Tantissimi classici della letteratura e della cultura politica,
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Abbe Prevost - MANON LESCAUT
Alcott, Louisa M. - AN OLDFASHIONED GIRL
Alcott, Louisa M. - LITTLE MEN
Alcott, Louisa M. - LITTLE WOMEN
Alcott, Louisa May - JACK AND JILL
Alcott, Louisa May - LIFE LETTERS AND JOURNALS
Andersen, Hans Christian - FAIRY TALES
Anonimo - BEOWULF
Ariosto, Ludovico - ORLANDO ENRAGED
Aurelius, Marcus - MEDITATIONS
Austen, Jane - EMMA
Austen, Jane - MANSFIELD PARK
Austen, Jane - NORTHANGER ABBEY
Austen, Jane - PERSUASION
Austen, Jane - PRIDE AND PREJUDICE
Austen, Jane - SENSE AND SENSIBILITY
Authors, Various - LETTERS OF ABELARD AND HELOISE
Authors, Various - SELECTED ENGLISH LETTERS
Autori Vari - THE WORLD ENGLISH BIBLE
Bacon, Francis - THE ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING
Balzac, Honore de - EUGENIE GRANDET
Balzac, Honore de - FATHER GORIOT
Baroness Orczy - THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL
Barrie, J. M. - PETER AND WENDY
Barrie, James M. - PETER PAN
Bierce, Ambrose - THE DEVIL'S DICTIONARY
Blake, William - SONGS OF INNOCENCE AND EXPERIENCE
Boccaccio, Giovanni - DECAMERONE
Brent, Linda - INCIDENTS IN THE LIFE OF A SLAVE GIRL
Bronte, Charlotte - JANE EYRE
Bronte, Charlotte - VILLETTE
Buchan, John - GREENMANTLE
Buchan, John - MR STANDFAST
Buchan, John - THE 39 STEPS
Bunyan, John - THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
Burckhardt, Jacob - THE CIVILIZATION OF THE RENAISSANCE IN ITALY
Burnett, Frances H. - A LITTLE PRINCESS
Burnett, Frances H. - LITTLE LORD FAUNTLEROY
Burnett, Frances H. - THE SECRET GARDEN
Butler, Samuel - EREWHON
Carlyle, Thomas - PAST AND PRESENT
Carlyle, Thomas - THE FRENCH REVOLUTION
Cellini, Benvenuto - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Cervantes - DON QUIXOTE
Chaucer, Geoffrey - THE CANTERBURY TALES
Chesterton, G. K. - A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLAND
Chesterton, G. K. - THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE
Chesterton, G. K. - THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN
Chesterton, G. K. - THE MAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCH
Chesterton, G. K. - THE MAN WHO WAS THURSDAY
Chesterton, G. K. - THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN
Chesterton, G. K. - TWELVE TYPES
Chesterton, G. K. - WHAT I SAW IN AMERICA
Chesterton, Gilbert K. - HERETICS
Chopin, Kate - AT FAULT
Chopin, Kate - BAYOU FOLK
Chopin, Kate - THE AWAKENING AND SELECTED SHORT STORIES
Clark Hall, John R. - A CONCISE ANGLOSAXON DICTIONARY
Clarkson, Thomas - AN ESSAY ON THE SLAVERY AND COMMERCE OF THE HUMAN SPECIES
Clausewitz, Carl von - ON WAR
Coleridge, Herbert - A DICTIONARY OF THE FIRST OR OLDEST WORDS IN THE ENGLISH
Coleridge, S. T. - COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
Coleridge, S. T. - HINTS TOWARDS THE FORMATION OF A MORE COMPREHENSIVE THEORY
Coleridge, S. T. - THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER
Collins, Wilkie - THE MOONSTONE
Collodi - PINOCCHIO
Conan Doyle, Arthur - A STUDY IN SCARLET
Conan Doyle, Arthur - MEMOIRS OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE HOUND OF THE BASKERVILLES
Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES
Conan Doyle, Arthur - THE SIGN OF THE FOUR
Conrad, Joseph - HEART OF DARKNESS
Conrad, Joseph - LORD JIM
Conrad, Joseph - NOSTROMO
Conrad, Joseph - THE NIGGER OF THE NARCISSUS
Conrad, Joseph - TYPHOON
Crane, Stephen - LAST WORDS
Crane, Stephen - MAGGIE
Crane, Stephen - THE RED BADGE OF COURAGE
Crane, Stephen - WOUNDS IN THE RAIN
Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: HELL
Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: PARADISE
Dante - THE DIVINE COMEDY: PURGATORY
Darwin, Charles - THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF CHARLES DARWIN
Darwin, Charles - THE ORIGIN OF SPECIES
Defoe, Daniel - A GENERAL HISTORY OF THE PYRATES
Defoe, Daniel - A JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR
Defoe, Daniel - CAPTAIN SINGLETON
Defoe, Daniel - MOLL FLANDERS
Defoe, Daniel - ROBINSON CRUSOE
Defoe, Daniel - THE COMPLETE ENGLISH TRADESMAN
Defoe, Daniel - THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF ROBINSON CRUSOE
Deledda, Grazia - AFTER THE DIVORCE
Dickens, Charles - A CHRISTMAS CAROL
Dickens, Charles - A TALE OF TWO CITIES
Dickens, Charles - BLEAK HOUSE
Dickens, Charles - DAVID COPPERFIELD
Dickens, Charles - DONBEY AND SON
Dickens, Charles - GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Dickens, Charles - HARD TIMES
Dickens, Charles - LETTERS VOLUME 1
Dickens, Charles - LITTLE DORRIT
Dickens, Charles - MARTIN CHUZZLEWIT
Dickens, Charles - NICHOLAS NICKLEBY
Dickens, Charles - OLIVER TWIST
Dickens, Charles - OUR MUTUAL FRIEND
Dickens, Charles - PICTURES FROM ITALY
Dickens, Charles - THE MYSTERY OF EDWIN DROOD
Dickens, Charles - THE OLD CURIOSITY SHOP
Dickens, Charles - THE PICKWICK PAPERS
Dickinson, Emily - POEMS
Dostoevsky, Fyodor - CRIME AND PUNISHMENT
Dostoyevsky, Fyodor - THE BROTHERS KARAMAZOV
Du Maurier, George - TRILBY
Dumas, Alexandre - THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO
Dumas, Alexandre - THE MAN IN THE IRON MASK
Dumas, Alexandre - THE THREE MUSKETEERS
Eliot, George - DANIEL DERONDA
Eliot, George - MIDDLEMARCH
Eliot, George - SILAS MARNER
Eliot, George - THE MILL ON THE FLOSS
Engels, Frederick - THE CONDITION OF THE WORKING-CLASS IN ENGLAND IN 1844
Equiano - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Esopo - FABLES
Fenimore Cooper, James - THE LAST OF THE MOHICANS
Fielding, Henry - TOM JONES
France, Anatole - THAIS
France, Anatole - THE GODS ARE ATHIRST
France, Anatole - THE LIFE OF JOAN OF ARC
France, Anatole - THE SEVEN WIVES OF BLUEBEARD
Frank Baum, L. - THE PATCHWORK GIRL OF OZ
Frank Baum, L. - THE WONDERFUL WIZARD OF OZ
Franklin, Benjamin - AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Frazer, James George - THE GOLDEN BOUGH
Freud, Sigmund - DREAM PSYCHOLOGY
Galsworthy, John - COMPLETE PLAYS
Galsworthy, John - STRIFE
Galsworthy, John - STUDIES AND ESSAYS
Galsworthy, John - THE FIRST AND THE LAST
Galsworthy, John - THE FORSYTE SAGA
Galsworthy, John - THE LITTLE MAN
Galsworthy, John - THE SILVER BOX
Galsworthy, John - THE SKIN GAME
Gaskell, Elizabeth - CRANFORD
Gaskell, Elizabeth - MARY BARTON
Gaskell, Elizabeth - NORTH AND SOUTH
Gaskell, Elizabeth - THE LIFE OF CHARLOTTE BRONTE
Gay, John - THE BEGGAR'S OPERA
Gentile, Maria - THE ITALIAN COOK BOOK
Gilbert and Sullivan - PLAYS
Goethe - FAUST
Gogol - DEAD SOULS
Goldsmith, Oliver - SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER
Goldsmith, Oliver - THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD
Grahame, Kenneth - THE WIND IN THE WILLOWS
Grimm, Brothers - FAIRY TALES
Harding, A. R. - GINSENG AND OTHER MEDICINAL PLANTS
Hardy, Thomas - A CHANGED MAN AND OTHER TALES
Hardy, Thomas - FAR FROM THE MADDING CROWD
Hardy, Thomas - JUDE THE OBSCURE
Hardy, Thomas - TESS OF THE D'URBERVILLES
Hardy, Thomas - THE MAYOR OF CASTERBRIDGE
Hartley, Cecil B. - THE GENTLEMEN'S BOOK OF ETIQUETTE
Hawthorne, Nathaniel - LITTLE MASTERPIECES
Hawthorne, Nathaniel - THE SCARLET LETTER
Henry VIII - LOVE LETTERS TO ANNE BOLEYN
Henry, O. - CABBAGES AND KINGS
Henry, O. - SIXES AND SEVENS
Henry, O. - THE FOUR MILLION
Henry, O. - THE TRIMMED LAMP
Henry, O. - WHIRLIGIGS
Hindman Miller, Gustavus - TEN THOUSAND DREAMS INTERPRETED
Hobbes, Thomas - LEVIATHAN
Homer - THE ILIAD
Homer - THE ODYSSEY
Hornaday, William T. - THE EXTERMINATION OF THE AMERICAN BISON
Hume, David - A TREATISE OF HUMAN NATURE
Hume, David - AN ENQUIRY CONCERNING HUMAN UNDERSTANDING
Hume, David - DIALOGUES CONCERNING NATURAL RELIGION
Ibsen, Henrik - A DOLL'S HOUSE
Ibsen, Henrik - AN ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE
Ibsen, Henrik - GHOSTS
Ibsen, Henrik - HEDDA GABLER
Ibsen, Henrik - JOHN GABRIEL BORKMAN
Ibsen, Henrik - ROSMERHOLM
Ibsen, Henrik - THE LADY FROM THE SEA
Ibsen, Henrik - THE MASTER BUILDER
Ibsen, Henrik - WHEN WE DEAD AWAKEN
Irving, Washington - THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW
James, Henry - ITALIAN HOURS
James, Henry - THE ASPERN PAPERS
James, Henry - THE BOSTONIANS
James, Henry - THE PORTRAIT OF A LADY
James, Henry - THE TURN OF THE SCREW
James, Henry - WASHINGTON SQUARE
Jerome, Jerome K. - THREE MEN IN A BOAT
Jerome, Jerome K. - THREE MEN ON THE BUMMEL
Jevons, Stanley - POLITICAL ECONOMY
Johnson, Samuel - A GRAMMAR OF THE ENGLISH TONGUE
Jonson, Ben - THE ALCHEMIST
Jonson, Ben - VOLPONE
Joyce, James - A PORTRAIT OF THE ARTIST AS A YOUNG MAN
Joyce, James - CHAMBER MUSIC
Joyce, James - DUBLINERS
Joyce, James - ULYSSES
Keats, John - ENDYMION
Keats, John - POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1817
Keats, John - POEMS PUBLISHED IN 1820
King James - THE BIBLE
Kipling, Rudyard - CAPTAINS COURAGEOUS
Kipling, Rudyard - INDIAN TALES
Kipling, Rudyard - JUST SO STORIES
Kipling, Rudyard - KIM
Kipling, Rudyard - THE JUNGLE BOOK
Kipling, Rudyard - THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING
Kipling, Rudyard - THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK
Lawrence, D. H - THE RAINBOW
Lawrence, D. H - THE WHITE PEACOCK
Lawrence, D. H - TWILIGHT IN ITALY
Lawrence, D. H. - AARON'S ROD
Lawrence, D. H. - SONS AND LOVERS
Lawrence, D. H. - THE LOST GIRL
Lawrence, D. H. - WOMEN IN LOVE
Lear, Edward - BOOK OF NONSENSE
Lear, Edward - LAUGHABLE LYRICS
Lear, Edward - MORE NONSENSE
Lear, Edward - NONSENSE SONG
Leblanc, Maurice - ARSENE LUPIN VS SHERLOCK HOLMES
Leblanc, Maurice - THE ADVENTURES OF ARSENE LUPIN
Leblanc, Maurice - THE CONFESSIONS OF ARSENE LUPIN
Leblanc, Maurice - THE HOLLOW NEEDLE
Leblanc, Maurice - THE RETURN OF ARSENE LUPIN
Lehmann, Lilli - HOW TO SING
Leroux, Gaston - THE MAN WITH THE BLACK FEATHER
Leroux, Gaston - THE MYSTERY OF THE YELLOW ROOM
Leroux, Gaston - THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA
London, Jack - MARTIN EDEN
London, Jack - THE CALL OF THE WILD
London, Jack - WHITE FANG
Machiavelli, Nicolo' - THE PRINCE
Malthus, Thomas - PRINCIPLE OF POPULATION
Mansfield, Katherine - THE GARDEN PARTY AND OTHER STORIES
Marlowe, Christopher - THE JEW OF MALTA
Marryat, Captain - THE CHILDREN OF THE NEW FOREST
Maupassant, Guy De - BEL AMI
Melville, Hermann - MOBY DICK
Melville, Hermann - TYPEE
Mill, John Stuart - PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY
Milton, John - PARADISE LOST
Mitra, S. M. - HINDU TALES FROM THE SANSKRIT
Montaigne, Michel de - ESSAYS
Montgomery, Lucy Maud - ANNE OF GREEN GABLES
More, Thomas - UTOPIA
Nesbit, E. - FIVE CHILDREN AND IT
Nesbit, E. - THE PHOENIX AND THE CARPET
Nesbit, E. - THE RAILWAY CHILDREN
Nesbit, E. - THE STORY OF THE AMULET
Newton, Isaac - OPTICKS
Nietsche, Friedrich - BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL
Nietsche, Friedrich - THUS SPAKE ZARATHUSTRA
Nightingale, Florence - NOTES ON NURSING
Owen, Wilfred - POEMS
Ozaki, Yei Theodora - JAPANESE FAIRY TALES
Pascal, Blaise - PENSEES
Pellico, Silvio - MY TEN YEARS IMPRISONMENT
Perrault, Charles - FAIRY TALES
Pirandello, Luigi - THREE PLAYS
Plato - THE REPUBLIC
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 1
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 2
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 3
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 4
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS 5
Poe, Edgar Allan - THE FALL OF THE HOUSE OF USHER
Potter, Beatrix - THE TALE OF PETER RABBIT
Proust, Marcel - SWANN'S WAY
Radcliffe, Ann - A SICILIAN ROMANCE
Ricardo, David - ON THE PRINCIPLES OF POLITICAL ECONOMY AND TAXATION
Richardson, Samuel - PAMELA
Rider Haggard, H. - ALLAN QUATERMAIN
Rider Haggard, H. - KING SOLOMON'S MINES
Rousseau, J. J. - THE ORIGIN AND FOUNDATION OF INEQUALITY AMONG MANKIND
Ruskin, John - THE SEVEN LAMPS OF ARCHITECTURE
Schiller, Friedrich - THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN
Schiller, Friedrich - THE PICCOLOMINI
Schopenhauer, Arthur - THE ART OF CONTROVERSY
Schopenhauer, Arthur - THE WISDOM OF LIFE
Scott Fitzgerald, F. - FLAPPERS AND PHILOSOPHERS
Scott Fitzgerald, F. - TALES OF THE JAZZ AGE
Scott Fitzgerald, F. - THE BEAUTIFUL AND DAMNED
Scott Fitzgerald, F. - THIS SIDE OF PARADISE
Scott, Walter - IVANHOE
Scott, Walter - QUENTIN DURWARD
Scott, Walter - ROB ROY
Scott, Walter - THE BRIDE OF LAMMERMOOR
Scott, Walter - WAVERLEY
Sedgwick, Anne Douglas - THE THIRD WINDOW
Sewell, Anna - BLACK BEAUTY
Shakespeare, William - COMPLETE WORKS
Shakespeare, William - HAMLET
Shakespeare, William - OTHELLO
Shakespeare, William - ROMEO AND JULIET
Shelley, Mary - FRANKENSTEIN
Shelley, Percy Bysshe - A DEFENCE OF POETRY AND OTHER ESSAYS
Shelley, Percy Bysshe - COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS
Sheridan, Richard B. - THE SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL
Sienkiewicz, Henryk - QUO VADIS
Smith, Adam - THE WEALTH OF NATIONS
Smollett, Tobias - TRAVELS THROUGH FRANCE AND ITALY
Spencer, Herbert - ESSAYS ON EDUCATION AND KINDRED SUBJECTS
Spyri, Johanna - HEIDI
Sterne, Laurence - A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY
Sterne, Laurence - TRISTRAM SHANDY
Stevenson, Robert Louis - A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES
Stevenson, Robert Louis - ESSAYS IN THE ART OF WRITING
Stevenson, Robert Louis - KIDNAPPED
Stevenson, Robert Louis - NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS
Stevenson, Robert Louis - THE BLACK ARROW
Stevenson, Robert Louis - THE STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR. HYDE
Stevenson, Robert Louis - TREASURE ISLAND
Stoker, Bram - DRACULA
Strindberg, August - LUCKY PEHR
Strindberg, August - MASTER OLOF
Strindberg, August - THE RED ROOM
Strindberg, August - THE ROAD TO DAMASCUS
Strindberg, August - THERE ARE CRIMES AND CRIMES
Swift, Jonathan - A MODEST PROPOSAL
Swift, Jonathan - A TALE OF A TUB
Swift, Jonathan - GULLIVER'S TRAVELS
Swift, Jonathan - THE BATTLE OF THE BOOKS AND OTHER SHORT PIECES
Tagore, Rabindranath - FRUIT GATHERING
Tagore, Rabindranath - THE GARDENER
Tagore, Rabindranath - THE HUNGRY STONES AND OTHER STORIES
Thackeray, William - BARRY LYNDON
Thackeray, William - VANITY FAIR
Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE BOOK OF SNOBS
Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE ROSE AND THE RING
Thackeray, William Makepeace - THE VIRGINIANS
Thoreau, Henry David - WALDEN
Tolstoi, Leo - A LETTER TO A HINDU
Tolstoy, Lev - ANNA KARENINA
Tolstoy, Lev - WAR AND PEACE
Trollope, Anthony - AN AUTOBIOGRAPHY
Trollope, Anthony - BARCHESTER TOWERS
Trollope, Anthony - FRAMLEY PARSONAGE
Trollope, Anthony - THE EUSTACE DIAMONDS
Trollope, Anthony - THE MAN WHO KEPT HIS MONEY IN A BOX
Trollope, Anthony - THE WARDEN
Trollope, Anthony - THE WAY WE LIVE NOW
Twain, Mark - LIFE ON THE MISSISSIPPI
Twain, Mark - SPEECHES
Twain, Mark - THE ADVENTURES OF HUCKLEBERRY FINN
Twain, Mark - THE ADVENTURES OF TOM SAWYER
Twain, Mark - THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER
Vari, Autori - THE MAGNA CARTA
Verga, Giovanni - SICILIAN STORIES
Verne, Jules - 20000 LEAGUES UNDER THE SEAS
Verne, Jules - A JOURNEY TO THE CENTRE OF THE EARTH
Verne, Jules - ALL AROUND THE MOON
Verne, Jules - AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS
Verne, Jules - FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON
Verne, Jules - FROM THE EARTH TO THE MOON
Verne, Jules - MICHAEL STROGOFF
Verne, Jules - THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND
Voltaire - PHILOSOPHICAL DICTIONARY
Vyasa - MAHABHARATA
Wallace, Edgar - SANDERS OF THE RIVER
Wallace, Edgar - THE DAFFODIL MYSTERY
Wallace, Lew - BEN HUR
Webster, Jean - DADDY LONG LEGS
Wedekind, Franz - THE AWAKENING OF SPRING
Wells, H. G. - KIPPS
Wells, H. G. - THE INVISIBLE MAN
Wells, H. G. - THE ISLAND OF DOCTOR MOREAU
Wells, H. G. - THE STOLEN BACILLUS AND OTHER INCIDENTS
Wells, H. G. - THE TIME MACHINE
Wells, H. G. - THE WAR OF THE WORLDS
Wells, H. G. - WHAT IS COMING
Wharton, Edith - THE AGE OF INNOCENCE
White, Andrew Dickson - FIAT MONEY INFLATION IN FRANCE
Wilde, Oscar - A WOMAN OF NO IMPORTANCE
Wilde, Oscar - AN IDEAL HUSBAND
Wilde, Oscar - DE PROFUNDIS
Wilde, Oscar - LADY WINDERMERE'S FAN
Wilde, Oscar - SALOME
Wilde, Oscar - SELECTED POEMS
Wilde, Oscar - THE BALLAD OF READING GAOL
Wilde, Oscar - THE CANTERVILLE GHOST
Wilde, Oscar - THE HAPPY PRINCE AND OTHER TALES
Wilde, Oscar - THE IMPORTANCE OF BEING EARNEST
Wilde, Oscar - THE PICTURE OF DORIAN GREY
Wilde, Oscar - THE SOUL OF MAN
Wilson, Epiphanius - SACRED BOOKS OF THE EAST
Wollstonecraft, Mary - A VINDICATION OF THE RIGHTS OF WOMAN
Woolf, Virgina - NIGHT AND DAY
Woolf, Virgina - THE VOYAGE OUT
Woolf, Virginia - JACOB'S ROOM
Woolf, Virginia - MONDAY OR TUESDAY
Wordsworth, William - POEMS
Wordsworth, William - PROSE WORKS
Zola, Emile - THERESE RAQUIN
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ISTRUZIONI D'USO DETTAGLIATE
Around the World in 80 Days.
