Around the World in 80 Days, by Jules Verne

Part 2 out of 4

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 hasty breakfast.

At noon the Parsee gave the signal of departure. The country
soon presented a very savage aspect. Copses of dates and
dwarf-palms succeeded the dense forests; then vast, dry plains,
dotted with scanty shrubs, and sown with great blocks of syenite.
All this portion of Bundelcund, which is little frequented
by travellers, is inhabited by a fanatical population,
hardened in the most horrible practices of the Hindoo faith.
The English have not been able to secure complete dominion over
this territory, which is subjected to the influence of rajahs,
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 arid 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 headless giant.

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 form.

The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast
to her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists,
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 indignation.

"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."

"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not
the least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India,
and that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"

"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India,"
replied Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories,
and especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the Vindhias
is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."

"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"

"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not,
you cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit
to from her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her
on a scanty allowance of rice, treat her with contempt;
she would be looked upon as an unclean creature, and would die
in some corner, like a scurvy dog. The prospect of so frightful
an existence drives these poor creatures to the sacrifice
much more than love or religious fanaticism. Sometimes, however,
the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires the active
interference of the Government to prevent it. Several years ago,
when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission
of the governor to be burned along with her husband's body;
but, as you may imagine, he refused. The woman left the town,
took refuge with an independent rajah, and there carried out
her self-devoted purpose."

While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,
and now said: "The sacrifice which will take place 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 opium."

"But where are they taking her?"

"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night there."

"And the sacrifice will take place--"

"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."

Chapter XIII


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
before acting."

"I think so," said the guide.

The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who,
he said, was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the
daughter of a wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a
thoroughly English education in that city, and, from her manners
and intelligence, would be thought an European. Her name was Aouda.
Left an orphan, she was married against her will to the old rajah
of Bundelcund; and, knowing the fate that awaited her, she escaped,
was retaken, and devoted by the rajah's relatives, who had an interest
in her death, to the sacrifice from which it seemed she could not escape.

The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions
in their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct
the elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached
as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a copse,
some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well concealed;
but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs distinctly.

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 within.

The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force
an entrance to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his
companions back again. Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty
also saw that nothing could be attempted in that direction.
They stopped, and engaged in a whispered colloquy.

"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards
may also go to sleep."

"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.

They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.

The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them
to take an observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards
watched steadily by the glare of the torches, and a dim light
crept through the windows of the pagoda.

They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,
and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be counted on.
The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the walls of the pagoda
must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the priests were watching
by the side of their victim 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 darkness.

It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must
be accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had
their pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick
and wood, which could be penetrated with little difficulty;
after one brick had been taken out, the rest would yield easily.

They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side
and Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks
so as to make an aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly,
when suddenly a cry was heard in the interior of the temple,
followed almost instantly by other cries replying from the outside.
Passepartout and the guide stopped. Had they been heard? Was the
alarm being given? Common prudence urged them to retire, and they
did so, followed by Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid
themselves in the wood, and waited till the disturbance, whatever
it might be, ceased, holding themselves ready to resume their attempt
without delay. But, awkwardly enough, the guards now appeared
at the rear of the temple, and there installed themselves,
in readiness to prevent a surprise.

It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party,
thus interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim;
how, then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists,
Passepartout was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage.
The tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.

"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.

"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.

"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."

"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours
it will be daylight, and--"

"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."

Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes.
What was this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning
to make a rush for the young woman at the very moment
of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch her from her executioners?

This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg
was such a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain
to the end of this terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear
of the glade, where they were able to observe the sleeping groups.

Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches
of a tree, was 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 ground.

The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the
approach of day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment.
The slumbering multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded,
songs and cries arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come.
The doors of the pagoda swung open, and a bright light escaped
from its interior, in the midst of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis
espied the victim. She seemed, having shaken off the 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 appearance.

Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror,
lay there, with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift
their eyes and behold such a prodigy.

The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden.
Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head,
and Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.

The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg,
and, in an abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"

It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre
in the midst of the smoke and, profiting by the still
overhanging darkness, had delivered the young woman from death!
It was Passepartout who, playing his part with a happy audacity,
had passed through the crowd amid the general terror.

