Chapter 12 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:36 AM
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 and threatening motions. The Parsee avoided
them as much as possible. Few animals were observed on the route; even
the monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces which
convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy
servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got to
Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell
him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some
consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a
present of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these
thoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.
The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the
evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined
bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an
equal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few
dry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased at
Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The
conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave
place to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept
standing, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree.
Nothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, although
occasional growls front panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the
silence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostile
demonstration against the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept
heavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout
was wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for
Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serene
mansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reach
Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part of
the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni,
resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the
Vindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on
the Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoided
inhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which
lies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river.
Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stopped
under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread and
as succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.
At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended several
miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had not
as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the
point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming
restless, suddenly stopped.
It was then four o'clock.
"What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
"I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to a
confused murmur which came through the thick branches.
The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant
concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout
was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The
Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and
plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent their
seeing us, if possible."
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the same
time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready to
bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight become
necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful
would pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which
they were wholly concealed.
The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and now
droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.
The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred
paces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious
ceremony were easily distinguished through the branches. First came
the priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace
robes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a
kind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the
tambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with large
wheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with each
other. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus,
stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red,
with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tinted
with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate and
headless giant.
Sir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali; the
goddess of love and death."
"Of death, perhaps," muttered back Passepartout, "but of love--that
ugly old hag? Never!"
The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.
A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round the
statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence
their blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, in the great
Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of
Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental
apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.
This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and
gems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with
gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her
form.
The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to
her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and
long damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was
the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a
rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of
tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and
the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians
and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the
noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.
Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning
to the guide, said, "A suttee."
The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in
the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally
cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow
at the dawn of day."
"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his
indignation.
"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."
"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the
least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and
that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"
"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," replied
Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, and
especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the
Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."
"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"
"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not, you
cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from
her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty
allowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as
an unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog.
The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures
to the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism.
Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires
the active interference of the Government to prevent it. Several years
ago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the
governor to be burned along with her husband's body; but, as you may
imagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took refuge with an
independent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."
While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,
and now said: "The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn is
not a voluntary one."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"
observed Sir Francis.
"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and
opium."
"But where are they taking her?"
"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night
there."
"And the sacrifice will take place--"
"To-morrow, at the first light of dawn."
The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon his
neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with
a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir Francis
Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."
"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
"I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."
"Why, you are a man of heart!"
"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
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 and threatening motions. The Parsee avoided
them as much as possible. Few animals were observed on the route; even
the monkeys hurried from their path with contortions and grimaces which
convulsed Passepartout with laughter.
In the midst of his gaiety, however, one thought troubled the worthy
servant. What would Mr. Fogg do with the elephant when he got to
Allahabad? Would he carry him on with him? Impossible! The cost of
transporting him would make him ruinously expensive. Would he sell
him, or set him free? The estimable beast certainly deserved some
consideration. Should Mr. Fogg choose to make him, Passepartout, a
present of Kiouni, he would be very much embarrassed; and these
thoughts did not cease worrying him for a long time.
The principal chain of the Vindhias was crossed by eight in the
evening, and another halt was made on the northern slope, in a ruined
bungalow. They had gone nearly twenty-five miles that day, and an
equal distance still separated them from the station of Allahabad.
The night was cold. The Parsee lit a fire in the bungalow with a few
dry branches, and the warmth was very grateful, provisions purchased at
Kholby sufficed for supper, and the travellers ate ravenously. The
conversation, beginning with a few disconnected phrases, soon gave
place to loud and steady snores. The guide watched Kiouni, who slept
standing, bolstering himself against the trunk of a large tree.
Nothing occurred during the night to disturb the slumberers, although
occasional growls front panthers and chatterings of monkeys broke the
silence; the more formidable beasts made no cries or hostile
demonstration against the occupants of the bungalow. Sir Francis slept
heavily, like an honest soldier overcome with fatigue. Passepartout
was wrapped in uneasy dreams of the bouncing of the day before. As for
Mr. Fogg, he slumbered as peacefully as if he had been in his serene
mansion in Saville Row.
The journey was resumed at six in the morning; the guide hoped to reach
Allahabad by evening. In that case, Mr. Fogg would only lose a part of
the forty-eight hours saved since the beginning of the tour. Kiouni,
resuming his rapid gait, soon descended the lower spurs of the
Vindhias, and towards noon they passed by the village of Kallenger, on
the Cani, one of the branches of the Ganges. The guide avoided
inhabited places, thinking it safer to keep the open country, which
lies along the first depressions of the basin of the great river.
Allahabad was now only twelve miles to the north-east. They stopped
under a clump of bananas, the fruit of which, as healthy as bread and
as succulent as cream, was amply partaken of and appreciated.
