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Title: The Garotters
Author: William D. Howells
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Click here to start MP3 Text Speech
--->
Chapter I
In Which Phileas Fogg
And Passepartout Accept Each Other,
The One As Master,
The Other As Man
Mr. Phileas Fogg lived,
in 1872,
at No.
7,
Saville Row,
Burlington Gardens,
the house in which Sheridan died in 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 growing old.
Certainly an Englishman,
it was more doubtful whether Phileas Fogg was a Londoner.
He was never seen on
'Change,
nor at the Bank,
nor in the counting-rooms of the
"City";
no ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner;
he had no public employment;
he had never been entered at any of the Inns of Court,
either at the Temple,
or Lincoln's Inn,
or Gray's Inn;
nor had his voice ever resounded in the Court of Chancery,
or in the Exchequer,
or the Queen's Bench,
or the Ecclesiastical Courts.
He certainly was not a manufacturer;
nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer.
His name was strange
to the scientific and learned societies,
and he never was known
to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution or the London Institution,
the 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 insects.
Phileas Fogg was a member of the Reform,
and that was all.
The way in which he got admission
to this exclusive club was simple enough.
He was recommended by the Barings,
with whom he had an open credit.
His 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 puzzled.
Had he travelled?
It was likely,
for no one seemed
to know the world more familiarly;
there was no spot so secluded that he did not appear
to have an intimate acquaintance
with it.
He often corrected,
with a few clear words,
the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as
to lost and unheard-of travellers,
pointing out the true probabilities,
and seeming as if gifted
with a sort of second sight,
so often did events justify his predictions.
He must have travelled everywhere,
at least in the spirit.
It was at least certain
that Phileas Fogg had not absented himself from London
for many years.
Those who were 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,
appeared.
"The new servant,"
said he.
A young man of thirty advanced and bowed.
"You are a Frenchman,
I believe,"
asked Phileas Fogg,
"and your name is John?"
"Jean,
if monsieur pleases,"
replied the 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?"
"Yes,
monsieur."
"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.
Chapter II
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS CONVINCED THAT HE HAS AT LAST FOUND HIS IDEAL
"Faith,"
muttered Passepartout,
somewhat flurried,
"I've seen people at Madame Tussaud's as lively as my new master!"
Madame Tussaud's
"people,"
let it be said,
are of wax,
and are much visited in London;
speech is all that is wanting
to make them human.
During his brief interview
with Mr. Fogg,
Passepartout had been carefully observing him.
He appeared
to be a man about forty years of age,
with fine,
handsome features,
and a tall,
well-shaped figure;
his hair and whiskers were light,
his forehead compact and unwrinkled,
his face rather pale,
his teeth magnificent.
His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call
"repose in action,"
a quality of those who act rather than talk.
Calm and phlegmatic,
with a clear eye,
Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composure which Angelica Kauffmann has so skilfully represented on canvas.
Seen in the various phases of his daily life,
he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced,
as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer.
Phileas Fogg was,
indeed,
exactitude personified,
and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet;
for in men,
as well as in animals,
the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions.
He was so exact that he was never in a hurry,
was always ready,
and was economical alike of his steps and his motions.
He never took one step too many,
and always went
to his destination by the shortest cut;
he made no superfluous gestures,
and was never seen
to be moved or agitated.
He was the 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."
Chapter III
IN WHICH A CONVERSATION TAKES PLACE WHICH SEEMS LIKELY
to COST PHILEAS FOGG DEAR Phileas Fogg,
having shut the door of his house at half-past eleven,
and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times,
and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times,
reached the Reform Club,
an imposing edifice in Pall Mall,
which could not have cost less than three millions.
He repaired at once
to the dining-room,
the nine windows of which open upon a tasteful garden,
where the trees were already gilded
with an autumn 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,
positively.
"What! a fellow who makes off
with fifty-five thousand pounds,
no robber?"
"No."
"Perhaps he's a manufacturer,
then."
"The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman."
It was Phileas Fogg,
whose head now emerged from behind his 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 him."
"Pshaw!"
"Where could he go,
then?"
"Oh,
I don't know that.
The world is big enough."
"It was once,"
said Phileas Fogg,
in a low tone.
"Cut,
sir,"
he added,
handing the cards
to Thomas Flanagan.
The discussion fell during the rubber,
after which Stuart took up its thread.
"What do you mean by `once'?
Has the world grown smaller?"
"Certainly,"
returned Ralph.