A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods,
and the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries
and noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat,
apprised them that the trick had been discovered.

The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre;
and the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction
had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the soldiers,
who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter rapidly increased
the distance between them, and ere long found themselves beyond the reach
of the bullets and arrows.

Chapter XIV


The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour
Passepartout laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed
the worthy fellow's hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which,
from him, was high commendation; to which Passepartout replied
that all the credit of the affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him,
he had only been struck with a "queer" idea; and he laughed
to think that for a few moments he, Passepartout, the ex-gymnast,
ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse of a charming woman,
a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young Indian woman,
she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing, and now,
wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the howdahs.

The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee,
was advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and,
an hour after leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain.
They made a halt at seven o'clock, the young woman being still
in a state of complete prostration. The guide made her drink a little
brandy and water, but the drowsiness which stupefied her could not
yet be shaken off. Sir Francis, who was familiar with the effects
of the intoxication produced by the fumes of hemp, reassured his
companions on her account. But he was more disturbed at the
prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas Fogg that,
should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall again
into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were scattered
throughout the 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 bringing up.

The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg
proceeded to pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service,
and not a farthing more; which astonished Passepartout,
who remembered all that his master owed to the guide's devotion.
He had, indeed, risked his life in the adventure at Pillaji, and,
if he should be caught afterwards by the Indians, he would with
difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni, also, must 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 debtor."

"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout. "Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him several
lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."

The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout
around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.
Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal,
which replaced him gently on the ground.

Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat,
were whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles,
and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman
fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself
in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments,
and with travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions
first set about fully reviving her with a little liquor,
and then Sir Francis narrated to her what had passed,
dwelling upon the courage with which Phileas Fogg
had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and recounting
the happy sequel of the venture, the result of Passepartout's rash idea.
Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout, abashed, kept repeating that
"it wasn't worth telling."

Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears
than words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better
than her lips. Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene
of the sacrifice, and recalled the dangers which still menaced her,
she shuddered with terror.

Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and offered,
in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might remain
safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which she eagerly
and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,
who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly
an English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends
assert that this city is built on the site of 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 heavenward.

Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst
of the roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before
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 regretted them.

Chapter XV


The train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first,
was followed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer,
in order to get Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage.
He was unwilling to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.

Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and said,
"Mr. Phileas Fogg?"

"I am he."

"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to Passepartout.


"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."

Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman
tapped him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.

"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.

"She may," replied the policeman.

Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri,
a sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they
took their places and were driven away. No one spoke during
the twenty minutes which elapsed before they reached their destination.
They first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets,
its miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the
"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,
shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it was
early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages
were passing back and forth.

The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which,
however, did not have the appearance of a private mansion.
The policeman having requested his prisoners for so, truly,
they might be called-to descend, conducted them into a room
with barred windows, and said: "You will appear before
Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."

He then retired, and closed the door.

"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.

Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg:
"Sir, you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that
you receive this treatment, it is for having saved me!"

Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible.
It was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not, in any event,
abandon Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.

"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.

"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.

It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help
muttering to himself, "Parbleu that's certain! Before noon
we shall be on board." But he was by no means reassured.

At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall.
It was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.

Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a
bench opposite the desks of the magistrate and his clerk.
Immediately after, Judge Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by
the clerk, entered. He proceeded to take down a wig which was
hanging on a nail, and put it hurriedly on his head.

"The first case," said he. Then, putting his hand to his
head, he exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"

"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."

"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence
in a clerk's wig?"

The wigs were exchanged.

Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big clock
over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.

"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.

"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.

"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.


"Present," responded Passepartout.

"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners,
for two days on the trains from Bombay."

"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.

"You are about to be informed."

"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"

"Have you been ill-treated?"

"Not at all."

"Very well; let the complainants come in."

A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests entered.

"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues
who were going to burn our young lady."

The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against
Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated
a place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.

"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.

"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."

"You admit it?"

"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,
what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."

The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand
what was said.

"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji,
where they were on the point of burning their victim."

The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.

"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"

"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.

"Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the pagoda
of Malabar Hill, at Bombay."

"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very shoes,
which he left behind him."

Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.

