTRAGEOUSLY LONG\r\n\r\n\r\nThe next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself\r\nthat he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did\r\nso the better.  He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have\r\nstarved first.  Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious\r\nvoice which nature had bestowed upon him.  He knew several French and\r\nEnglish songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be\r\nlovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals,\r\ntam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.\r\n\r\nIt was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and\r\nthe audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not\r\npossibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado\'s features.\r\nPassepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was\r\nsauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well\r\ndressed for a wandering artist.  The idea struck him to change his\r\ngarments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he\r\nmight also get a little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of\r\nhunger.  The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.\r\n\r\nIt was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native\r\ndealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.  The man\r\nliked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his\r\nshop accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban,\r\nfaded with long use.  A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled\r\nin his pocket.\r\n\r\n"Good!" thought he.  "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"\r\n\r\nHis first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea-house\r\nof modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to\r\nbreakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.\r\n\r\n"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn\'t lose my head.\r\nI can\'t sell this costume again for one still more Japanese.  I must\r\nconsider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which I shall not\r\nretain the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."\r\n\r\nIt occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave for\r\nAmerica.  He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of\r\nhis passage and meals.  Once at San Francisco, he would find some means\r\nof going on.  The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand\r\nseven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New\r\nWorld.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed\r\nhis steps towards the docks.  But, as he approached them, his project,\r\nwhich at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more\r\nformidable to his mind.  What need would they have of a cook or servant\r\non an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him,\r\ndressed as he was?  What references could he give?\r\n\r\nAs he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense\r\nplacard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets.  This\r\nplacard, which was in English, read as follows:\r\n\r\n          ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,\r\n   HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,\r\n           LAST REPRESENTATIONS,\r\nPRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES,\r\n                  OF THE\r\n        LONG NOSES!   LONG NOSES!\r\nUNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU!\r\n           GREAT ATTRACTION!\r\n\r\n"The United States!" said Passepartout; "that\'s just what I want!"\r\n\r\nHe followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese\r\nquarter.  A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin,\r\nadorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which\r\nwere designed to represent, in violent colours and without perspective,\r\na company of jugglers.\r\n\r\nThis was the Honourable William Batulcar\'s establishment.  That\r\ngentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of\r\nmountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts,\r\nwho, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before\r\nleaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.\r\n\r\nPassepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway\r\nappeared in person.\r\n\r\n"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for\r\na native.\r\n\r\n"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which\r\nhung from his chin.  "I already have two who are obedient and faithful,\r\nhave never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they\r\nare," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as\r\nlarge as the strings of a bass-viol.\r\n\r\n"So I can be of no use to you?"\r\n\r\n"None."\r\n\r\n"The devil!  I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"\r\n\r\n"Ah!" said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar.  "You are no more a Japanese\r\nthan I am a monkey!  Who are you dressed up in that way?"\r\n\r\n"A man dresses as he can."\r\n\r\n"That\'s true.  You are a Frenchman, aren\'t you?"\r\n\r\n"Yes; a Parisian of Paris."\r\n\r\n"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"\r\n\r\n"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should\r\ncause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is\r\ntrue but not any better than the Americans do."\r\n\r\n"True.  Well, if I can\'t take you as a servant, I can as a clown.  You\r\nsee, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign\r\nparts French clowns."\r\n\r\n"Ah!"\r\n\r\n"You are pretty strong, eh?"\r\n\r\n"Especially after a good meal."\r\n\r\n"And you can sing?"\r\n\r\n"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the\r\nstreets.\r\n\r\n"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your\r\nleft foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"\r\n\r\n"Humph!  I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of\r\nhis younger days.\r\n\r\n"Well, that\'s enough," said the Honourable William Batulcar.\r\n\r\nThe engagement was concluded there and then.\r\n\r\nPassepartout had at last found something to do.  He was engaged to act\r\nin the celebrated Japanese troupe.  It was not a very dignified\r\nposition, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.\r\n\r\nThe performance, so noisily announced by the Honourable Mr. Batulcar,\r\nwas to commence at three o\'clock, and soon the deafening instruments of\r\na Japanese orchestra resounded at the door.  Passepartout, though he\r\nhad not been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated to lend\r\nthe aid of his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human\r\npyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou.  This "great\r\nattraction" was to close the performance.\r\n\r\nBefore three o\'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators,\r\ncomprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and\r\nchildren, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and into\r\nthe boxes opposite the stage.  The musicians took up a position inside,\r\nand were vigorously performing on their gongs, tam-tams, flutes, bones,\r\ntambourines, and immense drums.\r\n\r\nThe performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be\r\nconfessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.\r\n\r\nOne, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick of\r\nthe butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with the\r\nodorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words, which composed a\r\ncompliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some lighted\r\ncandles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his lips,\r\nand relit again without interrupting for an instant his juggling.\r\nAnother reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning-top;\r\nin his hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of\r\ntheir own in their interminable whirling; they ran over pipe-stems, the\r\nedges of sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage; they\r\nturned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo ladders,\r\ndispersed into all the corners, and produced strange musical effects by\r\nthe combination of their various pitches of tone.  The jugglers tossed\r\nthem in the air, threw them like shuttlecocks with wooden battledores,\r\nand yet they kept on spinning; they put them into their pockets, and\r\ntook them out still whirling as before.\r\n\r\nIt is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the acrobats\r\nand gymnasts.  The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels, &c., was\r\nexecuted with wonderful precision.\r\n\r\nBut the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a\r\nshow to which Europe is as yet a stranger.\r\n\r\nThe Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage of\r\nthe god Tingou.  Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages, they\r\nbore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what especially\r\ndistinguished them was the long noses which were fastened to their\r\nfaces, and the uses which they made of them.  These noses were made of\r\nbamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some straight,\r\nothers curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon\r\nthem.  It was upon these appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses,\r\nthat they performed their gymnastic exercises.  A dozen of these\r\nsectaries of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others, dressed to\r\nrepresent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses, jumping\r\nfrom one to another, and performing the most skilful leapings and\r\nsomersaults.\r\n\r\nAs a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which fifty\r\nLong Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut.  But, instead of\r\nforming a pyramid by mounting each other\'s shoulders, the artists were\r\nto group themselves on top of the noses.  It happened that the\r\nperformer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had quitted the\r\ntroupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were\r\nnecessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.\r\n\r\nThe poor fellow really felt sad when--melancholy reminiscence of his\r\nyouth!--he donned his costume, adorned with vari-coloured wings, and\r\nfastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet long.  But he\r\ncheered up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to\r\neat.\r\n\r\nHe went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who were to\r\ncompose the base of the Car of Juggernaut.  They all stretched\r\nthemselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the ceiling.  A second\r\ngroup of artists disposed themselves on these long appendages, then a\r\nthird above these, then a fourth, until a human monument reaching to\r\nthe very cornices of the theatre soon arose on top of the noses.  This\r\nelicited loud applause, in the midst of which the orchestra was just\r\nstriking up a deafening air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was\r\nlost, one of the lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human\r\nmonument was shattered like a castle built of cards!\r\n\r\nIt was Passepartout\'s fault.  Abandoning his position, clearing the\r\nfootlights without the aid of his wings, and, clambering up to the\r\nright-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators,\r\ncrying, "Ah, my master! my master!"\r\n\r\n"You here?"\r\n\r\n"Myself."\r\n\r\n"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the\r\ntheatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honourable Mr.\r\nBatulcar, furious with rage.  He demanded damages for the "breakage" of\r\nthe pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by giving him a handful of\r\nbanknotes.\r\n\r\nAt half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,\r\nfollowed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and\r\nnose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXIV\r\n\r\nDURING WHICH MR. FOGG AND PARTY CROSS THE PACIFIC OCEAN\r\n\r\n\r\nWhat happened when the pilot-boat came in sight of Shanghai will be\r\neasily guessed.  The signals made by the Tankadere had been seen by the\r\ncaptain of the Yokohama steamer, who, espying the flag at half-mast,\r\nhad directed his course towards the little craft.  Phileas Fogg, after\r\npaying the stipulated price of his passage to John Busby, and rewarding\r\nthat worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds,\r\nascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix; and they started at once for\r\nNagasaki and Yokohama.\r\n\r\nThey reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of November.\r\nPhileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic, where he\r\nlearned, to Aouda\'s great delight--and perhaps to his own, though he\r\nbetrayed no emotion--that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived\r\non her the day before.\r\n\r\nThe San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening, and\r\nit became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay.\r\nMr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after\r\nwandering through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding\r\nhis missing servant.  Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at\r\nlast led him into the Honourable Mr. Batulcar\'s theatre.  He certainly\r\nwould not have recognised Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank\'s\r\ncostume; but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the\r\ngallery.  He could not help starting, which so changed the position of\r\nhis nose as to bring the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the stage.\r\n\r\nAll this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what had\r\ntaken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the Tankadere,\r\nin company with one Mr. Fix.\r\n\r\nPassepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name.  He\r\nthought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what\r\nhad taken place between the detective and himself; and, in the account\r\nhe gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having been\r\novertaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then\r\nfurnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in\r\nharmony with his position.  Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off\r\nhis nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him\r\nwhich recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.\r\n\r\nThe steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco\r\nbelonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the\r\nGeneral Grant.  She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand\r\nfive hundred tons; well equipped and very fast.  The massive\r\nwalking-beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston-rod\r\nworked up and down; and at the other was a connecting-rod which, in\r\nchanging the rectilinear motion to a circular one, was directly\r\nconnected with the shaft of the paddles.  The General Grant was rigged\r\nwith three masts, giving a large capacity for sails, and thus\r\nmaterially aiding the steam power.  By making twelve miles an hour, she\r\nwould cross the ocean in twenty-one days.  Phileas Fogg was therefore\r\njustified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of\r\nDecember, New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th--thus gaining\r\nseveral hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.\r\n\r\nThere was a full complement of passengers on board, among them English,\r\nmany Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to California,\r\nand several East Indian officers, who were spending their vacation in\r\nmaking the tour of the world.  Nothing of moment happened on the\r\nvoyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles, rolled but little,\r\nand the Pacific almost justified its name.  Mr. Fogg was as calm and\r\ntaciturn as ever.  His young companion felt herself more and more\r\nattached to him by other ties than gratitude; his silent but generous\r\nnature impressed her more than she thought; and it was almost\r\nunconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did not seem to have\r\nthe least effect upon her protector.  Aouda took the keenest interest\r\nin his plans, and became impatient at any incident which seemed likely\r\nto retard his journey.\r\n\r\nShe often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the\r\nstate of the lady\'s heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics,\r\nhe never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg\'s honesty, generosity,\r\nand devotion.  He took pains to calm Aouda\'s doubts of a successful\r\ntermination of the journey, telling her that the most difficult part of\r\nit had passed, that now they were beyond the fantastic countries of\r\nJapan and China, and were fairly on their way to civilised places\r\nagain.  A railway train from San Francisco to New York, and a\r\ntransatlantic steamer from New York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring\r\nthem to the end of this impossible journey round the world within the\r\nperiod agreed upon.\r\n\r\nOn the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed\r\nexactly one half of the terrestrial globe.  The General Grant passed,\r\non the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth meridian, and\r\nwas at the very antipodes of London.  Mr. Fogg had, it is true,\r\nexhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to complete the\r\ntour, and there were only twenty-eight left.  But, though he was only\r\nhalf-way by the difference of meridians, he had really gone over\r\ntwo-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long\r\ncircuits from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to\r\nSingapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama.  Could he have followed\r\nwithout deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of London, the\r\nwhole distance would only have been about twelve thousand miles;\r\nwhereas he would be forced, by the irregular methods of locomotion, to\r\ntraverse twenty-six thousand, of which he had, on the 23rd of November,\r\naccomplished seventeen thousand five hundred.  And now the course was a\r\nstraight one, and Fix was no longer there to put obstacles in their way!\r\n\r\nIt happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made a\r\njoyful discovery.  It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had\r\ninsisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on\r\nregarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false\r\nand unreliable.  Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands,\r\nhe found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship\'s chronometers.\r\nHis triumph was hilarious.  He would have liked to know what Fix would\r\nsay if he were aboard!\r\n\r\n"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout, "about the\r\nmeridians, the sun, and the moon!  Moon, indeed!  moonshine more\r\nlikely!  If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time\r\none would keep!  I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself\r\nby my watch!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been\r\ndivided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have\r\nno reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then,\r\ninstead of as now indicating nine o\'clock in the morning, indicate nine\r\no\'clock in the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight\r\nprecisely the difference between London time and that of the one\r\nhundred and eightieth meridian.  But if Fix had been able to explain\r\nthis purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have admitted, even\r\nif he had comprehended it.  Moreover, if the detective had been on\r\nboard at that moment, Passepartout would have joined issue with him on\r\na quite different subject, and in an entirely different manner.\r\n\r\nWhere was Fix at that moment?\r\n\r\nHe was actually on board the General Grant.\r\n\r\nOn reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he expected\r\nto meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the English\r\nconsulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest.  It had\r\nfollowed him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic, on which\r\nsteamer he himself was supposed to be.  Fix\'s disappointment may be\r\nimagined when he reflected that the warrant was now useless.  Mr. Fogg\r\nhad left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure his\r\nextradition!