"I agree
with Mr. Fogg.
The world has grown smaller,
since a man can now go round it ten times more quickly than a hundred years ago.
And that is why the search
for this thief will be more likely
to succeed."
"And also why the thief can get away more easily."
"Be so good as
to play,
Mr. Stuart,"
said Phileas Fogg.
But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced,
and when the hand was finished,
said eagerly:
"You have a strange way,
Ralph,
of proving that the world has grown smaller.
So,
because you can go round it in three months--"
"In eighty days,"
interrupted Phileas Fogg.
"That is true,
gentlemen,"
added John Sullivan.
"Only eighty days,
now that the section between Rothal and Allahabad,
on the Great Indian Peninsula Railway,
has been opened.
Here is the estimate made by the Daily Telegraph:
From London
to Suez via Mont Cenis and Brindisi,
by 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 discussion.
"But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,"
replied Stuart;
"suppose they stop the trains,
pillage the luggage-vans,
and scalp the passengers!"
"All included,"
calmly retorted Fogg;
adding,
as he threw down the cards,
"Two trumps."
Stuart,
whose turn it was
to deal,
gathered them up,
and went on:
"You are right,
theoretically,
Mr. Fogg,
but practically--"
"Practically also,
Mr. Stuart."
"I'd like
to see you do it in eighty days."
"It depends on you.
Shall we go?"
"Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds that such a journey,
made under these conditions,
is impossible."
"Quite possible,
on the contrary,"
returned Mr. Fogg.
"Well,
make it,
then!"
"The journey round the world in eighty days?"
"Yes."
"I should like nothing better."
"When?"
"At once.
Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense."
"It's absurd!"
cried Stuart,
who was beginning
to be annoyed at the persistency of his friend.
"Come,
let's go on
with the game."
"Deal over again,
then,"
said Phileas Fogg.
"There's a false deal."
Stuart took up the pack
with a feverish hand;
then suddenly put them down again.
"Well,
Mr. Fogg,"
said he,
"it shall be so:
I will wager the four thousand on it."
"Calm yourself,
my dear Stuart,"
said Fallentin.
"It's only a joke."
"When I say I'll wager,"
returned Stuart,
"I mean it."
"All right,"
said Mr. Fogg;
and,
turning
to the others,
he continued:
"I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring's which I will willingly risk upon it."
"Twenty thousand pounds!"
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 friend.
The clock struck seven,
and the party offered
to suspend the game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations
for departure.
"I am quite ready now,"
was his tranquil response.
"Diamonds are trumps:
be so good as
to play,
gentlemen."
Chapter IV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT,
HIS SERVANT Having won twenty guineas at whist,
and taken leave of his friends,
Phileas Fogg,
at twenty-five minutes past seven,
left the Reform Club.
Passepartout,
who had conscientiously studied the programme of his duties,
was more than surprised
to see his master guilty of the inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour;
for,
according
to rule,
he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg repaired
to his bedroom,
and called out,
"Passepartout!"
Passepartout did not reply.
It could not be he who was called;
it was not the right hour.
"Passepartout!"
repeated Mr. Fogg,
without raising his voice.
Passepartout made his appearance.
"I've called you twice,"
observed his master.
"But it is not midnight,"
responded the other,
showing his watch.
"I know it;
I don't blame you.
We start
for Dover and Calais in ten minutes."
A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout's round face;
clearly he had not comprehended his master.
"Monsieur is going
to leave home?"
"Yes,"
returned Phileas Fogg.
"We are going round the world."
Passepartout opened wide his eyes,
raised his eyebrows,
held up his hands,
and seemed about
to collapse,
so overcome was he
with stupefied astonishment.
"Round the world!"
he murmured.
"In eighty days,"
responded Mr. Fogg.
"So we haven't a moment
to lose."
"But the trunks?"
gasped Passepartout,
unconsciously swaying his head from right
to left.
"We'll have no trunks;
only a 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.
"Nothing,
monsieur."
"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--"
"What?"
"To turn off the gas in my room!"
"Very well,
young man,"
returned Mr. Fogg,
coolly;
"it will burn-- at your expense."
Chapter V
IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS,
UNKNOWN
to THE MONEYED MEN,
APPEARS ON
'CHANGE Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London would create a lively sensation at the West End.
The news of the bet spread through the Reform Club,
and afforded an exciting topic of conversation
to its members.
From the club it soon got into the papers throughout England.