At two o'clock the guide entered a thick forest which extended several
miles; he preferred to travel under cover of the woods. They had not
as yet had any unpleasant encounters, and the journey seemed on the
point of being successfully accomplished, when the elephant, becoming
restless, suddenly stopped.
It was then four o'clock.
"What's the matter?" asked Sir Francis, putting out his head.
"I don't know, officer," replied the Parsee, listening attentively to a
confused murmur which came through the thick branches.
The murmur soon became more distinct; it now seemed like a distant
concert of human voices accompanied by brass instruments. Passepartout
was all eyes and ears. Mr. Fogg patiently waited without a word. The
Parsee jumped to the ground, fastened the elephant to a tree, and
plunged into the thicket. He soon returned, saying:
"A procession of Brahmins is coming this way. We must prevent their
seeing us, if possible."
The guide unloosed the elephant and led him into a thicket, at the same
time asking the travellers not to stir. He held himself ready to
bestride the animal at a moment's notice, should flight become
necessary; but he evidently thought that the procession of the faithful
would pass without perceiving them amid the thick foliage, in which
they were wholly concealed.
The discordant tones of the voices and instruments drew nearer, and now
droning songs mingled with the sound of the tambourines and cymbals.
The head of the procession soon appeared beneath the trees, a hundred
paces away; and the strange figures who performed the religious
ceremony were easily distinguished through the branches. First came
the priests, with mitres on their heads, and clothed in long lace
robes. They were surrounded by men, women, and children, who sang a
kind of lugubrious psalm, interrupted at regular intervals by the
tambourines and cymbals; while behind them was drawn a car with large
wheels, the spokes of which represented serpents entwined with each
other. Upon the car, which was drawn by four richly caparisoned zebus,
stood a hideous statue with four arms, the body coloured a dull red,
with haggard eyes, dishevelled hair, protruding tongue, and lips tinted
with betel. It stood upright upon the figure of a prostrate and
headless giant.
Sir Francis, recognising the statue, whispered, "The goddess Kali; the
goddess of love and death."
"Of death, perhaps," muttered back Passepartout, "but of love--that
ugly old hag? Never!"
The Parsee made a motion to keep silence.
A group of old fakirs were capering and making a wild ado round the
statue; these were striped with ochre, and covered with cuts whence
their blood issued drop by drop--stupid fanatics, who, in the great
Indian ceremonies, still throw themselves under the wheels of
Juggernaut. Some Brahmins, clad in all the sumptuousness of Oriental
apparel, and leading a woman who faltered at every step, followed.
This woman was young, and as fair as a European. Her head and neck,
shoulders, ears, arms, hands, and toes were loaded down with jewels and
gems with bracelets, earrings, and rings; while a tunic bordered with
gold, and covered with a light muslin robe, betrayed the outline of her
form.
The guards who followed the young woman presented a violent contrast to
her, armed as they were with naked sabres hung at their waists, and
long damascened pistols, and bearing a corpse on a palanquin. It was
the body of an old man, gorgeously arrayed in the habiliments of a
rajah, wearing, as in life, a turban embroidered with pearls, a robe of
tissue of silk and gold, a scarf of cashmere sewed with diamonds, and
the magnificent weapons of a Hindoo prince. Next came the musicians
and a rearguard of capering fakirs, whose cries sometimes drowned the
noise of the instruments; these closed the procession.
Sir Francis watched the procession with a sad countenance, and, turning
to the guide, said, "A suttee."
The Parsee nodded, and put his finger to his lips. The procession
slowly wound under the trees, and soon its last ranks disappeared in
the depths of the wood. The songs gradually died away; occasionally
cries were heard in the distance, until at last all was silence again.
Phileas Fogg had heard what Sir Francis said, and, as soon as the
procession had disappeared, asked: "What is a suttee?"
"A suttee," returned the general, "is a human sacrifice, but a
voluntary one. The woman you have just seen will be burned to-morrow
at the dawn of day."
"Oh, the scoundrels!" cried Passepartout, who could not repress his
indignation.
"And the corpse?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"Is that of the prince, her husband," said the guide; "an independent
rajah of Bundelcund."
"Is it possible," resumed Phileas Fogg, his voice betraying not the
least emotion, "that these barbarous customs still exist in India, and
that the English have been unable to put a stop to them?"
"These sacrifices do not occur in the larger portion of India," replied
Sir Francis; "but we have no power over these savage territories, and
especially here in Bundelcund. The whole district north of the
Vindhias is the theatre of incessant murders and pillage."
"The poor wretch!" exclaimed Passepartout, "to be burned alive!"
"Yes," returned Sir Francis, "burned alive. And, if she were not, you
cannot conceive what treatment she would be obliged to submit to from
her relatives. They would shave off her hair, feed her on a scanty
allowance of rice, treat her with contempt; she would be looked upon as
an unclean creature, and would die in some corner, like a scurvy dog.