\r\n\r\n"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not good\r\nhere, but it will be in England.  The rogue evidently intends to return\r\nto his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his track.\r\nGood!  I will follow him across the Atlantic.  As for the money, heaven\r\ngrant there may be some left!  But the fellow has already spent in\r\ntravelling, rewards, trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts of charges,\r\nmore than five thousand pounds.  Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!"\r\n\r\nHis course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was\r\nthere when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived.  To his utter amazement, he\r\nrecognised Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise.  He quickly\r\nconcealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and\r\nhoped--thanks to the number of passengers--to remain unperceived by Mr.\r\nFogg\'s servant.\r\n\r\nOn that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the\r\nforward deck.  The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped\r\nhim by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans,\r\nwho immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a\r\nperfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French\r\nover English pugilistic skill.\r\n\r\nWhen Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and\r\ncomforted.  Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at\r\nhis adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"\r\n\r\n"For this time--yes."\r\n\r\n"Then let me have a word with you."\r\n\r\n"But I--"\r\n\r\n"In your master\'s interests."\r\n\r\nPassepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix\'s coolness, for he quietly\r\nfollowed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.\r\n\r\n"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix.  "Good, I expected it.  Now,\r\nlisten to me.  Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg\'s adversary.  I am\r\nnow in his game."\r\n\r\n"Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"\r\n\r\n"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal.  Sh! don\'t budge, and\r\nlet me speak.  As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my\r\ninterest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived.  I did\r\neverything I could to keep him back.  I sent the Bombay priests after\r\nhim, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and\r\nI made him miss the Yokohama steamer."\r\n\r\nPassepartout listened, with closed fists.\r\n\r\n"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.  Well,\r\nI will follow him there.  But hereafter I will do as much to keep\r\nobstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in\r\nhis path.  I\'ve changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for\r\nmy interest to change it.  Your interest is the same as mine; for it is\r\nonly in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service\r\nof a criminal or an honest man."\r\n\r\nPassepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that\r\nhe spoke with entire good faith.\r\n\r\n"Are we friends?" asked the detective.\r\n\r\n"Friends?--no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps.  At the\r\nleast sign of treason, however, I\'ll twist your neck for you."\r\n\r\n"Agreed," said the detective quietly.\r\n\r\nEleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered\r\nthe bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH A SLIGHT GLIMPSE IS HAD OF SAN FRANCISCO\r\n\r\n\r\nIt was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set\r\nfoot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the\r\nfloating quay upon which they disembarked.  These quays, rising and\r\nfalling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of\r\nvessels.  Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all\r\nnationalities, and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above\r\nthe other, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries.  There were\r\nalso heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico,\r\nChili, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent,\r\nthought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine\r\nstyle; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them.\r\nPut out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon\r\nthe New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the\r\ninnumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these\r\nmovable quays, that they flew noisily away.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the\r\nfirst train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o\'clock\r\np.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the Californian\r\ncapital.  Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda\r\nentered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and\r\nthey set out for the International Hotel.\r\n\r\nFrom his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the\r\nwide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic\r\nchurches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses,\r\nthe numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the\r\nside-walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians.\r\nPassepartout was surprised at all he saw.  San Francisco was no longer\r\nthe legendary city of 1849--a city of banditti, assassins, and\r\nincendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a\r\nparadise of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in\r\none hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was now a great commercial\r\nemporium.\r\n\r\nThe lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the\r\nstreets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles, and in the\r\nmidst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond\r\nappeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial\r\nEmpire in a toy-box.  Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were\r\nrarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere\r\nworn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking men.  Some\r\nof the streets--especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco\r\nwhat Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris,\r\nand Broadway to New York--were lined with splendid and spacious\r\nstores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.\r\n\r\nWhen Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to\r\nhim as if he had left England at all.\r\n\r\nThe ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of\r\nrestaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried\r\nbeef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their\r\npurses.  Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was\r\ndrunk.  This seemed "very American" to Passepartout.  The hotel\r\nrefreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing\r\nthemselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by\r\nnegroes of darkest hue.\r\n\r\nAfter breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the\r\nEnglish consulate to have his passport visaed.  As he was going out, he\r\nmet Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking\r\nthe train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt\'s\r\nrevolvers.  He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains\r\nby the Sioux and Pawnees.  Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution,\r\nbut told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.\r\n\r\nHe had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the greatest\r\nchance in the world," he met Fix.  The detective seemed wholly taken by\r\nsurprise.  What!  Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific\r\ntogether, and not met on the steamer!  At least Fix felt honoured to\r\nbehold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and, as his\r\nbusiness recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the\r\njourney in such pleasant company.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective--who\r\nwas determined not to lose sight of him--begged permission to accompany\r\nthem in their walk about San Francisco--a request which Mr. Fogg\r\nreadily granted.\r\n\r\nThey soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd\r\nwas collected; the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors,\r\nthe windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people.\r\nMen were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers\r\nwere floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.\r\n\r\n"Hurrah for Camerfield!"\r\n\r\n"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"\r\n\r\nIt was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to\r\nMr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd.  There may\r\nbe danger in it."\r\n\r\n"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political are\r\nstill blows."\r\n\r\nFix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without\r\nbeing jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a\r\nflight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street.\r\nOpposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf\r\nand a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the\r\nopen air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.\r\n\r\nFor what purpose was this meeting?  What was the occasion of this\r\nexcited assemblage?  Phileas Fogg could not imagine.  Was it to\r\nnominate some high official--a governor or member of Congress?  It was\r\nnot improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.\r\n\r\nJust at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass.  All\r\nthe hands were raised in the air.  Some, tightly closed, seemed to\r\ndisappear suddenly in the midst of the cries--an energetic way, no\r\ndoubt, of casting a vote.  The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags\r\nwavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters.  The\r\nundulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads\r\nfloundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall.  Many of the\r\nblack hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to\r\nhave diminished in height.\r\n\r\n"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an\r\nexciting one.  I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,\r\ndespite the fact that that question is settled."\r\n\r\n"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.\r\n\r\n"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the\r\nHonourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy."\r\n\r\nAouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg\'s arm, observed the tumultuous scene with\r\nsurprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was.\r\nBefore the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and\r\nexcited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used\r\nas offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction.  Thumps\r\nwere exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had\r\nbeen blocked up in the crowd.  Boots and shoes went whirling through\r\nthe air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers\r\nmingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed over\r\nthe lower step.  One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but\r\nthe mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had\r\ngained the upper hand.\r\n\r\n"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious that\r\nMr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to\r\nLondon.  "If there is any question about England in all this, and we\r\nwere recognised, I fear it would go hard with us."\r\n\r\n"An English subject--" began Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\nHe did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the\r\nterrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were\r\nfrantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy!  Hip, hip, hurrah!"\r\n\r\nIt was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and\r\ntaking the Camerfield forces in flank.  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found\r\nthemselves between two fires; it was too late to escape.  The torrent\r\nof men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible.  Phileas\r\nFogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their\r\nfair companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself\r\nwith the weapons which nature has placed at the end of every\r\nEnglishman\'s arm, but in vain.  A big brawny fellow with a red beard,\r\nflushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the\r\nband, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have\r\ngiven a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and received it in his\r\nstead.  An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the\r\ndetective\'s silk hat, which was completely smashed in.\r\n\r\n"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the\r\nruffian.\r\n\r\n"Englishman!" returned the other.  "We will meet again!"\r\n\r\n"When you please."\r\n\r\n"What is your name?"\r\n\r\n"Phileas Fogg.  And yours?"\r\n\r\n"Colonel Stamp Proctor."\r\n\r\nThe human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got\r\nupon his feet again, though with tattered clothes.  Happily, he was not\r\nseriously hurt.  His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal\r\nparts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit\r\nless compactly than they are easy to put on.  Aouda had escaped\r\nunharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue\r\nbruise.\r\n\r\n"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of\r\nthe crowd.\r\n\r\n"No thanks are necessary," replied.  Fix; "but let us go."\r\n\r\n"Where?"\r\n\r\n"To a tailor\'s."\r\n\r\nSuch a visit was, indeed, opportune.  The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and\r\nFix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the\r\ncontest between Camerfield and Mandiboy.  An hour after, they were once\r\nmore suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International\r\nHotel.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen\r\nsix-barrelled revolvers.  When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but\r\nAouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his\r\ncountenance resumed its placid expression.  Fix evidently was no longer\r\nan enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.\r\n\r\nDinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their\r\nluggage to the station drew up to the door.  As he was getting in, Mr.\r\nFogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?"\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.\r\n"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be\r\ntreated in that way, without retaliating."\r\n\r\nThe detective smiled, but did not reply.  It was clear that Mr. Fogg\r\nwas one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at\r\nhome, fight abroad when their honour is attacked.\r\n\r\nAt a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found\r\nthe train ready to depart.  As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg\r\ncalled a porter, and said to him: "My friend, was there not some\r\ntrouble to-day in San Francisco?"\r\n\r\n"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.\r\n\r\n"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets."\r\n\r\n"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."\r\n\r\n"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXVI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PARTY TRAVEL BY THE PACIFIC RAILROAD\r\n\r\n\r\n"From ocean to ocean"--so say the Americans; and these four words\r\ncompose the general designation of the "great trunk line" which crosses\r\nthe entire width of the United States.  The Pacific Railroad is,\r\nhowever, really divided into two distinct lines: the Central Pacific,\r\nbetween San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union Pacific, between Ogden\r\nand Omaha.  Five main lines connect Omaha with New York.\r\n\r\nNew York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal\r\nribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and\r\neighty-six miles.  Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a\r\nterritory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts, and a\r\nlarge tract which the Mormons, after they were driven from Illinois in\r\n1845, began to colonise.\r\n\r\nThe journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly, under\r\nthe most favourable conditions, at least six months.  It is now\r\naccomplished in seven days.\r\n\r\nIt was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress, who\r\nwished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road between\r\nthe forty-first and forty-second parallels.  President Lincoln himself\r\nfixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska.  The work was at once\r\ncommenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor did the rapidity\r\nwith which it went on injuriously affect its good execution.  The road\r\ngrew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day.  A locomotive, running\r\non the rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid\r\non the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put in\r\nposition.\r\n\r\nThe Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa, Kansas,\r\nColorado, and Oregon.  On leaving Omaha, it passes along the left bank\r\nof the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern branch,\r\nfollows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the\r\nWahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt Lake\r\nCity, the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley, across the\r\nAmerican Desert, Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and\r\ndescends, via Sacramento, to the Pacific--its grade, even on the Rocky\r\nMountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.\r\n\r\nSuch was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would enable\r\nPhileas Fogg--at least, so he hoped--to take the Atlantic steamer at\r\nNew York on the 11th for Liverpool.\r\n\r\nThe car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight wheels,\r\nand with no compartments in the interior.  It was supplied with two\r\nrows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on either\r\nside of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.\r\nThese platforms were found throughout the train, and the passengers\r\nwere able to pass from one end of the train to the other.  It was\r\nsupplied with saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants, and smoking-cars;\r\ntheatre cars alone were wanting, and they will have these some day.\r\n\r\nBook and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars, who\r\nseemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating in the\r\naisles.\r\n\r\nThe train left Oakland station at six o\'clock.  It was already night,\r\ncold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which seemed\r\nto threaten snow.  The train did not proceed rapidly; counting the\r\nstoppages, it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a\r\nsufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its\r\ndesignated time.\r\n\r\nThere was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the\r\npassengers were overcome with sleep.  Passepartout found himself beside\r\nthe detective; but he did not talk to him.  After recent events, their\r\nrelations with each other had grown somewhat cold; there could no\r\nlonger be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them.  Fix\'s manner had\r\nnot changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to strangle\r\nhis former friend on the slightest provocation.\r\n\r\nSnow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,\r\nwhich happily could not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen from\r\nthe windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke of the\r\nlocomotive had a greyish aspect.\r\n\r\nAt eight o\'clock a steward entered the car and announced that the time\r\nfor going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes the car was\r\ntransformed into a dormitory.  The backs of the seats were thrown back,\r\nbedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system,\r\nberths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had soon at his\r\ndisposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick\r\ncurtains.  The sheets were clean and the pillows soft.  It only\r\nremained to go to bed and sleep which everybody did--while the train\r\nsped on across the State of California.\r\n\r\nThe country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.