The boasted
"tour of the world"
was talked about,
disputed,
argued
with as much warmth as if the subject were another Alabama claim.
Some took sides
with Phileas Fogg,
but the large majority shook their heads and declared against him;
it was absurd,
impossible,
they declared,
that the tour of the world could be made,
except theoretically and on paper,
in this minimum of time,
and
with the existing means of travelling.
The Times,
Standard,
Morning Post,
and Daily News,
and twenty other highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg's project as madness;
the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him.
People in general thought him a lunatic,
and blamed his Reform Club friends
for having accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.
Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on the question,
for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English;
and the columns devoted
to Phileas Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classes of readers.
At first some rash individuals,
principally of the gentler sex,
espoused his cause,
which became still more popular when the Illustrated London News came out
with his portrait,
copied from a photograph in the Reform Club.
A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared
to say,
"Why not,
after all?
Stranger things have come
to pass."
At last a long article appeared,
on the 7th of October,
in the bulletin of the Royal Geographical Society,
which treated the question from every point of view,
and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise.
Everything,
it said,
was against the travellers,
every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature.
A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and 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 Englishman."
The Fogg party dwindled more and more,
everybody was going against him,
and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred
to one;
and a week after his departure an incident occurred 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 hands:
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.
Fix,
Detective.
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.
Chapter VI
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 steamer Mongolia.
"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 speed."
"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"
"Directly from Brindisi;
she takes on the Indian mails there,
and she left there Saturday at five p.m.
Have patience,
Mr. Fix;
she will not be late.
But really,
I don't see how,
from the description you have,
you will be able
to recognise your man,
even if he is on board the Mongolia."
"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 n London than anywhere else."
This observation furnished the detective food
for thought,
and meanwhile the consul went away
to his office.
Fix,
left alone,
was more impatient than ever,
having a presentiment that the robber was on board the Mongolia.
If he had indeed left London intending
to reach the New World,
he would naturally take the route via India,
which was less watched and more difficult
to watch than that of the Atlantic.
But Fix's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp whistles,
which announced the arrival of the Mongolia.
The porters and fellahs rushed down the quay,
and a dozen boats pushed off from the shore
to go and meet the steamer.
Soon her gigantic hull appeared passing along between the banks,
and eleven o'clock struck as she anchored in the road.
She brought an unusual number of passengers,
some of whom remained on deck
to scan the picturesque panorama of the town,
while the greater part disembarked in the boats,
and landed on the quay.
Fix took up a position,
and carefully examined each face and figure which made its appearance.
Presently one of the passengers,
after vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,
came up
to him and politely asked if he could point out the English consulate,
at the same time showing a passport which he wished
to have visaed.
Fix instinctively took the passport,
and
with a rapid glance read the description of its bearer.
An involuntary motion of surprise nearly escaped him,
for the description in the passport was identical
with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.
"Is this your passport?"
asked he.
"No,
it's my master's."
"And your master is--"
"He stayed on board."
"But he must go
to the consul's in person,
so as
to establish his identity."
"Oh,
is that necessary?"
"Quite indispensable."
"And where is the consulate?"
"There,
on the corner of the square,"
said Fix,
pointing
to a house two hundred steps off.
"I'll go and fetch my master,
who won't be much pleased,
however,
to be disturbed."
The passenger bowed
to Fix,
and returned
to the steamer.
Chapter VII
WHICH ONCE MORE DEMONSTRATES THE USELESSNESS OF PASSPORTS AS AIDS
to DETECTIVES The detective passed down the quay,
and rapidly made his way
to the consul's office,
where he was at once admitted
to the presence of that official.
"Consul,"
said he,
without preamble,
"I have strong reasons
for believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia."
And he narrated what had just passed concerning the passport.
"Well,
Mr. Fix,"
replied the consul,
"I shall not be sorry
to see the rascal's face;
but perhaps he won't come here--that is,
if he is the person you suppose him
to be.
A robber doesn't quite like
to leave traces of his flight behind him;
and,
besides,
he is not obliged
to have his passport countersigned."
"If he is as shrewd as I think he is,
consul,
he will come."
"To have his passport visaed?"
"Yes.
Passports are only good
for annoying honest folks,
and aiding 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.
"I am."
"And this man is your servant?"
"He is:
a Frenchman,
named Passepartout."
"You are from London?"
"Yes."
"And you are going--"
"To Bombay."
"Very good,
sir.
You know that a visa is useless,
and that no passport is required?"