By Jules Verne.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PASSEPARTOUT ACCEPT EACH OTHER,
THE ONE AS MASTER, THE OTHER AS MAN.
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington
Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the
most noticeable members of the Reform Club, though he seemed always to
avoid attracting attention; an enigmatical personage, about whom little
was known, except that he was a polished man of the world. People said
that he resembled Byron--at least that his head was Byronic; but he was
a bearded, tranquil Byron, who might live on a thousand years without
Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was
a Londoner. He was never seen on 'Change, nor at the Bank, nor in the
counting-rooms of the "City"; no ships ever came into London docks of
which he was the owner; he had no public employment; he had never been
entered at any of the Inns of Court, either at the Temple, or Lincoln's
Inn, or Gray's Inn; nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of
Chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Bench, or the
Ecclesiastical Courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer; nor was he
a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the
scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part
in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London
Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and
Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies
which swarm in the English capital, from the Harmonic to that of the
Entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform, and that was all.
The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple
He was recommended by the Barings, with whom he had an open credit.
His cheques were regularly paid at sight from his account current,
which was always flush.
Was Phileas Fogg rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could
not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fogg was the last
person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor,
on the contrary, avaricious; for, whenever he knew that money was
needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it
quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least
communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more
mysterious for his taciturn manner. His daily habits were quite open
to observation; but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that
he had always done before, that the wits of the curious were fairly
Had he travelled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world
more familiarly; there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear
to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a
few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the
club as to lost and unheard-of travellers, pointing out the true
probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so
often did events justify his predictions. He must have travelled
everywhere, at least in the spirit.
It was at least certain that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from
London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better
acquaintance with him than the rest, declared that nobody could pretend
to have ever seen him anywhere else. His sole pastimes were reading
the papers and playing whist. He often won at this game, which, as a
silent one, harmonised with his nature; but his winnings never went
into his purse, being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fogg
played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was in his
eyes a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet a motionless,
unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes.
Phileas Fogg was not known to have either wife or children, which may
happen to the most honest people; either relatives or near friends,
which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in
Saville Row, whither none penetrated. A single domestic sufficed to
serve him. He breakfasted and dined at the club, at hours
mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking
his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him; and
went home at exactly midnight, only to retire at once to bed. He never
used the cosy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured
members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Saville Row,
either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk
it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic
flooring, or in the circular gallery with its dome supported by twenty
red porphyry Ionic columns, and illumined by blue painted windows.
When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club--its
kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy--aided to crowd his table
with their most succulent stores; he was served by the gravest waiters,
in dress coats, and shoes with swan-skin soles, who proffered the
viands in special porcelain, and on the finest linen; club decanters,
of a lost mould, contained his sherry, his port, and his
cinnamon-spiced claret; while his beverages were refreshingly cooled
with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes.
If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that
there is something good in eccentricity.
The mansion in Saville Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly
comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but
little from the sole domestic, but Phileas Fogg required him to be
almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very 2nd of October he
had dismissed James Forster, because that luckless youth had brought
him shaving-water at eighty-four degrees Fahrenheit instead of
eighty-six; and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house
between eleven and half-past.
Phileas Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close
together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his
knees, his body straight, his head erect; he was steadily watching a
complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds,
the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half-past eleven Mr.
Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Saville Row, and repair
to the Reform.
A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cosy apartment where
Phileas Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant,
"The new servant," said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
"You are a Frenchman, I believe," asked Phileas Fogg, "and your name is
"Jean, if monsieur pleases," replied the newcomer, "Jean Passepartout,
a surname which has clung to me because I have a natural aptness for
going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest,
monsieur, but, to be outspoken, I've had several trades. I've been an
itinerant singer, a circus-rider, when I used to vault like Leotard,
and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of
gymnastics, so as to make better use of my talents; and then I was a
sergeant fireman at Paris, and assisted at many a big fire. But I
quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of
domestic life, took service as a valet here in England. Finding myself
out of place, and hearing that Monsieur Phileas Fogg was the most exact
and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom, I have come to monsieur in
the hope of living with him a tranquil life, and forgetting even the
name of Passepartout."
"Passepartout suits me," responded Mr. Fogg. "You are well recommended
to me; I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions?"
"Good! What time is it?"
"Twenty-two minutes after eleven," returned Passepartout, drawing an
enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket.
"You are too slow," said Mr. Fogg.
"Pardon me, monsieur, it is impossible--"
"You are four minutes too slow. No matter; it's enough to mention the
error. Now from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven, a.m.,
this Wednesday, 2nd October, you are in my service."
Phileas Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head
with an automatic motion, and went off without a word.
Passepartout heard the street door shut once; it was his new master
going out. He heard it shut again; it was his predecessor, James
Forster, departing in his turn. Passepartout remained alone in the
house in Saville Row.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND HIS IDEAL
"Faith," muttered Passepartout, somewhat flurried, "I've seen people at
Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
Madame Tussaud's "people," let it be said, are of wax, and are much
visited in London; speech is all that is wanting to make them human.
During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passepartout had been
carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of
age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure; his
hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his
face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in
the highest degree what physiognomists call "repose in action," a
quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic, with a
clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure
which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas. Seen
in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being
perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer.
Phileas Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed
even in the expression of his very hands and feet; for in men, as well
as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.
He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was
economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step
too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut; he
made no superfluous gestures, and was never seen to be moved or
agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always
reached his destination at the exact moment.
He lived alone, and, so to speak, outside of every social relation; and
as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction, and
that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody.
As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had
abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he
had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout
was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Moliere with a
bold gaze and a nose held high in the air; he was an honest fellow,
with a pleasant face, lips a trifle protruding, soft-mannered and
serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the
shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubicund,
his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his
physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days.
His brown hair was somewhat tumbled; for, while the ancient sculptors
are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging Minerva's tresses,
Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own: three
strokes of a large-tooth comb completed his toilet.
It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would
agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant
would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required;
experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a
sort of vagrant in his early years, and now yearned for repose; but so
far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten
English houses. But he could not take root in any of these; with
chagrin, he found his masters invariably whimsical and irregular,
constantly running about the country, or on the look-out for adventure.
His last master, young Lord Longferry, Member of Parliament, after
passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns, was too often brought home
in the morning on policemen's shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of
respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance
on such conduct; which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing
that Mr. Phileas Fogg was looking for a servant, and that his life was
one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from
home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after.
He presented himself, and was accepted, as has been seen.
At half-past eleven, then, Passepartout found himself alone in the
house in Saville Row. He begun its inspection without delay, scouring
it from cellar to garret. So clean, well-arranged, solemn a mansion
pleased him; it seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed
by gas, which sufficed for both these purposes. When Passepartout
reached the second story he recognised at once the room which he was to
inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and
speaking-tubes afforded communication with the lower stories; while on
the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's
bedchamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. "That's
good, that'll do," said Passepartout to himself.
He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon
inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house.
It comprised all that was required of the servant, from eight in the
morning, exactly at which hour Phileas Fogg rose, till half-past
eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club--all the details of
service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the
shaving-water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at
twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that
was to be done from half-past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at
which the methodical gentleman retired.
Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each
pair of trousers, coat, and vest bore a number, indicating the time of
year and season at which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing;
and the same system was applied to the master's shoes. In short, the
house in Saville Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder
and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was cosiness,
comfort, and method idealised. There was no study, nor were there
books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg; for at the
Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law
and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his
bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars; but
Passepartout found neither arms nor hunting weapons anywhere;
everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits.
Having scrutinised the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a
broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, "This is
just what I wanted! Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I!
What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine; well, I don't
mind serving a machine."
IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY TO COST PHILEAS
Phileas Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,
and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and
seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and
seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, an imposing edifice in Pall
Mall, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired
at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which open upon a
tasteful garden, where the trees were already gilded with an autumn
colouring; and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which
had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side-dish,
a broiled fish with Reading sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef
garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel
of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of
tea, for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to
one, and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous
apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunkey handed him
an uncut Times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed
familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper
absorbed Phileas Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the Standard,
his next task, occupied him till the dinner hour. Dinner passed as
breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg re-appeared in the reading-room and
sat down to the Pall Mall at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour
later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the
fireplace, where a coal fire was steadily burning. They were Mr.
Fogg's usual partners at whist: Andrew Stuart, an engineer; John
Sullivan and Samuel Fallentin, bankers; Thomas Flanagan, a brewer; and
Gauthier Ralph, one of the Directors of the Bank of England--all rich
and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the
princes of English trade and finance.
"Well, Ralph," said Thomas Flanagan, "what about that robbery?"
"Oh," replied Stuart, "the Bank will lose the money."
"On the contrary," broke in Ralph, "I hope we may put our hands on the
robber. Skilful detectives have been sent to all the principal ports
of America and the Continent, and he'll be a clever fellow if he slips
through their fingers."
"But have you got the robber's description?" asked Stuart.
"In the first place, he is no robber at all," returned Ralph,
"What! a fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds, no
"Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then."
"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."
It was Phileas Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind his newspapers,
who made this remark. He bowed to his friends, and entered into the
conversation. The affair which formed its subject, and which was town
talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England. A package
of banknotes, to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds, had been
taken from the principal cashier's table, that functionary being at the
moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and
sixpence. Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be
observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the
honesty of the public. There are neither guards nor gratings to
protect its treasures; gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed, at
the mercy of the first comer. A keen observer of English customs
relates that, being in one of the rooms of the Bank one day, he had the
curiosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds.
He took it up, scrutinised it, passed it to his neighbour, he to the
next man, and so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was
transferred to the end of a dark entry; nor did it return to its place
for half an hour. Meanwhile, the cashier had not so much as raised his
head. But in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly.
The package of notes not being found when five o'clock sounded from the
ponderous clock in the "drawing office," the amount was passed to the
account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was discovered,
picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Havre, Suez,
Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward
of two thousand pounds, and five per cent. on the sum that might be
recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those
who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was
at once entered upon.
There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said,
that the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of
the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners, and with a
well-to-do air, had been observed going to and fro in the paying room
where the crime was committed. A description of him was easily
procured and sent to the detectives; and some hopeful spirits, of whom
Ralph was one, did not despair of his apprehension. The papers and
clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing
the probabilities of a successful pursuit; and the Reform Club was
especially agitated, several of its members being Bank officials.
Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to
be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly
stimulate their zeal and activity. But Stuart was far from sharing
this confidence; and, as they placed themselves at the whist-table,
they continued to argue the matter. Stuart and Flanagan played
together, while Phileas Fogg had Fallentin for his partner. As the
game proceeded the conversation ceased, excepting between the rubbers,
when it revived again.
"I maintain," said Stuart, "that the chances are in favour of the
thief, who must be a shrewd fellow."
"Well, but where can he fly to?" asked Ralph. "No country is safe for
"Where could he go, then?"
"Oh, I don't know that. The world is big enough."
"It was once," said Phileas Fogg, in a low tone. "Cut, sir," he added,
handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan.
The discussion fell during the rubber, after which Stuart took up its
"What do you mean by `once'? Has the world grown smaller?"
"Certainly," returned Ralph. "I agree with Mr. Fogg. The world has
grown smaller, since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly
than a hundred years ago. And that is why the search for this thief
will be more likely to succeed."
"And also why the thief can get away more easily."
"Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart," said Phileas Fogg.
But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, and when the hand was
finished, said eagerly: "You have a strange way, Ralph, of proving that
the world has grown smaller. So, because you can go round it in three
"In eighty days," interrupted Phileas Fogg.
"That is true, gentlemen," added John Sullivan. "Only eighty days, now
that the section between Rothal and Allahabad, on the Great Indian
Peninsula Railway, has been opened. Here is the estimate made by the
From London to Suez via Mont Cenis and
Brindisi, by rail and steamboats ................. 7 days
From Suez to Bombay, by steamer .................... 13 "
From Bombay to Calcutta, by rail ................... 3 "
From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer ............. 13 "
From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer ..... 6 "
From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ......... 22 "
From San Francisco to New York, by rail ............. 7 "
From New York to London, by steamer and rail ........ 9 "
Total ............................................ 80 days."
"Yes, in eighty days!" exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement made a
false deal. "But that doesn't take into account bad weather, contrary
winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on."
"All included," returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play despite the
"But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails," replied Stuart;
"suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage-vans, and scalp the
"All included," calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the
cards, "Two trumps."
Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on: "You
are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically--"
"Practically also, Mr. Stuart."
"I'd like to see you do it in eighty days."
"It depends on you. Shall we go?"
"Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such
a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible."
"Quite possible, on the contrary," returned Mr. Fogg.
"Well, make it, then!"
"The journey round the world in eighty days?"
"I should like nothing better."
"At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense."
"It's absurd!" cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at the
persistency of his friend. "Come, let's go on with the game."
"Deal over again, then," said Phileas Fogg. "There's a false deal."
Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly put them
"Well, Mr. Fogg," said he, "it shall be so: I will wager the four
thousand on it."
"Calm yourself, my dear Stuart," said Fallentin. "It's only a joke."
"When I say I'll wager," returned Stuart, "I mean it." "All right,"
said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued: "I have a
deposit of twenty thousand at Baring's which I will willingly risk upon
"Twenty thousand pounds!" cried Sullivan. "Twenty thousand pounds,
which you would lose by a single accidental delay!"
"The unforeseen does not exist," quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
"But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible
time in which the journey can be made."
"A well-used minimum suffices for everything."
"But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically from the
trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon the trains again."
"I will jump--mathematically."
"You are joking."
"A true Englishman doesn't joke when he is talking about so serious a
thing as a wager," replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly. "I will bet twenty
thousand pounds against anyone who wishes that I will make the tour of
the world in eighty days or less; in nineteen hundred and twenty hours,
or a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?"
"We accept," replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan, Flanagan, and
Ralph, after consulting each other.
"Good," said Mr. Fogg. "The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before
nine. I will take it."
"This very evening?" asked Stuart.
"This very evening," returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and consulted
a pocket almanac, and added, "As today is Wednesday, the 2nd of
October, I shall be due in London in this very room of the Reform Club,
on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter before nine p.m.; or
else the twenty thousand pounds, now deposited in my name at Baring's,
will belong to you, in fact and in right, gentlemen. Here is a cheque
for the amount."
A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six
parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical composure. He
certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty thousand
pounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might have to
expend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to say
unattainable, project. As for his antagonists, they seemed much
agitated; not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had
some scruples about betting under conditions so difficult to their
The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so
that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.
"I am quite ready now," was his tranquil response. "Diamonds are
trumps: be so good as to play, gentlemen."
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT
Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends,
Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.
Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his
duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the
inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to
rule, he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, "Passepartout!"
Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called; it was
not the right hour.
"Passepartout!" repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
Passepartout made his appearance.
"I've called you twice," observed his master.
"But it is not midnight," responded the other, showing his watch.
"I know it; I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten
A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout's round face; clearly he had not
comprehended his master.
"Monsieur is going to leave home?"
"Yes," returned Phileas Fogg. "We are going round the world."
Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his
hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied
"Round the world!" he murmured.
"In eighty days," responded Mr. Fogg. "So we haven't a moment to lose."
"But the trunks?" gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying his head
from right to left.
"We'll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts and three
pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you. We'll buy our clothes
on the way. Bring down my mackintosh and traveling-cloak, and some
stout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!"
Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to
his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered: "That's good, that is!
And I, who wanted to remain quiet!"
He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.
Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No. Was this
a joke, then? They were going to Dover; good! To Calais; good again!