\r\nThe Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting-point, extends\r\neastward to meet the road from Omaha.  The line from San Francisco to\r\nSacramento runs in a north-easterly direction, along the American\r\nRiver, which empties into San Pablo Bay.  The one hundred and twenty\r\nmiles between these cities were accomplished in six hours, and towards\r\nmidnight, while fast asleep, the travellers passed through Sacramento;\r\nso that they saw nothing of that important place, the seat of the State\r\ngovernment, with its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels,\r\nsquares, and churches.\r\n\r\nThe train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin,\r\nAuburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada.  \'Cisco was\r\nreached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was\r\ntransformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the\r\npicturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were\r\nsteaming.  The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now\r\napproaching the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding\r\nabrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which\r\nseemed to have no outlet.  The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a\r\nweird light, with its sharp bell, and its cow-catcher extended like a\r\nspur, mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and\r\ncascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.\r\n\r\nThere were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route.  The railway\r\nturned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to\r\nviolate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.\r\n\r\nThe train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about\r\nnine o\'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno,\r\nwhere there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.\r\n\r\nFrom this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed\r\nnorthward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and\r\nkept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the\r\nextreme eastern limit of Nevada.\r\n\r\nHaving breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places in\r\nthe car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as\r\nthey passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,\r\nand the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams.  Sometimes a great\r\nherd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a\r\nmoveable dam.  These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often\r\nform an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands\r\nof them have been seen passing over the track for hours together, in\r\ncompact ranks.  The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the\r\nroad is once more clear.\r\n\r\nThis happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.\r\nAbout twelve o\'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo\r\nencumbered the track.  The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to\r\nclear the way with its cow-catcher; but the mass of animals was too\r\ngreat.  The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now\r\nand then deafening bellowings.  There was no use of interrupting them,\r\nfor, having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and\r\nchange their course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could\r\ncontain.\r\n\r\nThe travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms; but\r\nPhileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry, remained\r\nin his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please the\r\nbuffaloes to get out of the way.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to\r\ndischarge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.\r\n\r\n"What a country!" cried he.  "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by in\r\na procession, just as if they were not impeding travel!  Parbleu!  I\r\nshould like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme!\r\nAnd here\'s an engineer who doesn\'t dare to run the locomotive into this\r\nherd of beasts!"\r\n\r\nThe engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise.  He\r\nwould have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow-catcher;\r\nbut the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked, the\r\ntrain would inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then\r\nhave been helpless.\r\n\r\nThe best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by\r\ngreater speed when the obstacle was removed.  The procession of\r\nbuffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track\r\nwas clear.  The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails,\r\nwhile the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.\r\n\r\nIt was eight o\'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the\r\nHumboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the region\r\nof the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXVII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN HOUR, A\r\nCOURSE OF MORMON HISTORY\r\n\r\n\r\nDuring the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly\r\nfor about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly\r\ndirection, towards the Great Salt Lake.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, about nine o\'clock, went out upon the platform to take\r\nthe air.  The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not\r\nsnowing.  The sun\'s disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring\r\nof gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value\r\nin pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by\r\na strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.\r\n\r\nThis personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,\r\nwith black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black\r\nwaistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves.  He\r\nmight have been taken for a clergyman.  He went from one end of the\r\ntrain to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice\r\nwritten in manuscript.\r\n\r\nPassepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated\r\nthat Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his\r\npresence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car\r\nNo. 117, from eleven to twelve o\'clock; and that he invited all who\r\nwere desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the\r\nreligion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.\r\n\r\n"I\'ll go," said Passepartout to himself.  He knew nothing of Mormonism\r\nexcept the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.\r\n\r\nThe news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one\r\nhundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice,\r\nensconced themselves in car No. 117.  Passepartout took one of the\r\nfront seats.  Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.\r\n\r\nAt the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated\r\nvoice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that\r\nJoe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the\r\npersecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will\r\nalso make a martyr of Brigham Young.  Who dares to say the contrary?"\r\n\r\nNo one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone\r\ncontrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage.  No doubt his\r\nanger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually\r\nsubjected.  The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in\r\nreducing these independent fanatics to its rule.  It had made itself\r\nmaster of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union,\r\nafter imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy.\r\nThe disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and\r\nresisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress.  Elder Hitch,\r\nas is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.\r\n\r\nThen, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,\r\nhe related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that, in\r\nIsrael, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of\r\nthe new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon; how, many\r\ncenturies later, a translation of this precious book, which was written\r\nin Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who\r\nrevealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the\r\ncelestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave\r\nhim the annals of the Lord.\r\n\r\nSeveral of the audience, not being much interested in the missionary\'s\r\nnarrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his lecture,\r\nrelated how Smith, junior, with his father, two brothers, and a few\r\ndisciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day Saints," which,\r\nadopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Sweden, and\r\nGermany, counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal\r\nprofessions, among its members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a\r\ntemple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a\r\ntown built at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and\r\nreceived from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by\r\nAbraham and several famous Egyptians.\r\n\r\nThe Elder\'s story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew\r\ngradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers.  But this\r\ndid not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of\r\nJoseph Smith\'s bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave\r\nhim a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards,\r\nmore honourable and honoured than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the\r\nchief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his\r\npursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the Far West.\r\n\r\nTen hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who was\r\nlistening with all his ears.  Thus he learned that, after long\r\npersecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a\r\ncommunity at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand\r\nsouls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief;\r\nthat he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency\r\nof the United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at\r\nCarthage, he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men\r\ndisguised in masks.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,\r\nlooking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the\r\nassassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his\r\nsuccessor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in\r\nthe midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the\r\nemigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony,\r\nthanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond\r\nexpectations.\r\n\r\n"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of\r\nCongress has been aroused against us!  Why have the soldiers of the\r\nUnion invaded the soil of Utah?  Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been\r\nimprisoned, in contempt of all justice?  Shall we yield to force?\r\nNever!  Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,\r\ndriven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some\r\nindependent territory on which to plant our tents.  And you, my\r\nbrother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes upon his single\r\nauditor, "will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our\r\nflag?"\r\n\r\n"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from the\r\ncar, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.\r\n\r\nDuring the lecture the train had been making good progress, and towards\r\nhalf-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt\r\nLake.  Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this\r\ninterior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows\r\nan American Jordan.  It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags\r\nin large strata, encrusted with white salt--a superb sheet of water,\r\nwhich was formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having\r\nencroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth\r\nand increased its depth.\r\n\r\nThe Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated\r\nthree miles eight hundred feet above the sea.  Quite different from\r\nLake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea,\r\nit contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its\r\nwater is solid matter, its specific weight being 1,170, and, after\r\nbeing distilled, 1,000.  Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it,\r\nand those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other\r\nstreams soon perish.\r\n\r\nThe country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are\r\nmostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields\r\nof wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild\r\nrose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort, would have been seen six months\r\nlater.  Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.\r\n\r\nThe train reached Ogden at two o\'clock, where it rested for six hours,\r\nMr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,\r\nconnected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this\r\nstrikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the\r\nUnion, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"\r\nas Victor Hugo expresses it.  The founder of the City of the Saints\r\ncould not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the\r\nAnglo-Saxons.  In this strange country, where the people are certainly\r\nnot up to the level of their institutions, everything is done\r\n"squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.\r\n\r\nThe travellers, then, were promenading, at three o\'clock, about the\r\nstreets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs\r\nof the Wahsatch Range.  They saw few or no churches, but the prophet\'s\r\nmansion, the court-house, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with\r\nverandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias,\r\npalms, and locusts.  A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded\r\nthe town; and in the principal street were the market and several\r\nhotels adorned with pavilions.  The place did not seem thickly\r\npopulated.  The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of\r\nthe temple, which they only reached after having traversed several\r\nquarters surrounded by palisades.  There were many women, which was\r\neasily accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons; but\r\nit must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists.  They are\r\nfree to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is\r\nmainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as,\r\naccording to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted to the\r\npossession of its highest joys.  These poor creatures seemed to be\r\nneither well off nor happy.  Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--wore\r\nshort, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl; others\r\nwere habited in Indian fashion.\r\n\r\nPassepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,\r\ncharged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon.  His\r\ncommon sense pitied, above all, the husband.  It seemed to him a\r\nterrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across the\r\nvicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the\r\nMormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the\r\nglorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful\r\nplace, to all eternity.  He felt decidedly repelled from such a\r\nvocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--that the fair ones\r\nof Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his person.  Happily,\r\nhis stay there was but brief.  At four the party found themselves again\r\nat the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle sounded\r\nfor starting.  Just at the moment, however, that the locomotive wheels\r\nbegan to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were heard.\r\n\r\nTrains, like time and tide, stop for no one.  The gentleman who uttered\r\nthe cries was evidently a belated Mormon.  He was breathless with\r\nrunning.  Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers.\r\nHe rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train,\r\nand fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,\r\napproached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken\r\nflight after an unpleasant domestic scene.\r\n\r\nWhen the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to ask\r\nhim politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he\r\nhad decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.\r\n\r\n"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward--"one, and\r\nthat was enough!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXVIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TO\r\nREASON\r\n\r\n\r\nThe train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for an\r\nhour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred miles\r\nfrom San Francisco.  From this point it took an easterly direction\r\ntowards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains.  It was in the section included\r\nbetween this range and the Rocky Mountains that the American engineers\r\nfound the most formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the\r\ngovernment granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile,\r\ninstead of sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains.\r\nBut the engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its\r\ndifficulties by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks.  One\r\ntunnel only, fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to\r\narrive at the great basin.\r\n\r\nThe track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at the\r\nGreat Salt Lake.  From this point it described a long curve, descending\r\ntowards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of the\r\nwaters between the Atlantic and the Pacific.  There were many creeks in\r\nthis mountainous region, and it was necessary to cross Muddy Creek,\r\nGreen Creek, and others, upon culverts.\r\n\r\nPassepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on, while Fix\r\nlonged to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious than\r\nPhileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and accidents,\r\nand set foot on English soil.\r\n\r\nAt ten o\'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station, and\r\ntwenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the valley of\r\nBitter Creek throughout.  The next day, 7th December, they stopped for\r\na quarter of an hour at Green River station.  Snow had fallen\r\nabundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had half\r\nmelted, and did not interrupt their progress.  The bad weather,\r\nhowever, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by\r\nblocking the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr.\r\nFogg\'s tour.\r\n\r\n"What an idea!" he said to himself.  "Why did my master make this\r\njourney in winter?  Couldn\'t he have waited for the good season to\r\nincrease his chances?"\r\n\r\nWhile the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky and the\r\ndepression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears from a\r\ntotally different cause.\r\n\r\nSeveral passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and\r\ndown the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel Stamp\r\nProctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San\r\nFrancisco meeting.  Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drew\r\nback from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery.  She was\r\nattached to the man who, however coldly, gave her daily evidences of\r\nthe most absolute devotion.  She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth\r\nof the sentiment with which her protector inspired her, which she\r\ncalled gratitude, but which, though she was unconscious of it, was\r\nreally more than that.  Her heart sank within her when she recognised\r\nthe man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account for\r\nhis conduct.  Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctor\r\non this train; but there he was, and it was necessary, at all hazards,\r\nthat Phileas Fogg should not perceive his adversary.