"I know it,
sir,"
replied Phileas Fogg;
"but I wish
to prove,
by your visa,
that I came by Suez."
"Very well,
sir."
The consul proceeded
to sign and date the passport,
after which he added his official seal.
Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee,
coldly bowed,
and went out,
followed by his servant.
"Well?"
queried the detective.
"Well,
he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man,"
replied the consul.
"Possibly;
but that is not the question.
Do you think,
consul,
that this phelgmatic 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.
Chapter VIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TALKS RATHER MORE,
PERHAPS,
THAN IS PRUDENT Fix soon rejoined Passepartout,
who was lounging and looking about on the quay,
as if he did not feel that he,
at least,
was obliged not
to see anything.
"Well,
my friend,"
said the detective,
coming up
with him,
"is your passport visaed?"
"Ah,
it's you,
is it,
monsieur?"
responded Passepartout.
"Thanks,
yes,
the passport is all right."
"And you are looking about you?"
"Yes;
but we travel so fast that I seem
to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"
"Yes."
"In Egypt?"
"Certainly,
in Egypt."
"And in Africa?"
"In Africa."
"In Africa!"
repeated Passepartout.
"Just think,
monsieur,
I had no idea that we should go farther than Paris;
and all that I saw of Paris was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in the morning,
between the Northern and the Lyons stations,
through the windows of a car,
and in a driving rain! How I regret not having seen once more Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"
"You are in a great hurry,
then?"
"I am not,
but my master is.
By the way,
I must buy some shoes and shirts.
We came away without trunks,
only
with a 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 went along.
"Above all,"
said he;
"don't let me lose the steamer."
"You have plenty of time;
it's only twelve o'clock."
Passepartout pulled out his big watch.
"Twelve!"
he exclaimed;
"why,
it's only eight minutes before ten."
"Your watch is slow."
"My watch?
A family watch,
monsieur,
which has come down from my great-grandfather! It doesn't vary five minutes in the year.
It's a perfect chronometer,
look you."
"I see how it is,"
said Fix.
"You have kept London time,
which is two hours behind that of Suez.
You ought
to regulate your watch at noon in each country."
"I regulate my watch?
Never!"
"Well,
then,
it will not agree
with the sun."
"So much the worse
for the sun,
monsieur.
The sun will be wrong,
then!"
And the worthy fellow returned the watch
to its fob
with a defiant gesture.
After a few minutes silence,
Fix resumed:
"You left London hastily,
then?"
"I rather think so! Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club,
and three-quarters of an hour afterwards we were off."
"But where is your master going?"
"Always straight ahead.
He is going round the world."
"Round the world?"
cried Fix.
"Yes,
and in eighty days! He says it is on a wager;
but,
between us,
I don't believe a word of it.
That wouldn't be common sense.
There's something else in the wind."
"Ah! Mr. Fogg is a character,
is he?"
"I should say he was."
"Is he rich?"
"No doubt,
for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand new 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?"
"India."
"In Asia?"
"Certainly."
"The deuce! I was going
to tell you there's one thing that worries me-- my burner!"
"What burner?"
"My gas-burner,
which I forgot
to turn off,
and which is at this moment burning at my expense.
I have calculated,
monsieur,
that I lose two shillings every four and twenty hours,
exactly sixpense more than I earn;
and you will understand that the longer our journey--"
Did Fix pay any attention
to Passepartout's trouble about the gas?
It is not probable.
He was not listening,
but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop,
where Fix left his companion
to make his purchases,
after recommending him not
to miss the steamer,
and hurried back
to the consulate.
Now that he was fully convinced,
Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.
"Consul,"
said he,
"I have no longer any doubt.
I have spotted my man.
He passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in eighty days."
"Then he's a sharp fellow,"
returned the consul,
"and counts on returning
to London after putting the police of the two countries off his track."
"We'll see about that,"
replied Fix.
"But are you not mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken."
"Why was this robber so anxious
to prove,
by the visa,
that he had passed through Suez?"
"Why?
I have no idea;
but listen
to me."
He reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation
with Passepartout.
"In short,"
said the consul,
"appearances are wholly against this man.
And what are you going
to do?"
"Send a 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.
Chapter IX
IN WHICH THE RED SEA AND THE INDIAN OCEAN PROVE PROPITIOUS
to THE DESIGNS OF PHILEAS FOGG The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and ten miles,
and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one hundred and thirty-eight hours in which
to traverse it.