After all, Passepartout, who had been away from France five years,
would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they
would go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris
once more. But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop
there; no doubt--but, then, it was none the less true that he was
going away, this so domestic person hitherto!
By eight o'clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag,
containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then, still
troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room, and descended
to Mr. Fogg.
Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a
red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and
General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of
steamers and railways. He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped
into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes, which would pass
wherever he might go.
"You have forgotten nothing?" asked he.
"My mackintosh and cloak?"
"Here they are."
"Good! Take this carpet-bag," handing it to Passepartout. "Take good
care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it."
Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds
were in gold, and weighed him down.
Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked, and
at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing
Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station at twenty minutes
past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box and followed his master,
who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station, when a
poor beggar-woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared
with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a
tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl,
approached, and mournfully asked for alms.
Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist, and
handed them to the beggar, saying, "Here, my good woman. I'm glad that
I met you;" and passed on.
Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes; his master's action
touched his susceptible heart.
Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr.
Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived his five
friends of the Reform.
"Well, gentlemen," said he, "I'm off, you see; and, if you will examine
my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have
accomplished the journey agreed upon."
"Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg," said Ralph politely.
"We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour."
"You do not forget when you are due in London again?" asked Stuart.
"In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872, at a quarter
before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen."
Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class
carriage at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle
screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station.
The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Phileas Fogg,
snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passepartout,
not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the
carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.
Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham, Passepartout suddenly
uttered a cry of despair.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Alas! In my hurry--I--I forgot--"
"To turn off the gas in my room!"
"Very well, young man," returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; "it will burn--at
IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN, APPEARS ON
Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London would
create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the bet spread
through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic of conversation
to its members. From the club it soon got into the papers throughout
England. The boasted "tour of the world" was talked about, disputed,
argued with as much warmth as if the subject were another Alabama
claim. Some took sides with Phileas Fogg, but the large majority shook
their heads and declared against him; it was absurd, impossible, they
declared, that the tour of the world could be made, except
theoretically and on paper, in this minimum of time, and with the
existing means of travelling. The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and
Daily News, and twenty other highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr.
Fogg's project as madness; the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly
supported him. People in general thought him a lunatic, and blamed his
Reform Club friends for having accepted a wager which betrayed the
mental aberration of its proposer.
Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question, for
geography is one of the pet subjects of the English; and the columns
devoted to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classes
of readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler
sex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the
Illustrated London News came out with his portrait, copied from a
photograph in the Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily Telegraph
even dared to say, "Why not, after all? Stranger things have come to
At last a long article appeared, on the 7th of October, in the bulletin
of the Royal Geographical Society, which treated the question from
every point of view, and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise.
Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposed
alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of
departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary
to his success. He might, perhaps, reckon on the arrival of trains at
the designated hours, in Europe, where the distances were relatively
moderate; but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and
the United States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon
accomplishing his task? There were accidents to machinery, the
liability of trains to run off the line, collisions, bad weather, the
blocking up by snow--were not all these against Phileas Fogg? Would he
not find himself, when travelling by steamer in winter, at the mercy of
the winds and fogs? Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers to be
two or three days behind time? But a single delay would suffice to
fatally break the chain of communication; should Phileas Fogg once
miss, even by an hour; a steamer, he would have to wait for the next,
and that would irrevocably render his attempt vain.
This article made a great deal of noise, and, being copied into all the
papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist.
Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of a
higher class than mere gamblers; to bet is in the English temperament.
Not only the members of the Reform, but the general public, made heavy
wagers for or against Phileas Fogg, who was set down in the betting
books as if he were a race-horse. Bonds were issued, and made their
appearance on 'Change; "Phileas Fogg bonds" were offered at par or at a
premium, and a great business was done in them. But five days after
the article in the bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, the
demand began to subside: "Phileas Fogg" declined. They were offered
by packages, at first of five, then of ten, until at last nobody would
take less than twenty, fifty, a hundred!
Lord Albemarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only
advocate of Phileas Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened to
his chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of
the world, if it took ten years; and he bet five thousand pounds on
Phileas Fogg. When the folly as well as the uselessness of the
adventure was pointed out to him, he contented himself with replying,
"If the thing is feasible, the first to do it ought to be an
The Fogg party dwindled more and more, everybody was going against him,
and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one; and a
week after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him of
backers at any price.
The commissioner of police was sitting in his office at nine o'clock
one evening, when the following telegraphic dispatch was put into his
Suez to London.
Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard:
I've found the bank robber, Phileas Fogg. Send with out delay warrant
of arrest to Bombay.
The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman
disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph, which
was hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club, was
minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the description
of the robber which had been provided to the police. The mysterious
habits of Phileas Fogg were recalled; his solitary ways, his sudden
departure; and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round the
world on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view than
to elude the detectives, and throw them off his track.
IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, BETRAYS A VERY NATURAL IMPATIENCE
The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas
Fogg was sent were as follows:
The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Company,
built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and five
hundred horse-power, was due at eleven o'clock a.m. on Wednesday, the
9th of October, at Suez. The Mongolia plied regularly between Brindisi
and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers
belonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour
between Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and Bombay.
Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling
village--now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing
town. One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies
of the English Government, and the unfavourable predictions of
Stephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office window, English
ships daily passing to and fro on the great canal, by which the old
roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was
abridged by at least a half. The other was a small, slight-built
personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering
out from under eyebrows which he was incessantly twitching. He was
just now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing
up and down, and unable to stand still for a moment. This was Fix, one
of the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the
bank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who
arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious
characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal,
which he had received two days before from the police headquarters at
London. The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining
the splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited
with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the
"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind time?"
"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul. "She was bespoken yesterday at Port
Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft. I
repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by
the company's regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of
"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"
"Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she
left there Saturday at five p.m. Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not
be late. But really, I don't see how, from the description you have,
you will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the
"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than
recognises them. You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling. I've
arrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and, if my thief
is on board, I'll answer for it; he'll not slip through my fingers."
"I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."
"A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds! We don't
often have such windfalls. Burglars are getting to be so contemptible
nowadays! A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"
"Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope
you'll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy. Don't you
see, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to
an honest man?"
"Consul," remarked the detective, dogmatically, "great robbers always
resemble honest folks. Fellows who have rascally faces have only one
course to take, and that is to remain honest; otherwise they would be
arrested off-hand. The artistic thing is, to unmask honest
countenances; it's no light task, I admit, but a real art."
Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.
Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors of
various nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to
and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected. The weather was
clear, and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town loomed above the
houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier, some two thousand
yards along, extended into the roadstead. A number of fishing-smacks
and coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient
galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.
As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit, scrutinised
the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.
It was now half-past ten.
"The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.
"She can't be far off now," returned his companion.
"How long will she stop at Suez?"
"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen hundred
and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and
she has to take in a fresh coal supply."
"And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"
"Without putting in anywhere."
"Good!" said Fix. "If the robber is on board he will no doubt get off
at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some
other route. He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in
India, which is English soil."
"Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd. An English
criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere
This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and
meanwhile the consul went away to his office. Fix, left alone, was
more impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on
board the Mongolia. If he had indeed left London intending to reach
the New World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was
less watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic.
But Fix's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp
whistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia. The porters and
fellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the
shore to go and meet the steamer. Soon her gigantic hull appeared
passing along between the banks, and eleven o'clock struck as she
anchored in the road. She brought an unusual number of passengers,
some of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the
town, while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on
Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure
which made its appearance. Presently one of the passengers, after
vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,
came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English
consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have
visaed. Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance
read the description of its bearer. An involuntary motion of surprise
nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical
with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.
"Is this your passport?" asked he.
"No, it's my master's."
"And your master is--"
"He stayed on board."
"But he must go to the consul's in person, so as to establish his
"Oh, is that necessary?"
"And where is the consulate?"
"There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a house two
hundred steps off.
"I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to be
The passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.
WHICH ONCE MORE DEMONSTRATES THE USELESSNESS OF PASSPORTS AS AIDS TO
The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the
consul's office, where he was at once admitted to the presence of that
"Consul," said he, without preamble, "I have strong reasons for
believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated
what had just passed concerning the passport.
"Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see the
rascal's face; but perhaps he won't come here--that is, if he is the
person you suppose him to be. A robber doesn't quite like to leave
traces of his flight behind him; and, besides, he is not obliged to
have his passport countersigned."
"If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."
"To have his passport visaed?"
"Yes. Passports are only good for annoying honest folks, and aiding in
the flight of rogues. I assure you it will be quite the thing for him
to do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."
"Why not? If the passport is genuine I have no right to refuse."
"Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest
him from London."
"Ah, that's your look-out. But I cannot--"
The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was
heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the
servant whom Fix had met on the quay. The other, who was his master,
held out his passport with the request that the consul would do him the
favour to visa it. The consul took the document and carefully read it,
whilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes
from a corner of the room.
"You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the passport.
"And this man is your servant?"
"He is: a Frenchman, named Passepartout."
"You are from London?"
"And you are going--"
"Very good, sir. You know that a visa is useless, and that no passport
"I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by your
visa, that I came by Suez."
"Very well, sir."
The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he
added his official seal. Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly
bowed, and went out, followed by his servant.
"Well?" queried the detective.
"Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the
"Possibly; but that is not the question. Do you think, consul, that
this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber
whose description I have received?"
"I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions--"
"I'll make certain of it," interrupted Fix. "The servant seems to me
less mysterious than the master; besides, he's a Frenchman, and can't
help talking. Excuse me for a little while, consul."
Fix started off in search of Passepartout.
Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the quay,
gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the Mongolia in a
boat, and descended to his cabin. He took up his note-book, which
contained the following memoranda:
"Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8.45 p.m. "Reached Paris,
Thursday, October 3rd, at 7.20 a.m. "Left Paris, Thursday, at 8.40
a.m. "Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6.35 a.m.
"Left Turin, Friday, at 7.20 a.m. "Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday,
October 5th, at 4 p.m. "Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.
"Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m. "Total of hours
spent, 158+; or, in days, six days and a half."
These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,
indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the
stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point Paris, Brindisi,
Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco,
New York, and London--from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December;
and giving a space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered
on arrival at each locality. This methodical record thus contained an
account of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was
behind-hand or in advance of his time. On this Friday, October 9th, he
noted his arrival at Suez, and observed that he had as yet neither
gained nor lost. He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never
once thinking of inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who
are wont to see foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TALKS RATHER MORE, PERHAPS, THAN IS PRUDENT
Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on
the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to
"Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is your
"Ah, it's you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout. "Thanks, yes,
the passport is all right."
"And you are looking about you?"
"Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"
"Certainly, in Egypt."
"And in Africa?"
"In Africa!" repeated Passepartout. "Just think, monsieur, I had no
idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris
was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in
the morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the
windows of a car, and in a driving rain! How I regret not having seen
once more Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"
"You are in a great hurry, then?"
"I am not, but my master is. By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts. We came away without trunks, only with a carpet-bag."
"I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."
"Really, monsieur, you are very kind."
And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they
"Above all," said he; "don't let me lose the steamer."
"You have plenty of time; it's only twelve o'clock."
Passepartout pulled out his big watch. "Twelve!" he exclaimed; "why,
it's only eight minutes before ten."
"Your watch is slow."
"My watch? A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather! It doesn't vary five minutes in the year. It's a
perfect chronometer, look you."
"I see how it is," said Fix. "You have kept London time, which is two
hours behind that of Suez. You ought to regulate your watch at noon in
"I regulate my watch? Never!"
"Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."
"So much the worse for the sun, monsieur. The sun will be wrong, then!"
And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture. After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed: "You left London
"I rather think so! Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off."
"But where is your master going?"
"Always straight ahead. He is going round the world."
"Round the world?" cried Fix.
"Yes, and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager; but, between us, I
don't believe a word of it. That wouldn't be common sense. There's
something else in the wind."
"Ah! Mr. Fogg is a character, is he?"
"I should say he was."
"Is he rich?"
"No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand new banknotes
with him. And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either: he has
offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to
Bombay well in advance of time."
"And you have known your master a long time?"
"Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."
The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited
detective may be imagined. The hasty departure from London soon after
the robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his eagerness to reach
distant countries; the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet--all
confirmed Fix in his theory. He continued to pump poor Passepartout,
and learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who
lived a solitary existence in London, was said to be rich, though no
one knew whence came his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in
his affairs and habits. Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land
at Suez, but was really going on to Bombay.
"Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.
"Pretty far. It is a ten days' voyage by sea."
"And in what country is Bombay?"
"The deuce! I was going to tell you there's one thing that worries
"My gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this moment
burning at my expense. I have calculated, monsieur, that I lose two
shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I
earn; and you will understand that the longer our journey--"
Did Fix pay any attention to Passepartout's trouble about the gas? It
is not probable. He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his
companion to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss the
steamer, and hurried back to the consulate. Now that he was fully
convinced, Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.
"Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt. I have spotted my man.
He passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in
"Then he's a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on
returning to London after putting the police of the two countries off
"We'll see about that," replied Fix.
"But are you not mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken."
"Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had
passed through Suez?"
"Why? I have no idea; but listen to me."
He reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation
"In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this man.
And what are you going to do?"
"Send a dispatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be dispatched
instantly to Bombay, take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my
rogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him politely, with
my warrant in my hand, and my hand on his shoulder."
Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective
took leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph office, whence
he sent the dispatch which we have seen to the London police office. A
quarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small bag in his hand,
proceeding on board the Mongolia; and, ere many moments longer, the
noble steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea.
IN WHICH THE RED SEA AND THE INDIAN OCEAN PROVE PROPITIOUS TO THE
DESIGNS OF PHILEAS FOGG
The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and
ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one
hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it. The Mongolia,
thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so
rapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that
time. The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for
India some for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the
nearest route thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.
Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of
various grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British
forces or commanding the Sepoy troops, and receiving high salaries ever
since the central government has assumed the powers of the East India
Company: for the sub-lieutenants get 280 pounds, brigadiers, 2,400
pounds, and generals of divisions, 4,000 pounds. What with the
military men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels, and
the hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the
Mongolia. The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at
breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies
scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were
whirled away, when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.
But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like most
long and narrow gulfs. When the wind came from the African or Asian
coast the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearfully. Then the
ladies speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing and
dancing suddenly ceased. Yet the good ship ploughed straight on,
unretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb. What
was Phileas Fogg doing all this time? It might be thought that, in his
anxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind, the
disorderly raging of the billows--every chance, in short, which might
force the Mongolia to slacken her speed, and thus interrupt his
journey. But, if he thought of these possibilities, he did not betray
the fact by any outward sign.
Always the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no incident
could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers, and seldom
having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through the
memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not care to
recognise the historic towns and villages which, along its borders,
raised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and betrayed no fear
of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always
spoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never
ventured without propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices. How did
this eccentric personage pass his time on the Mongolia? He made his
four hearty meals every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling
and pitching on the part of the steamer; and he played whist
indefatigably, for he had found partners as enthusiastic in the game as
himself. A tax-collector, on the way to his post at Goa; the Rev.
Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at Bombay; and a
brigadier-general of the English army, who was about to rejoin his
brigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr. Fogg, played whist
by the hour together in absorbing silence.
As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped sea-sickness, and took his
meals conscientiously in the forward cabin. He rather enjoyed the
voyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in
the scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself with
the delusion that his master's whim would end at Bombay. He was
pleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging
person with whom he had walked and chatted on the quays.
"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person, with his most
amiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to
guide me at Suez?"
"Ah! I quite recognise you. You are the servant of the strange
"Just so, monsieur--"
"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm charmed to find you on
board. Where are you bound?"
"Like you, to Bombay."
"That's capital! Have you made this trip before?"
"Several times. I am one of the agents of the Peninsular Company."
"Then you know India?"
"Why yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.
"A curious place, this India?"
"Oh, very curious. Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, snakes, elephants! I hope you will have ample time to see the
"I hope so, Monsieur Fix. You see, a man of sound sense ought not to
spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the
world in eighty days! No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will
cease at Bombay."
"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural tone
in the world.
"Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea air."
"But I never see your master on deck."
"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."
"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty days
may conceal some secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic mission?"
"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would I
give half a crown to find out."
After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting
together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man's
confidence. He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale
in the steamer bar-room, which Passepartout never failed to accept with
graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows.
Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th, Mocha,
surrounded by its ruined walls whereon date-trees were growing, was
sighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee-fields.
Passepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and thought
that, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked like an
immense coffee-cup and saucer. The following night they passed through
the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic The Bridge of Tears,
and the next day they put in at Steamer Point, north-west of Aden
harbour, to take in coal. This matter of fuelling steamers is a
serious one at such distances from the coal-mines; it costs the
Peninsular Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year. In these
distant seas, coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton.
The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse
before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer
Point to coal up. But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect
Phileas Fogg's programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching
Aden on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived there on the
evening of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.
Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport again
visaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them. The visa procured, Mr. Fogg
returned on board to resume his former habits; while Passepartout,
according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of
Somalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the
twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden. He gazed with wonder upon
the fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian
Ocean, and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at
work, two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.
"Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on
returning to the steamer. "I see that it is by no means useless to
travel, if a man wants to see something new." At six p.m. the
Mongolia slowly moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on
the Indian Ocean. She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to
reach Bombay, and the sea was favourable, the wind being in the
north-west, and all sails aiding the engine. The steamer rolled but
little, the ladies, in fresh toilets, reappeared on deck, and the
singing and dancing were resumed. The trip was being accomplished most
successfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial
companion which chance had secured him in the person of the delightful
Fix. On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight of the
Indian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board. A range of
hills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms
which adorn Bombay came distinctly into view. The steamer entered the
road formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past four she hauled
up at the quays of Bombay.
Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber of the
voyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured
all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a
The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from
London, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF WITH THE LOSS OF HIS
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base
in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces
fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally
a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The British
Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of
this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,
governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor
But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred
thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one
hundred and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion of
India is still free from British authority; and there are certain
ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. The
celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the
English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city
of Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection. It
gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the
native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general
and his subordinates, civil and military. But the East India Company
has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly
under the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well as
the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods
of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches;
now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great
railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its
route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days.
This railway does not run in a direct line across India. The distance
between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one
thousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road
increase this distance by more than a third.
The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows:
Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continent
opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence
north-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent
territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,
meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little,
and, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town of
Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.
The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at
exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.
Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the
steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to
be at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which
beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to
the passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay its famous city
hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,
synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar
Hill, with its two polygonal towers--he cared not a straw to see them.
He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or
the mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those
fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the
island of Salcette.
Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg
repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.
Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended
a certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.
Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,
found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord, and, on his
appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"
"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."