"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting
this imprudent exclamation to escape him.

The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the
affair at Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta,
may be imagined.

Fix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours,
had consulted the priests of Malabar Hill. Knowing that the English
authorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanour,
he promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward
to Calcutta by the next train. Owing to the delay caused by the rescue
of the young widow, Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before
Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having been already warned
by a dispatch to arrest them should they arrive. Fix's disappointment
when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in Calcutta
may be imagined. He made up his mind that the robber had stopped
somewhere on the route and taken refuge in the southern provinces.
For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish anxiety;
at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout arrive,
accompanied by a young woman, whose presence he was wholly at a loss
to explain. He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the party came
to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.

Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have
espied the detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room,
watching the proceedings with an interest easily understood;
for the warrant had failed to reach him at Calcutta,
as it had done at Bombay and Suez.

Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash exclamation,
which the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.

"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.

"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.

"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally
and sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man
Passepartout has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill,
at Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout
to imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."

"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness
of the sum.

"Silence!" shouted the constable.

"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that
the act was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant,
and as the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts
of his paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment
and a fine of one hundred and fifty pounds."

Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg
could be detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time
for the warrant to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence
ruined his master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he,
like a precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!

Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not
in the least concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while
it was being pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case,
he rose, and said, "I offer bail."

"You have that right," returned the judge.

Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard
the judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner
would be one thousand pounds.

"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills
from the carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them
on the clerk's desk.

"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison,"
said the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."

"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.

"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout angrily.

"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to him.
"More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."

Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed
by the crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes
that the robber would not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds
behind him, but would decide to serve out his week in jail,
and issued forth on Mr. Fogg's traces. That gentleman took a carriage,
and the party were soon landed on one of the quays.

The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal
of departure hoisted at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking;
Mr. Fogg was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage and
push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet with disappointment.

"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds sacrificed!
He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end of the world
if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on, the stolen money will
soon be exhausted."

The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture.
Since leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes,
the purchase of the elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg
had already spent more than five thousand pounds on the way,
and the percentage of the sum recovered from the bank robber
promised to the detectives, was rapidly diminishing.

Chapter XVI


The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats
plying in the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer,
built of iron, weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons,
and with engines of four hundred horse-power. She was as fast,
but not as well fitted up, as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as
comfortably provided for on board of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished.
However, the trip from Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some
three thousand five hundred miles, occupying from ten to twelve days,
and the young woman was not difficult to please.

During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude
for what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,
apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner
betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the watch
that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He visited her
regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk. He treated her with the strictest politeness,
but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of which had been
arranged for this purpose. Aouda did not quite know what to make of him,
though Passepartout had given her some hints of his master's eccentricity,
and made her smile by telling her of the wager which was sending him
round the world. After all, she owed Phileas Fogg her life, and she
always regarded him through the exalting medium of her gratitude.

Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing
in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet
by the English government. Aouda was a relative of this great man,
and it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell;
but Mr. Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that
everything would be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged.
Aouda fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"
upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem
at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.

The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of
the great Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal,
with its picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high,
looming above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores,
but the savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity,
but are not, as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.

The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.
Vast forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa,
and tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful outlines
of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the coasts swarmed
by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a luxurious dish
to the tables of the Celestial Empire. The varied landscape afforded by
the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and the Rangoon rapidly
approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave access to the China seas.

What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,
doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at Calcutta
without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,
if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong Kong;
and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board
without awakening Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance
with the worthy servant, as will be seen.

All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong;
for the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable
him to take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong,
or the robber would probably escape him for ever. Hong Kong was
the last English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China,
Japan, America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge.
If the warrant should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong,
Fix could arrest him and give him into the hands of the local police,
and there would be no further trouble. But beyond Hong Kong,
a simple warrant would be of no avail; an extradition warrant
would be necessary, and that would result in delays and obstacles,
of which the rascal would take advantage to elude justice.

Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours
which he spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself,
"Now, either the warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case
I shall arrest my man, or it will not be there; and this time
it is absolutely necessary that I should delay his departure.
I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed at Calcutta; if I fail
at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost: Cost what it may, I must succeed!
But how shall I prevent his departure, if that should turn out to be
my last resource?"

Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make
a confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow
his master really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice,
he was very certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure,
and afraid of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless
become an ally of the detective. But this method was a dangerous one,
only to be employed when everything else had failed. A word from
Passepartout to his master would ruin all. The detective was therefore
in a sore strait. But suddenly a new idea struck him. The presence
of Aouda on the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him
new material for reflection.

Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay
and Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone
into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel?
Fix was fairly puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not
been a wicked elopement; and this idea so impressed itself
upon his mind that he determined to make use of the supposed intrigue.
Whether the young woman were married or not, he would be able to create
such difficulties for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape
by paying any amount of money.

But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before anything
could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.

Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal
the Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively,
to question Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.

It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.

Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer.
The detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme
surprise, and exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"

"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really
astonished Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia.
"Why, I left you at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong!
Are you going round the world too?"

"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some days."

"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed.
"But how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"

"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth.
The Gulf of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean.
And how is Mr. Fogg?"

"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time!
But, Monsieur Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."

"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend
what was said.

Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair
at the Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for
two thousand pounds, the rescue, the arrest, and sentence
of the Calcutta court, and the restoration of Mr. Fogg
and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who was familiar
with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all
that Passepartout related; and the later was charmed
to find so interested a listener.

"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"

"Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection
of one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."

"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his disappointment.
"A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"

"Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass
on board the Rangoon."

Chapter XVII


The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,
though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion
to divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a glimpse
of that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined
himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his
inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.

Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange
chance kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing.
It was really worth considering why this certainly very amiable
and complacent person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then
encountered on board the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay,
which he announced as his destination, and now turned up so
unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was following Mr. Fogg's tracks step
by step. What was Fix's object? Passepartout was ready to wager his
Indian shoes--which he religiously preserved--that Fix would also leave
Hong Kong at the same time with them, and probably on the same steamer.

Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view.
He never could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked
as a robber around the globe. But, as it is in human nature to attempt
the solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered
an explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from unreasonable.
Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's friends
at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain
that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.

"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his shrewdness.
"He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite the thing, either,
to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man! Ah, gentlemen of the Reform,
this shall cost you dear!"

Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say
nothing to his master, lest he should be justly offended at this
mistrust on the part of his adversaries. But he determined
to chaff Fix, when he had the chance, with mysterious allusions,
which, however, need not betray his real suspicions.

During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon
entered the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula
of that name from Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets
intercepted the beauties of this noble island from the view
of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed anchor at Singapore the next day
at four a.m., to receive coal, having gained half a day on the prescribed
time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then,
accompanied by Aouda, who betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.

Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously,
without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his sleeve
at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.

The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are
no mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions.
It is a park checkered by pleasant highways and avenues.
A handsome carriage, drawn by a sleek pair of New Holland horses,
carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda into the midst of rows of palms
with brilliant foliage, and of clove-trees, whereof the cloves
form the heart of a half-open flower. Pepper plants replaced
the prickly hedges of European fields; sago-bushes, large ferns
with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of this tropical clime;
while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air with a penetrating perfume.
Agile and grinning bands of monkeys skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers
wanting in the jungles.

After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical fruits
and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely followed by
the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.

Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--
a fruit as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour
outside and a bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in
the mouth, affords gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting
for them on deck. He was only too glad to offer some mangoes
to Aouda, who thanked him very gracefully for them.

At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour,
and in a few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests,
inhabited by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world,
were lost to view. Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles
from the island of Hong Kong, which is a little English colony
near the Chinese coast. Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey
in six days, so as to be in time for the steamer which would leave
on the 6th of November for Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.

The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,
Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.

The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the
last quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind
at intervals rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from
the south-west, and thus aided the steamer's progress.
The captain as often as possible put up his sails,
and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel made
rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China.
Owing to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however,
unusual precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather;
but the loss of time which resulted from this cause, while it
nearly drove Passepartout out of his senses, did not seem
to affect his master in the least. Passepartout blamed the captain,
the engineer, and the crew, and consigned all who were connected
with the ship to the land where the pepper grows. Perhaps the thought
of the gas, which was remorselessly burning at his expense in Saville Row,
had something to do with his hot impatience.