The prospect of so frightful an existence drives these poor creatures
to the sacrifice much more than love or religious fanaticism.
Sometimes, however, the sacrifice is really voluntary, and it requires
the active interference of the Government to prevent it. Several years
ago, when I was living at Bombay, a young widow asked permission of the
governor to be burned along with her husband's body; but, as you may
imagine, he refused. The woman left the town, took refuge with an
independent rajah, and there carried out her self-devoted purpose."
While Sir Francis was speaking, the guide shook his head several times,
and now said: "The sacrifice which will take place to-morrow at dawn is
not a voluntary one."
"How do you know?"
"Everybody knows about this affair in Bundelcund."
"But the wretched creature did not seem to be making any resistance,"
observed Sir Francis.
"That was because they had intoxicated her with fumes of hemp and
opium."
"But where are they taking her?"
"To the pagoda of Pillaji, two miles from here; she will pass the night
there."
"And the sacrifice will take place--"
"To-morrow, at the first light of dawn."
The guide now led the elephant out of the thicket, and leaped upon his
neck. Just at the moment that he was about to urge Kiouni forward with
a peculiar whistle, Mr. Fogg stopped him, and, turning to Sir Francis
Cromarty, said, "Suppose we save this woman."
"Save the woman, Mr. Fogg!"
"I have yet twelve hours to spare; I can devote them to that."
"Why, you are a man of heart!"
"Sometimes," replied Phileas Fogg, quietly; "when I have the time."
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 13 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:35 AM
Chapter XIII
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT RECEIVES A NEW PROOF THAT FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE
The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable.
Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the
success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir
Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.
As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed.
His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that
icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.
There remained the guide: what course would he adopt? Would he not
take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was
necessary to be assured of his neutrality.
Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.
"Officers," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a
Parsee. Command me as you will."
"Excellent!" said Mr. Fogg.
"However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall
risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."
"That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg. "I think we must wait till night
before acting."
"I think so," said the guide.
The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said,
was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a
wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English
education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would
be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was
married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing
the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the
rajah's relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice
from which it seemed she could not escape.
The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the
elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached
as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a
copse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well
concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs
distinctly.
They then discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was
familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the
young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while
the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it
safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be
determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain
that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of
day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human
intervention could save her.
As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a
reconnaissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just
ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the
drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be
possible to slip between them to the temple itself.
The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and
in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream,
whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of
wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was
to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above
the trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.
"Come!" whispered the guide.
He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his
companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of
the wind among the branches.
Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up
by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,
motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with
the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.
In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed
distinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the
rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to
and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching
within.
The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance
to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be
attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered
colloquy.
"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may also
go to sleep."
"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an
observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by
the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of
the pagoda.
They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,
and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be
counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the
walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the
priests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as
were the soldiers at the door.
After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a
roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached
the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there
was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.
The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the
darkness.
It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their
pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood,
which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had
been taken out, the rest would yield easily.
They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a
cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly
by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide
stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common
prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas
Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and
waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding
themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly
enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there
installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.
It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus
interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how,
then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout
was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The
tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.
"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.
"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.
"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."
"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and--"
"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."
Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes. What was
this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for
the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch
her from her executioners?
This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such
a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this
terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where
they were able to observe the sleeping groups.
Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches
of a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a
flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.
He had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he
repeated, "Why not, after all? It's a chance perhaps the only one; and
with such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a
serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the
ground.
The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of
day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering
multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries
arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda
swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst
of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed,
having shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape
from her executioner. Sir Francis's heart throbbed; and, convulsively
seizing Mr. Fogg's hand, found in it an open knife. Just at this
moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again fallen into
a stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who
escorted her with their wild, religious cries.
Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the
crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the
stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the
rajah's corpse. In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite
senseless, stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was
brought, and the wood, heavily soaked with oil, instantly took fire.
At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in
an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he
had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed.
A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves,
terror-stricken, on the ground.
The old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a
spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in
the midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly
appearance.
Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there,
with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and
behold such a prodigy.
The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr.
Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and
Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.
The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in an
abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"
It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst
of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had
delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing
his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the
general terror.
A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and
the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and
noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat, apprised
them that the trick had been discovered.
The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and
the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction
had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the
soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter
rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found
themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT RECEIVES A NEW PROOF THAT FORTUNE FAVORS THE BRAVE
The project was a bold one, full of difficulty, perhaps impracticable.
Mr. Fogg was going to risk life, or at least liberty, and therefore the
success of his tour. But he did not hesitate, and he found in Sir
Francis Cromarty an enthusiastic ally.