"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"
"Mew, my lord! What, a rabbit mew! I swear to you--"
"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were
formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals. That was a good
"For the cats, my lord?"
"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone on
shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the
headquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a London
detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs
relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had
arrived from London. It had not reached the office; indeed, there had
not yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely disappointed, and
tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay
police. This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London
office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant. Fix did not
insist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of the
important document; but he was determined not to lose sight of the
mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay. He did not doubt for
a moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain
there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on
leaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay
as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended
at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He began
to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in
good earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,
despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!
Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a
leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many
nationalities--Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round
turbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and
long-robed Armenians--were collected. It happened to be the day of a
Parsee festival. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster--the most
thrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among
whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay--were
celebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows,
in the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-coloured
gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect
modesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines. It is
needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with
staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the
greenest booby imaginable.
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him
unconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seen
the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps
towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on
Malabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its
interior. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to
enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in
without first leaving their shoes outside the door. It may be said
here that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a
disregard of the practices of the native religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,
and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation
which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself
sprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enraged
priests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to
beat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soon
upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his
long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of
his toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could
carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd
in the streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and
having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed
breathlessly into the station.
Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was
really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He had
resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if
necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an
obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words
to Mr. Fogg.
"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly, as
he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed
his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering another
carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
"No, I'll stay," muttered he. "An offence has been committed on Indian
soil. I've got my man."
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out
into the darkness of the night.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS OF CONVEYANCE AT A
The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number
of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigo merchants,
whose business called them to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode in
the same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a
seat opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr.
Fogg's whist partners on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps
at Benares. Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatly
distinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt. He made India his
home, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals; and was
almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history, and character
of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg, who was not travelling, but
only describing a circumference, took no pains to inquire into these
subjects; he was a solid body, traversing an orbit around the
terrestrial globe, according to the laws of rational mechanics. He was
at this moment calculating in his mind the number of hours spent since
his departure from London, and, had it been in his nature to make a
useless demonstration, would have rubbed his hands for satisfaction.
Sir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his travelling
companion--although the only opportunity he had for studying him had
been while he was dealing the cards, and between two rubbers--and
questioned himself whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold
exterior, and whether Phileas Fogg had any sense of the beauties of
nature. The brigadier-general was free to mentally confess that, of
all the eccentric persons he had ever met, none was comparable to this
product of the exact sciences.
Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design of going
round the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out; and the
general only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity and a lack of
sound common sense. In the way this strange gentleman was going on, he
would leave the world without having done any good to himself or
An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaducts and the
Island of Salcette, and had got into the open country. At Callyan they
reached the junction of the branch line which descends towards
south-eastern India by Kandallah and Pounah; and, passing Pauwell, they
entered the defiles of the mountains, with their basalt bases, and
their summits crowned with thick and verdant forests. Phileas Fogg and
Sir Francis Cromarty exchanged a few words from time to time, and now
Sir Francis, reviving the conversation, observed, "Some years ago, Mr.
Fogg, you would have met with a delay at this point which would
probably have lost you your wager."
"How so, Sir Francis?"
"Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, which the
passengers were obliged to cross in palanquins or on ponies to
Kandallah, on the other side."
"Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the least," said Mr.
Fogg. "I have constantly foreseen the likelihood of certain obstacles."
"But, Mr. Fogg," pursued Sir Francis, "you run the risk of having some
difficulty about this worthy fellow's adventure at the pagoda."
Passepartout, his feet comfortably wrapped in his travelling-blanket,
was sound asleep and did not dream that anybody was talking about him.
"The Government is very severe upon that kind of offence. It takes
particular care that the religious customs of the Indians should be
respected, and if your servant were caught--"
"Very well, Sir Francis," replied Mr. Fogg; "if he had been caught he
would have been condemned and punished, and then would have quietly
returned to Europe. I don't see how this affair could have delayed his
The conversation fell again. During the night the train left the
mountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next day proceeded over
the flat, well-cultivated country of the Khandeish, with its straggling
villages, above which rose the minarets of the pagodas. This fertile
territory is watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams,
mostly tributaries of the Godavery.
Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realise that he was
actually crossing India in a railway train. The locomotive, guided by
an English engineer and fed with English coal, threw out its smoke upon
cotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations, while the steam
curled in spirals around groups of palm-trees, in the midst of which
were seen picturesque bungalows, viharis (sort of abandoned
monasteries), and marvellous temples enriched by the exhaustless
ornamentation of Indian architecture. Then they came upon vast tracts
extending to the horizon, with jungles inhabited by snakes and tigers,
which fled at the noise of the train; succeeded by forests penetrated
by the railway, and still haunted by elephants which, with pensive
eyes, gazed at the train as it passed. The travellers crossed, beyond
Milligaum, the fatal country so often stained with blood by the
sectaries of the goddess Kali. Not far off rose Ellora, with its
graceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad, capital of the ferocious
Aureng-Zeb, now the chief town of one of the detached provinces of the
kingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts that Feringhea, the Thuggee
chief, king of the stranglers, held his sway. These ruffians, united
by a secret bond, strangled victims of every age in honour of the
goddess Death, without ever shedding blood; there was a period when
this part of the country could scarcely be travelled over without
corpses being found in every direction. The English Government has
succeeded in greatly diminishing these murders, though the Thuggees
still exist, and pursue the exercise of their horrible rites.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor where Passepartout
was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with false
pearls, in which, with evident vanity, he proceeded to encase his feet.
The travellers made a hasty breakfast and started off for Assurghur,
after skirting for a little the banks of the small river Tapty, which
empties into the Gulf of Cambray, near Surat.
Passepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie. Up to his arrival
at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journey would end there;
but, now that they were plainly whirling across India at full speed, a
sudden change had come over the spirit of his dreams. His old vagabond
nature returned to him; the fantastic ideas of his youth once more took
possession of him. He came to regard his master's project as intended
in good earnest, believed in the reality of the bet, and therefore in
the tour of the world and the necessity of making it without fail
within the designated period. Already he began to worry about possible
delays, and accidents which might happen on the way. He recognised
himself as being personally interested in the wager, and trembled at
the thought that he might have been the means of losing it by his
unpardonable folly of the night before. Being much less cool-headed
than Mr. Fogg, he was much more restless, counting and recounting the
days passed over, uttering maledictions when the train stopped, and
accusing it of sluggishness, and mentally blaming Mr. Fogg for not
having bribed the engineer. The worthy fellow was ignorant that, while
it was possible by such means to hasten the rate of a steamer, it could
not be done on the railway.
The train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains, which separate
the Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards evening. The next day Sir
Francis Cromarty asked Passepartout what time it was; to which, on
consulting his watch, he replied that it was three in the morning.
This famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich meridian,
which was now some seventy-seven degrees westward, was at least four
hours slow. Sir Francis corrected Passepartout's time, whereupon the
latter made the same remark that he had done to Fix; and upon the
general insisting that the watch should be regulated in each new
meridian, since he was constantly going eastward, that is in the face
of the sun, and therefore the days were shorter by four minutes for
each degree gone over, Passepartout obstinately refused to alter his
watch, which he kept at London time. It was an innocent delusion which
could harm no one.
The train stopped, at eight o'clock, in the midst of a glade some
fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows, and
workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted,
"Passengers will get out here!"
Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but the
general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of this forest of
dates and acacias.
Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedily returned,
crying: "Monsieur, no more railway!"
"What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.
"I mean to say that the train isn't going on."
The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed
him, and they proceeded together to the conductor.
"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.
"At the hamlet of Kholby."
"Do we stop here?"
"Certainly. The railway isn't finished."
"What! not finished?"
"No. There's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to
Allahabad, where the line begins again."
"But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."
"What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken."
"Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," retorted Sir Francis,
who was growing warm.
"No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know that they
must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to
Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout would willingly have knocked the
conductor down, and did not dare to look at his master.
"Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg quietly, "we will, if you please, look
about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."
"Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."
"No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."
"What! You knew that the way--"
"Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or
later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days,
which I have already gained, to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta
for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall
reach Calcutta in time."
There was nothing to say to so confident a response.
It was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this
point. The papers were like some watches, which have a way of getting
too fast, and had been premature in their announcement of the
completion of the line. The greater part of the travellers were aware
of this interruption, and, leaving the train, they began to engage such
vehicles as the village could provide four-wheeled palkigharis, waggons
drawn by zebus, carriages that looked like perambulating pagodas,
palanquins, ponies, and what not.
Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village from end
to end, came back without having found anything.
"I shall go afoot," said Phileas Fogg.
Passepartout, who had now rejoined his master, made a wry grimace, as
he thought of his magnificent, but too frail Indian shoes. Happily he
too had been looking about him, and, after a moment's hesitation, said,
"Monsieur, I think I have found a means of conveyance."
"An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but a
hundred steps from here."
"Let's go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg.
They soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within some high
palings, was the animal in question. An Indian came out of the hut,
and, at their request, conducted them within the enclosure. The
elephant, which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but
for warlike purposes, was half domesticated. The Indian had begun
already, by often irritating him, and feeding him every three months on
sugar and butter, to impart to him a ferocity not in his nature, this
method being often employed by those who train the Indian elephants for
battle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal's instruction in
this direction had not gone far, and the elephant still preserved his
natural gentleness. Kiouni--this was the name of the beast--could
doubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and, in default of any other
means of conveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are
far from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce, the males,
which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought, especially
as but few of them are domesticated. When therefore Mr. Fogg proposed
to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused point-blank. Mr. Fogg
persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour for the
loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty pounds? Refused
also. Forty pounds? Still refused. Passepartout jumped at each
advance; but the Indian declined to be tempted. Yet the offer was an
alluring one, for, supposing it took the elephant fifteen hours to
reach Allahabad, his owner would receive no less than six hundred
Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed to
purchase the animal outright, and at first offered a thousand pounds
for him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a great
bargain, still refused.
Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to reflect
before he went any further; to which that gentleman replied that he was
not in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
was at stake, that the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and
that he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his value.
Returning to the Indian, whose small, sharp eyes, glistening with
avarice, betrayed that with him it was only a question of how great a
price he could obtain. Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then
fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. Passepartout,
usually so rubicund, was fairly white with suspense.
At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
"What a price, good heavens!" cried Passepartout, "for an elephant."
It only remained now to find a guide, which was comparatively easy. A
young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr.
Fogg accepted, promising so generous a reward as to materially
stimulate his zeal. The elephant was led out and equipped. The
Parsee, who was an accomplished elephant driver, covered his back with
a sort of saddle-cloth, and attached to each of his flanks some
curiously uncomfortable howdahs. Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with
some banknotes which he extracted from the famous carpet-bag, a
proceeding that seemed to deprive poor Passepartout of his vitals.
Then he offered to carry Sir Francis to Allahabad, which the brigadier
gratefully accepted, as one traveller the more would not be likely to
fatigue the gigantic beast. Provisions were purchased at Kholby, and,
while Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took the howdahs on either side,
Passepartout got astride the saddle-cloth between them. The Parsee
perched himself on the elephant's neck, and at nine o'clock they set
out from the village, the animal marching off through the dense forest
of palms by the shortest cut.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND HIS COMPANIONS VENTURE ACROSS THE INDIAN
FORESTS, AND WHAT ENSUED
In order to shorten the journey, the guide passed to the left of the
line where the railway was still in process of being built. This line,
owing to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia Mountains, did not
pursue a straight course. The Parsee, who was quite familiar with the
roads and paths in the district, declared that they would gain twenty
miles by striking directly through the forest.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, plunged to the neck in the
peculiar howdahs provided for them, were horribly jostled by the swift
trotting of the elephant, spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee;
but they endured the discomfort with true British phlegm, talking
little, and scarcely able to catch a glimpse of each other. As for
Passepartout, who was mounted on the beast's back, and received the
direct force of each concussion as he trod along, he was very careful,
in accordance with his master's advice, to keep his tongue from between
his teeth, as it would otherwise have been bitten off short. The
worthy fellow bounced from the elephant's neck to his rump, and vaulted
like a clown on a spring-board; yet he laughed in the midst of his
bouncing, and from time to time took a piece of sugar out of his
pocket, and inserted it in Kiouni's trunk, who received it without in
the least slackening his regular trot.
After two hours the guide stopped the elephant, and gave him an hour
for rest, during which Kiouni, after quenching his thirst at a
neighbouring spring, set to devouring the branches and shrubs round
about him. Neither Sir Francis nor Mr. Fogg regretted the delay, and
both descended with a feeling of relief. "Why, he's made of iron!"
exclaimed the general, gazing admiringly on Kiouni.
"Of forged iron," replied Passepartout, as he set about preparing a
At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country soon
presented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and dwarf-palms
succeeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains, dotted with scanty
shrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite. All this portion of
Bundelcund, which is little frequented by travellers, is inhabited by a
fanatical population, hardened in the most horrible practices of the
Hindoo faith. The English have not been able to secure complete
dominion over this territory, which is subjected to the influence of
rajahs, whom it is almost impossible to reach in their inaccessible
mountain fastnesses. The travellers several times saw bands of
ferocious Indians, who, when they perceived the elephant striding
across-country, made angry and threatening motions. The Parsee avoided
them as much as possible. Few animals were observed on the route; even
the monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces which
convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy
servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got to
Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell
him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some
consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a
present of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these
thoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.
The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the
evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined
bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an
equal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few
dry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased at
Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The
conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave
place to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept
standing, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree.
Nothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, although
occasional growls front panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the
silence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostile
demonstration against the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept
heavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout
was wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for
Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serene
mansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reach
Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part of
the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni,
resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the
Vindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on
the Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoided
inhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which
lies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river.
Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stopped
under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread and
as succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.
At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended several
miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had not
as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the
point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming
restless, suddenly stopped.
It was then four o'clock.
"What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
"I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to a
confused murmur which came through the thick branches.
The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant
concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout
was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The
Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and
plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent their
seeing us, if possible."
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the same
time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready to
bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight become
necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful
would pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which
they were wholly concealed.
The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and now
droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.
The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred
paces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious
ceremony were easily distinguished through the branches. First came
the priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace
robes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a
kind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the
tambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with large
wheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with each
other. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus,
stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red,
with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tinted
with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate and
Sir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali; the
goddess of love and death."
"Of death, perhaps," muttered back Passepartout, "but of love--that
ugly old hag? Never!"
The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.
A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round the
statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence
their blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, in the great
Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of
Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental
apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.
This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and
gems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with
gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her
The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to
her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and
long damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was
the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a
rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of
tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and
the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians
and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the
noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.
Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning
to the guide, said, "A suttee."
The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in
the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally
cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow
at the dawn of day."
"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his
"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."
"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the
least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and
that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"
"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," replied
Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, and
especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the
Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."
"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"
"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not, you
cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from
her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty
allowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as
an unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog.
The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures
to the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism.
Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires
the active interference of the Government to prevent it. Several years
ago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the
governor to be burned along with her husband's body; but, as you may
imagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took refuge with an
independent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."
While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,
and now said: "The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn is
not a voluntary one."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"
observed Sir Francis.
"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and
"But where are they taking her?"
"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night
"And the sacrifice will take place--"
"To-morrow, at the first light of dawn."
The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon his
neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with
a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir Francis
Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."
"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
"I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."
"Why, you are a man of heart!"
"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT RECEIVES A NEW PROOF THAT FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE
The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable.
Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the
success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir
Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.
As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed.
His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that
icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.
There remained the guide: what course would he adopt? Would he not
take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was
necessary to be assured of his neutrality.
Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.
"Officers," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a
Parsee. Command me as you will."
"Excellent!" said Mr. Fogg.
"However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall
risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."
"That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg. "I think we must wait till night
"I think so," said the guide.
The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said,
was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a
wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English
education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would
be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was
married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing
the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the
rajah's relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice
from which it seemed she could not escape.
The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the
elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached
as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a
copse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well
concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs
They then discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was
familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the
young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while
the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it
safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be
determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain
that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of
day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human
intervention could save her.
As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a
reconnaissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just
ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the
drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be
possible to slip between them to the temple itself.
The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and
in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream,
whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of
wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was
to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above
the trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.
"Come!" whispered the guide.
He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his
companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of
the wind among the branches.
Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up
by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,
motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with
the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.
In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed
distinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the
rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to
and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching
The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance
to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be
attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered
"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may also
go to sleep."
"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an
observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by
the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of
They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,
and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be
counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the
walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the
priests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as
were the soldiers at the door.
After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a
roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached
the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there
was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.
The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the
It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their
pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood,
which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had
been taken out, the rest would yield easily.
They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a
cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly
by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide
stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common
prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas
Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and
waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding
themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly
enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there
installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.
It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus
interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how,
then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout
was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The
tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.
"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.
"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.
"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."
"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and--"
"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."
Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes. What was
this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for
the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch
her from her executioners?
This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such
a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this
terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where
they were able to observe the sleeping groups.
Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches
of a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a
flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.
He had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he
repeated, "Why not, after all? It's a chance perhaps the only one; and
with such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a
serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the
The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of
day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering
multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries
arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda
swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst
of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed,
having shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape
from her executioner. Sir Francis's heart throbbed; and, convulsively
seizing Mr. Fogg's hand, found in it an open knife. Just at this
moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again fallen into
a stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who
escorted her with their wild, religious cries.
Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the
crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the
stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the
rajah's corpse. In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite
senseless, stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was
brought, and the wood, heavily soaked with oil, instantly took fire.
At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in
an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he
had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed.
A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves,
terror-stricken, on the ground.
The old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a
spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in
the midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly
Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there,
with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and
behold such a prodigy.
The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr.
Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and
Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.
The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in an
abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"
It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst
of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had
delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing
his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the
A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and
the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and
noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat, apprised
them that the trick had been discovered.
The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and
the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction
had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the
soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter
rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found
themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY
OF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF SEEING IT
The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout
laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow's
hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which, from him, was high
commendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the
affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with
a "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,
Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse
of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young
Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing,
and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the
The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was
advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after
leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at
seven o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete
prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but
the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. Sir
Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced
by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But he
was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas
Fogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall
again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were
scattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police,
recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only be
safe by quitting India for ever.
Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and, the
interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach
Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be
able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next
day, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station,
whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various
articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master
gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, and
found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the City of God,
one of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the
two sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract
pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according to
the legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma's
agency, it descends to the earth.
Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a good
look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has
since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and
Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to
frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty
Jew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dress
of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for
which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returned
triumphantly to the station.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began
gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes
resumed all their soft Indian expression.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen of
Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:
"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious
contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and
freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama,
the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest
reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of
Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth,
fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops
in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed
ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the
lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of
Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple
waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her
rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower
displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of
her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike
hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda,
that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of the
phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not
exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her
The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded to
pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing
more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master
owed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in the
adventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by the
Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni,
also, must be disposed of. What should be done with the elephant,
which had been so dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg had already
determined this question.
"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted.
I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you
like to have this elephant? He is yours."
The guide's eyes glistened.
"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout. "Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him
several lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout
around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.
Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which
replaced him gently on the ground.
Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were
whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles,
and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman
fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself
in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and
with travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions first
set about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis
narrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which
Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and
recounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of
Passepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout,
abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't worth telling."
Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than
words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.
Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and
recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.
Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and offered,
in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might
remain safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which she
eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,
who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an
English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends
assert that this city is built on the site of the ancient Casi, which,
like Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth;
though the Benares of to-day, which the Orientalists call the Athens of
India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartout
caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of
desolation to the place, as the train entered it.
Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he was
rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade
adieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hope
that he would come that way again in a less original but more
profitable fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The
parting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis,
betrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty
shake of the hand from the gallant general.
The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of
the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had
glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains
clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles
peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still
thickly-leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the
sacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and
chilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were
fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being
Vishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural
forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. What
would these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, with
steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls
which float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and
the faithful dwelling upon its borders?
The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam
concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely
discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares,
the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its
famous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on
the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a
large manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principal
opium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is
as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries,
edgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke
Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the
roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before the
locomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour,
Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town
of Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his
country's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.
Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for
Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of
October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was
therefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time. The two days gained
between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the
journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg
IN WHICH THE BAG OF BANKNOTES DISGORGES SOME THOUSANDS OF POUNDS MORE
The train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first, was
followed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in
order to get Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage. He was
unwilling to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.
Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to
"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped
him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
"She may," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri, a
sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took
their places and were driven away. No one spoke during the twenty
minutes which elapsed before they reached their destination. They
first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its
miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the
"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,
shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it
was early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages
were passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which, however, did
not have the appearance of a private mansion. The policeman having
requested his prisoners for so, truly, they might be called-to descend,
conducted them into a room with barred windows, and said: "You will
appear before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg: "Sir,
you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive
this treatment, it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible. It
was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not, in any event, abandon
Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help muttering to
himself, "Parbleu that's certain! Before noon we shall be on board."
But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall. It
was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite
the desks of the magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after, Judge
Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered. He
proceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it
hurriedly on his head.
"The first case," said he. Then, putting his hand to his head, he
exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big
clock over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Present," responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two
days on the trains from Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"
"Have you been ill-treated?"
"Not at all."
"Very well; let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were
going to burn our young lady."
The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against
Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a
place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."
"You admit it?"
"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,
what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand what
"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where
they were on the point of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the
pagoda of Malabar Hill, at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very
shoes, which he left behind him."
Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.
"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape him.
The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair at
Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.
Fix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had
consulted the priests of Malabar Hill. Knowing that the English
authorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanour, he
promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to
Calcutta by the next train. Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of
the young widow, Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before
Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having been already warned by
a dispatch to arrest them should they arrive. Fix's disappointment
when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in
Calcutta may be imagined. He made up his mind that the robber had
stopped somewhere on the route and taken refuge in the southern
provinces. For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish
anxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout
arrive, accompanied by a young woman, whose presence he was wholly at a
loss to explain. He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the
party came to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied
the detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room, watching the
proceedings with an interest easily understood; for the warrant had
failed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash exclamation,
which the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally and
sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man Passepartout
has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill, at
Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout to
imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness
of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the act
was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and as
the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his
paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a
fine of one hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could be
detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant
to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence ruined his
master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a
precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the least
concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being
pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and
said, "I offer bail."
"You have that right," returned the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the
judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one
"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills
from the carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on
the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison," said
the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."
"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout
"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to
him. "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the
crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes that the robber
would not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him, but
would decide to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on Mr.
Fogg's traces. That gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon
landed on one of the quays.
The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal of
departure hoisted at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr.
Fogg was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage
and push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet with
"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end
of the world if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on, the stolen
money will soon be exhausted."
The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of
the elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than
five thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum
recovered from the bank robber promised to the detectives, was rapidly
IN WHICH FIX DOES NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND IN THE LEAST WHAT IS SAID TO
The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats plying
in the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron,
weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of
four hundred horse-power. She was as fast, but not as well fitted up,
as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board
of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished. However, the trip from
Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred
miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not
difficult to please.
During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude
for what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,
apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner
betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the
watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He visited
her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk. He treated her with the strictest
politeness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of
which had been arranged for this purpose. Aouda did not quite know
what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of
his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the
wager which was sending him round the world. After all, she owed
Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the exalting
medium of her gratitude.
Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing
in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet
by the English government. Aouda was a relative of this great man, and
it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr.
Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything
would be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged. Aouda
fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"
upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem
at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.
The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming
above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores, but the
savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not,
as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.
The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb. Vast
forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and
tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful
outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the
coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire. The varied
landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and
the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave
access to the China seas.
What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,
doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at
Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,
if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong
Kong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without
awakening Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance
with the worthy servant, as will be seen.
All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for
the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to
take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the
robber would probably escape him for ever. Hong Kong was the last
English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,
America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge. If the warrant
should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him
and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no
further trouble. But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no
avail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would result
in delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take advantage to
Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he
spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or
it will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I
should delay his departure. I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed
at Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost: Cost what
it may, I must succeed! But how shall I prevent his departure, if that
should turn out to be my last resource?"
Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his
master really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was
very certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid
of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an
ally of the detective. But this method was a dangerous one, only to be
employed when everything else had failed. A word from Passepartout to
his master would ruin all. The detective was therefore in a sore
strait. But suddenly a new idea struck him. The presence of Aouda on
the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for
Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay
and Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone
into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel? Fix was
fairly puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked
elopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he
determined to make use of the supposed intrigue. Whether the young
woman were married or not, he would be able to create such difficulties
for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount
But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before
anything could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.
Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the
Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to
question Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.
It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.
Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The
detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and
exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"
"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished
Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia. "Why, I left you
at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong! Are you going
round the world too?"
"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some
"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed. "But
how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth. The Gulf
of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how
is Mr. Fogg?"
"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time! But, Monsieur
Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what
Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the
Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds,
the rescue, the arrest, and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the
restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who was
familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all
that Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so
interested a listener.
"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
"Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection of
one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."
"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment. "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"
"Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass on
board the Rangoon."
SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG
The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,
though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to
divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a glimpse of
that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined
himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his
inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance
kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It was
really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent
person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board
the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his
destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was
following Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step. What was Fix's object?
Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously
preserved--that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with
them, and probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber
around the globe. But, as it is in human nature to attempt the
solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an
explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from
unreasonable. Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's
friends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain
that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.
"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness. "He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite the
thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man! Ah,
gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to
his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the
part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had
the chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray
his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having
gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg
noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who
betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously,
without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his
sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no
mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park
checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn
by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda
into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of
clove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields;
sago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of
this tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air
with a penetrating perfume. Agile and grinning bands of monkeys
skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical
fruits and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely
followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a
bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck. He was
only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very
gracefully for them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a
few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited
by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of
Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be
in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for
Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.
The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,
Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus
aided the steamer's progress. The captain as often as possible put up
his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel
made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China. Owing
to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual
precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of
time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout
out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and
consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the
pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly
burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot
"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
"A very great hurry!"
"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it."
"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had the
Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But
how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet,
in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his
"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as
to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"
"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps--"
"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to
Bombay, and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from
America to Europe is only a step."
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene
as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted in
chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.
"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."
"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his
reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his
master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or
not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these
things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then
persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then
undecided what course it was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved
to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it practicable
to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave
that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,
and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;
or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his
interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile Phileas
Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit around the
world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet
there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star,
which might have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart. But
no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great
surprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more
difficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas Fogg,
though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless. As to
the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was
clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the
screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves; and
this made Passepartout indignant.
"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are not
going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG, PASSEPARTOUT, AND FIX GO EACH ABOUT HIS BUSINESS
The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage. The wind,
obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale, and retarded the
steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the passengers became
impatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised before
their path. A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall
knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running high. The
Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much,
whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was forced to
proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach Hong
Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty
hours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost
inevitably cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve
manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm
were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed
to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable
that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now
the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects,
his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and
steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were
to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made
him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.
Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction,
for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained
himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed
the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how
long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the
barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout
shook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor
maledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.
On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened
its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails were
unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The time lost
could not, however, be regained. Land was not signalled until five
o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama
steamer would, of course, be missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which
still remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to
Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg
would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave
Hong Kong for Yokohama.
"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the
pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till to-morrow."
"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.
Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him
this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.
At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were
Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left
on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg
was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not
seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not
sail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four
hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily
regained in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found
himself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.
The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to
the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her
cousin Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh
had left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an
immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe--in Holland the
broker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally
traded. Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment's
conversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that
Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."
"But I cannot intrude--"
"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to
him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master's order.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER, AND
WHAT COMES OF IT
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by
the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius
of the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent
port. The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is
separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on
the opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the
Chinese trade, and now the greater part of the transportation of
Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals,
wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other
modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans
who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed to him not
unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed
everywhere the evidence of English supremacy. At the Victoria port he
found a confused mass of ships of all nations: English, French,
American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and
Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many
floating parterres. Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the
natives who seemed very old and were dressed in yellow. On going into
a barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at
least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow,
which is the Imperial colour. Passepartout, without exactly knowing
why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was
not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The detective seemed
very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform
Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived
that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed, good reasons to
inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him. The warrant had not
come! It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now
reach Hong Kong for several days; and, this being the last English
territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless he could
manage to detain him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with
us so far as America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your berth."
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs
on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that
very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I will
go and let him know."
Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout
all. It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg
several days longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion
into a tavern which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they
found themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of
which was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons
lay upon this bed in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were
arranged about the room some thirty customers were drinking English
beer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes
stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose. From
time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip
under the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and
feet, carried and laid him upon the bed. The bed already supported
twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by
those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the
amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted
to one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity! The
Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by
stringent laws. It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at
first exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its ravages
could not be arrested. Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by
men and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the
victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily
contortions and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight
pipes a day; but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens
that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's
invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that
was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
to-morrow; I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's face
seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If
you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as well
waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more
excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes
a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to
interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some time
ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.
The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he
spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that
the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he
will help me."
He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an agent
of the members of the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and
the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for securing
your innocent complicity."
"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured. Here is his description; it
answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes. And
yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his
hands, and did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg, the
saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet how
many presumptions there were against him! Passepartout essayed to
reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not
wish to believe that his master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as
yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to
London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have
been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and
I will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world. I come
from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."
"Yes; let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the
liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from
his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium
lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He took
it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,
becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he will
have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
IN WHICH FIX COMES FACE TO FACE WITH PHILEAS FOGG
While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly
escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them. It was all very
well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with
a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under
such conditions. He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity,
and invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who
was confused by his patience and generosity:
"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."
The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a
sumptuously served table-d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with
her protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest.
Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The
Times and Illustrated London News.
Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been
not to see his servant return at bedtime. But, knowing that the
steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did
not disturb himself about the matter. When Passepartout did not appear
the next morning to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying
the least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-bag,
calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide,
the Carnatic would leave the harbour. Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the
palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half
an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark. Mr.
Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before. He
had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was
forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his
face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;
At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not, like me,
sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"
"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honour--"
"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."
"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.
"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
"Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic, its
repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated
time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained at
Hong Kong for a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law. His horror
may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But
there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the
harbour of Hong Kong."
And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks
in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed; it
seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had
hitherto served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about
the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to
carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were
loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail. Fix
began to hope again.
But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted
by a sailor on one of the wharves.
"Is your honour looking for a boat?"
"Have you a boat ready to sail?"
"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."
"Does she go fast?"
"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
"Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
"No; for a voyage."
"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is
your honour joking?"
"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."
"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two
hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
"Are you in earnest?"
"Very much so."
The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the
fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would
"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time
of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is
sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."
"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"It's the same thing."
Fix breathed more freely.
"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
Fix ceased to breathe at all.
"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us."
"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
"Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai."
"You are sure of that?"
"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good
luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai."
"And you could go--"
"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"
"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
"Would you like some earnest-money?"
"If it would not put your honour out--"
"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"
"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."
"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,
the others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of
money to be spent in the search for him. The same formalities having
been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having
stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,
they returned to the wharf.
It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride
taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her two masts leaned a
trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and
standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she
seemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by
gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races. The crew of the Tankadere
was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who
were familiar with the Chinese seas. John Bunsby, himself, a man of
forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly
expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.
Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a
table provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined,
"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,
who bowed without responding.
The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.
"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the
quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,
whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have
ensued. But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was
still lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.
John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.
IN WHICH THE MASTER OF THE "TANKADERE" RUNS GREAT RISK OF LOSING A
REWARD OF TWO HUNDRED POUNDS
This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of
twenty tons, and at that season of the year. The Chinese seas are
usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and especially
during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.
It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his
passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he
would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent
even to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby believed in the
Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a seagull; and perhaps he was
Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong
Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favourable winds, conducted
"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open
sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."
"Trust me, your honour. We are carrying all the sail the wind will let
us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going
"Its your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."
Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a
sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters. The young
woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out
upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had
ventured in so frail a vessel. Above her head rustled the white sails,
which seemed like great white wings. The boat, carried forward by the
wind, seemed to be flying in the air.
Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.
Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the
The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these
seas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not
uncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock
would shatter the gallant little craft.
Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation. He kept apart
from his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had
accepted. He was thinking, too, of the future. It seemed certain that
Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for
San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would ensure him impunity
and safety. Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in the world.
Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a
common villain, he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to
gain the American continent more surely; and there, after throwing the
police off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune
stolen from the bank. But, once in the United States, what should he,
Fix, do? Should he abandon this man? No, a hundred times no! Until
he had secured his extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an
hour. It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end. At all
events, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not
with his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences
Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have speech with
Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did
not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have
embarked on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's
opinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom
she owed so much. They might then find him at Yokohama; for, if the
Carnatic was carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he
had been on board.
A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have been
prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the
heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The Tankadere bore
sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was
prepared for high speed in case of a gale.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been
already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots. The
pilot and crew remained on deck all night.
At sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had made more
than one hundred miles. The log indicated a mean speed of between
eight and nine miles. The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was
accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If the wind held as it
was, the chances would be in her favour. During the day she kept along
the coast, where the currents were favourable; the coast, irregular in
profile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most five
miles distant. The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off
land--a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing
to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.
The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
south-west. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again
within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate
with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he
accepted with secret chagrin. To travel at this man's expense and live
upon his provisions was not palatable to him. Still, he was obliged to
eat, and so he ate.
When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir"--this
"sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid
collaring this "gentleman"--"sir, you have been very kind to give me a
passage on this boat. But, though my means will not admit of my
expending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share--"
"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.
"But, if I insist--"
"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
"This enters into my general expenses."
Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and, going forward, where he
ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.
Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high
hope. He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai
in time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it.
The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be
gained. There was not a sheet which was not tightened not a sail which
was not vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at
the helm. They worked as desperately as if they were contesting in a
Royal yacht regatta.
By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been
accomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be
able to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his journal; in
which case, the many misadventures which had overtaken him since he
left London would not seriously affect his journey.
The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the island
of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and
crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very rough in the straits,
full of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the chopping waves
broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.
At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed
to predict a gale. The barometer announced a speedy change, the
mercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the
south-east, raised long surges which indicated a tempest. The sun had
set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the
phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.
John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low
voice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honour?"
"Well, we are going to have a squall."
"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.
"South. Look! a typhoon is coming up."
"Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward."
"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing more to
say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less advanced
season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist,
would have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but
in the winter equinox it was to be feared that it would burst upon them
with great violence.
The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the
pole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows. A
single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib,
so as to hold the wind from behind. Then they waited.
John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat
bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix,
nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.
The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock.
With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a
wind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To compare her
speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be
below the truth.
The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to
theirs. Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these
mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit management of
the pilot saved her. The passengers were often bathed in spray, but
they submitted to it philosophically. Fix cursed it, no doubt; but
Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed
her, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm. As
for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his
Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north;
but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from
the north-west. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook
and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence. At
night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the approach
of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings. He
thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken
speed. After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I
think, your honour, that we should do well to make for one of the ports
on the coast."
"I think so too."
"Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?"
"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.
"And that is--"
The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely
realise so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well--yes!
Your honour is right. To Shanghai!"
So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.
The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did
not founder. Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew
had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but did not
utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from
the violence of the waves.
Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but
the wind now returned to the south-east. It was a favourable change,
and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though
the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks
which would have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time
the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in
sight. The Tankadere was alone upon the sea.
There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct
as the sun descended toward the horizon. The tempest had been as brief
as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a
little, and take some repose.
The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good. The next morning at
dawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that
they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and
only one day to traverse them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at
Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had
there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would
be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.
The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it. All
sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five
miles of Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish
that distance. All on board feared that it could not be done, and
every one--Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with
impatience. The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour,
and the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious
breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became
smooth. Still, the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught
the fickle zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the currents John
Bunsby found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles from the
mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve
miles up the stream. At seven they were still three miles from
Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred
pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He looked at Mr.
Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole fortune was
at this moment at stake.
At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of
smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American
steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.
"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.
A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for
making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as
the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg
said, "Hoist your flag!"
The flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would
change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot-boat.
"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon resounded
in the air.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT FINDS OUT THAT, EVEN AT THE ANTIPODES, IT IS
CONVENIENT TO HAVE SOME MONEY IN ONE'S POCKET
The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th
of November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan. She
carried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers. Two
state-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied--those which had been
engaged by Phileas Fogg.
The next day a passenger with a half-stupefied eye, staggering gait,
and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to
totter to a seat on deck.
It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:
Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved for
the smokers. Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed
idea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the stupefying
influence of the narcotic. The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off
his torpor, and he hurried from the abode of drunkenness. Staggering
and holding himself up by keeping against the walls, falling down and
creeping up again, and irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he
kept crying out, "The Carnatic! the Carnatic!"
The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.
Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he
crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was
moving off. Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this
sort of scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin,
and Passepartout did not wake until they were one hundred and fifty
miles away from China. Thus he found himself the next morning on the
deck of the Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze.