"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach Hong Kong?"

"A very great hurry!"

"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"

"Terribly anxious."

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

"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"

"I? I don't believe a word of it."

"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.

This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why.
Had the Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what
to think. But how could Passepartout have discovered that he
was a detective? Yet, in speaking as he did, the man evidently
meant more than he expressed.

Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his tongue.

"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate
as to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"

"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps--"

"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular Company,
you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to Bombay,
and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from America
to Europe is only a step."

Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was
as serene as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout
persisted in chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his
present occupation.

"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such things.
But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."

"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.

Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself
up to his reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow
or other the Frenchman had found out that he was a detective.
But had he told his master? What part was he playing in all this:
was he an accomplice or not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent
several hours turning these things over in his mind, sometimes
thinking that all was lost, then persuading himself that Fogg
was ignorant of his presence, and then undecided what course
it was best to take.

Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last
resolved to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it
practicable to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations
to leave that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,
and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;
or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his interest
would be to abandon the robber.

Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile Phileas Fogg
moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious indifference.
He was passing methodically in his orbit around the world, regardless of
the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet there was near by what
the astronomers would call a disturbing star, which might have produced
an agitation in this gentleman's heart. But no! the charms of Aouda
failed to act, to Passepartout's great surprise; and the disturbances,
if they existed, would have been more difficult to calculate than those
of Uranus which led to the discovery of Neptune.

It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read
in Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master.
Phileas Fogg, though brave and gallant, must be, he thought,
quite heartless. As to the sentiment which this journey might
have awakened in him, there was clearly no trace of such a thing;
while poor Passepartout existed in perpetual reveries.

One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room,
and was observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer
threw the screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out
of the valves; and this made Passepartout indignant.

"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are
not going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft,
we should blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"

Chapter XVIII


The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage.
The wind, obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale,
and retarded the steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the
passengers became impatient of the long, monstrous waves which
the wind raised before their path. A sort of tempest arose on
the 3rd of November, the squall knocking the vessel about with fury,
and the waves running high. The Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even
the rigging proved too much, whistling and shaking amid the squall.
The steamer was forced to proceed slowly, and the captain estimated
that she would reach Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and more
if the storm lasted.

Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be struggling
especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He never changed
countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty hours, by making him
too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost inevitably cause the loss
of the wager. But this man of nerve manifested neither impatience
nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm were a part of his programme,
and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed to find him as calm as he had been
from the first time she saw him.

Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light.
The storm greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have
been complete had the Rangoon been forced to retreat before
the violence of wind and waves. Each delay filled him with hope,
for it became more and more probable that Fogg would be obliged
to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now the heavens themselves
became his allies, with the gusts and squalls. It mattered not
that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this inconvenience;
and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his spirit bounded
with hopeful exultation.

Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam
united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds
were to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him,
the gale made him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea
into obedience. Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him
his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could
scarcely have restrained himself from personal violence.

Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted,
being unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head
to aid the progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew.
He overwhelmed the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not
help laughing at his impatience, with all sorts of questions.
He wanted to know exactly how long the storm was going to last;
whereupon he was referred to the barometer, which seemed to have
no intention of rising. Passepartout shook it, but with no
perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor maledictions
could prevail upon it to change its mind.

On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm
lessened its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once
more favourable. Passepartout cleared up with the weather.
Some of the sails were unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its
most rapid speed. The time lost could not, however, be regained.
Land was not signalled until five o'clock on the morning of the 6th;
the steamer was due on the 5th. Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours
behind-hand, and the Yokohama steamer would, of course, be missed.

The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge,
to guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope,
which still remained till the last moment. He had confided
his anxiety to Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him
by saying that Mr. Fogg would be in time if he took the next boat;
but this only put Passepartout in a passion.

Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the pilot,
and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave Hong Kong
for Yokohama.

"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.

"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.

Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the pilot,
while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.

"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"The Carnatic."

"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"

"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers,
and so her departure was postponed till to-morrow."

"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.

Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his delight,
exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"

The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses
won him this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge,
and guided the steamer through the flotilla of junks,
tankas, and fishing boats which crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.