The Mongolia,
thanks
to the vigorous exertions of the engineer,
seemed likely,
so rapid was her speed,
to reach her destination considerably within that time.
The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound
for India some
for Bombay,
others
for Calcutta by way of Bombay,
the nearest route thither,
now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.
Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of various grades,
the latter being either attached
to the regular British forces or commanding the Sepoy troops,
and receiving high salaries ever since the central government has assumed the powers of the East India Company:
for the sub-lieutenants get 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 Englishman--"
"Just so,
monsieur--"
"Fix."
"Monsieur Fix,"
resumed Passepartout,
"I'm charmed
to find you on board.
Where are you bound?"
"Like you,
to Bombay."
"That's capital! Have you made this trip before?"
"Several times.
I am one of the agents of the 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 sights."
"I hope so,
Monsieur Fix.
You see,
a man of sound sense ought not
to spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train,
and from a railway train upon a steamer again,
pretending
to make the tour of the world in eighty days! No;
all these gymnastics,
you may be sure,
will cease at Bombay."
"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?"
asked Fix,
in the most natural tone in the world.
"Quite well,
and I too.
I eat like a famished ogre;
it's the sea air.
"But I never see your master on deck."
"Never;
he hasn't the least curiosity."
"Do you know,
Mr. Passepartout,
that this pretended tour in eighty days may conceal some secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic mission?"
"Faith,
Monsieur Fix,
I assure you I know nothing about it,
nor would I give half a crown
to find out."
After this meeting,
Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting together,
the latter making it a point
to gain the worthy man's confidence.
He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale in the steamer 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 Somanlis,
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 brilliant victory.
The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd;
she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain
to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from London,
and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary,
in the column of gains.
Chapter X
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD
to GET OFF
with THE LOSS OF HIS SHOES Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land,
with its base in the north and its apex in the south,
which is called India,
embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles,
upon which is spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.
The British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of this vast country,
and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,
governors at Madras,
Bombay,
and in Bengal,
and a lieutenant-governor at Agra.
But British India,
properly so called,
only embraces seven hundred thousand square miles,
and a population of from one hundred
to one hundred and ten millions of inhabitants.
A considerable portion of India is still free from British authority;
and there are certain ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent.
The celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756,
when the English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city of Madras,
down
to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection.
It gradually annexed province after province,
purchasing them of the native chiefs,
whom it seldom paid,
and appointed the governor-general and his subordinates,
civil and military.
But the East India Company has now passed away,
leaving the British possessions in India directly under the control of the Crown.
The aspect of the country,
as well as the manners and distinctions of race,
is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged
to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods of going on foot or on horseback,
in palanquins or unwieldly 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 a 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 time."
"For the cats,
my lord?"
"Perhaps
for the travellers as well!"
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner.
Fix had gone on shore shortly after Mr. Fogg,
and his first destination was the headquarters of the Bombay police.
He made himself known as a London detective,
told his business at Bombay,
and the position of affairs relative
to the supposed robber,
and nervously asked if a warrant had arrived from London.
It had not reached the office;
indeed,
there had not yet been time
for it
to arrive.
Fix was sorely disappointed,
and tried
to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay police.
This the director refused,
as the matter concerned the London office,
which alone could legally deliver the warrant.
Fix did not insist,
and was fain
to resign himself
to await the arrival of the important document;
but he was determined not
to lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay.
He did not doubt
for a moment,
any more than Passepartout,
that Phileas Fogg would remain there,
at least until it was time
for the warrant
to arrive.
Passepartout,
however,
had no sooner heard his master's orders on leaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were
to leave Bombay as they had done Suez and Paris,
and that the journey would be extended at least as far as Calcutta,
and perhaps beyond that place.
He began
to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in good earnest,
and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,
despite his love of repose,
around the world in eighty days! Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes,
he took a leisurely promenade about the streets,
where crowds of people of many nationalities--Europeans,
Persians
with pointed caps,
Banyas
with round turbans,
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.
Chapter XI
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG SECURES A CURIOUS MEANS OF CONVEYANCE AT A FABULOUS PRICE The train had started punctually.
Among the passengers were a number of officers,
Government officials,
and opium and indigo merchants,
whose business called them
to the eastern coast.
Passepartout rode in the same carriage
with his master,
and a third passenger occupied a seat opposite
to them.
This was Sir Francis Cromarty,
one of Mr. Fogg's whist partners on the Mongolia,
now on his way
to join his corps at Benares.