As for Passepartout, he was ready for anything that might be proposed.
His master's idea charmed him; he perceived a heart, a soul, under that
icy exterior. He began to love Phileas Fogg.
There remained the guide: what course would he adopt? Would he not
take part with the Indians? In default of his assistance, it was
necessary to be assured of his neutrality.
Sir Francis frankly put the question to him.
"Officers," replied the guide, "I am a Parsee, and this woman is a
Parsee. Command me as you will."
"Excellent!" said Mr. Fogg.
"However," resumed the guide, "it is certain, not only that we shall
risk our lives, but horrible tortures, if we are taken."
"That is foreseen," replied Mr. Fogg. "I think we must wait till night
before acting."
"I think so," said the guide.
The worthy Indian then gave some account of the victim, who, he said,
was a celebrated beauty of the Parsee race, and the daughter of a
wealthy Bombay merchant. She had received a thoroughly English
education in that city, and, from her manners and intelligence, would
be thought an European. Her name was Aouda. Left an orphan, she was
married against her will to the old rajah of Bundelcund; and, knowing
the fate that awaited her, she escaped, was retaken, and devoted by the
rajah's relatives, who had an interest in her death, to the sacrifice
from which it seemed she could not escape.
The Parsee's narrative only confirmed Mr. Fogg and his companions in
their generous design. It was decided that the guide should direct the
elephant towards the pagoda of Pillaji, which he accordingly approached
as quickly as possible. They halted, half an hour afterwards, in a
copse, some five hundred feet from the pagoda, where they were well
concealed; but they could hear the groans and cries of the fakirs
distinctly.
They then discussed the means of getting at the victim. The guide was
familiar with the pagoda of Pillaji, in which, as he declared, the
young woman was imprisoned. Could they enter any of its doors while
the whole party of Indians was plunged in a drunken sleep, or was it
safer to attempt to make a hole in the walls? This could only be
determined at the moment and the place themselves; but it was certain
that the abduction must be made that night, and not when, at break of
day, the victim was led to her funeral pyre. Then no human
intervention could save her.
As soon as night fell, about six o'clock, they decided to make a
reconnaissance around the pagoda. The cries of the fakirs were just
ceasing; the Indians were in the act of plunging themselves into the
drunkenness caused by liquid opium mingled with hemp, and it might be
possible to slip between them to the temple itself.
The Parsee, leading the others, noiselessly crept through the wood, and
in ten minutes they found themselves on the banks of a small stream,
whence, by the light of the rosin torches, they perceived a pyre of
wood, on the top of which lay the embalmed body of the rajah, which was
to be burned with his wife. The pagoda, whose minarets loomed above
the trees in the deepening dusk, stood a hundred steps away.
"Come!" whispered the guide.
He slipped more cautiously than ever through the brush, followed by his
companions; the silence around was only broken by the low murmuring of
the wind among the branches.
Soon the Parsee stopped on the borders of the glade, which was lit up
by the torches. The ground was covered by groups of the Indians,
motionless in their drunken sleep; it seemed a battlefield strewn with
the dead. Men, women, and children lay together.
In the background, among the trees, the pagoda of Pillaji loomed
distinctly. Much to the guide's disappointment, the guards of the
rajah, lighted by torches, were watching at the doors and marching to
and fro with naked sabres; probably the priests, too, were watching
within.
The Parsee, now convinced that it was impossible to force an entrance
to the temple, advanced no farther, but led his companions back again.
Phileas Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty also saw that nothing could be
attempted in that direction. They stopped, and engaged in a whispered
colloquy.
"It is only eight now," said the brigadier, "and these guards may also
go to sleep."
"It is not impossible," returned the Parsee.
They lay down at the foot of a tree, and waited.
The time seemed long; the guide ever and anon left them to take an
observation on the edge of the wood, but the guards watched steadily by
the glare of the torches, and a dim light crept through the windows of
the pagoda.
They waited till midnight; but no change took place among the guards,
and it became apparent that their yielding to sleep could not be
counted on. The other plan must be carried out; an opening in the
walls of the pagoda must be made. It remained to ascertain whether the
priests were watching by the side of their victim as assiduously as
were the soldiers at the door.
After a last consultation, the guide announced that he was ready for
the attempt, and advanced, followed by the others. They took a
roundabout way, so as to get at the pagoda on the rear. They reached
the walls about half-past twelve, without having met anyone; here there
was no guard, nor were there either windows or doors.
The night was dark. The moon, on the wane, scarcely left the horizon,
and was covered with heavy clouds; the height of the trees deepened the
darkness.
It was not enough to reach the walls; an opening in them must be
accomplished, and to attain this purpose the party only had their
pocket-knives. Happily the temple walls were built of brick and wood,
which could be penetrated with little difficulty; after one brick had
been taken out, the rest would yield easily.