At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers
were going ashore.

Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the
Carnatic been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers,
she would have left on the 6th of November, and the passengers
for Japan would have been obliged to await for a week the sailing
of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg was, it is true, twenty-four hours
behind his time; but this could not seriously imperil the
remainder of his tour.

The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not sail
until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four hours
late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily regained
in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found himself,
then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.

The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.

On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they
repaired to the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman,
and Mr. Fogg, after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search
of her cousin Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.

Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt,
every one would know so wealthy and considerable a personage
as the Parsee merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry,
to learn that Jeejeeh had left China two years before, and, retiring
from business with an immense fortune, had taken up his residence
in Europe--in Holland the broker thought, with the merchants
of which country he had principally traded. Phileas Fogg returned
to the hotel, begged a moment's conversation with Aouda, and without
more ado, apprised her that Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong,
but probably in Holland.

Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"

"It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."

"But I cannot intrude--"

"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.


"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."

Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to him,
was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk gait
to obey his master's order.

Chapter XIX


Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the
English by the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842;
and the colonising genius of the English has created upon it
an important city and an excellent port. The island is situated
at the mouth of the Canton River, and is separated by about sixty miles
from the Portuguese town of Macao, on the opposite coast. Hong Kong
has beaten Macao in the struggle for the Chinese trade, and now
the greater part of the transportation of Chinese goods finds
its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals, wharves,
a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.

Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins
and other modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese,
and Europeans who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed
to him not unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them,
it betrayed everywhere the evidence of English supremacy.
At the Victoria port he found a confused mass of ships of all nations:
English, French, American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels,
Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats,
which formed so many floating parterres. Passepartout noticed
in the crowd a number of the natives who seemed very old
and were dressed in yellow. On going into a barber's
to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all
at least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted
to wear yellow, which is the Imperial colour. Passepartout,
without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.

On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic,
he was not astonished to find Fix walking up and down.
The detective seemed very much disturbed and disappointed.

"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of
the Reform Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he
had not perceived that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed,
good reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him.
The warrant had not come! It was certainly on the way,
but as certainly it could not now reach Hong Kong for several days;
and, this being the last English territory on Mr. Fogg's route,
the robber would escape, unless he could manage to detain him.

"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with us
so far as America?"

"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.

"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily.
"I knew you could not persuade yourself to separate from us.
Come and engage your berth."

They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that,
the repairs on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer
would leave that very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.

"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout.
"I will go and let him know."

Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout all.
It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg several days
longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion into a tavern
which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they found themselves
in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of which was a large
camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons lay upon this bed
in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were arranged about the room
some thirty customers were drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy;
smoking, the while, long red clay pipes stuffed with little balls of opium
mingled with essence of rose. From time to time one of the smokers,
overcome with the narcotic, would slip under the table, whereupon the waiters,
taking him by the head and feet, carried and laid him upon the bed.
The bed already supported twenty of these stupefied sots.

Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted
by those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium,
to the amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--
thousands devoted to one of the most despicable vices
which afflict humanity! The Chinese government has in vain
attempted to deal with the evil by stringent laws. It passed
gradually from the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved,
to the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested.
Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women,
in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the victims
cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily contortions
and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day;
but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens that Fix
and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found themselves.
Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's invitation
in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.

They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample justice,
whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted about the journey,
and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea that Fix was going to
continue it with them. When the bottles were empty, however,
he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the time
of the sailing of the Carnatic.

Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."

"What for, Mr. Fix?"

"I want to have a serious talk with you."

"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk
about it to-morrow; I haven't time now."

"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."

Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.
Fix's face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.

"What is it that you have to say?"

Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and,
lowering his voice, said, "You have guessed who I am?"

"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.

"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"

"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good.
But go on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those
gentlemen have put themselves to a useless expense."

"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that
you don't know how large the sum is."

"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."

"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.

"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--
fifty-five thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason
for not losing an instant," he continued, getting up hastily.

Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed:
"Fifty-five thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.
If you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."

"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.

"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."

"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied
with following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must
try to put obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might
as well waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"

"That's just what we count on doing."

"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more
and more excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank
without perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"

Fix began to be puzzled.