\r\n\r\nAouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep to tell Fix and\r\nPassepartout whom she had seen.\r\n\r\n"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix.  "Well, reassure yourself,\r\nmadam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg; he has got to deal with me!  It\r\nseems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."\r\n\r\n"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I\'ll take charge of him, colonel\r\nas he is."\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.\r\nHe said that he would come back to America to find this man.  Should he\r\nperceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which might\r\nhave terrible results.  He must not see him."\r\n\r\n"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might ruin\r\nall.  Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be delayed,\r\nand--"\r\n\r\n"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen\r\nof the Reform Club.  In four days we shall be in New York.  Well, if my\r\nmaster does not leave this car during those four days, we may hope that\r\nchance will not bring him face to face with this confounded American.\r\nWe must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."\r\n\r\nThe conversation dropped.  Mr. Fogg had just woke up, and was looking\r\nout of the window.  Soon after Passepartout, without being heard by his\r\nmaster or Aouda, whispered to the detective, "Would you really fight\r\nfor him?"\r\n\r\n"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determined\r\nwill, "to get him back living to Europe!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame, but\r\nhis confidence in his master remained unbroken.\r\n\r\nWas there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a\r\nmeeting between him and the colonel?  It ought not to be a difficult\r\ntask, since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.\r\nThe detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few\r\nmoments, he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that\r\nwe are passing on the railway."\r\n\r\n"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."\r\n\r\n"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the\r\nsteamers."\r\n\r\n"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here.  I have neither cards\r\nnor partners."\r\n\r\n"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold on all the\r\nAmerican trains.  And as for partners, if madam plays--"\r\n\r\n"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist.  It is\r\npart of an English education."\r\n\r\n"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game.  Well, here are\r\nthree of us, and a dummy--"\r\n\r\n"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad to resume his\r\nfavourite pastime even on the railway.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was dispatched in search of the steward, and soon returned\r\nwith two packs of cards, some pins, counters, and a shelf covered with\r\ncloth.\r\n\r\nThe game commenced.  Aouda understood whist sufficiently well, and even\r\nreceived some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg.  As for the\r\ndetective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being matched against\r\nhis present opponent.\r\n\r\n"Now," thought Passepartout, "we\'ve got him.  He won\'t budge."\r\n\r\nAt eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of\r\nthe waters at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four\r\nfeet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by\r\nthe track in crossing the Rocky Mountains.  After going about two\r\nhundred miles, the travellers at last found themselves on one of those\r\nvast plains which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so\r\npropitious for laying the iron road.\r\n\r\nOn the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams, branches of\r\nthe North Platte River, already appeared.  The whole northern and\r\neastern horizon was bounded by the immense semi-circular curtain which\r\nis formed by the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the highest\r\nbeing Laramie Peak.  Between this and the railway extended vast plains,\r\nplentifully irrigated.  On the right rose the lower spurs of the\r\nmountainous mass which extends southward to the sources of the Arkansas\r\nRiver, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.\r\n\r\nAt half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of Fort\r\nHalleck, which commands that section; and in a few more hours the Rocky\r\nMountains were crossed.  There was reason to hope, then, that no\r\naccident would mark the journey through this difficult country.  The\r\nsnow had ceased falling, and the air became crisp and cold.  Large\r\nbirds, frightened by the locomotive, rose and flew off in the distance.\r\nNo wild beast appeared on the plain.  It was a desert in its vast\r\nnakedness.\r\n\r\nAfter a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his\r\npartners had just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard,\r\nand the train stopped.  Passepartout put his head out of the door, but\r\nsaw nothing to cause the delay; no station was in view.\r\n\r\nAouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get\r\nout; but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant,\r\n"See what is the matter."\r\n\r\nPassepartout rushed out of the car.  Thirty or forty passengers had\r\nalready descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.\r\n\r\nThe train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way.  The\r\nengineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man, whom\r\nthe station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place, had sent\r\non before.  The passengers drew around and took part in the discussion,\r\nin which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner, was conspicuous.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say, "No! you\r\ncan\'t pass.  The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bear\r\nthe weight of the train."\r\n\r\nThis was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile from\r\nthe place where they now were.  According to the signal-man, it was in\r\na ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it was\r\nimpossible to risk the passage.  He did not in any way exaggerate the\r\ncondition of the bridge.  It may be taken for granted that, rash as the\r\nAmericans usually are, when they are prudent there is good reason for\r\nit.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,\r\nlistened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.\r\n\r\n"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here, I\r\nimagine, and take root in the snow?"\r\n\r\n"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a\r\ntrain, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow in less\r\nthan six hours."\r\n\r\n"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.\r\n\r\n"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as long\r\nas that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."\r\n\r\n"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.\r\n\r\n"Yes, but it\'s on the other side of the river."\r\n\r\n"And can\'t we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.\r\n\r\n"That\'s impossible.  The creek is swelled by the rains.  It is a rapid,\r\nand we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a\r\nford."\r\n\r\nThe colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway company\r\nand the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was not\r\ndisinclined to make common cause with him.  Here was an obstacle,\r\nindeed, which all his master\'s banknotes could not remove.\r\n\r\nThere was a general disappointment among the passengers, who, without\r\nreckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge fifteen miles\r\nover a plain covered with snow.  They grumbled and protested, and would\r\ncertainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg\'s attention if he had not\r\nbeen completely absorbed in his game.\r\n\r\nPassepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what had\r\noccurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car, when\r\nthe engineer, a true Yankee, named Forster called out, "Gentlemen,\r\nperhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."\r\n\r\n"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.\r\n\r\n"On the bridge."\r\n\r\n"With our train?"\r\n\r\n"With our train."\r\n\r\nPassepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.\r\n\r\n"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.\r\n\r\n"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the very\r\nhighest speed we might have a chance of getting over."\r\n\r\n"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.\r\n\r\nBut a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the engineer\'s\r\nproposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and found the\r\nplan a very feasible one.  He told stories about engineers leaping\r\ntheir trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full steam; and\r\nmany of those present avowed themselves of the engineer\'s mind.\r\n\r\n"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.\r\n\r\n"Eighty! ninety!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to\r\nget over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too\r\nAmerican.  "Besides," thought he, "there\'s a still more simple way, and\r\nit does not even occur to any of these people!  Sir," said he aloud to\r\none of the passengers, "the engineer\'s plan seems to me a little\r\ndangerous, but--"\r\n\r\n"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.\r\n\r\n"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but a\r\nsimple idea--"\r\n\r\n"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders, "as\r\nthe engineer assures us that we can pass."\r\n\r\n"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would be\r\nmore prudent--"\r\n\r\n"What!  Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed to\r\nexcite prodigiously.  "At full speed, don\'t you see, at full speed!"\r\n\r\n"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more\r\nprudent, since that word displeases you, at least more natural--"\r\n\r\n"Who!  What!  What\'s the matter with this fellow?" cried several.\r\n\r\nThe poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.\r\n\r\n"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.\r\n\r\n"I afraid?  Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman can be\r\nas American as they!"\r\n\r\n"All aboard!" cried the conductor.\r\n\r\n"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately.  "But they\r\ncan\'t prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us to\r\ncross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"\r\n\r\nBut no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone have\r\nacknowledged its justice.  The passengers resumed their places in the\r\ncars.  Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed.  The\r\nwhist-players were quite absorbed in their game.\r\n\r\nThe locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the steam,\r\nbacked the train for nearly a mile--retiring, like a jumper, in order\r\nto take a longer leap.  Then, with another whistle, he began to move\r\nforward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became\r\nfrightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston\r\nworked up and down twenty strokes to the second.  They perceived that\r\nthe whole train, rushing on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour,\r\nhardly bore upon the rails at all.\r\n\r\nAnd they passed over!  It was like a flash.  No one saw the bridge.\r\nThe train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other, and the\r\nengineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond the\r\nstation.  But scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge,\r\ncompletely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXIX\r\n\r\nIN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH\r\nON AMERICAN RAILROADS\r\n\r\n\r\nThe train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption,\r\npassing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.\r\nThe road here attained the highest elevation of the journey, eight\r\nthousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea.  The\r\ntravellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains,\r\nlevelled by nature.  A branch of the "grand trunk" led off southward to\r\nDenver, the capital of Colorado.  The country round about is rich in\r\ngold and silver, and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already\r\nsettled there.\r\n\r\nThirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San\r\nFrancisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights more\r\nwould probably bring them to New York.  Phileas Fogg was not as yet\r\nbehind-hand.\r\n\r\nDuring the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek\r\nran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the\r\nterritories of Wyoming and Colorado.  They entered Nebraska at eleven,\r\npassed near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch\r\nof the Platte River.\r\n\r\nIt was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the 23rd\r\nof October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge.  Two powerful\r\nlocomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst whom was\r\nThomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this point;\r\ncheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation Indian\r\nbattle, fireworks were let off, and the first number of the Railway\r\nPioneer was printed by a press brought on the train.  Thus was\r\ncelebrated the inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty instrument\r\nof progress and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to\r\nlink together cities and towns which do not yet exist.  The whistle of\r\nthe locomotive, more powerful than Amphion\'s lyre, was about to bid\r\nthem rise from American soil.\r\n\r\nFort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three\r\nhundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before reaching\r\nOmaha.  The road followed the capricious windings of the southern\r\nbranch of the Platte River, on its left bank.  At nine the train\r\nstopped at the important town of North Platte, built between the two\r\narms of the river, which rejoin each other around it and form a single\r\nartery, a large tributary, whose waters empty into the Missouri a\r\nlittle above Omaha.\r\n\r\nThe one hundred and first meridian was passed.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one--not even the\r\ndummy--complained of the length of the trip.  Fix had begun by winning\r\nseveral guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself\r\na not less eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg.  During the morning,\r\nchance distinctly favoured that gentleman.  Trumps and honours were\r\nshowered upon his hands.\r\n\r\nOnce, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing\r\na spade, when a voice behind him said, "I should play a diamond."\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.\r\n\r\nStamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.\r\n\r\n"Ah! it\'s you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel; "it\'s you who are\r\ngoing to play a spade!"\r\n\r\n"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the ten\r\nof spades.\r\n\r\n"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds," replied Colonel Proctor, in\r\nan insolent tone.\r\n\r\nHe made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played,\r\nadding, "You don\'t understand anything about whist."\r\n\r\n"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.\r\n\r\n"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the colonel.\r\n\r\nAouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold.  She seized Mr. Fogg\'s arm\r\nand gently pulled him back.  Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the\r\nAmerican, who was staring insolently at his opponent.  But Fix got up,\r\nand, going to Colonel Proctor said, "You forget that it is I with whom\r\nyou have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but\r\nstruck!"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine, and mine\r\nonly.  The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should\r\nnot play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."\r\n\r\n"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever\r\nweapon you choose."\r\n\r\nAouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective\r\nendeavour to make the quarrel his.  Passepartout wished to throw the\r\ncolonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him.\r\nPhileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the\r\nplatform.  "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, "I am in a great\r\nhurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever will be greatly to\r\nmy disadvantage."\r\n\r\n"Well, what\'s that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.\r\n\r\n"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San\r\nFrancisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I\r\nhad completed the business which called me to England."\r\n\r\n"Really!"\r\n\r\n"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"\r\n\r\n"Why not ten years hence?"\r\n\r\n"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg; "and I shall be at the place\r\nof meeting promptly."\r\n\r\n"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor.  "Now or never!"\r\n\r\n"Very good.  You are going to New York?"\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"To Chicago?"\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"To Omaha?"\r\n\r\n"What difference is it to you?  Do you know Plum Creek?"\r\n\r\n"No," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"It\'s the next station.  The train will be there in an hour, and will\r\nstop there ten minutes.  In ten minutes several revolver-shots could be\r\nexchanged."\r\n\r\n"Very well," said Mr. Fogg.  "I will stop at Plum Creek."\r\n\r\n"And I guess you\'ll stay there too," added the American insolently.\r\n\r\n"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual.\r\nHe began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never to\r\nbe feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a\r\nrequest which the detective could not refuse.  Mr. Fogg resumed the\r\ninterrupted game with perfect calmness.\r\n\r\nAt eleven o\'clock the locomotive\'s whistle announced that they were\r\napproaching Plum Creek station.  Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix,\r\nwent out upon the platform.  Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a\r\npair of revolvers.  Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.\r\n\r\nThe door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the\r\nplatform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second.  But\r\njust as the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor\r\nhurried up, and shouted, "You can\'t get off, gentlemen!"\r\n\r\n"Why not?" asked the colonel.\r\n\r\n"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."\r\n\r\n"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."\r\n\r\n"I am sorry," said the conductor; "but we shall be off at once.\r\nThere\'s the bell ringing now."\r\n\r\nThe train started.\r\n\r\n"I\'m really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor.  "Under any\r\nother circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you.  But, after\r\nall, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go\r\nalong?"\r\n\r\n"That wouldn\'t be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman," said the\r\ncolonel, in a jeering tone.\r\n\r\n"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the\r\nconductor is a gentleman of the first order!"\r\n\r\nSo muttering, he followed his master.\r\n\r\nThe two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through the\r\ncars to the rear of the train.  The last car was only occupied by a\r\ndozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would not\r\nbe so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen\r\nhad an affair of honour to settle.  The passengers granted the request\r\nwith alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.\r\n\r\nThe car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for their\r\npurpose.  The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle, and\r\nfire at their ease.  Never was duel more easily arranged.  