The pure air sobered him. He began to collect his sense, which he
found a difficult task; but at last he recalled the events of the
evening before, Fix's revelation, and the opium-house.
"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably
drunk! What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not missed the
steamer, which is the most important thing."
Then, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are well
rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us on
board the Carnatic. A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of
robbing the Bank of England! Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than
I am a murderer."
Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master? Would it do to tell
the part the detective was playing. Would it not be better to wait
until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an
agent of the metropolitan police had been following him round the
world, and have a good laugh over it? No doubt; at least, it was worth
considering. The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologise
for his singular behaviour.
Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the rolling
of the steamer, to the after-deck. He saw no one who resembled either
his master or Aouda. "Good!" muttered he; "Aouda has not got up yet,
and Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist."
He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout had
only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's state-room.
The purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of
"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently. "He is a tall
gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young
"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser. "Here is a
list of the passengers; you may see for yourself."
Passepartout scanned the list, but his master's name was not upon it.
All at once an idea struck him.
"Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"
"On the way to Yokohama?"
Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;
but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.
He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He remembered
that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed
his master of that fact, and that he had not done so. It was his
fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer. Yes, but
it was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate
him from his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled
him into getting drunk! He now saw the detective's trick; and at this
moment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself
perhaps arrested and imprisoned! At this thought Passepartout tore his
hair. Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of
accounts there would be!
After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to
study his situation. It was certainly not an enviable one. He found
himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got there?
His pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling, not so much as a
penny. His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he
had five or six days in which to decide upon his future course. He
fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
himself. He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert,
where nothing to eat was to be looked for.
At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama. This is
an important port of call in the Pacific, where all the mail-steamers,
and those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and
the Oriental islands put in. It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and
at but a short distance from that second capital of the Japanese
Empire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the
Mikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own. The
Carnatic anchored at the quay near the custom-house, in the midst of a
crowd of ships bearing the flags of all nations.
Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the
Sons of the Sun. He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for
his guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama. He
found himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses
having low fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he
caught glimpses of neat peristyles. This quarter occupied, with its
streets, squares, docks, and warehouses, all the space between the
"promontory of the Treaty" and the river. Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, Americans and English,
Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.
The Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had
dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.
He had, at least, one resource to call on the French and English
consuls at Yokohama for assistance. But he shrank from telling the
story of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of
his master; and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other
means of aid. As chance did not favour him in the European quarter, he
penetrated that inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if
necessary, to push on to Yeddo.
The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of
the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about. There
Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a
singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and
reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where were
sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable
streets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked
children, who looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens,
and who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish
cats, might have been gathered.
The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house
officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes,
and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in silken doubles,
hauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all
ranks--for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it
is despised in China--went hither and thither in groups and pairs.
Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple
civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts,
slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper-colour
to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the
Japanese widely differ. He did not fail to observe the curious
equipages--carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and
litters made of bamboo; nor the women--whom he thought not especially
handsome--who took little steps with their little feet, whereon they
wore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who
displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened,
and gowns crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind
an ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from
the dames of Japan.
Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley
crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the
jewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the
restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where
the odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from
the fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses, where
they were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a
very fine, stringy tobacco. He went on till he found himself in the
fields, in the midst of vast rice plantations. There he saw dazzling
camellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth
their last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and
within bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees, which the
Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and
which queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the
sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds. On the branches
of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the
weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every
hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a multitude of cranes,
which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds symbolise
long life and prosperity.
As he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among the
"Good!" said he; "I'll have some supper."
But, on smelling them, he found that they were odourless.
"No chance there," thought he.
The worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty a
breakfast as possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he had been
walking about all day, the demands of hunger were becoming importunate.
He observed that the butchers stalls contained neither mutton, goat,
nor pork; and, knowing also that it is a sacrilege to kill cattle,
which are preserved solely for farming, he made up his mind that meat
was far from plentiful in Yokohama--nor was he mistaken; and, in
default of butcher's meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild
boar or deer, a partridge, or some quails, some game or fish, which,
with rice, the Japanese eat almost exclusively. But he found it
necessary to keep up a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he craved
till the following morning. Night came, and Passepartout re-entered
the native quarter, where he wandered through the streets, lit by
vari-coloured lanterns, looking on at the dancers, who were executing
skilful steps and boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open
air with their telescopes. Then he came to the harbour, which was lit
up by the resin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their
The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of
which, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,
Passepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling
crowd. Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to
himself: "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT'S NOSE BECOMES OUTRAGEOUSLY LONG
The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself
that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did
so the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have
starved first. Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious
voice which nature had bestowed upon him. He knew several French and
English songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be
lovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals,
tam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.
It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and
the audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not
possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features.
Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was
sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well
dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck him to change his
garments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he
might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of
hunger. The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.
It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native
dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange. The man
liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his
shop accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban,
faded with long use. A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled
in his pocket.
"Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"
His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea-house
of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to
breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.
"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my head.
I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese. I must
consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which I shall not
retain the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."
It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave for
America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of
his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he would find some means
of going on. The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand
seven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New
Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed
his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them, his project,
which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more
formidable to his mind. What need would they have of a cook or servant
on an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him,
dressed as he was? What references could he give?
As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets. This
placard, which was in English, read as follows:
ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,
HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES,
LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU!
"The United States!" said Passepartout; "that's just what I want!"
He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese
quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin,
adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which
were designed to represent, in violent colours and without perspective,
a company of jugglers.
This was the Honourable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts,
who, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before
leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.
Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.
"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for
"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.
"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which
hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient and faithful,
have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they
are," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as
large as the strings of a bass-viol.
"So I can be of no use to you?"
"The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"
"Ah!" said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese
than I am a monkey! Who are you dressed up in that way?"
"A man dresses as he can."
"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"
"Yes; a Parisian of Paris."
"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"
"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should
cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is
true but not any better than the Americans do."
"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You
see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign
parts French clowns."
"You are pretty strong, eh?"
"Especially after a good meal."
"And you can sing?"
"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the
"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your
left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"
"Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of
his younger days.
"Well, that's enough," said the Honourable William Batulcar.
The engagement was concluded there and then.
Passepartout had at last found something to do. He was engaged to act
in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not a very dignified
position, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.
The performance, so noisily announced by the Honourable Mr. Batulcar,
was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the deafening instruments of
a Japanese orchestra resounded at the door. Passepartout, though he
had not been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated to lend
the aid of his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human
pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This "great
attraction" was to close the performance.
Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators,
comprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and
children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and into
the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a position inside,
and were vigorously performing on their gongs, tam-tams, flutes, bones,
tambourines, and immense drums.
The performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be
confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.
One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick of
the butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with the
odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words, which composed a
compliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some lighted
candles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his lips,
and relit again without interrupting for an instant his juggling.
Another reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning-top;
in his hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of
their own in their interminable whirling; they ran over pipe-stems, the
edges of sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage; they
turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo ladders,
dispersed into all the corners, and produced strange musical effects by
the combination of their various pitches of tone. The jugglers tossed
them in the air, threw them like shuttlecocks with wooden battledores,
and yet they kept on spinning; they put them into their pockets, and
took them out still whirling as before.
It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the acrobats
and gymnasts. The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels, &c., was
executed with wonderful precision.
But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a
show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.
The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage of
the god Tingou. Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages, they
bore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what especially
distinguished them was the long noses which were fastened to their
faces, and the uses which they made of them. These noses were made of
bamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some straight,
others curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon
them. It was upon these appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses,
that they performed their gymnastic exercises. A dozen of these
sectaries of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others, dressed to
represent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses, jumping
from one to another, and performing the most skilful leapings and
As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which fifty
Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut. But, instead of
forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders, the artists were
to group themselves on top of the noses. It happened that the
performer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had quitted the
troupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were
necessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.
The poor fellow really felt sad when--melancholy reminiscence of his
youth!--he donned his costume, adorned with vari-coloured wings, and
fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet long. But he
cheered up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to
He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who were to
compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut. They all stretched
themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the ceiling. A second
group of artists disposed themselves on these long appendages, then a
third above these, then a fourth, until a human monument reaching to
the very cornices of the theatre soon arose on top of the noses. This
elicited loud applause, in the midst of which the orchestra was just
striking up a deafening air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was
lost, one of the lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human
monument was shattered like a castle built of cards!
It was Passepartout's fault. Abandoning his position, clearing the
footlights without the aid of his wings, and, clambering up to the
right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators,
crying, "Ah, my master! my master!"
"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honourable Mr.
Batulcar, furious with rage. He demanded damages for the "breakage" of
the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by giving him a handful of
At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and
nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.
DURING WHICH MR. FOGG AND PARTY CROSS THE PACIFIC OCEAN
What happened when the pilot-boat came in sight of Shanghai will be
easily guessed. The signals made by the Tankadere had been seen by the
captain of the Yokohama steamer, who, espying the flag at half-mast,
had directed his course towards the little craft. Phileas Fogg, after
paying the stipulated price of his passage to John Busby, and rewarding
that worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds,
ascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix; and they started at once for
Nagasaki and Yokohama.
They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of November.
Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic, where he
learned, to Aouda's great delight--and perhaps to his own, though he
betrayed no emotion--that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived
on her the day before.
The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening, and
it became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay.
Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after
wandering through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding
his missing servant. Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at
last led him into the Honourable Mr. Batulcar's theatre. He certainly
would not have recognised Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank's
costume; but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the
gallery. He could not help starting, which so changed the position of
his nose as to bring the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the stage.
All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what had
taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the Tankadere,
in company with one Mr. Fix.
Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name. He
thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what
had taken place between the detective and himself; and, in the account
he gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having been
overtaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.
Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then
furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in
harmony with his position. Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off
his nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him
which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.
The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco
belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the
General Grant. She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand
five hundred tons; well equipped and very fast. The massive
walking-beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston-rod
worked up and down; and at the other was a connecting-rod which, in
changing the rectilinear motion to a circular one, was directly
connected with the shaft of the paddles. The General Grant was rigged
with three masts, giving a large capacity for sails, and thus
materially aiding the steam power. By making twelve miles an hour, she
would cross the ocean in twenty-one days. Phileas Fogg was therefore
justified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of
December, New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th--thus gaining
several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.
There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them English,
many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to California,
and several East Indian officers, who were spending their vacation in
making the tour of the world. Nothing of moment happened on the
voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles, rolled but little,
and the Pacific almost justified its name. Mr. Fogg was as calm and
taciturn as ever. His young companion felt herself more and more
attached to him by other ties than gratitude; his silent but generous
nature impressed her more than she thought; and it was almost
unconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did not seem to have
the least effect upon her protector. Aouda took the keenest interest
in his plans, and became impatient at any incident which seemed likely
to retard his journey.
She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the
state of the lady's heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics,
he never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg's honesty, generosity,
and devotion. He took pains to calm Aouda's doubts of a successful
termination of the journey, telling her that the most difficult part of
it had passed, that now they were beyond the fantastic countries of
Japan and China, and were fairly on their way to civilised places
again. A railway train from San Francisco to New York, and a
transatlantic steamer from New York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring
them to the end of this impossible journey round the world within the
period agreed upon.
On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed
exactly one half of the terrestrial globe. The General Grant passed,
on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth meridian, and
was at the very antipodes of London. Mr. Fogg had, it is true,
exhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to complete the
tour, and there were only twenty-eight left. But, though he was only
half-way by the difference of meridians, he had really gone over
two-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long
circuits from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to
Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama. Could he have followed
without deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of London, the
whole distance would only have been about twelve thousand miles;
whereas he would be forced, by the irregular methods of locomotion, to
traverse twenty-six thousand, of which he had, on the 23rd of November,
accomplished seventeen thousand five hundred. And now the course was a
straight one, and Fix was no longer there to put obstacles in their way!
It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made a
joyful discovery. It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had
insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on
regarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false
and unreliable. Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands,
he found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship's chronometers.
His triumph was hilarious. He would have liked to know what Fix would
say if he were aboard!
"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout, "about the
meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed! moonshine more
likely! If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time
one would keep! I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself
by my watch!"
Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been
divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have
no reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then,
instead of as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning, indicate nine
o'clock in the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight
precisely the difference between London time and that of the one
hundred and eightieth meridian. But if Fix had been able to explain
this purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have admitted, even
if he had comprehended it. Moreover, if the detective had been on
board at that moment, Passepartout would have joined issue with him on
a quite different subject, and in an entirely different manner.
Where was Fix at that moment?
He was actually on board the General Grant.
On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he expected
to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the English
consulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest. It had
followed him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic, on which
steamer he himself was supposed to be. Fix's disappointment may be
imagined when he reflected that the warrant was now useless. Mr. Fogg
had left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure his
"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not good
here, but it will be in England. The rogue evidently intends to return
to his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his track.
Good! I will follow him across the Atlantic. As for the money, heaven
grant there may be some left! But the fellow has already spent in
travelling, rewards, trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts of charges,
more than five thousand pounds. Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!"
His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was
there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived. To his utter amazement, he
recognised Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise. He quickly
concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and
hoped--thanks to the number of passengers--to remain unperceived by Mr.
On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the
forward deck. The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped
him by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans,
who immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a
perfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French
over English pugilistic skill.
When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and
comforted. Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at
his adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"
"For this time--yes."
"Then let me have a word with you."
"In your master's interests."
Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he quietly
followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.
"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix. "Good, I expected it. Now,
listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's adversary. I am
now in his game."
"Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"
"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal. Sh! don't budge, and
let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my
interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived. I did
everything I could to keep him back. I sent the Bombay priests after
him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and
I made him miss the Yokohama steamer."
Passepartout listened, with closed fists.
"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England. Well,
I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to keep
obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in
his path. I've changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for
my interest to change it. Your interest is the same as mine; for it is
only in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service
of a criminal or an honest man."
Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that
he spoke with entire good faith.
"Are we friends?" asked the detective.
"Friends?--no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps. At the
least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you."
"Agreed," said the detective quietly.
Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered
the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.
Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.
IN WHICH A SLIGHT GLIMPSE IS HAD OF SAN FRANCISCO
It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set
foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the
floating quay upon which they disembarked. These quays, rising and
falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of
vessels. Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all
nationalities, and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above
the other, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were
also heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico,
Chili, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.
Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent,
thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine
style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them.
Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon
the New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the
innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these
movable quays, that they flew noisily away.
Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the
first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o'clock
p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the Californian
capital. Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda
entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and
they set out for the International Hotel.
From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the
wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic
churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses,
the numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the
side-walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians.
Passepartout was surprised at all he saw. San Francisco was no longer
the legendary city of 1849--a city of banditti, assassins, and
incendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a
paradise of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in
one hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was now a great commercial
The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the
streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles, and in the
midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond
appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial
Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were
rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere
worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking men. Some
of the streets--especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco
what Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris,
and Broadway to New York--were lined with splendid and spacious
stores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to
him as if he had left England at all.
The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of
restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried
beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their
purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was
drunk. This seemed "very American" to Passepartout. The hotel
refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing
themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by
negroes of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going out, he
met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking
the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt's
revolvers. He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains
by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution,
but told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.
He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the greatest
chance in the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed wholly taken by
surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific
together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix felt honoured to
behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and, as his
business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the
journey in such pleasant company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective--who
was determined not to lose sight of him--begged permission to accompany
them in their walk about San Francisco--a request which Mr. Fogg
They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd
was collected; the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors,
the windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people.
Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers
were floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.
"Hurrah for Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"
It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. There may
be danger in it."
"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political are
Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without
being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a
flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street.
Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf
and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the
open air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.
For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to
nominate some high official--a governor or member of Congress? It was
not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.
Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass. All
the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to
disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries--an energetic way, no
doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags
wavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters. The
undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads
floundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall. Many of the
black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to
have diminished in height.
"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that question is settled."
"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.
"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene with
surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was.
Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and
excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used
as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction. Thumps
were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had
been blocked up in the crowd. Boots and shoes went whirling through
the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers
mingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed over
the lower step. One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but
the mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had
gained the upper hand.
"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious that
Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to
London. "If there is any question about England in all this, and we
were recognised, I fear it would go hard with us."
"An English subject--" began Mr. Fogg.
He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the
terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were
frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found
themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape. The torrent
of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible. Phileas
Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their
fair companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself
with the weapons which nature has placed at the end of every
Englishman's arm, but in vain. A big brawny fellow with a red beard,
flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the
band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have
given a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and received it in his
stead. An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the
detective's silk hat, which was completely smashed in.
"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
"Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"
"When you please."
"What is your name?"
"Phileas Fogg. And yours?"
"Colonel Stamp Proctor."
The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got
upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily, he was not
seriously hurt. His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal
parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit
less compactly than they are easy to put on. Aouda had escaped
unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue
"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of
"No thanks are necessary," replied. Fix; "but let us go."
"To a tailor's."
Such a visit was, indeed, opportune. The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and
Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the
contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour after, they were once
more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International
Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barrelled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but
Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his
countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was no longer
an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.
Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their
luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was getting in, Mr.
Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?"
"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be
treated in that way, without retaliating."
The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr. Fogg
was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at
home, fight abroad when their honour is attacked.
At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found
the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg
called a porter, and said to him: "My friend, was there not some
trouble to-day in San Francisco?"
"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets."
"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."
"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."
Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND PARTY TRAVEL BY THE PACIFIC RAILROAD
"From ocean to ocean"--so say the Americans; and these four words
compose the general designation of the "great trunk line" which crosses
the entire width of the United States. The Pacific Railroad is,
however, really divided into two distinct lines: the Central Pacific,
between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union Pacific, between Ogden
and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omaha with New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal
ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and
eighty-six miles. Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a
territory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts, and a
large tract which the Mormons, after they were driven from Illinois in
1845, began to colonise.
The journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly, under
the most favourable conditions, at least six months. It is now
accomplished in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress, who
wished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road between
the forty-first and forty-second parallels. President Lincoln himself
fixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was at once
commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor did the rapidity
with which it went on injuriously affect its good execution. The road
grew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day. A locomotive, running
on the rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid
on the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put in
The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa, Kansas,
Colorado, and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes along the left bank
of the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern branch,
follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the
Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt Lake
City, the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley, across the
American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and
descends, via Sacramento, to the Pacific--its grade, even on the Rocky
Mountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would enable
Phileas Fogg--at least, so he hoped--to take the Atlantic steamer at
New York on the 11th for Liverpool.
The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight wheels,
and with no compartments in the interior. It was supplied with two
rows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on either
side of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.
These platforms were found throughout the train, and the passengers
were able to pass from one end of the train to the other. It was
supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants, and smoking-cars;
theatre cars alone were wanting, and they will have these some day.
Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars, who
seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating in the
The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was already night,
cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which seemed
to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly; counting the
stoppages, it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a
sufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its
There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the
passengers were overcome with sleep. Passepartout found himself beside
the detective; but he did not talk to him. After recent events, their
relations with each other had grown somewhat cold; there could no
longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them. Fix's manner had
not changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to strangle
his former friend on the slightest provocation.
Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,
which happily could not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen from
the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke of the
locomotive had a greyish aspect.
At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that the time
for going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes the car was
transformed into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back,
bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system,
berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had soon at his
disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick
curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows soft. It only
remained to go to bed and sleep which everybody did--while the train
sped on across the State of California.
The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.
The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting-point, extends
eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line from San Francisco to
Sacramento runs in a north-easterly direction, along the American
River, which empties into San Pablo Bay. The one hundred and twenty
miles between these cities were accomplished in six hours, and towards
midnight, while fast asleep, the travellers passed through Sacramento;
so that they saw nothing of that important place, the seat of the State
government, with its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels,
squares, and churches.
The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin,
Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada. 'Cisco was
reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was
transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the
picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were
steaming. The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now
approaching the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding
abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which
seemed to have no outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a
weird light, with its sharp bell, and its cow-catcher extended like a
spur, mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and
cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.
There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to
violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.
The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about
nine o'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno,
where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.
From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and
kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the
extreme eastern limit of Nevada.
Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places in
the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
they passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,
and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams. Sometimes a great
herd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a
moveable dam. These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often
form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands
of them have been seen passing over the track for hours together, in
compact ranks. The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the
road is once more clear.
This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo
encumbered the track. The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to
clear the way with its cow-catcher; but the mass of animals was too
great. The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now
and then deafening bellowings. There was no use of interrupting them,
for, having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and
change their course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could
The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms; but
Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry, remained
in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please the
buffaloes to get out of the way.
Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to
discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.
"What a country!" cried he. "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by in
a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel! Parbleu! I
should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme!
And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this
herd of beasts!"
The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise. He
would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow-catcher;
but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked, the
train would inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then
have been helpless.
The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by
greater speed when the obstacle was removed. The procession of
buffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track
was clear. The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails,
while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the
Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the region
of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT UNDERGOES, AT A SPEED OF TWENTY MILES AN HOUR, A
COURSE OF MORMON HISTORY
During the night of the 5th of December, the train ran south-easterly
for about fifty miles; then rose an equal distance in a north-easterly
direction, towards the Great Salt Lake.
Passepartout, about nine o'clock, went out upon the platform to take
the air. The weather was cold, the heavens grey, but it was not
snowing. The sun's disc, enlarged by the mist, seemed an enormous ring
of gold, and Passepartout was amusing himself by calculating its value
in pounds sterling, when he was diverted from this interesting study by
a strange-looking personage who made his appearance on the platform.
This personage, who had taken the train at Elko, was tall and dark,
with black moustache, black stockings, a black silk hat, a black
waistcoat, black trousers, a white cravat, and dogskin gloves. He
might have been taken for a clergyman. He went from one end of the
train to the other, and affixed to the door of each car a notice
written in manuscript.
Passepartout approached and read one of these notices, which stated
that Elder William Hitch, Mormon missionary, taking advantage of his
presence on train No. 48, would deliver a lecture on Mormonism in car
No. 117, from eleven to twelve o'clock; and that he invited all who
were desirous of being instructed concerning the mysteries of the
religion of the "Latter Day Saints" to attend.
"I'll go," said Passepartout to himself. He knew nothing of Mormonism
except the custom of polygamy, which is its foundation.
The news quickly spread through the train, which contained about one
hundred passengers, thirty of whom, at most, attracted by the notice,
ensconced themselves in car No. 117. Passepartout took one of the
front seats. Neither Mr. Fogg nor Fix cared to attend.
At the appointed hour Elder William Hitch rose, and, in an irritated
voice, as if he had already been contradicted, said, "I tell you that
Joe Smith is a martyr, that his brother Hiram is a martyr, and that the
persecutions of the United States Government against the prophets will
also make a martyr of Brigham Young. Who dares to say the contrary?"
No one ventured to gainsay the missionary, whose excited tone
contrasted curiously with his naturally calm visage. No doubt his
anger arose from the hardships to which the Mormons were actually
subjected. The government had just succeeded, with some difficulty, in
reducing these independent fanatics to its rule. It had made itself
master of Utah, and subjected that territory to the laws of the Union,
after imprisoning Brigham Young on a charge of rebellion and polygamy.
The disciples of the prophet had since redoubled their efforts, and
resisted, by words at least, the authority of Congress. Elder Hitch,
as is seen, was trying to make proselytes on the very railway trains.
Then, emphasising his words with his loud voice and frequent gestures,
he related the history of the Mormons from Biblical times: how that, in
Israel, a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of
the new religion, and bequeathed them to his son Mormon; how, many
centuries later, a translation of this precious book, which was written
in Egyptian, was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who
revealed himself as a mystical prophet in 1825; and how, in short, the
celestial messenger appeared to him in an illuminated forest, and gave
him the annals of the Lord.
Several of the audience, not being much interested in the missionary's
narrative, here left the car; but Elder Hitch, continuing his lecture,
related how Smith, junior, with his father, two brothers, and a few
disciples, founded the church of the "Latter Day Saints," which,
adopted not only in America, but in England, Norway and Sweden, and
Germany, counts many artisans, as well as men engaged in the liberal
professions, among its members; how a colony was established in Ohio, a
temple erected there at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a
town built at Kirkland; how Smith became an enterprising banker, and
received from a simple mummy showman a papyrus scroll written by
Abraham and several famous Egyptians.
The Elder's story became somewhat wearisome, and his audience grew
gradually less, until it was reduced to twenty passengers. But this
did not disconcert the enthusiast, who proceeded with the story of
Joseph Smith's bankruptcy in 1837, and how his ruined creditors gave
him a coat of tar and feathers; his reappearance some years afterwards,
more honourable and honoured than ever, at Independence, Missouri, the
chief of a flourishing colony of three thousand disciples, and his
pursuit thence by outraged Gentiles, and retirement into the Far West.
Ten hearers only were now left, among them honest Passepartout, who was
listening with all his ears. Thus he learned that, after long
persecutions, Smith reappeared in Illinois, and in 1839 founded a
community at Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, numbering twenty-five thousand
souls, of which he became mayor, chief justice, and general-in-chief;
that he announced himself, in 1843, as a candidate for the Presidency
of the United States; and that finally, being drawn into ambuscade at
Carthage, he was thrown into prison, and assassinated by a band of men
disguised in masks.
Passepartout was now the only person left in the car, and the Elder,
looking him full in the face, reminded him that, two years after the
assassination of Joseph Smith, the inspired prophet, Brigham Young, his
successor, left Nauvoo for the banks of the Great Salt Lake, where, in
the midst of that fertile region, directly on the route of the
emigrants who crossed Utah on their way to California, the new colony,
thanks to the polygamy practised by the Mormons, had flourished beyond
"And this," added Elder William Hitch, "this is why the jealousy of
Congress has been aroused against us! Why have the soldiers of the
Union invaded the soil of Utah? Why has Brigham Young, our chief, been
imprisoned, in contempt of all justice? Shall we yield to force?
Never! Driven from Vermont, driven from Illinois, driven from Ohio,
driven from Missouri, driven from Utah, we shall yet find some
independent territory on which to plant our tents. And you, my
brother," continued the Elder, fixing his angry eyes upon his single
auditor, "will you not plant yours there, too, under the shadow of our
"No!" replied Passepartout courageously, in his turn retiring from the
car, and leaving the Elder to preach to vacancy.
During the lecture the train had been making good progress, and towards
half-past twelve it reached the northwest border of the Great Salt
Lake. Thence the passengers could observe the vast extent of this
interior sea, which is also called the Dead Sea, and into which flows
an American Jordan. It is a picturesque expanse, framed in lofty crags
in large strata, encrusted with white salt--a superb sheet of water,
which was formerly of larger extent than now, its shores having
encroached with the lapse of time, and thus at once reduced its breadth
and increased its depth.
The Salt Lake, seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, is situated
three miles eight hundred feet above the sea. Quite different from
Lake Asphaltite, whose depression is twelve hundred feet below the sea,
it contains considerable salt, and one quarter of the weight of its
water is solid matter, its specific weight being 1,170, and, after
being distilled, 1,000. Fishes are, of course, unable to live in it,
and those which descend through the Jordan, the Weber, and other
streams soon perish.
The country around the lake was well cultivated, for the Mormons are
mostly farmers; while ranches and pens for domesticated animals, fields
of wheat, corn, and other cereals, luxuriant prairies, hedges of wild
rose, clumps of acacias and milk-wort, would have been seen six months
later. Now the ground was covered with a thin powdering of snow.
The train reached Ogden at two o'clock, where it rested for six hours,
Mr. Fogg and his party had time to pay a visit to Salt Lake City,
connected with Ogden by a branch road; and they spent two hours in this
strikingly American town, built on the pattern of other cities of the
Union, like a checker-board, "with the sombre sadness of right-angles,"
as Victor Hugo expresses it. The founder of the City of the Saints
could not escape from the taste for symmetry which distinguishes the
Anglo-Saxons. In this strange country, where the people are certainly
not up to the level of their institutions, everything is done
"squarely"--cities, houses, and follies.
The travellers, then, were promenading, at three o'clock, about the
streets of the town built between the banks of the Jordan and the spurs
of the Wahsatch Range. They saw few or no churches, but the prophet's
mansion, the court-house, and the arsenal, blue-brick houses with
verandas and porches, surrounded by gardens bordered with acacias,
palms, and locusts. A clay and pebble wall, built in 1853, surrounded
the town; and in the principal street were the market and several
hotels adorned with pavilions. The place did not seem thickly
populated. The streets were almost deserted, except in the vicinity of
the temple, which they only reached after having traversed several
quarters surrounded by palisades. There were many women, which was
easily accounted for by the "peculiar institution" of the Mormons; but
it must not be supposed that all the Mormons are polygamists. They are
free to marry or not, as they please; but it is worth noting that it is
mainly the female citizens of Utah who are anxious to marry, as,
according to the Mormon religion, maiden ladies are not admitted to the
possession of its highest joys. These poor creatures seemed to be
neither well off nor happy. Some--the more well-to-do, no doubt--wore
short, open, black silk dresses, under a hood or modest shawl; others
were habited in Indian fashion.
Passepartout could not behold without a certain fright these women,
charged, in groups, with conferring happiness on a single Mormon. His
common sense pitied, above all, the husband. It seemed to him a
terrible thing to have to guide so many wives at once across the
vicissitudes of life, and to conduct them, as it were, in a body to the
Mormon paradise with the prospect of seeing them in the company of the
glorious Smith, who doubtless was the chief ornament of that delightful
place, to all eternity. He felt decidedly repelled from such a
vocation, and he imagined--perhaps he was mistaken--that the fair ones
of Salt Lake City cast rather alarming glances on his person. Happily,
his stay there was but brief. At four the party found themselves again
at the station, took their places in the train, and the whistle sounded
for starting. Just at the moment, however, that the locomotive wheels
began to move, cries of "Stop! stop!" were heard.
Trains, like time and tide, stop for no one. The gentleman who uttered
the cries was evidently a belated Mormon. He was breathless with
running. Happily for him, the station had neither gates nor barriers.
He rushed along the track, jumped on the rear platform of the train,
and fell, exhausted, into one of the seats.
Passepartout, who had been anxiously watching this amateur gymnast,
approached him with lively interest, and learned that he had taken
flight after an unpleasant domestic scene.
When the Mormon had recovered his breath, Passepartout ventured to ask
him politely how many wives he had; for, from the manner in which he
had decamped, it might be thought that he had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms heavenward--"one, and
that was enough!"
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT DOES NOT SUCCEED IN MAKING ANYBODY LISTEN TO
The train, on leaving Great Salt Lake at Ogden, passed northward for an
hour as far as Weber River, having completed nearly nine hundred miles
from San Francisco. From this point it took an easterly direction
towards the jagged Wahsatch Mountains. It was in the section included
between this range and the Rocky Mountains that the American engineers
found the most formidable difficulties in laying the road, and that the
government granted a subsidy of forty-eight thousand dollars per mile,
instead of sixteen thousand allowed for the work done on the plains.
But the engineers, instead of violating nature, avoided its
difficulties by winding around, instead of penetrating the rocks. One
tunnel only, fourteen thousand feet in length, was pierced in order to
arrive at the great basin.
The track up to this time had reached its highest elevation at the
Great Salt Lake. From this point it described a long curve, descending
towards Bitter Creek Valley, to rise again to the dividing ridge of the
waters between the Atlantic and the Pacific. There were many creeks in
this mountainous region, and it was necessary to cross Muddy Creek,
Green Creek, and others, upon culverts.
Passepartout grew more and more impatient as they went on, while Fix
longed to get out of this difficult region, and was more anxious than
Phileas Fogg himself to be beyond the danger of delays and accidents,
and set foot on English soil.
At ten o'clock at night the train stopped at Fort Bridger station, and
twenty minutes later entered Wyoming Territory, following the valley of
Bitter Creek throughout. The next day, 7th December, they stopped for
a quarter of an hour at Green River station. Snow had fallen
abundantly during the night, but, being mixed with rain, it had half
melted, and did not interrupt their progress. The bad weather,
however, annoyed Passepartout; for the accumulation of snow, by
blocking the wheels of the cars, would certainly have been fatal to Mr.
"What an idea!" he said to himself. "Why did my master make this
journey in winter? Couldn't he have waited for the good season to
increase his chances?"
While the worthy Frenchman was absorbed in the state of the sky and the
depression of the temperature, Aouda was experiencing fears from a
totally different cause.
Several passengers had got off at Green River, and were walking up and
down the platforms; and among these Aouda recognised Colonel Stamp
Proctor, the same who had so grossly insulted Phileas Fogg at the San
Francisco meeting. Not wishing to be recognised, the young woman drew
back from the window, feeling much alarm at her discovery. She was
attached to the man who, however coldly, gave her daily evidences of
the most absolute devotion. She did not comprehend, perhaps, the depth
of the sentiment with which her protector inspired her, which she
called gratitude, but which, though she was unconscious of it, was
really more than that. Her heart sank within her when she recognised
the man whom Mr. Fogg desired, sooner or later, to call to account for
his conduct. Chance alone, it was clear, had brought Colonel Proctor
on this train; but there he was, and it was necessary, at all hazards,
that Phileas Fogg should not perceive his adversary.
Aouda seized a moment when Mr. Fogg was asleep to tell Fix and
Passepartout whom she had seen.
"That Proctor on this train!" cried Fix. "Well, reassure yourself,
madam; before he settles with Mr. Fogg; he has got to deal with me! It
seems to me that I was the more insulted of the two."
"And, besides," added Passepartout, "I'll take charge of him, colonel
as he is."
"Mr. Fix," resumed Aouda, "Mr. Fogg will allow no one to avenge him.
He said that he would come back to America to find this man. Should he
perceive Colonel Proctor, we could not prevent a collision which might
have terrible results. He must not see him."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting between them might ruin
all. Whether he were victorious or beaten, Mr. Fogg would be delayed,
"And," added Passepartout, "that would play the game of the gentlemen
of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. Well, if my
master does not leave this car during those four days, we may hope that
chance will not bring him face to face with this confounded American.
We must, if possible, prevent his stirring out of it."
The conversation dropped. Mr. Fogg had just woke up, and was looking
out of the window. Soon after Passepartout, without being heard by his
master or Aouda, whispered to the detective, "Would you really fight
"I would do anything," replied Fix, in a tone which betrayed determined
will, "to get him back living to Europe!"
Passepartout felt something like a shudder shoot through his frame, but
his confidence in his master remained unbroken.
Was there any means of detaining Mr. Fogg in the car, to avoid a
meeting between him and the colonel? It ought not to be a difficult
task, since that gentleman was naturally sedentary and little curious.
The detective, at least, seemed to have found a way; for, after a few
moments, he said to Mr. Fogg, "These are long and slow hours, sir, that
we are passing on the railway."
"Yes," replied Mr. Fogg; "but they pass."
"You were in the habit of playing whist," resumed Fix, "on the
"Yes; but it would be difficult to do so here. I have neither cards
"Oh, but we can easily buy some cards, for they are sold on all the
American trains. And as for partners, if madam plays--"
"Certainly, sir," Aouda quickly replied; "I understand whist. It is
part of an English education."
"I myself have some pretensions to playing a good game. Well, here are
three of us, and a dummy--"
"As you please, sir," replied Phileas Fogg, heartily glad to resume his
favourite pastime even on the railway.
Passepartout was dispatched in search of the steward, and soon returned
with two packs of cards, some pins, counters, and a shelf covered with
The game commenced. Aouda understood whist sufficiently well, and even
received some compliments on her playing from Mr. Fogg. As for the
detective, he was simply an adept, and worthy of being matched against
his present opponent.
"Now," thought Passepartout, "we've got him. He won't budge."
At eleven in the morning the train had reached the dividing ridge of
the waters at Bridger Pass, seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four
feet above the level of the sea, one of the highest points attained by
the track in crossing the Rocky Mountains. After going about two
hundred miles, the travellers at last found themselves on one of those
vast plains which extend to the Atlantic, and which nature has made so
propitious for laying the iron road.
On the declivity of the Atlantic basin the first streams, branches of
the North Platte River, already appeared. The whole northern and
eastern horizon was bounded by the immense semi-circular curtain which
is formed by the southern portion of the Rocky Mountains, the highest
being Laramie Peak. Between this and the railway extended vast plains,
plentifully irrigated. On the right rose the lower spurs of the
mountainous mass which extends southward to the sources of the Arkansas
River, one of the great tributaries of the Missouri.
At half-past twelve the travellers caught sight for an instant of Fort
Halleck, which commands that section; and in a few more hours the Rocky
Mountains were crossed. There was reason to hope, then, that no
accident would mark the journey through this difficult country. The
snow had ceased falling, and the air became crisp and cold. Large
birds, frightened by the locomotive, rose and flew off in the distance.
No wild beast appeared on the plain. It was a desert in its vast
After a comfortable breakfast, served in the car, Mr. Fogg and his
partners had just resumed whist, when a violent whistling was heard,
and the train stopped. Passepartout put his head out of the door, but
saw nothing to cause the delay; no station was in view.
Aouda and Fix feared that Mr. Fogg might take it into his head to get
out; but that gentleman contented himself with saying to his servant,
"See what is the matter."
Passepartout rushed out of the car. Thirty or forty passengers had
already descended, amongst them Colonel Stamp Proctor.