They set noiselessly to work, and the Parsee on one side and
Passepartout on the other began to loosen the bricks so as to make an
aperture two feet wide. They were getting on rapidly, when suddenly a
cry was heard in the interior of the temple, followed almost instantly
by other cries replying from the outside. Passepartout and the guide
stopped. Had they been heard? Was the alarm being given? Common
prudence urged them to retire, and they did so, followed by Phileas
Fogg and Sir Francis. They again hid themselves in the wood, and
waited till the disturbance, whatever it might be, ceased, holding
themselves ready to resume their attempt without delay. But, awkwardly
enough, the guards now appeared at the rear of the temple, and there
installed themselves, in readiness to prevent a surprise.
It would be difficult to describe the disappointment of the party, thus
interrupted in their work. They could not now reach the victim; how,
then, could they save her? Sir Francis shook his fists, Passepartout
was beside himself, and the guide gnashed his teeth with rage. The
tranquil Fogg waited, without betraying any emotion.
"We have nothing to do but to go away," whispered Sir Francis.
"Nothing but to go away," echoed the guide.
"Stop," said Fogg. "I am only due at Allahabad tomorrow before noon."
"But what can you hope to do?" asked Sir Francis. "In a few hours it
will be daylight, and--"
"The chance which now seems lost may present itself at the last moment."
Sir Francis would have liked to read Phileas Fogg's eyes. What was
this cool Englishman thinking of? Was he planning to make a rush for
the young woman at the very moment of the sacrifice, and boldly snatch
her from her executioners?
This would be utter folly, and it was hard to admit that Fogg was such
a fool. Sir Francis consented, however, to remain to the end of this
terrible drama. The guide led them to the rear of the glade, where
they were able to observe the sleeping groups.
Meanwhile Passepartout, who had perched himself on the lower branches
of a tree, was resolving an idea which had at first struck him like a
flash, and which was now firmly lodged in his brain.
He had commenced by saying to himself, "What folly!" and then he
repeated, "Why not, after all? It's a chance perhaps the only one; and
with such sots!" Thinking thus, he slipped, with the suppleness of a
serpent, to the lowest branches, the ends of which bent almost to the
ground.
The hours passed, and the lighter shades now announced the approach of
day, though it was not yet light. This was the moment. The slumbering
multitude became animated, the tambourines sounded, songs and cries
arose; the hour of the sacrifice had come. The doors of the pagoda
swung open, and a bright light escaped from its interior, in the midst
of which Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis espied the victim. She seemed,
having shaken off the stupor of intoxication, to be striving to escape
from her executioner. Sir Francis's heart throbbed; and, convulsively
seizing Mr. Fogg's hand, found in it an open knife. Just at this
moment the crowd began to move. The young woman had again fallen into
a stupor caused by the fumes of hemp, and passed among the fakirs, who
escorted her with their wild, religious cries.
Phileas Fogg and his companions, mingling in the rear ranks of the
crowd, followed; and in two minutes they reached the banks of the
stream, and stopped fifty paces from the pyre, upon which still lay the
rajah's corpse. In the semi-obscurity they saw the victim, quite
senseless, stretched out beside her husband's body. Then a torch was
brought, and the wood, heavily soaked with oil, instantly took fire.
At this moment Sir Francis and the guide seized Phileas Fogg, who, in
an instant of mad generosity, was about to rush upon the pyre. But he
had quickly pushed them aside, when the whole scene suddenly changed.
A cry of terror arose. The whole multitude prostrated themselves,
terror-stricken, on the ground.
The old rajah was not dead, then, since he rose of a sudden, like a
spectre, took up his wife in his arms, and descended from the pyre in
the midst of the clouds of smoke, which only heightened his ghostly
appearance.
Fakirs and soldiers and priests, seized with instant terror, lay there,
with their faces on the ground, not daring to lift their eyes and
behold such a prodigy.
The inanimate victim was borne along by the vigorous arms which
supported her, and which she did not seem in the least to burden. Mr.
Fogg and Sir Francis stood erect, the Parsee bowed his head, and
Passepartout was, no doubt, scarcely less stupefied.
The resuscitated rajah approached Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg, and, in an
abrupt tone, said, "Let us be off!"
It was Passepartout himself, who had slipped upon the pyre in the midst
of the smoke and, profiting by the still overhanging darkness, had
delivered the young woman from death! It was Passepartout who, playing
his part with a happy audacity, had passed through the crowd amid the
general terror.
A moment after all four of the party had disappeared in the woods, and
the elephant was bearing them away at a rapid pace. But the cries and
noise, and a ball which whizzed through Phileas Fogg's hat, apprised
them that the trick had been discovered.