Mr. Fogg and\r\nColonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled revolvers,\r\nentered the car.  The seconds, remaining outside, shut them in.  They\r\nwere to begin firing at the first whistle of the locomotive.  After an\r\ninterval of two minutes, what remained of the two gentlemen would be\r\ntaken from the car.\r\n\r\nNothing could be more simple.  Indeed, it was all so simple that Fix\r\nand Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack.\r\nThey were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly savage\r\ncries resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which certainly did\r\nnot issue from the car where the duellists were.  The reports continued\r\nin front and the whole length of the train.  Cries of terror proceeded\r\nfrom the interior of the cars.\r\n\r\nColonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted their\r\nprison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous.  They\r\nthen perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.\r\n\r\nThis was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than\r\nonce they had waylaid trains on the road.  A hundred of them had,\r\naccording to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping the\r\ntrain, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.\r\n\r\nThe Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports, to which\r\nthe passengers, who were almost all armed, responded by revolver-shots.\r\n\r\nThe Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the engineer\r\nand stoker with blows from their muskets.  A Sioux chief, wishing to\r\nstop the train, but not knowing how to work the regulator, had opened\r\nwide instead of closing the steam-valve, and the locomotive was\r\nplunging forward with terrific velocity.\r\n\r\nThe Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like enraged\r\nmonkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting hand to\r\nhand with the passengers.  Penetrating the baggage-car, they pillaged\r\nit, throwing the trunks out of the train.  The cries and shots were\r\nconstant.  The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars\r\nwere barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried\r\nalong at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.\r\n\r\nAouda behaved courageously from the first.  She defended herself like a\r\ntrue heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken windows\r\nwhenever a savage made his appearance.  Twenty Sioux had fallen\r\nmortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell\r\nupon the rails as if they had been worms.  Several passengers, shot or\r\nstunned, lay on the seats.\r\n\r\nIt was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for\r\nten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the\r\ntrain was not stopped.  Fort Kearney station, where there was a\r\ngarrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux\r\nwould be masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station\r\nbeyond.\r\n\r\nThe conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell.\r\nAt the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five\r\nminutes, we are lost!"\r\n\r\n"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the\r\ncar.\r\n\r\n"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door\r\nunperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car; and\r\nwhile the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each other\r\nover his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience, and with\r\namazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on to the\r\nchains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes, creeping\r\nfrom one car to another with marvellous skill, and thus gaining the\r\nforward end of the train.\r\n\r\nThere, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender,\r\nwith the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the\r\ntraction, he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar,\r\nhad not a violent concussion jolted this bar out.  The train, now\r\ndetached from the engine, remained a little behind, whilst the\r\nlocomotive rushed forward with increased speed.\r\n\r\nCarried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved for\r\nseveral minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped,\r\nless than a hundred feet from Kearney station.\r\n\r\nThe soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the Sioux\r\nhad not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train entirely\r\nstopped.\r\n\r\nBut when the passengers counted each other on the station platform\r\nseveral were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,\r\nwhose devotion had just saved them.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXX\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY\r\n\r\n\r\nThree passengers including Passepartout had disappeared.  Had they been\r\nkilled in the struggle?  Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux?  It\r\nwas impossible to tell.\r\n\r\nThere were many wounded, but none mortally.  Colonel Proctor was one of\r\nthe most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered\r\nhis groin.  He was carried into the station with the other wounded\r\npassengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.\r\n\r\nAouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the\r\nfight, had not received a scratch.  Fix was slightly wounded in the\r\narm.  But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down\r\nAouda\'s cheeks.\r\n\r\nAll the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were\r\nstained with blood.  From the tyres and spokes hung ragged pieces of\r\nflesh.  As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red\r\ntrails were visible.  The last Sioux were disappearing in the south,\r\nalong the banks of Republican River.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless.  He had a serious\r\ndecision to make.  Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without\r\nspeaking, and he understood her look.  If his servant was a prisoner,\r\nought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians?  "I\r\nwill find him, living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.\r\n\r\n"Ah, Mr.--Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them\r\nwith tears.\r\n\r\n"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he\r\npronounced his own doom.  The delay of a single day would make him lose\r\nthe steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost.  But as\r\nhe thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.\r\n\r\nThe commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there.  A hundred of his\r\nsoldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station,\r\nshould the Sioux attack it.\r\n\r\n"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have\r\ndisappeared."\r\n\r\n"Dead?" asked the captain.\r\n\r\n"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved.  Do\r\nyou propose to pursue the Sioux?"\r\n\r\n"That\'s a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain.  "These\r\nIndians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort\r\nunprotected."\r\n\r\n"The lives of three men are in question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"\r\n\r\n"I don\'t know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."\r\n\r\n"Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."\r\n\r\n"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly.  "I will go alone."\r\n\r\n"You, sir!" cried Fix, coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the\r\nIndians?"\r\n\r\n"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish--him to whom every\r\none present owes his life?  I shall go."\r\n\r\n"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched in spite\r\nof himself.  "No! you are a brave man.  Thirty volunteers!" he added,\r\nturning to the soldiers.\r\n\r\nThe whole company started forward at once.  The captain had only to\r\npick his men.  Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their\r\nhead.\r\n\r\n"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.\r\n\r\n"Do as you please, sir.  But if you wish to do me a favour, you will\r\nremain with Aouda.  In case anything should happen to me--"\r\n\r\nA sudden pallor overspread the detective\'s face.  Separate himself from\r\nthe man whom he had so persistently followed step by step!  Leave him\r\nto wander about in this desert!  Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg,\r\nand, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on\r\nwithin him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.\r\n\r\n"I will stay," said he.\r\n\r\nA few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman\'s hand, and,\r\nhaving confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the\r\nsergeant and his little squad.  But, before going, he had said to the\r\nsoldiers, "My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you,\r\nif we save the prisoners."\r\n\r\nIt was then a little past noon.\r\n\r\nAouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking\r\nof the simple and noble generosity, the tranquil courage of Phileas\r\nFogg.  He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all\r\nwithout hesitation, from duty, in silence.\r\n\r\nFix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his\r\nagitation.  He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon\r\nresumed his outward composure.  He now saw the folly of which he had\r\nbeen guilty in letting Fogg go alone.  What!  This man, whom he had\r\njust followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself\r\nfrom him!  He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were\r\ndirector of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his\r\ngreenness.\r\n\r\n"I have been an idiot!" he thought, "and this man will see it.  He has\r\ngone, and won\'t come back!  But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my\r\npocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?\r\nDecidedly, I am nothing but an ass!"\r\n\r\nSo reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly.  He\r\ndid not know what to do.  Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;\r\nbut he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his\r\nconfidences.  What course should he take?  He thought of pursuing Fogg\r\nacross the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might\r\novertake him.  Footsteps were easily printed on the snow!  But soon,\r\nunder a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.\r\n\r\nFix became discouraged.  He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to\r\nabandon the game altogether.  He could now leave Fort Kearney station,\r\nand pursue his journey homeward in peace.\r\n\r\nTowards two o\'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long\r\nwhistles were heard approaching from the east.  A great shadow,\r\npreceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger\r\nthrough the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect.  No train was\r\nexpected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour\r\nasked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco\r\nwas not due till the next day.  The mystery was soon explained.\r\n\r\nThe locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,\r\nwas that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its\r\nroute with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious\r\nengineer and stoker.  It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming\r\nlow for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally\r\nstopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney.  Neither\r\nthe engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some\r\ntime in their swoon, had come to themselves.  The train had then\r\nstopped.  The engineer, when he found himself in the desert, and the\r\nlocomotive without cars, understood what had happened.  He could not\r\nimagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train; but he\r\ndid not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.\r\n\r\nHe did not hesitate what to do.  It would be prudent to continue on to\r\nOmaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the\r\nIndians might still be engaged in pillaging.  Nevertheless, he began to\r\nrebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the\r\nlocomotive returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney.  This it was\r\nwhich was whistling in the mist.\r\n\r\nThe travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the\r\nhead of the train.  They could now continue the journey so terribly\r\ninterrupted.\r\n\r\nAouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,\r\nand asked the conductor, "Are you going to start?"\r\n\r\n"At once, madam."\r\n\r\n"But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers--"\r\n\r\n"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the conductor.  "We are already\r\nthree hours behind time."\r\n\r\n"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco?"\r\n\r\n"To-morrow evening, madam."\r\n\r\n"To-morrow evening!  But then it will be too late!  We must wait--"\r\n\r\n"It is impossible," responded the conductor.  "If you wish to go,\r\nplease get in."\r\n\r\n"I will not go," said Aouda.\r\n\r\nFix had heard this conversation.  A little while before, when there was\r\nno prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to\r\nleave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start,\r\nand he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence\r\nheld him back.  The station platform burned his feet, and he could not\r\nstir.  The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled\r\nhim.  He wished to struggle on to the end.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel\r\nProctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the\r\ntrain.  The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam\r\nwas escaping from the valves.  The engineer whistled, the train\r\nstarted, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies\r\nof the densely falling snow.\r\n\r\nThe detective had remained behind.\r\n\r\nSeveral hours passed.  The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.\r\nFix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been\r\nthought asleep.  Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the\r\nwaiting-room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through the\r\ntempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon\r\naround her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound.  She heard\r\nand saw nothing.  Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out\r\nagain after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.\r\n\r\nEvening came, and the little band had not returned.  Where could they\r\nbe?  Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with\r\nthem, or were they still wandering amid the mist?  The commander of the\r\nfort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions.  As\r\nnight approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became\r\nintensely cold.  Absolute silence rested on the plains.  Neither flight\r\nof bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.\r\n\r\nThroughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart stifled\r\nwith anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains.  Her\r\nimagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.\r\nWhat she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to\r\ndescribe.\r\n\r\nFix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep.  Once a\r\nman approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by\r\nshaking his head.\r\n\r\nThus the night passed.  At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun\r\nrose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise\r\nobjects two miles off.  Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;\r\nin the south all was still vacancy.  It was then seven o\'clock.\r\n\r\nThe captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.\r\n\r\nShould he send another detachment to the rescue of the first?  Should\r\nhe sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those already\r\nsacrificed?  His hesitation did not last long, however.  Calling one of\r\nhis lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a reconnaissance, when\r\ngunshots were heard.  Was it a signal?  The soldiers rushed out of the\r\nfort, and half a mile off they perceived a little band returning in\r\ngood order.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were\r\nPassepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.\r\n\r\nThey had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.\r\nShortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions\r\nhad begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman\r\nhad felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up\r\nto their relief.\r\n\r\nAll were welcomed with joyful cries.  Phileas Fogg distributed the\r\nreward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout, not without\r\nreason, muttered to himself, "It must certainly be confessed that I\r\ncost my master dear!"\r\n\r\nFix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have been\r\ndifficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him.  As for\r\nAouda, she took her protector\'s hand and pressed it in her own, too\r\nmuch moved to speak.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought he\r\nshould find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the\r\ntime lost might be regained.\r\n\r\n"The train! the train!" cried he.\r\n\r\n"Gone," replied Fix.\r\n\r\n"And when does the next train pass here?" said Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"Not till this evening."\r\n\r\n"Ah!" returned the impassible gentleman quietly.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, CONSIDERABLY FURTHERS THE INTERESTS OF\r\nPHILEAS FOGG\r\n\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time.  Passepartout, the\r\ninvoluntary cause of this delay, was desperate.  He had ruined his\r\nmaster!\r\n\r\nAt this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him\r\nintently in the face, said:\r\n\r\n"Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?"\r\n\r\n"Quite seriously."\r\n\r\n"I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix.  "Is it absolutely necessary\r\nthat you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o\'clock in the\r\nevening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool?"\r\n\r\n"It is absolutely necessary."\r\n\r\n"And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you\r\nwould have reached New York on the morning of the 11th?"\r\n\r\n"Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left."\r\n\r\n"Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind.  Twelve from twenty\r\nleaves eight.  You must regain eight hours.  Do you wish to try to do\r\nso?"\r\n\r\n"On foot?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"No; on a sledge," replied Fix.  "On a sledge with sails.  A man has\r\nproposed such a method to me."\r\n\r\nIt was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose offer\r\nhe had refused.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having pointed out the\r\nman, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went\r\nup to him.  An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was\r\nMudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.\r\n\r\nThere Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two long\r\nbeams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and upon\r\nwhich there was room for five or six persons.  A high mast was fixed on\r\nthe frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a\r\nlarge brigantine sail.  This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist\r\na jib-sail.  Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle.  It\r\nwas, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop.  During the winter, when\r\nthe trains are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely\r\nrapid journeys across the frozen plains from one station to another.\r\nProvided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind behind them,\r\nthey slip over the surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not\r\nsuperior to that of the express trains.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this land-craft.  The\r\nwind was favourable, being fresh, and blowing from the west.  The snow\r\nhad hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport\r\nMr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha.  Thence the trains eastward run\r\nfrequently to Chicago and New York.  