The train had stopped before a red signal which blocked the way. The
engineer and conductor were talking excitedly with a signal-man, whom
the station-master at Medicine Bow, the next stopping place, had sent
on before. The passengers drew around and took part in the discussion,
in which Colonel Proctor, with his insolent manner, was conspicuous.
Passepartout, joining the group, heard the signal-man say, "No! you
can't pass. The bridge at Medicine Bow is shaky, and would not bear
the weight of the train."
This was a suspension-bridge thrown over some rapids, about a mile from
the place where they now were. According to the signal-man, it was in
a ruinous condition, several of the iron wires being broken; and it was
impossible to risk the passage. He did not in any way exaggerate the
condition of the bridge. It may be taken for granted that, rash as the
Americans usually are, when they are prudent there is good reason for
Passepartout, not daring to apprise his master of what he heard,
listened with set teeth, immovable as a statue.
"Hum!" cried Colonel Proctor; "but we are not going to stay here, I
imagine, and take root in the snow?"
"Colonel," replied the conductor, "we have telegraphed to Omaha for a
train, but it is not likely that it will reach Medicine Bow is less
than six hours."
"Six hours!" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly," returned the conductor, "besides, it will take us as long
as that to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"But it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Yes, but it's on the other side of the river."
"And can't we cross that in a boat?" asked the colonel.
"That's impossible. The creek is swelled by the rains. It is a rapid,
and we shall have to make a circuit of ten miles to the north to find a
The colonel launched a volley of oaths, denouncing the railway company
and the conductor; and Passepartout, who was furious, was not
disinclined to make common cause with him. Here was an obstacle,
indeed, which all his master's banknotes could not remove.
There was a general disappointment among the passengers, who, without
reckoning the delay, saw themselves compelled to trudge fifteen miles
over a plain covered with snow. They grumbled and protested, and would
certainly have thus attracted Phileas Fogg's attention if he had not
been completely absorbed in his game.
Passepartout found that he could not avoid telling his master what had
occurred, and, with hanging head, he was turning towards the car, when
the engineer, a true Yankee, named Forster called out, "Gentlemen,
perhaps there is a way, after all, to get over."
"On the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"On the bridge."
"With our train?"
"With our train."
Passepartout stopped short, and eagerly listened to the engineer.
"But the bridge is unsafe," urged the conductor.
"No matter," replied Forster; "I think that by putting on the very
highest speed we might have a chance of getting over."
"The devil!" muttered Passepartout.
But a number of the passengers were at once attracted by the engineer's
proposal, and Colonel Proctor was especially delighted, and found the
plan a very feasible one. He told stories about engineers leaping
their trains over rivers without bridges, by putting on full steam; and
many of those present avowed themselves of the engineer's mind.
"We have fifty chances out of a hundred of getting over," said one.
Passepartout was astounded, and, though ready to attempt anything to
get over Medicine Creek, thought the experiment proposed a little too
American. "Besides," thought he, "there's a still more simple way, and
it does not even occur to any of these people! Sir," said he aloud to
one of the passengers, "the engineer's plan seems to me a little
"Eighty chances!" replied the passenger, turning his back on him.
"I know it," said Passepartout, turning to another passenger, "but a
"Ideas are no use," returned the American, shrugging his shoulders, "as
the engineer assures us that we can pass."
"Doubtless," urged Passepartout, "we can pass, but perhaps it would be
"What! Prudent!" cried Colonel Proctor, whom this word seemed to
excite prodigiously. "At full speed, don't you see, at full speed!"
"I know--I see," repeated Passepartout; "but it would be, if not more
prudent, since that word displeases you, at least more natural--"
"Who! What! What's the matter with this fellow?" cried several.
The poor fellow did not know to whom to address himself.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid? Very well; I will show these people that a Frenchman can be
as American as they!"
"All aboard!" cried the conductor.
"Yes, all aboard!" repeated Passepartout, and immediately. "But they
can't prevent me from thinking that it would be more natural for us to
cross the bridge on foot, and let the train come after!"
But no one heard this sage reflection, nor would anyone have
acknowledged its justice. The passengers resumed their places in the
cars. Passepartout took his seat without telling what had passed. The
whist-players were quite absorbed in their game.
The locomotive whistled vigorously; the engineer, reversing the steam,
backed the train for nearly a mile--retiring, like a jumper, in order
to take a longer leap. Then, with another whistle, he began to move
forward; the train increased its speed, and soon its rapidity became
frightful; a prolonged screech issued from the locomotive; the piston
worked up and down twenty strokes to the second. They perceived that
the whole train, rushing on at the rate of a hundred miles an hour,
hardly bore upon the rails at all.
And they passed over! It was like a flash. No one saw the bridge.
The train leaped, so to speak, from one bank to the other, and the
engineer could not stop it until it had gone five miles beyond the
station. But scarcely had the train passed the river, when the bridge,
completely ruined, fell with a crash into the rapids of Medicine Bow.
IN WHICH CERTAIN INCIDENTS ARE NARRATED WHICH ARE ONLY TO BE MET WITH
ON AMERICAN RAILROADS
The train pursued its course, that evening, without interruption,
passing Fort Saunders, crossing Cheyne Pass, and reaching Evans Pass.
The road here attained the highest elevation of the journey, eight
thousand and ninety-two feet above the level of the sea. The
travellers had now only to descend to the Atlantic by limitless plains,
levelled by nature. A branch of the "grand trunk" led off southward to
Denver, the capital of Colorado. The country round about is rich in
gold and silver, and more than fifty thousand inhabitants are already
Thirteen hundred and eighty-two miles had been passed over from San
Francisco, in three days and three nights; four days and nights more
would probably bring them to New York. Phileas Fogg was not as yet
During the night Camp Walbach was passed on the left; Lodge Pole Creek
ran parallel with the road, marking the boundary between the
territories of Wyoming and Colorado. They entered Nebraska at eleven,
passed near Sedgwick, and touched at Julesburg, on the southern branch
of the Platte River.
It was here that the Union Pacific Railroad was inaugurated on the 23rd
of October, 1867, by the chief engineer, General Dodge. Two powerful
locomotives, carrying nine cars of invited guests, amongst whom was
Thomas C. Durant, vice-president of the road, stopped at this point;
cheers were given, the Sioux and Pawnees performed an imitation Indian
battle, fireworks were let off, and the first number of the Railway
Pioneer was printed by a press brought on the train. Thus was
celebrated the inauguration of this great railroad, a mighty instrument
of progress and civilisation, thrown across the desert, and destined to
link together cities and towns which do not yet exist. The whistle of
the locomotive, more powerful than Amphion's lyre, was about to bid
them rise from American soil.
Fort McPherson was left behind at eight in the morning, and three
hundred and fifty-seven miles had yet to be traversed before reaching
Omaha. The road followed the capricious windings of the southern
branch of the Platte River, on its left bank. At nine the train
stopped at the important town of North Platte, built between the two
arms of the river, which rejoin each other around it and form a single
artery, a large tributary, whose waters empty into the Missouri a
little above Omaha.
The one hundred and first meridian was passed.
Mr. Fogg and his partners had resumed their game; no one--not even the
dummy--complained of the length of the trip. Fix had begun by winning
several guineas, which he seemed likely to lose; but he showed himself
a not less eager whist-player than Mr. Fogg. During the morning,
chance distinctly favoured that gentleman. Trumps and honours were
showered upon his hands.
Once, having resolved on a bold stroke, he was on the point of playing
a spade, when a voice behind him said, "I should play a diamond."
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix raised their heads, and beheld Colonel Proctor.
Stamp Proctor and Phileas Fogg recognised each other at once.
"Ah! it's you, is it, Englishman?" cried the colonel; "it's you who are
going to play a spade!"
"And who plays it," replied Phileas Fogg coolly, throwing down the ten
"Well, it pleases me to have it diamonds," replied Colonel Proctor, in
an insolent tone.
He made a movement as if to seize the card which had just been played,
adding, "You don't understand anything about whist."
"Perhaps I do, as well as another," said Phileas Fogg, rising.
"You have only to try, son of John Bull," replied the colonel.
Aouda turned pale, and her blood ran cold. She seized Mr. Fogg's arm
and gently pulled him back. Passepartout was ready to pounce upon the
American, who was staring insolently at his opponent. But Fix got up,
and, going to Colonel Proctor said, "You forget that it is I with whom
you have to deal, sir; for it was I whom you not only insulted, but
"Mr. Fix," said Mr. Fogg, "pardon me, but this affair is mine, and mine
only. The colonel has again insulted me, by insisting that I should
not play a spade, and he shall give me satisfaction for it."
"When and where you will," replied the American, "and with whatever
weapon you choose."
Aouda in vain attempted to retain Mr. Fogg; as vainly did the detective
endeavour to make the quarrel his. Passepartout wished to throw the
colonel out of the window, but a sign from his master checked him.
Phileas Fogg left the car, and the American followed him upon the
platform. "Sir," said Mr. Fogg to his adversary, "I am in a great
hurry to get back to Europe, and any delay whatever will be greatly to
"Well, what's that to me?" replied Colonel Proctor.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, very politely, "after our meeting at San
Francisco, I determined to return to America and find you as soon as I
had completed the business which called me to England."
"Will you appoint a meeting for six months hence?"
"Why not ten years hence?"
"I say six months," returned Phileas Fogg; "and I shall be at the place
of meeting promptly."
"All this is an evasion," cried Stamp Proctor. "Now or never!"
"Very good. You are going to New York?"
"What difference is it to you? Do you know Plum Creek?"
"No," replied Mr. Fogg.
"It's the next station. The train will be there in an hour, and will
stop there ten minutes. In ten minutes several revolver-shots could be
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg. "I will stop at Plum Creek."
"And I guess you'll stay there too," added the American insolently.
"Who knows?" replied Mr. Fogg, returning to the car as coolly as usual.
He began to reassure Aouda, telling her that blusterers were never to
be feared, and begged Fix to be his second at the approaching duel, a
request which the detective could not refuse. Mr. Fogg resumed the
interrupted game with perfect calmness.
At eleven o'clock the locomotive's whistle announced that they were
approaching Plum Creek station. Mr. Fogg rose, and, followed by Fix,
went out upon the platform. Passepartout accompanied him, carrying a
pair of revolvers. Aouda remained in the car, as pale as death.
The door of the next car opened, and Colonel Proctor appeared on the
platform, attended by a Yankee of his own stamp as his second. But
just as the combatants were about to step from the train, the conductor
hurried up, and shouted, "You can't get off, gentlemen!"
"Why not?" asked the colonel.
"We are twenty minutes late, and we shall not stop."
"But I am going to fight a duel with this gentleman."
"I am sorry," said the conductor; "but we shall be off at once.
There's the bell ringing now."
The train started.
"I'm really very sorry, gentlemen," said the conductor. "Under any
other circumstances I should have been happy to oblige you. But, after
all, as you have not had time to fight here, why not fight as we go
"That wouldn't be convenient, perhaps, for this gentleman," said the
colonel, in a jeering tone.
"It would be perfectly so," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well, we are really in America," thought Passepartout, "and the
conductor is a gentleman of the first order!"
So muttering, he followed his master.
The two combatants, their seconds, and the conductor passed through the
cars to the rear of the train. The last car was only occupied by a
dozen passengers, whom the conductor politely asked if they would not
be so kind as to leave it vacant for a few moments, as two gentlemen
had an affair of honour to settle. The passengers granted the request
with alacrity, and straightway disappeared on the platform.
The car, which was some fifty feet long, was very convenient for their
purpose. The adversaries might march on each other in the aisle, and
fire at their ease. Never was duel more easily arranged. Mr. Fogg and
Colonel Proctor, each provided with two six-barrelled revolvers,
entered the car. The seconds, remaining outside, shut them in. They
were to begin firing at the first whistle of the locomotive. After an
interval of two minutes, what remained of the two gentlemen would be
taken from the car.
Nothing could be more simple. Indeed, it was all so simple that Fix
and Passepartout felt their hearts beating as if they would crack.
They were listening for the whistle agreed upon, when suddenly savage
cries resounded in the air, accompanied by reports which certainly did
not issue from the car where the duellists were. The reports continued
in front and the whole length of the train. Cries of terror proceeded
from the interior of the cars.
Colonel Proctor and Mr. Fogg, revolvers in hand, hastily quitted their
prison, and rushed forward where the noise was most clamorous. They
then perceived that the train was attacked by a band of Sioux.
This was not the first attempt of these daring Indians, for more than
once they had waylaid trains on the road. A hundred of them had,
according to their habit, jumped upon the steps without stopping the
train, with the ease of a clown mounting a horse at full gallop.
The Sioux were armed with guns, from which came the reports, to which
the passengers, who were almost all armed, responded by revolver-shots.
The Indians had first mounted the engine, and half stunned the engineer
and stoker with blows from their muskets. A Sioux chief, wishing to
stop the train, but not knowing how to work the regulator, had opened
wide instead of closing the steam-valve, and the locomotive was
plunging forward with terrific velocity.
The Sioux had at the same time invaded the cars, skipping like enraged
monkeys over the roofs, thrusting open the doors, and fighting hand to
hand with the passengers. Penetrating the baggage-car, they pillaged
it, throwing the trunks out of the train. The cries and shots were
constant. The travellers defended themselves bravely; some of the cars
were barricaded, and sustained a siege, like moving forts, carried
along at a speed of a hundred miles an hour.
Aouda behaved courageously from the first. She defended herself like a
true heroine with a revolver, which she shot through the broken windows
whenever a savage made his appearance. Twenty Sioux had fallen
mortally wounded to the ground, and the wheels crushed those who fell
upon the rails as if they had been worms. Several passengers, shot or
stunned, lay on the seats.
It was necessary to put an end to the struggle, which had lasted for
ten minutes, and which would result in the triumph of the Sioux if the
train was not stopped. Fort Kearney station, where there was a
garrison, was only two miles distant; but, that once passed, the Sioux
would be masters of the train between Fort Kearney and the station
The conductor was fighting beside Mr. Fogg, when he was shot and fell.
At the same moment he cried, "Unless the train is stopped in five
minutes, we are lost!"
"It shall be stopped," said Phileas Fogg, preparing to rush from the
"Stay, monsieur," cried Passepartout; "I will go."
Mr. Fogg had not time to stop the brave fellow, who, opening a door
unperceived by the Indians, succeeded in slipping under the car; and
while the struggle continued and the balls whizzed across each other
over his head, he made use of his old acrobatic experience, and with
amazing agility worked his way under the cars, holding on to the
chains, aiding himself by the brakes and edges of the sashes, creeping
from one car to another with marvellous skill, and thus gaining the
forward end of the train.
There, suspended by one hand between the baggage-car and the tender,
with the other he loosened the safety chains; but, owing to the
traction, he would never have succeeded in unscrewing the yoking-bar,
had not a violent concussion jolted this bar out. The train, now
detached from the engine, remained a little behind, whilst the
locomotive rushed forward with increased speed.
Carried on by the force already acquired, the train still moved for
several minutes; but the brakes were worked and at last they stopped,
less than a hundred feet from Kearney station.
The soldiers of the fort, attracted by the shots, hurried up; the Sioux
had not expected them, and decamped in a body before the train entirely
But when the passengers counted each other on the station platform
several were found missing; among others the courageous Frenchman,
whose devotion had just saved them.
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SIMPLY DOES HIS DUTY
Three passengers including Passepartout had disappeared. Had they been
killed in the struggle? Were they taken prisoners by the Sioux? It
was impossible to tell.
There were many wounded, but none mortally. Colonel Proctor was one of
the most seriously hurt; he had fought bravely, and a ball had entered
his groin. He was carried into the station with the other wounded
passengers, to receive such attention as could be of avail.
Aouda was safe; and Phileas Fogg, who had been in the thickest of the
fight, had not received a scratch. Fix was slightly wounded in the
arm. But Passepartout was not to be found, and tears coursed down
All the passengers had got out of the train, the wheels of which were
stained with blood. From the tyres and spokes hung ragged pieces of
flesh. As far as the eye could reach on the white plain behind, red
trails were visible. The last Sioux were disappearing in the south,
along the banks of Republican River.
Mr. Fogg, with folded arms, remained motionless. He had a serious
decision to make. Aouda, standing near him, looked at him without
speaking, and he understood her look. If his servant was a prisoner,
ought he not to risk everything to rescue him from the Indians? "I
will find him, living or dead," said he quietly to Aouda.
"Ah, Mr.--Mr. Fogg!" cried she, clasping his hands and covering them
"Living," added Mr. Fogg, "if we do not lose a moment."
Phileas Fogg, by this resolution, inevitably sacrificed himself; he
pronounced his own doom. The delay of a single day would make him lose
the steamer at New York, and his bet would be certainly lost. But as
he thought, "It is my duty," he did not hesitate.
The commanding officer of Fort Kearney was there. A hundred of his
soldiers had placed themselves in a position to defend the station,
should the Sioux attack it.
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg to the captain, "three passengers have
"Dead?" asked the captain.
"Dead or prisoners; that is the uncertainty which must be solved. Do
you propose to pursue the Sioux?"
"That's a serious thing to do, sir," returned the captain. "These
Indians may retreat beyond the Arkansas, and I cannot leave the fort
"The lives of three men are in question, sir," said Phileas Fogg.
"Doubtless; but can I risk the lives of fifty men to save three?"
"I don't know whether you can, sir; but you ought to do so."
"Nobody here," returned the other, "has a right to teach me my duty."
"Very well," said Mr. Fogg, coldly. "I will go alone."
"You, sir!" cried Fix, coming up; "you go alone in pursuit of the
"Would you have me leave this poor fellow to perish--him to whom every
one present owes his life? I shall go."
"No, sir, you shall not go alone," cried the captain, touched in spite
of himself. "No! you are a brave man. Thirty volunteers!" he added,
turning to the soldiers.
The whole company started forward at once. The captain had only to
pick his men. Thirty were chosen, and an old sergeant placed at their
"Thanks, captain," said Mr. Fogg.
"Will you let me go with you?" asked Fix.
"Do as you please, sir. But if you wish to do me a favour, you will
remain with Aouda. In case anything should happen to me--"
A sudden pallor overspread the detective's face. Separate himself from
the man whom he had so persistently followed step by step! Leave him
to wander about in this desert! Fix gazed attentively at Mr. Fogg,
and, despite his suspicions and of the struggle which was going on
within him, he lowered his eyes before that calm and frank look.
"I will stay," said he.
A few moments after, Mr. Fogg pressed the young woman's hand, and,
having confided to her his precious carpet-bag, went off with the
sergeant and his little squad. But, before going, he had said to the
soldiers, "My friends, I will divide five thousand dollars among you,
if we save the prisoners."
It was then a little past noon.
Aouda retired to a waiting-room, and there she waited alone, thinking
of the simple and noble generosity, th
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