The old rajah's body, indeed, now appeared upon the burning pyre; and
the priests, recovered from their terror, perceived that an abduction
had taken place. They hastened into the forest, followed by the
soldiers, who fired a volley after the fugitives; but the latter
rapidly increased the distance between them, and ere long found
themselves beyond the reach of the bullets and arrows.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 14 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:34 AM
Chapter XIV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY
OF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF SEEING IT
The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout
laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow's
hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which, from him, was high
commendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the
affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with
a "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,
Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse
of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young
Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing,
and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the
howdahs.
The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was
advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after
leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at
seven o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete
prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but
the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. Sir
Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced
by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But he
was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas
Fogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall
again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were
scattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police,
recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only be
safe by quitting India for ever.
Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and, the
interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach
Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be
able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next
day, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station,
whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various
articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master
gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, and
found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the City of God,
one of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the
two sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract
pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according to
the legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma's
agency, it descends to the earth.
Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a good
look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has
since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and
Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to
frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty
Jew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dress
of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for
which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returned
triumphantly to the station.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began
gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes
resumed all their soft Indian expression.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen of
Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:
"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious
contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and
freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama,
the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest
reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of
Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth,
fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops
in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed
ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the
lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of
Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple
waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her
rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower
displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of
her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike
hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda,
that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of the
phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not
exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her
bringing up.
The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded to
pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing
more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master
owed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in the
adventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by the
Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni,
also, must be disposed of. What should be done with the elephant,
which had been so dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg had already
determined this question.
"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted.
I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you
like to have this elephant? He is yours."
The guide's eyes glistened.
"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your
debtor."
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout. "Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him
several lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout
around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.
Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which
replaced him gently on the ground.
Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were
whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles,
and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman
fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself
in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and
with travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions first
set about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis
narrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which
Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and
recounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of
Passepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout,
abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't worth telling."
Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than
words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.
Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and
recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.
Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and offered,
in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might
remain safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which she
eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,
who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an
English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends
assert that this city is built on the site of the ancient Casi, which,
like Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth;
though the Benares of to-day, which the Orientalists call the Athens of
India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartout
caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of
desolation to the place, as the train entered it.
Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he was
rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade
adieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hope
that he would come that way again in a less original but more
profitable fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The
parting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis,
betrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty
shake of the hand from the gallant general.
The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of
the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had
glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains
clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles
peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still
thickly-leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the
sacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and
chilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were
fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being
Vishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural
forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. What
would these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, with
steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls
which float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and
the faithful dwelling upon its borders?
The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam
concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely
discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares,
the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its
famous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on
the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a
large manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principal
opium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is
as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries,
edgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke
heavenward.
Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the
roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before the
locomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour,
Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town
of Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his
country's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.
Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for
Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of
October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was
therefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time. The two days gained
between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the
journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg
regretted them.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG DESCENDS THE WHOLE LENGTH OF THE BEAUTIFUL VALLEY
OF THE GANGES WITHOUT EVER THINKING OF SEEING IT
The rash exploit had been accomplished; and for an hour Passepartout
laughed gaily at his success. Sir Francis pressed the worthy fellow's
hand, and his master said, "Well done!" which, from him, was high
commendation; to which Passepartout replied that all the credit of the
affair belonged to Mr. Fogg. As for him, he had only been struck with
a "queer" idea; and he laughed to think that for a few moments he,
Passepartout, the ex-gymnast, ex-sergeant fireman, had been the spouse
of a charming woman, a venerable, embalmed rajah! As for the young
Indian woman, she had been unconscious throughout of what was passing,
and now, wrapped up in a travelling-blanket, was reposing in one of the
howdahs.
The elephant, thanks to the skilful guidance of the Parsee, was
advancing rapidly through the still darksome forest, and, an hour after
leaving the pagoda, had crossed a vast plain. They made a halt at
seven o'clock, the young woman being still in a state of complete
prostration. The guide made her drink a little brandy and water, but
the drowsiness which stupefied her could not yet be shaken off. Sir
Francis, who was familiar with the effects of the intoxication produced
by the fumes of hemp, reassured his companions on her account. But he
was more disturbed at the prospect of her future fate. He told Phileas
Fogg that, should Aouda remain in India, she would inevitably fall
again into the hands of her executioners. These fanatics were
scattered throughout the county, and would, despite the English police,
recover their victim at Madras, Bombay, or Calcutta. She would only be
safe by quitting India for ever.
Phileas Fogg replied that he would reflect upon the matter.
The station at Allahabad was reached about ten o'clock, and, the
interrupted line of railway being resumed, would enable them to reach
Calcutta in less than twenty-four hours. Phileas Fogg would thus be
able to arrive in time to take the steamer which left Calcutta the next
day, October 25th, at noon, for Hong Kong.