It was not impossible that the\r\nlost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be\r\nrejected.\r\n\r\nNot wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the\r\nopen air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort\r\nKearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a\r\nbetter route and under more favourable conditions.  But Aouda refused\r\nto separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her\r\ndecision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix\r\nwas with him.\r\n\r\nIt would be difficult to guess the detective\'s thoughts.  Was this\r\nconviction shaken by Phileas Fogg\'s return, or did he still regard him\r\nas an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world\r\ncompleted, would think himself absolutely safe in England?  Perhaps\r\nFix\'s opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he was\r\nnevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of the\r\nwhole party to England as much as possible.\r\n\r\nAt eight o\'clock the sledge was ready to start.  The passengers took\r\ntheir places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their\r\ntravelling-cloaks.  The two great sails were hoisted, and under the\r\npressure of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a\r\nvelocity of forty miles an hour.\r\n\r\nThe distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at\r\nmost two hundred miles.  If the wind held good, the distance might be\r\ntraversed in five hours; if no accident happened the sledge might reach\r\nOmaha by one o\'clock.\r\n\r\nWhat a journey!  The travellers, huddled close together, could not\r\nspeak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were\r\ngoing.  The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves.  When\r\nthe breeze came skimming the earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off\r\nthe ground by its sails.  Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a\r\nstraight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the\r\nvehicle had a tendency to make.  All the sails were up, and the jib was\r\nso arranged as not to screen the brigantine.  A top-mast was hoisted,\r\nand another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other\r\nsails.  Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge\r\ncould not be going at less than forty miles an hour.\r\n\r\n"If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there!"\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg had made it for Mudge\'s interest to reach Omaha within the\r\ntime agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.\r\n\r\nThe prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line, was\r\nas flat as a sea.  It seemed like a vast frozen lake.  The railroad\r\nwhich ran through this section ascended from the south-west to the\r\nnorth-west by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town,\r\nSchuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha.  It followed throughout the right bank\r\nof the Platte River.  The sledge, shortening this route, took a chord\r\nof the arc described by the railway.  Mudge was not afraid of being\r\nstopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen.  The road, then,\r\nwas quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to\r\nfear--an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.\r\n\r\nBut the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the\r\nmast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly.  These\r\nlashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if\r\nvibrated by a violin bow.  The sledge slid along in the midst of a\r\nplaintively intense melody.\r\n\r\n"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\nThese were the only words he uttered during the journey.  Aouda, cosily\r\npacked in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the\r\nattacks of the freezing wind.  As for Passepartout, his face was as red\r\nas the sun\'s disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled\r\nthe biting air.  With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope\r\nagain.  They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the\r\nmorning, of the 11th, and there was still some chances that it would be\r\nbefore the steamer sailed for Liverpool.\r\n\r\nPassepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the\r\nhand.  He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge,\r\nthe only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some\r\npresentiment, he kept his usual reserve.  One thing, however,\r\nPassepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr.\r\nFogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux.  Mr.\r\nFogg had risked his fortune and his life. No!  His servant would never\r\nforget that!\r\n\r\nWhile each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the\r\nsledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow.  The creeks it passed\r\nover were not perceived.  Fields and streams disappeared under the\r\nuniform whiteness.  The plain was absolutely deserted.  Between the\r\nUnion Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint\r\nJoseph it formed a great uninhabited island.  Neither village, station,\r\nnor fort appeared.  From time to time they sped by some phantom-like\r\ntree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the wind.  Sometimes\r\nflocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious\r\nprairie-wolves ran howling after the sledge.  Passepartout, revolver in\r\nhand, held himself ready to fire on those which came too near.  Had an\r\naccident then happened to the sledge, the travellers, attacked by these\r\nbeasts, would have been in the most terrible danger; but it held on its\r\neven course, soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling\r\nband at a safe distance behind.\r\n\r\nAbout noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing\r\nthe Platte River.  He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now\r\nwithin twenty miles of Omaha.  In less than an hour he left the rudder\r\nand furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great\r\nimpetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its\r\nsails unspread.\r\n\r\nIt stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with\r\nsnow, said: "We have got there!"\r\n\r\nArrived!  Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by\r\nnumerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!\r\n\r\nPassepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and\r\naided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge.  Phileas\r\nFogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped,\r\nand the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.\r\n\r\nThe Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important\r\nNebraska town.  Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock\r\nIsland Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.\r\n\r\nA train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the\r\nstation, and they only had time to get into the cars.  They had seen\r\nnothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was\r\nnot to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.\r\n\r\nThe train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by Council Bluffs,\r\nDes Moines, and Iowa City.  During the night it crossed the Mississippi\r\nat Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois.  The next day, which\r\nwas the 10th, at four o\'clock in the evening, it reached Chicago,\r\nalready risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the\r\nborders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.\r\n\r\nNine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are not\r\nwanting at Chicago.  Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and\r\nthe locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left\r\nat full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no\r\ntime to lose.  It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey\r\nlike a flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which\r\nhad streets and car-tracks, but as yet no houses.  At last the Hudson\r\ncame into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of the\r\n11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank of the river,\r\nbefore the very pier of the Cunard line.\r\n\r\nThe China, for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of an hour before!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ENGAGES IN A DIRECT STRUGGLE WITH BAD FORTUNE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe China, in leaving, seemed to have carried off Phileas Fogg\'s last\r\nhope.  None of the other steamers were able to serve his projects.  The\r\nPereire, of the French Transatlantic Company, whose admirable steamers\r\nare equal to any in speed and comfort, did not leave until the 14th;\r\nthe Hamburg boats did not go directly to Liverpool or London, but to\r\nHavre; and the additional trip from Havre to Southampton would render\r\nPhileas Fogg\'s last efforts of no avail.  The Inman steamer did not\r\ndepart till the next day, and could not cross the Atlantic in time to\r\nsave the wager.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg learned all this in consulting his Bradshaw, which gave him\r\nthe daily movements of the trans-Atlantic steamers.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was crushed; it overwhelmed him to lose the boat by\r\nthree-quarters of an hour.  It was his fault, for, instead of helping\r\nhis master, he had not ceased putting obstacles in his path!  And when\r\nhe recalled all the incidents of the tour, when he counted up the sums\r\nexpended in pure loss and on his own account, when he thought that the\r\nimmense stake, added to the heavy charges of this useless journey,\r\nwould completely ruin Mr. Fogg, he overwhelmed himself with bitter\r\nself-accusations.  Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him; and, on\r\nleaving the Cunard pier, only said: "We will consult about what is best\r\nto-morrow.  Come."\r\n\r\nThe party crossed the Hudson in the Jersey City ferryboat, and drove in\r\na carriage to the St. Nicholas Hotel, on Broadway.  Rooms were engaged,\r\nand the night passed, briefly to Phileas Fogg, who slept profoundly,\r\nbut very long to Aouda and the others, whose agitation did not permit\r\nthem to rest.\r\n\r\nThe next day was the 12th of December.  From seven in the morning of\r\nthe 12th to a quarter before nine in the evening of the 21st there were\r\nnine days, thirteen hours, and forty-five minutes.  If Phileas Fogg had\r\nleft in the China, one of the fastest steamers on the Atlantic, he\r\nwould have reached Liverpool, and then London, within the period agreed\r\nupon.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg left the hotel alone, after giving Passepartout instructions\r\nto await his return, and inform Aouda to be ready at an instant\'s\r\nnotice.  He proceeded to the banks of the Hudson, and looked about\r\namong the vessels moored or anchored in the river, for any that were\r\nabout to depart.  Several had departure signals, and were preparing to\r\nput to sea at morning tide; for in this immense and admirable port\r\nthere is not one day in a hundred that vessels do not set out for every\r\nquarter of the globe.  But they were mostly sailing vessels, of which,\r\nof course, Phileas Fogg could make no use.\r\n\r\nHe seemed about to give up all hope, when he espied, anchored at the\r\nBattery, a cable\'s length off at most, a trading vessel, with a screw,\r\nwell-shaped, whose funnel, puffing a cloud of smoke, indicated that she\r\nwas getting ready for departure.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg hailed a boat, got into it, and soon found himself on\r\nboard the Henrietta, iron-hulled, wood-built above.  He ascended to the\r\ndeck, and asked for the captain, who forthwith presented himself.  He\r\nwas a man of fifty, a sort of sea-wolf, with big eyes, a complexion of\r\noxidised copper, red hair and thick neck, and a growling voice.\r\n\r\n"The captain?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"I am the captain."\r\n\r\n"I am Phileas Fogg, of London."\r\n\r\n"And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff."\r\n\r\n"You are going to put to sea?"\r\n\r\n"In an hour."\r\n\r\n"You are bound for--"\r\n\r\n"Bordeaux."\r\n\r\n"And your cargo?"\r\n\r\n"No freight.  Going in ballast."\r\n\r\n"Have you any passengers?"\r\n\r\n"No passengers.  Never have passengers.  Too much in the way."\r\n\r\n"Is your vessel a swift one?"\r\n\r\n"Between eleven and twelve knots.  The Henrietta, well known."\r\n\r\n"Will you carry me and three other persons to Liverpool?"\r\n\r\n"To Liverpool?  Why not to China?"\r\n\r\n"I said Liverpool."\r\n\r\n"No!"\r\n\r\n"No?"\r\n\r\n"No.  I am setting out for Bordeaux, and shall go to Bordeaux."\r\n\r\n"Money is no object?"\r\n\r\n"None."\r\n\r\nThe captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a reply.\r\n\r\n"But the owners of the Henrietta--" resumed Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\n"The owners are myself," replied the captain.  "The vessel belongs to\r\nme."\r\n\r\n"I will freight it for you."\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\n"I will buy it of you."\r\n\r\n"No."\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg did not betray the least disappointment; but the situation\r\nwas a grave one.  It was not at New York as at Hong Kong, nor with the\r\ncaptain of the Henrietta as with the captain of the Tankadere.  Up to\r\nthis time money had smoothed away every obstacle.  Now money failed.\r\n\r\nStill, some means must be found to cross the Atlantic on a boat, unless\r\nby balloon--which would have been venturesome, besides not being\r\ncapable of being put in practice.  It seemed that Phileas Fogg had an\r\nidea, for he said to the captain, "Well, will you carry me to Bordeaux?"\r\n\r\n"No, not if you paid me two hundred dollars."\r\n\r\n"I offer you two thousand."\r\n\r\n"Apiece?"\r\n\r\n"Apiece."\r\n\r\n"And there are four of you?"\r\n\r\n"Four."\r\n\r\nCaptain Speedy began to scratch his head.  There were eight thousand\r\ndollars to gain, without changing his route; for which it was well\r\nworth conquering the repugnance he had for all kinds of passengers.\r\nBesides, passengers at two thousand dollars are no longer passengers,\r\nbut valuable merchandise.  "I start at nine o\'clock," said Captain\r\nSpeedy, simply.  "Are you and your party ready?"\r\n\r\n"We will be on board at nine o\'clock," replied, no less simply, Mr.\r\nFogg.\r\n\r\nIt was half-past eight.  To disembark from the Henrietta, jump into a\r\nhack, hurry to the St. Nicholas, and return with Aouda, Passepartout,\r\nand even the inseparable Fix was the work of a brief time, and was\r\nperformed by Mr. Fogg with the coolness which never abandoned him.\r\nThey were on board when the Henrietta made ready to weigh anchor.\r\n\r\nWhen Passepartout heard what this last voyage was going to cost, he\r\nuttered a prolonged "Oh!" which extended throughout his vocal gamut.\r\n\r\nAs for Fix, he said to himself that the Bank of England would certainly\r\nnot come out of this affair well indemnified.  When they reached\r\nEngland, even if Mr. Fogg did not throw some handfuls of bank-bills\r\ninto the sea, more than seven thousand pounds would have been spent!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXIII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SHOWS HIMSELF EQUAL TO THE OCCASION\r\n\r\n\r\nAn hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse which marks the\r\nentrance of the Hudson, turned the point of Sandy Hook, and put to sea.\r\nDuring the day she skirted Long Island, passed Fire Island, and\r\ndirected her course rapidly eastward.\r\n\r\nAt noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain the\r\nvessel\'s position.  It might be thought that this was Captain Speedy.\r\nNot the least in the world.  It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire.  As for\r\nCaptain Speedy, he was shut up in his cabin under lock and key, and was\r\nuttering loud cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable and\r\nexcessive.\r\n\r\nWhat had happened was very simple.  Phileas Fogg wished to go to\r\nLiverpool, but the captain would not carry him there.  Then Phileas\r\nFogg had taken passage for Bordeaux, and, during the thirty hours he\r\nhad been on board, had so shrewdly managed with his banknotes that the\r\nsailors and stokers, who were only an occasional crew, and were not on\r\nthe best terms with the captain, went over to him in a body.  This was\r\nwhy Phileas Fogg was in command instead of Captain Speedy; why the\r\ncaptain was a prisoner in his cabin; and why, in short, the Henrietta\r\nwas directing her course towards Liverpool.  It was very clear, to see\r\nMr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a sailor.\r\n\r\nHow the adventure ended will be seen anon.  Aouda was anxious, though\r\nshe said nothing.  As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg\'s manoeuvre\r\nsimply glorious.  The captain had said "between eleven and twelve\r\nknots," and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.\r\n\r\nIf, then--for there were "ifs" still--the sea did not become too\r\nboisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east, if no accident\r\nhappened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta might cross the\r\nthree thousand miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days,\r\nbetween the 12th and the 21st of December.  It is true that, once\r\narrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added to that of the Bank\r\nof England, might create more difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he\r\nimagined or could desire.\r\n\r\nDuring the first days, they went along smoothly enough.  The sea was\r\nnot very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the north-east,\r\nthe sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves\r\nlike a real trans-Atlantic steamer.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was delighted.  His master\'s last exploit, the\r\nconsequences of which he ignored, enchanted him.  Never had the crew\r\nseen so jolly and dexterous a fellow.  He formed warm friendships with\r\nthe sailors, and amazed them with his acrobatic feats.  He thought they\r\nmanaged the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like\r\nheroes.  His loquacious good-humour infected everyone.  He had\r\nforgotten the past, its vexations and delays.  He only thought of the\r\nend, so nearly accomplished; and sometimes he boiled over with\r\nimpatience, as if heated by the furnaces of the Henrietta.  Often,\r\nalso, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a\r\nkeen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old\r\nintimacy no longer existed.\r\n\r\nFix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going on.\r\nThe conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg managing\r\nthe boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him.  He did not\r\nknow what to think.  For, after all, a man who began by stealing\r\nfifty-five thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix was\r\nnot unnaturally inclined to conclude that the Henrietta under Fogg\'s\r\ncommand, was not going to Liverpool at all, but to some part of the\r\nworld where the robber, turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself\r\nin safety.  The conjecture was at least a plausible one, and the\r\ndetective began to seriously regret that he had embarked on the affair.\r\n\r\nAs for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his cabin; and\r\nPassepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals, courageous as\r\nhe was, took the greatest precautions.  Mr. Fogg did not seem even to\r\nknow that there was a captain on board.\r\n\r\nOn the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland, a\r\ndangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are frequent\r\nfogs and heavy gales of wind.  Ever since the evening before the\r\nbarometer, suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching change in the\r\natmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied, the cold\r\nbecame sharper, and the wind veered to the south-east.\r\n\r\nThis was a misfortune.  Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his\r\ncourse, furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the\r\nvessel\'s speed slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long waves\r\nof which broke against the stern.  She pitched violently, and this\r\nretarded her progress.  