"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that,
when he makes a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"

"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.

"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here
to interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some time ago,
I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."

"He knows nothing, then?"

"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.

The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before
he spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed sincere,
but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that the servant
was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined to suspect.

"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice,
he will help me."

He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong,
so he resolved to make a clean breast of it.

"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think,
an agent of the members of the Reform Club--"

"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.

"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."

"You, a detective?"

"I will prove it. Here is my commission."

Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed
this document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.

"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you
and the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive
for securing your innocent complicity."

"But why?"

"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five thousand pounds
was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose description
was fortunately secured. Here is his description; it answers exactly
to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."

"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"

"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went into
his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish pretext,
without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes. And yet you
are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"

"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.

"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"

Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head
between his hands, and did not dare to look at the detective.
Phileas Fogg, the saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man,
a robber! And yet how many presumptions there were against him!
Passepartout essayed to reject the suspicions which forced themselves
upon his mind; he did not wish to believe that his master was guilty.

"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.

"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place,
but as yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which
I sent to London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"

"I! But I--"

"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered
by the Bank of England."

"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.

"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--
if my master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--
I have been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness;
and I will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world.
I come from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"

"You refuse?"

"I refuse."

"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."

"Yes; let us drink!"

Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects
of the liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated
from his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium
lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand.
He took it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs,
and his head, becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic,
fell upon the table.

"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious.
"Mr. Fogg will not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and,
if he is, he will have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"

And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.

Chapter XX


While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer,
was quietly escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter,
making the necessary purchases for the long voyage before them.
It was all very well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the
tour of the world with a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected
to travel comfortably under such conditions. He acquitted
his task with characteristic serenity, and invariably replied
to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who was confused
by his patience and generosity:

"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."

The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they
dined at a sumptuously served table-d'hote; after which Aouda,
shaking hands with her protector after the English fashion,
retired to her room for rest. Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout
the evening in the perusal of The Times and Illustrated London News.

Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would
have been not to see his servant return at bedtime.
But, knowing that the steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until
the next morning, he did not disturb himself about the matter.
When Passepartout did not appear the next morning to answer
his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying the least vexation,
contented himself with taking his carpet-bag, calling Aouda,
and sending for a palanquin.

It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high
tide, the Carnatic would leave the harbour. Mr. Fogg and Aouda
got into the palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow,
and half an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark.
Mr. Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before.
He had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic,
and was forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared
on his face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;
nothing more."

At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not, like me,
sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"

"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honour--"

"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."

"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.

"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"

"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"

"Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you intend
to sail in the Carnatic?"

"Yes, sir."

"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic,
its repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before
the stated time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait
a week for another steamer."

As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained
at Hong Kong for a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law. His horror
may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice,
"But there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me,
in the harbour of Hong Kong."

And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks
in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed;
it seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had hitherto
served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about the docks,
with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to carry him
to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were loading or unloading,
and which could not therefore set sail. Fix began to hope again.

But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted
by a sailor on one of the wharves.

"Is your honour looking for a boat?"

"Have you a boat ready to sail?"

"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."

"Does she go fast?"

"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"


"Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"

"No; for a voyage."

"A voyage?"

"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"

The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said,
"Is your honour joking?"

"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama
by the 14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."

"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."

"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional
reward of two hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."

"Are you in earnest?"

"Very much so."

The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum
and the fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.

Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid,
would you, madam?"

"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.

The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.

"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men,
or my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage
at this time of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time,
for it is sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."

"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.

"It's the same thing."

Fix breathed more freely.

"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."

Fix ceased to breathe at all.

"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even
to Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here.
In going to Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide
of the Chinese coast, which would be a great advantage,
as the currents run northward, and would aid us.

"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer
at Yokohama, and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."

"Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer
does not start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama
and Nagasaki, but it starts from Shanghai."

"You are sure of that?"


"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"

"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore,
four days before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time,
if we had good luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm,
we could make those eight hundred miles to Shanghai."

"And you could go--"

"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard
and the sails put up."

"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"

"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."

"Would you like some earnest-money?"

"If it would not put your honour out--"

"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"

"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."


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