The young woman was placed in one of the waiting-rooms of the station,
whilst Passepartout was charged with purchasing for her various
articles of toilet, a dress, shawl, and some furs; for which his master
gave him unlimited credit. Passepartout started off forthwith, and
found himself in the streets of Allahabad, that is, the City of God,
one of the most venerated in India, being built at the junction of the
two sacred rivers, Ganges and Jumna, the waters of which attract
pilgrims from every part of the peninsula. The Ganges, according to
the legends of the Ramayana, rises in heaven, whence, owing to Brahma's
agency, it descends to the earth.
Passepartout made it a point, as he made his purchases, to take a good
look at the city. It was formerly defended by a noble fort, which has
since become a state prison; its commerce has dwindled away, and
Passepartout in vain looked about him for such a bazaar as he used to
frequent in Regent Street. At last he came upon an elderly, crusty
Jew, who sold second-hand articles, and from whom he purchased a dress
of Scotch stuff, a large mantle, and a fine otter-skin pelisse, for
which he did not hesitate to pay seventy-five pounds. He then returned
triumphantly to the station.
The influence to which the priests of Pillaji had subjected Aouda began
gradually to yield, and she became more herself, so that her fine eyes
resumed all their soft Indian expression.
When the poet-king, Ucaf Uddaul, celebrates the charms of the queen of
Ahmehnagara, he speaks thus:
"Her shining tresses, divided in two parts, encircle the harmonious
contour of her white and delicate cheeks, brilliant in their glow and
freshness. Her ebony brows have the form and charm of the bow of Kama,
the god of love, and beneath her long silken lashes the purest
reflections and a celestial light swim, as in the sacred lakes of
Himalaya, in the black pupils of her great clear eyes. Her teeth,
fine, equal, and white, glitter between her smiling lips like dewdrops
in a passion-flower's half-enveloped breast. Her delicately formed
ears, her vermilion hands, her little feet, curved and tender as the
lotus-bud, glitter with the brilliancy of the loveliest pearls of
Ceylon, the most dazzling diamonds of Golconda. Her narrow and supple
waist, which a hand may clasp around, sets forth the outline of her
rounded figure and the beauty of her bosom, where youth in its flower
displays the wealth of its treasures; and beneath the silken folds of
her tunic she seems to have been modelled in pure silver by the godlike
hand of Vicvarcarma, the immortal sculptor."
It is enough to say, without applying this poetical rhapsody to Aouda,
that she was a charming woman, in all the European acceptation of the
phrase. She spoke English with great purity, and the guide had not
exaggerated in saying that the young Parsee had been transformed by her
bringing up.
The train was about to start from Allahabad, and Mr. Fogg proceeded to
pay the guide the price agreed upon for his service, and not a farthing
more; which astonished Passepartout, who remembered all that his master
owed to the guide's devotion. He had, indeed, risked his life in the
adventure at Pillaji, and, if he should be caught afterwards by the
Indians, he would with difficulty escape their vengeance. Kiouni,
also, must be disposed of. What should be done with the elephant,
which had been so dearly purchased? Phileas Fogg had already
determined this question.
"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been serviceable and devoted.
I have paid for your service, but not for your devotion. Would you
like to have this elephant? He is yours."
The guide's eyes glistened.
"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" cried he.
"Take him, guide," returned Mr. Fogg, "and I shall still be your
debtor."
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout. "Take him, friend. Kiouni is a brave
and faithful beast." And, going up to the elephant, he gave him
several lumps of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, here, here."
The elephant grunted out his satisfaction, and, clasping Passepartout
around the waist with his trunk, lifted him as high as his head.
Passepartout, not in the least alarmed, caressed the animal, which
replaced him gently on the ground.
Soon after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passepartout,
installed in a carriage with Aouda, who had the best seat, were
whirling at full speed towards Benares. It was a run of eighty miles,
and was accomplished in two hours. During the journey, the young woman
fully recovered her senses. What was her astonishment to find herself
in this carriage, on the railway, dressed in European habiliments, and
with travellers who were quite strangers to her! Her companions first
set about fully reviving her with a little liquor, and then Sir Francis
narrated to her what had passed, dwelling upon the courage with which
Phileas Fogg had not hesitated to risk his life to save her, and
recounting the happy sequel of the venture, the result of
Passepartout's rash idea. Mr. Fogg said nothing; while Passepartout,
abashed, kept repeating that "it wasn't worth telling."
Aouda pathetically thanked her deliverers, rather with tears than
words; her fine eyes interpreted her gratitude better than her lips.
Then, as her thoughts strayed back to the scene of the sacrifice, and
recalled the dangers which still menaced her, she shuddered with terror.