The breeze little by little swelled into a\r\ntempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might not be able\r\nto maintain herself upright on the waves.\r\n\r\nPassepartout\'s visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the\r\npoor fellow experienced constant fright.  But Phileas Fogg was a bold\r\nmariner, and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept\r\non his course, without even decreasing his steam.  The Henrietta, when\r\nshe could not rise upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her deck, but\r\npassing safely.  Sometimes the screw rose out of the water, beating its\r\nprotruding end, when a mountain of water raised the stern above the\r\nwaves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.\r\n\r\nThe wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been\r\nfeared; it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with\r\na speed of ninety miles an hour.  It continued fresh, but, unhappily,\r\nit remained obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.\r\n\r\nThe 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas Fogg\'s\r\ndeparture from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been seriously\r\ndelayed.  Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the worst\r\nlocalities had been passed.  In summer, success would have been\r\nwell-nigh certain.  In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad\r\nseason.  Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret,\r\nand comforted himself with the reflection that, if the wind failed\r\nthem, they might still count on the steam.\r\n\r\nOn this day the engineer came on deck, went up to Mr. Fogg, and began\r\nto speak earnestly with him.  Without knowing why it was a\r\npresentiment, perhaps Passepartout became vaguely uneasy.  He would\r\nhave given one of his ears to hear with the other what the engineer was\r\nsaying.  He finally managed to catch a few words, and was sure he heard\r\nhis master say, "You are certain of what you tell me?"\r\n\r\n"Certain, sir," replied the engineer.  "You must remember that, since\r\nwe started, we have kept up hot fires in all our furnaces, and, though\r\nwe had coal enough to go on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we\r\nhaven\'t enough to go with all steam from New York to Liverpool." "I\r\nwill consider," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\nPassepartout understood it all; he was seized with mortal anxiety.  The\r\ncoal was giving out!  "Ah, if my master can get over that," muttered\r\nhe, "he\'ll be a famous man!"  He could not help imparting to Fix what\r\nhe had overheard.\r\n\r\n"Then you believe that we really are going to Liverpool?"\r\n\r\n"Of course."\r\n\r\n"Ass!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and turning on\r\nhis heel.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting the epithet, the\r\nreason of which he could not for the life of him comprehend; but he\r\nreflected that the unfortunate Fix was probably very much disappointed\r\nand humiliated in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a\r\nfalse scent around the world, and refrained.\r\n\r\nAnd now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt?  It was difficult to\r\nimagine.  Nevertheless he seemed to have decided upon one, for that\r\nevening he sent for the engineer, and said to him, "Feed all the fires\r\nuntil the coal is exhausted."\r\n\r\nA few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta vomited forth torrents\r\nof smoke.  The vessel continued to proceed with all steam on; but on\r\nthe 18th, the engineer, as he had predicted, announced that the coal\r\nwould give out in the course of the day.\r\n\r\n"Do not let the fires go down," replied Mr. Fogg.  "Keep them up to the\r\nlast.  Let the valves be filled."\r\n\r\nTowards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their position, called\r\nPassepartout, and ordered him to go for Captain Speedy.  It was as if\r\nthe honest fellow had been commanded to unchain a tiger.  He went to\r\nthe poop, saying to himself, "He will be like a madman!"\r\n\r\nIn a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb appeared on the\r\npoop-deck.  The bomb was Captain Speedy.  It was clear that he was on\r\nthe point of bursting.  "Where are we?"  were the first words his anger\r\npermitted him to utter.  Had the poor man been an apoplectic, he could\r\nnever have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.\r\n\r\n"Where are we?" he repeated, with purple face.\r\n\r\n"Seven hundred and seven miles from Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg, with\r\nimperturbable calmness.\r\n\r\n"Pirate!" cried Captain Speedy.\r\n\r\n"I have sent for you, sir--"\r\n\r\n"Pickaroon!"\r\n\r\n"--sir," continued Mr. Fogg, "to ask you to sell me your vessel."\r\n\r\n"No!  By all the devils, no!"\r\n\r\n"But I shall be obliged to burn her."\r\n\r\n"Burn the Henrietta!"\r\n\r\n"Yes; at least the upper part of her.  The coal has given out."\r\n\r\n"Burn my vessel!" cried Captain Speedy, who could scarcely pronounce\r\nthe words.  "A vessel worth fifty thousand dollars!"\r\n\r\n"Here are sixty thousand," replied Phileas Fogg, handing the captain a\r\nroll of bank-bills.  This had a prodigious effect on Andrew Speedy.  An\r\nAmerican can scarcely remain unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand\r\ndollars.  The captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment,\r\nand all his grudges against his passenger.  The Henrietta was twenty\r\nyears old; it was a great bargain.  The bomb would not go off after\r\nall.  Mr. Fogg had taken away the match.\r\n\r\n"And I shall still have the iron hull," said the captain in a softer\r\ntone.\r\n\r\n"The iron hull and the engine.  Is it agreed?"\r\n\r\n"Agreed."\r\n\r\nAnd Andrew Speedy, seizing the banknotes, counted them and consigned\r\nthem to his pocket.\r\n\r\nDuring this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a sheet, and Fix\r\nseemed on the point of having an apoplectic fit.  Nearly twenty\r\nthousand pounds had been expended, and Fogg left the hull and engine to\r\nthe captain, that is, near the whole value of the craft!  It was true,\r\nhowever, that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the Bank.\r\n\r\nWhen Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him, "Don\'t\r\nlet this astonish you, sir.  You must know that I shall lose twenty\r\nthousand pounds, unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on\r\nthe evening of the 21st of December.  I missed the steamer at New York,\r\nand as you refused to take me to Liverpool--"\r\n\r\n"And I did well!" cried Andrew Speedy; "for I have gained at least\r\nforty thousand dollars by it!"  He added, more sedately, "Do you know\r\none thing, Captain--"\r\n\r\n"Fogg."\r\n\r\n"Captain Fogg, you\'ve got something of the Yankee about you."\r\n\r\nAnd, having paid his passenger what he considered a high compliment, he\r\nwas going away, when Mr. Fogg said, "The vessel now belongs to me?"\r\n\r\n"Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts--all the wood, that\r\nis."\r\n\r\n"Very well.  Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames pulled down,\r\nand burn them."\r\n\r\nIt was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up to the adequate\r\npressure, and on that day the poop, cabins, bunks, and the spare deck\r\nwere sacrificed.  On the next day, the 19th of December, the masts,\r\nrafts, and spars were burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the\r\nfires.  Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his might.\r\nThere was a perfect rage for demolition.\r\n\r\nThe railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and top sides\r\ndisappeared on the 20th, and the Henrietta was now only a flat hulk.\r\nBut on this day they sighted the Irish coast and Fastnet Light.  By ten\r\nin the evening they were passing Queenstown.  Phileas Fogg had only\r\ntwenty-four hours more in which to get to London; that length of time\r\nwas necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on.  And the steam was\r\nabout to give out altogether!\r\n\r\n"Sir," said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply interested in Mr. Fogg\'s\r\nproject, "I really commiserate you.  Everything is against you.  We are\r\nonly opposite Queenstown."\r\n\r\n"Ah," said Mr. Fogg, "is that place where we see the lights Queenstown?"\r\n\r\n"Yes."\r\n\r\n"Can we enter the harbour?"\r\n\r\n"Not under three hours.  Only at high tide."\r\n\r\n"Stay," replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in his features that\r\nby a supreme inspiration he was about to attempt once more to conquer\r\nill-fortune.\r\n\r\nQueenstown is the Irish port at which the trans-Atlantic steamers stop\r\nto put off the mails.  These mails are carried to Dublin by express\r\ntrains always held in readiness to start; from Dublin they are sent on\r\nto Liverpool by the most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the\r\nAtlantic steamers.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the same way.  Instead\r\nof arriving at Liverpool the next evening by the Henrietta, he would be\r\nthere by noon, and would therefore have time to reach London before a\r\nquarter before nine in the evening.\r\n\r\nThe Henrietta entered Queenstown Harbour at one o\'clock in the morning,\r\nit then being high tide; and Phileas Fogg, after being grasped heartily\r\nby the hand by Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the levelled hulk\r\nof his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it for.\r\n\r\nThe party went on shore at once.  Fix was greatly tempted to arrest Mr.\r\nFogg on the spot; but he did not.  Why?  What struggle was going on\r\nwithin him?  Had he changed his mind about "his man"?  Did he\r\nunderstand that he had made a grave mistake?  He did not, however,\r\nabandon Mr. Fogg.  They all got upon the train, which was just ready to\r\nstart, at half-past one; at dawn of day they were in Dublin; and they\r\nlost no time in embarking on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon\r\nthe waves, invariably cut through them.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay, at twenty\r\nminutes before twelve, 21st December.  He was only six hours distant\r\nfrom London.\r\n\r\nBut at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon Mr. Fogg\'s shoulder,\r\nand, showing his warrant, said, "You are really Phileas Fogg?"\r\n\r\n"I am."\r\n\r\n"I arrest you in the Queen\'s name!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXIV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AT LAST REACHES LONDON\r\n\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was in prison.  He had been shut up in the Custom House,\r\nand he was to be transferred to London the next day.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would have fallen upon\r\nFix had he not been held back by some policemen.  Aouda was\r\nthunderstruck at the suddenness of an event which she could not\r\nunderstand.  Passepartout explained to her how it was that the honest\r\nand courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber.  The young woman\'s heart\r\nrevolted against so heinous a charge, and when she saw that she could\r\nattempt to do nothing to save her protector, she wept bitterly.\r\n\r\nAs for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his duty, whether\r\nMr. Fogg were guilty or not.\r\n\r\nThe thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the cause of this new\r\nmisfortune!  Had he not concealed Fix\'s errand from his master?  When\r\nFix revealed his true character and purpose, why had he not told Mr.\r\nFogg?  If the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given Fix\r\nproof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his mistake; at least, Fix\r\nwould not have continued his journey at the expense and on the heels of\r\nhis master, only to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil.\r\nPassepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing his brains\r\nout.\r\n\r\nAouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under the portico of the\r\nCustom House.  Neither wished to leave the place; both were anxious to\r\nsee Mr. Fogg again.\r\n\r\nThat gentleman was really ruined, and that at the moment when he was\r\nabout to attain his end.  This arrest was fatal.  Having arrived at\r\nLiverpool at twenty minutes before twelve on the 21st of December, he\r\nhad till a quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform Club,\r\nthat is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from Liverpool to London\r\nwas six hours.\r\n\r\nIf anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom House, he would have\r\nfound Mr. Fogg seated, motionless, calm, and without apparent anger,\r\nupon a wooden bench.  He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last\r\nblow failed to force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion.  Was\r\nhe being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the more terrible\r\nbecause contained, and which only burst forth, with an irresistible\r\nforce, at the last moment?  No one could tell.  There he sat, calmly\r\nwaiting--for what?  Did he still cherish hope?  Did he still believe,\r\nnow that the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he would\r\nsucceed?\r\n\r\nHowever that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put his watch upon the\r\ntable, and observed its advancing hands.  Not a word escaped his lips,\r\nbut his look was singularly set and stern.  The situation, in any\r\nevent, was a terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg\r\nwas honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.\r\n\r\nDid escape occur to him?  Did he examine to see if there were any\r\npracticable outlet from his prison?  Did he think of escaping from it?\r\nPossibly; for once he walked slowly around the room.  But the door was\r\nlocked, and the window heavily barred with iron rods.  He sat down\r\nagain, and drew his journal from his pocket.  On the line where these\r\nwords were written, "21st December, Saturday, Liverpool," he added,\r\n"80th day, 11.40 a.m.," and waited.\r\n\r\nThe Custom House clock struck one.  Mr. Fogg observed that his watch\r\nwas two hours too fast.\r\n\r\nTwo hours!  Admitting that he was at this moment taking an express\r\ntrain, he could reach London and the Reform Club by a quarter before\r\nnine, p.m.  His forehead slightly wrinkled.\r\n\r\nAt thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular noise outside,\r\nthen a hasty opening of doors.  Passepartout\'s voice was audible, and\r\nimmediately after that of Fix.  Phileas Fogg\'s eyes brightened for an\r\ninstant.\r\n\r\nThe door swung open, and he saw Passepartout, Aouda, and Fix, who\r\nhurried towards him.\r\n\r\nFix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder.  He could not\r\nspeak.  "Sir," he stammered, "sir--forgive me--most--unfortunate\r\nresemblance--robber arrested three days ago--you are free!"\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg was free!  He walked to the detective, looked him steadily\r\nin the face, and with the only rapid motion he had ever made in his\r\nlife, or which he ever would make, drew back his arms, and with the\r\nprecision of a machine knocked Fix down.\r\n\r\n"Well hit!" cried Passepartout, "Parbleu! that\'s what you might call a\r\ngood application of English fists!"\r\n\r\nFix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a word.  He had only\r\nreceived his deserts.  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout left the\r\nCustom House without delay, got into a cab, and in a few moments\r\ndescended at the station.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to leave for\r\nLondon.  It was forty minutes past two.  The express train had left\r\nthirty-five minutes before.  Phileas Fogg then ordered a special train.\r\n\r\nThere were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the railway\r\narrangements did not permit the special train to leave until three\r\no\'clock.\r\n\r\nAt that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the engineer by the offer\r\nof a generous reward, at last set out towards London with Aouda and his\r\nfaithful servant.\r\n\r\nIt was necessary to make the journey in five hours and a half; and this\r\nwould have been easy on a clear road throughout.  But there were forced\r\ndelays, and when Mr. Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all\r\nthe clocks in London were striking ten minutes before nine.\r\n\r\nHaving made the tour of the world, he was behind-hand five minutes.  He\r\nhad lost the wager!\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXV\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DOES NOT HAVE TO REPEAT HIS ORDERS TO\r\nPASSEPARTOUT TWICE\r\n\r\n\r\nThe dwellers in Saville Row would have been surprised the next day, if\r\nthey had been told that Phileas Fogg had returned home.  His doors and\r\nwindows were still closed, no appearance of change was visible.\r\n\r\nAfter leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout instructions to\r\npurchase some provisions, and quietly went to his domicile.\r\n\r\nHe bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity.  Ruined!  And by\r\nthe blundering of the detective!  After having steadily traversed that\r\nlong journey, overcome a hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, and\r\nstill found time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by a\r\nsudden event which he could not have foreseen, and against which he was\r\nunarmed; it was terrible!  But a few pounds were left of the large sum\r\nhe had carried with him.  There only remained of his fortune the twenty\r\nthousand pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to his\r\nfriends of the Reform Club.  So great had been the expense of his tour\r\nthat, even had he won, it would not have enriched him; and it is\r\nprobable that he had not sought to enrich himself, being a man who\r\nrather laid wagers for honour\'s sake than for the stake proposed.  But\r\nthis wager totally ruined him.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg\'s course, however, was fully decided upon; he knew what\r\nremained for him to do.\r\n\r\nA room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for Aouda, who was\r\noverwhelmed with grief at her protector\'s misfortune.  From the words\r\nwhich Mr. Fogg dropped, she saw that he was meditating some serious\r\nproject.\r\n\r\nKnowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea sometimes resort to\r\nthe desperate expedient of suicide, Passepartout kept a narrow watch\r\nupon his master, though he carefully concealed the appearance of so\r\ndoing.\r\n\r\nFirst of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room, and had\r\nextinguished the gas burner, which had been burning for eighty days.\r\nHe had found in the letter-box a bill from the gas company, and he\r\nthought it more than time to put a stop to this expense, which he had\r\nbeen doomed to bear.\r\n\r\nThe night passed.  Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he sleep?  Aouda did\r\nnot once close her eyes.  Passepartout watched all night, like a\r\nfaithful dog, at his master\'s door.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to get Aouda\'s\r\nbreakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for himself.  He desired Aouda\r\nto excuse him from breakfast and dinner, as his time would be absorbed\r\nall day in putting his affairs to rights.  In the evening he would ask\r\npermission to have a few moment\'s conversation with the young lady.\r\n\r\nPassepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to do but obey\r\nthem.  He looked at his imperturbable master, and could scarcely bring\r\nhis mind to leave him.  His heart was full, and his conscience tortured\r\nby remorse; for he accused himself more bitterly than ever of being the\r\ncause of the irretrievable disaster.  Yes! if he had warned Mr. Fogg,\r\nand had betrayed Fix\'s projects to him, his master would certainly not\r\nhave given the detective passage to Liverpool, and then--\r\n\r\nPassepartout could hold in no longer.\r\n\r\n"My master!  Mr. Fogg!" he cried, "why do you not curse me?  It was my\r\nfault that--"\r\n\r\n"I blame no one," returned Phileas Fogg, with perfect calmness.  "Go!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout left the room, and went to find Aouda, to whom he\r\ndelivered his master\'s message.\r\n\r\n"Madam," he added, "I can do nothing myself--nothing!  I have no\r\ninfluence over my master; but you, perhaps--"\r\n\r\n"What influence could I have?" replied Aouda.  "Mr. Fogg is influenced\r\nby no one.  Has he ever understood that my gratitude to him is\r\noverflowing?  Has he ever read my heart?  My friend, he must not be\r\nleft alone an instant!  You say he is going to speak with me this\r\nevening?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, madam; probably to arrange for your protection and comfort in\r\nEngland."\r\n\r\n"We shall see," replied Aouda, becoming suddenly pensive.\r\n\r\nThroughout this day (Sunday) the house in Saville Row was as if\r\nuninhabited, and Phileas Fogg, for the first time since he had lived in\r\nthat house, did not set out for his club when Westminster clock struck\r\nhalf-past eleven.\r\n\r\nWhy should he present himself at the Reform?  His friends no longer\r\nexpected him there.  As Phileas Fogg had not appeared in the saloon on\r\nthe evening before (Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before\r\nnine), he had lost his wager.  It was not even necessary that he should\r\ngo to his bankers for the twenty thousand pounds; for his antagonists\r\nalready had his cheque in their hands, and they had only to fill it out\r\nand send it to the Barings to have the amount transferred to their\r\ncredit.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, therefore, had no reason for going out, and so he remained at\r\nhome.  He shut himself up in his room, and busied himself putting his\r\naffairs in order.  Passepartout continually ascended and descended the\r\nstairs.  The hours were long for him. He listened at his master\'s door,\r\nand looked through the keyhole, as if he had a perfect right so to do,\r\nand as if he feared that something terrible might happen at any moment.\r\nSometimes he thought of Fix, but no longer in anger.  Fix, like all the\r\nworld, had been mistaken in Phileas Fogg, and had only done his duty in\r\ntracking and arresting him; while he, Passepartout. . . .  This thought\r\nhaunted him, and he never ceased cursing his miserable folly.\r\n\r\nFinding himself too wretched to remain alone, he knocked at Aouda\'s\r\ndoor, went into her room, seated himself, without speaking, in a\r\ncorner, and looked ruefully at the young woman. Aouda was still pensive.\r\n\r\nAbout half-past seven in the evening Mr. Fogg sent to know if Aouda\r\nwould receive him, and in a few moments he found himself alone with her.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg took a chair, and sat down near the fireplace, opposite\r\nAouda.  No emotion was visible on his face.  Fogg returned was exactly\r\nthe Fogg who had gone away; there was the same calm, the same\r\nimpassibility.\r\n\r\nHe sat several minutes without speaking; then, bending his eyes on\r\nAouda, "Madam," said he, "will you pardon me for bringing you to\r\nEngland?"\r\n\r\n"I, Mr. Fogg!" replied Aouda, checking the pulsations of her heart.\r\n\r\n"Please let me finish," returned Mr. Fogg.  "When I decided to bring\r\nyou far away from the country which was so unsafe for you, I was rich,\r\nand counted on putting a portion of my fortune at your disposal; then\r\nyour existence would have been free and happy.  But now I am ruined."\r\n\r\n"I know it, Mr. Fogg," replied Aouda; "and I ask you in my turn, will\r\nyou forgive me for having followed you, and--who knows?--for having,\r\nperhaps, delayed you, and thus contributed to your ruin?"\r\n\r\n"Madam, you could not remain in India, and your safety could only be\r\nassured by bringing you to such a distance that your persecutors could\r\nnot take you."\r\n\r\n"So, Mr. Fogg," resumed Aouda, "not content with rescuing me from a\r\nterrible death, you thought yourself bound to secure my comfort in a\r\nforeign land?"\r\n\r\n"Yes, madam; but circumstances have been against me.  Still, I beg to\r\nplace the little I have left at your service."\r\n\r\n"But what will become of you, Mr. Fogg?"\r\n\r\n"As for me, madam," replied the gentleman, coldly, "I have need of\r\nnothing."\r\n\r\n"But how do you look upon the fate, sir, which awaits you?"\r\n\r\n"As I am in the habit of doing."\r\n\r\n"At least," said Aouda, "want should not overtake a man like you.  Your\r\nfriends--"\r\n\r\n"I have no friends, madam."\r\n\r\n"Your relatives--"\r\n\r\n"I have no longer any relatives."\r\n\r\n"I pity you, then, Mr. Fogg, for solitude is a sad thing, with no heart\r\nto which to confide your griefs.  They say, though, that misery itself,\r\nshared by two sympathetic souls, may be borne with patience."\r\n\r\n"They say so, madam."\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fogg," said Aouda, rising and seizing his hand, "do you wish at\r\nonce a kinswoman and friend?  Will you have me for your wife?"\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg, at this, rose in his turn.  There was an unwonted light in\r\nhis eyes, and a slight trembling of his lips.  Aouda looked into his\r\nface.  The sincerity, rectitude, firmness, and sweetness of this soft\r\nglance of a noble woman, who could dare all to save him to whom she\r\nowed all, at first astonished, then penetrated him.  He shut his eyes\r\nfor an instant, as if to avoid her look.  When he opened them again, "I\r\nlove you!" he said, simply.  "Yes, by all that is holiest, I love you,\r\nand I am entirely yours!"\r\n\r\n"Ah!" cried Aouda, pressing his hand to her heart.\r\n\r\nPassepartout was summoned and appeared immediately.  Mr. Fogg still\r\nheld Aouda\'s hand in his own; Passepartout understood, and his big,\r\nround face became as radiant as the tropical sun at its zenith.\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg asked him if it was not too late to notify the Reverend Samuel\r\nWilson, of Marylebone parish, that evening.\r\n\r\nPassepartout smiled his most genial smile, and said, "Never too late."\r\n\r\nIt was five minutes past eight.\r\n\r\n"Will it be for to-morrow, Monday?"\r\n\r\n"For to-morrow, Monday," said Mr. Fogg, turning to Aouda.\r\n\r\n"Yes; for to-morrow, Monday," she replied.\r\n\r\nPassepartout hurried off as fast as his legs could carry him.\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXVI\r\n\r\nIN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG\'S NAME IS ONCE MORE AT A PREMIUM ON \'CHANGE\r\n\r\n\r\nIt is time to relate what a change took place in English public opinion\r\nwhen it transpired that the real bankrobber, a certain James Strand,\r\nhad been arrested, on the 17th day of December, at Edinburgh.  Three\r\ndays before, Phileas Fogg had been a criminal, who was being\r\ndesperately followed up by the police; now he was an honourable\r\ngentleman, mathematically pursuing his eccentric journey round the\r\nworld.\r\n\r\nThe papers resumed their discussion about the wager; all those who had\r\nlaid bets, for or against him, revived their interest, as if by magic;\r\nthe "Phileas Fogg bonds" again became negotiable, and many new wagers\r\nwere made.  Phileas Fogg\'s name was once more at a premium on \'Change.\r\n\r\nHis five friends of the Reform Club passed these three days in a state\r\nof feverish suspense.  Would Phileas Fogg, whom they had forgotten,\r\nreappear before their eyes!  Where was he at this moment?  The 17th of\r\nDecember, the day of James Strand\'s arrest, was the seventy-sixth since\r\nPhileas Fogg\'s departure, and no news of him had been received.  Was he\r\ndead?  Had he abandoned the effort, or was he continuing his journey\r\nalong the route agreed upon?  And would he appear on Saturday, the 21st\r\nof December, at a quarter before nine in the evening, on the threshold\r\nof the Reform Club saloon?\r\n\r\nThe anxiety in which, for three days, London society existed, cannot be\r\ndescribed.  Telegrams were sent to America and Asia for news of Phileas\r\nFogg.  Messengers were dispatched to the house in Saville Row morning\r\nand evening.  No news.  The police were ignorant what had become of the\r\ndetective, Fix, who had so unfortunately followed up a false scent.\r\nBets increased, nevertheless, in number and value.  Phileas Fogg, like\r\na racehorse, was drawing near his last turning-point.  The bonds were\r\nquoted, no longer at a hundred below par, but at twenty, at ten, and at\r\nfive; and paralytic old Lord Albemarle bet even in his favour.\r\n\r\nA great crowd was collected in Pall Mall and the neighbouring streets\r\non Saturday evening; it seemed like a multitude of brokers permanently\r\nestablished around the Reform Club.  Circulation was impeded, and\r\neverywhere disputes, discussions, and financial transactions were going\r\non.  The police had great difficulty in keeping back the crowd, and as\r\nthe hour when Phileas Fogg was due approached, the excitement rose to\r\nits highest pitch.\r\n\r\nThe five antagonists of Phileas Fogg had met in the great saloon of the\r\nclub.  John Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, the bankers, Andrew Stuart,\r\nthe engineer, Gauthier Ralph, the director of the Bank of England, and\r\nThomas Flanagan, the brewer, one and all waited anxiously.\r\n\r\nWhen the clock indicated twenty minutes past eight, Andrew Stuart got\r\nup, saying, "Gentlemen, in twenty minutes the time agreed upon between\r\nMr. Fogg and ourselves will have expired."\r\n\r\n"What time did the last train arrive from Liverpool?"  asked Thomas\r\nFlanagan.\r\n\r\n"At twenty-three minutes past seven," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and the\r\nnext does not arrive till ten minutes after twelve."\r\n\r\n"Well, gentlemen," resumed Andrew Stuart, "if Phileas Fogg had come in\r\nthe 7:23 train, he would have got here by this time.  We can,\r\ntherefore, regard the bet as won."\r\n\r\n"Wait; don\'t let us be too hasty," replied Samuel Fallentin.  "You know\r\nthat Mr. Fogg is very eccentric.  His punctuality is well known; he\r\nnever arrives too soon, or too late; and I should not be surprised if\r\nhe appeared before us at the last minute."\r\n\r\n"Why," said Andrew Stuart nervously, "if I should see him, I should not\r\nbelieve it was he."\r\n\r\n"The fact is," resumed Thomas Flanagan, "Mr. Fogg\'s project was\r\nabsurdly foolish.  Whatever his punctuality, he could not prevent the\r\ndelays which were certain to occur; and a delay of only two or three\r\ndays would be fatal to his tour."\r\n\r\n"Observe, too," added John Sullivan, "that we have received no\r\nintelligence from him, though there are telegraphic lines all along his\r\nroute."\r\n\r\n"He has lost, gentleman," said Andrew Stuart, "he has a hundred times\r\nlost!  You know, besides, that the China the only steamer he could have\r\ntaken from New York to get here in time arrived yesterday.  I have seen\r\na list of the passengers, and the name of Phileas Fogg is not among\r\nthem.  Even if we admit that fortune has favoured him, he can scarcely\r\nhave reached America.  I think he will be at least twenty days\r\nbehind-hand, and that Lord Albemarle will lose a cool five thousand."\r\n\r\n"It is clear," replied Gauthier Ralph; "and we have nothing to do but\r\nto present Mr. Fogg\'s cheque at Barings to-morrow."\r\n\r\nAt this moment, the hands of the club clock pointed to twenty minutes\r\nto nine.\r\n\r\n"Five minutes more," said Andrew Stuart.\r\n\r\nThe five gentlemen looked at each other.  Their anxiety was becoming\r\nintense; but, not wishing to betray it, they readily assented to Mr.\r\nFallentin\'s proposal of a rubber.\r\n\r\n"I wouldn\'t give up my four thousand of the bet," said Andrew Stuart,\r\nas he took his seat, "for three thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine."\r\n\r\nThe clock indicated eighteen minutes to nine.\r\n\r\nThe players took up their cards, but could not keep their eyes off the\r\nclock.  Certainly, however secure they felt, minutes had never seemed\r\nso long to them!\r\n\r\n"Seventeen minutes to nine," said Thomas Flanagan, as he cut the cards\r\nwhich Ralph handed to him.\r\n\r\nThen there was a moment of silence.  The great saloon was perfectly\r\nquiet; but the murmurs of the crowd outside were heard, with now and\r\nthen a shrill cry.  The pendulum beat the seconds, which each player\r\neagerly counted, as he listened, with mathematical regularity.\r\n\r\n"Sixteen minutes to nine!" said John Sullivan, in a voice which\r\nbetrayed his emotion.\r\n\r\nOne minute more, and the wager would be won.  Andrew Stuart and his\r\npartners suspended their game.  They left their cards, and counted the\r\nseconds.\r\n\r\nAt the fortieth second, nothing.  At the fiftieth, still nothing.\r\n\r\nAt the fifty-fifth, a loud cry was heard in the street, followed by\r\napplause, hurrahs, and some fierce growls.\r\n\r\nThe players rose from their seats.\r\n\r\nAt the fifty-seventh second the door of the saloon opened; and the\r\npendulum had not beat the sixtieth second when Phileas Fogg appeared,\r\nfollowed by an excited crowd who had forced their way through the club\r\ndoors, and in his calm voice, said, "Here I am, gentlemen!"\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nChapter XXXVII\r\n\r\nIN WHICH IT IS SHOWN THAT PHILEAS FOGG GAINED NOTHING BY HIS TOUR\r\nAROUND THE WORLD, UNLESS IT WERE HAPPINESS\r\n\r\n\r\nYes; Phileas Fogg in person.\r\n\r\nThe reader will remember that at five minutes past eight in the\r\nevening--about five and twenty hours after the arrival of the\r\ntravellers in London--Passepartout had been sent by his master to\r\nengage the services of the Reverend Samuel Wilson in a certain marriage\r\nceremony, which was to take place the next day.\r\n\r\nPassepartout went on his errand enchanted.  He soon reached the\r\nclergyman\'s house, but found him not at home.  Passepartout waited a\r\ngood twenty minutes, and when he left the reverend gentleman, it was\r\nthirty-five minutes past eight.  But in what a state he was!  With his\r\nhair in disorder, and without his hat, he ran along the street as never\r\nman was seen to run before, overturning passers-by, rushing over the\r\nsidewalk like a waterspout.\r\n\r\nIn three minutes he was in Saville Row again, and staggered back into\r\nMr. Fogg\'s room.\r\n\r\nHe could not speak.\r\n\r\n"What is the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"My master!" gasped Passepartout--"marriage--impossible--"\r\n\r\n"Impossible?"\r\n\r\n"Impossible--for to-morrow."\r\n\r\n"Why so?"\r\n\r\n"Because to-morrow--is Sunday!"\r\n\r\n"Monday," replied Mr. Fogg.\r\n\r\n"No--to-day is Saturday."\r\n\r\n"Saturday?  Impossible!"\r\n\r\n"Yes, yes, yes, yes!" cried Passepartout.  "You have made a mistake of\r\none day!  We arrived twenty-four hours ahead of time; but there are\r\nonly ten minutes left!"\r\n\r\nPassepartout had seized his master by the collar, and was dragging him\r\nalong with irresistible force.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, thus kidnapped, without having time to think, left his\r\nhouse, jumped into a cab, promised a hundred pounds to the cabman, and,\r\nhaving run over two dogs and overturned five carriages, reached the\r\nReform Club.\r\n\r\nThe clock indicated a quarter before nine when he appeared in the great\r\nsaloon.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had accomplished the journey round the world in eighty\r\ndays!\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had won his wager of twenty thousand pounds!\r\n\r\nHow was it that a man so exact and fastidious could have made this\r\nerror of a day?  How came he to think that he had arrived in London on\r\nSaturday, the twenty-first day of December, when it was really Friday,\r\nthe twentieth, the seventy-ninth day only from his departure?\r\n\r\nThe cause of the error is very simple.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had, without suspecting it, gained one day on his journey,\r\nand this merely because he had travelled constantly eastward; he would,\r\non the contrary, have lost a day had he gone in the opposite direction,\r\nthat is, westward.\r\n\r\nIn journeying eastward he had gone towards the sun, and the days\r\ntherefore diminished for him as many times four minutes as he crossed\r\ndegrees in this direction.  There are three hundred and sixty degrees\r\non the circumference of the earth; and these three hundred and sixty\r\ndegrees, multiplied by four minutes, gives precisely twenty-four\r\nhours--that is, the day unconsciously gained.  In other words, while\r\nPhileas Fogg, going eastward, saw the sun pass the meridian eighty\r\ntimes, his friends in London only saw it pass the meridian seventy-nine\r\ntimes.  This is why they awaited him at the Reform Club on Saturday,\r\nand not Sunday, as Mr. Fogg thought.\r\n\r\nAnd Passepartout\'s famous family watch, which had always kept London\r\ntime, would have betrayed this fact, if it had marked the days as well\r\nas the hours and the minutes!\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg, then, had won the twenty thousand pounds; but, as he had\r\nspent nearly nineteen thousand on the way, the pecuniary gain was\r\nsmall.  His object was, however, to be victorious, and not to win\r\nmoney.  He divided the one thousand pounds that remained between\r\nPassepartout and the unfortunate Fix, against whom he cherished no\r\ngrudge.  He deducted, however, from Passepartout\'s share the cost of\r\nthe gas which had burned in his room for nineteen hundred and twenty\r\nhours, for the sake of regularity.\r\n\r\nThat evening, Mr. Fogg, as tranquil and phlegmatic as ever, said to\r\nAouda: "Is our marriage still agreeable to you?"\r\n\r\n"Mr. Fogg," replied she, "it is for me to ask that question.  You were\r\nruined, but now you are rich again."\r\n\r\n"Pardon me, madam; my fortune belongs to you.  If you had not suggested\r\nour marriage, my servant would not have gone to the Reverend Samuel\r\nWilson\'s, I should not have been apprised of my error, and--"\r\n\r\n"Dear Mr. Fogg!" said the young woman.\r\n\r\n"Dear Aouda!" replied Phileas Fogg.\r\n\r\nIt need not be said that the marriage took place forty-eight hours\r\nafter, and that Passepartout, glowing and dazzling, gave the bride\r\naway.  Had he not saved her, and was he not entitled to this honour?\r\n\r\nThe next day, as soon as it was light, Passepartout rapped vigorously\r\nat his master\'s door.  Mr. Fogg opened it, and asked, "What\'s the\r\nmatter, Passepartout?"\r\n\r\n"What is it, sir?  Why, I\'ve just this instant found out--"\r\n\r\n"What?"\r\n\r\n"That we might have made the tour of the world in only seventy-eight\r\ndays."\r\n\r\n"No doubt," returned Mr. Fogg, "by not crossing India.  But if I had\r\nnot crossed India, I should not have saved Aouda; she would not have\r\nbeen my wife, and--"\r\n\r\nMr. Fogg quietly shut the door.\r\n\r\nPhileas Fogg had won his wager, and had made his journey around the\r\nworld in eighty days.  To do this he had employed every means of\r\nconveyance--steamers, railways, carriages, yachts, trading-vessels,\r\nsledges, elephants.  The eccentric gentleman had throughout displayed\r\nall his marvellous qualities of coolness and exactitude.  But what\r\nthen?  What had he really gained by all this trouble?  What had he\r\nbrought back from this long and weary journey?\r\n\r\nNothing, say you?  Perhaps so; nothing but a charming woman, who,\r\nstrange as it may appear, made him the happiest of men!\r\n\r\nTruly, would you not for less than that make the tour around the world?\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nEnd of Project Gutenberg\'s Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne\r\n\r\n*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS ***\r\n\r\n***** This file should be named 103.txt or 103.zip *****\r\nThis and all associated files of various formats will be found in:\r\n        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/103/\r\n\r\n\r\n\r\nUpdated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions\r\nwill be renamed.\r\n\r\nCreating the works from public domain print editions means that no\r\none owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation\r\n(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without\r\npermission and without paying copyright royalties.  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p227
g134
tp228
sS'age'
p229
(S'age'
p230
g130
tp231
sS'x-cacheable'
p232
(S'x-cacheable'
p233
S'NO: beresp.status'
p234
tp235
sS'server'
p236
(S'server'
p237
S'Apache'
p238
tp239
sS'connection'
p240
(S'connection'
p241
S'keep-alive'
p242
tp243
sS'via'
p244
(S'via'
p245
S'1.1 varnish'
p246
tp247
sS'location'
p248
(S'location'
p249
S'http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/103/pg103.txt'
p250
tp251
sS'date'
p252
(S'date'
p253
S'Wed, 10 Sep 2014 12:10:29 GMT'
p254
tp255
sS'content-type'
p256
(S'content-type'
p257
S'text/html; charset=iso-8859-1'
p258
tp259
ssbsg176
S'Found'
p260
sg178
(lp261
sbtp262
sb.