Sir Francis was a tall,
fair man of fifty,
who had greatly distinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt.
He made India his home,
only paying brief visits
to England at rare intervals;
and was almost as familiar as a native
with the customs,
history,
and character of India and its people.
But Phileas Fogg,
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 anybody else.
An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaducts and the Island of Salcette,
and had got into the open country.
At Callyan they reached the junction of the branch line which descends towards 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 master."
The conversation fell again.
During the night the train left the mountains behind,
and passed Nassik,
and the next day proceeded over the flat,
well-cultivated country of the Khandeish,
with its straggling villages,
above which rose the minarets of the pagodas.
This fertile territory is watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams,
mostly tributaries of the Godavery.
Passepartout,
on waking and looking out,
could not 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 up on 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 Allahabad."
Sir Francis was furious.
Passepartout would willingly have knocked the conductor down,
and did not dare
to look at his master.
"Sir Francis,"
said Mr. Fogg quietly,
"we will,
if you please,
look about
for some means of conveyance
to Allahabad."
"Mr. Fogg,
this is a delay greatly
to your disadvantage."
"No,
Sir Francis;
it was foreseen."
"What! You knew that the way--"
"Not at all;
but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or later arise on my route.
Nothing,
therefore,
is lost.
I have two days,
which I have already gained,
to sacrifice.
A steamer leaves Calcutta
for Hong Kong at noon,
on the 25th.
This is the 22nd,
and we shall reach Calcutta in time."
There was nothing
to say
to so confident a response.
It was but too true that the railway came
to a termination at this point.
The papers were like some watches,
which have a way of getting too fast,
and had been premature in their announcement of the completion of the line.
The greater part of the travellers were aware of this interruption,
and,
leaving the train,
they began
to engage such vehicles as the village could provide four-wheeled palkigharis,
waggons drawn by zebus,
carriages that looked like perambulating pagodas,
palanquins,
ponies,
and what not.
Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty,
after searching the village from end
to end,
came back without having found anything.
"I shall go afoot,"
said Phileas Fogg.
Passepartout,
who had now rejoined his master,
made a wry grimace,
as he thought of his magnificent,
but too frail Indian shoes.
Happily he too had been looking about him,
and,
after a moment's hesitation,
said,
"Monsieur,
I think I have found a means of conveyance."
"What?"
"An elephant! An elephant that belongs
to an Indian who lives but a hundred steps from here."
"Let's go and see the elephant,"
replied Mr. Fogg.
They soon reached a small hut,
near which,
enclosed within some high 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 pounds sterling.
Phileas Fogg,
without getting in the least flurried,
then proposed
to purchase the animal outright,
and at first offered a thousand pounds
for him.
The Indian,
perhaps thinking he was going
to make a great bargain,
still refused.
Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside,
and begged him
to reflect before he went any further;
to which that gentleman replied that he was not in the habit of acting rashly,
that a bet of twenty thousand pounds was at stake,
that the elephant was absolutely necessary
to him,
and that he would secure him if he had
to pay twenty times his value.
Returning
to the Indian,
whose small,
sharp eyes,
glistening
with avarice,
betrayed that
with him it was only a question of how great a price he could obtain.
Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred,
then fifteen hundred,
eighteen hundred,
two thousand pounds.
Passepartout,
usually so rubicund,
was fairly white
with suspense.
At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.
"What a price,
good 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.
Chapter XII
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG AND HIS COMPANIONS VENTURE ACROSS THE INDIAN FORESTS,
AND WHAT ENSUED In order
to shorten the journey,
the guide passed
to the left of the line where the railway was still in process of being built.
This line,
owing
to the capricious turnings of the Vindhia Mountains,
did not pursue a straight course.
The Parsee,
who was quite familiar
with the roads and paths in the district,
declared that they would gain twenty miles by striking directly through the forest.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty,
plunged
to the neck in the peculiar howdahs provided
for them,
were horribly jostled by the swift trotting of the elephant,
spurred on as he was by the skilful Parsee;
but they endured the discomfort
with true British phlegm,
talking little,
and scarcely able
to catch a glimpse of each other.
As
for Passepartout,
who was mounted on the beast's back,
and received the direct force of each concussion as he trod along,
he was very careful,
in accordance
with his master's advice,
to keep his tongue from between his teeth,
as it would otherwise have been bitten off short.
The worthy fellow bounced from the elephant's neck
to his rump,
and vaulted like a clown on a 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 grea