Phileas Fogg understood what was passing in Aouda's mind, and offered,
in order to reassure her, to escort her to Hong Kong, where she might
remain safely until the affair was hushed up--an offer which she
eagerly and gratefully accepted. She had, it seems, a Parsee relation,
who was one of the principal merchants of Hong Kong, which is wholly an
English city, though on an island on the Chinese coast.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. The Brahmin legends
assert that this city is built on the site of the ancient Casi, which,
like Mahomet's tomb, was once suspended between heaven and earth;
though the Benares of to-day, which the Orientalists call the Athens of
India, stands quite unpoetically on the solid earth, Passepartout
caught glimpses of its brick houses and clay huts, giving an aspect of
desolation to the place, as the train entered it.
Benares was Sir Francis Cromarty's destination, the troops he was
rejoining being encamped some miles northward of the city. He bade
adieu to Phileas Fogg, wishing him all success, and expressing the hope
that he would come that way again in a less original but more
profitable fashion. Mr. Fogg lightly pressed him by the hand. The
parting of Aouda, who did not forget what she owed to Sir Francis,
betrayed more warmth; and, as for Passepartout, he received a hearty
shake of the hand from the gallant general.
The railway, on leaving Benares, passed for a while along the valley of
the Ganges. Through the windows of their carriage the travellers had
glimpses of the diversified landscape of Behar, with its mountains
clothed in verdure, its fields of barley, wheat, and corn, its jungles
peopled with green alligators, its neat villages, and its still
thickly-leaved forests. Elephants were bathing in the waters of the
sacred river, and groups of Indians, despite the advanced season and
chilly air, were performing solemnly their pious ablutions. These were
fervent Brahmins, the bitterest foes of Buddhism, their deities being
Vishnu, the solar god, Shiva, the divine impersonation of natural
forces, and Brahma, the supreme ruler of priests and legislators. What
would these divinities think of India, anglicised as it is to-day, with
steamers whistling and scudding along the Ganges, frightening the gulls
which float upon its surface, the turtles swarming along its banks, and
the faithful dwelling upon its borders?
The panorama passed before their eyes like a flash, save when the steam
concealed it fitfully from the view; the travellers could scarcely
discern the fort of Chupenie, twenty miles south-westward from Benares,
the ancient stronghold of the rajahs of Behar; or Ghazipur and its
famous rose-water factories; or the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, rising on
the left bank of the Ganges; the fortified town of Buxar, or Patna, a
large manufacturing and trading-place, where is held the principal
opium market of India; or Monghir, a more than European town, for it is
as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its iron foundries,
edgetool factories, and high chimneys puffing clouds of black smoke
heavenward.
Night came on; the train passed on at full speed, in the midst of the
roaring of the tigers, bears, and wolves which fled before the
locomotive; and the marvels of Bengal, Golconda ruined Gour,
Murshedabad, the ancient capital, Burdwan, Hugly, and the French town
of Chandernagor, where Passepartout would have been proud to see his
country's flag flying, were hidden from their view in the darkness.
Calcutta was reached at seven in the morning, and the packet left for
Hong Kong at noon; so that Phileas Fogg had five hours before him.
According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th of
October, and that was the exact date of his actual arrival. He was
therefore neither behind-hand nor ahead of time. The two days gained
between London and Bombay had been lost, as has been seen, in the
journey across India. But it is not to be supposed that Phileas Fogg
regretted them.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 15 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:19 AM
Chapter XV
IN WHICH THE BAG OF BANKNOTES DISGORGES SOME THOUSANDS OF POUNDS MORE
The train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first, was
followed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in
order to get Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage. He was
unwilling to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.
Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to
Passepartout.
"Yes."
"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped
him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
"She may," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri, a
sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took
their places and were driven away. No one spoke during the twenty
minutes which elapsed before they reached their destination. They
first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its
miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the
"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,
shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it
was early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages
were passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which, however, did
not have the appearance of a private mansion. The policeman having
requested his prisoners for so, truly, they might be called-to descend,
conducted them into a room with barred windows, and said: "You will
appear before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg: "Sir,
you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive
this treatment, it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible. It
was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not, in any event, abandon
Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help muttering to
himself, "Parbleu that's certain! Before noon we shall be on board."
But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall. It
was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite
the desks of the magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after, Judge
Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered. He
proceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it
hurriedly on his head.
"The first case," said he. Then, putting his hand to his head, he
exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a
clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big
clock over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?"
"Present," responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two
days on the trains from Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"
"Have you been ill-treated?"
"Not at all."
"Very well; let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests
entered.
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were
going to burn our young lady."
The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against
Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a
place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."
"You admit it?"
"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,
what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand what
was said.
"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where
they were on the point of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the
pagoda of Malabar Hill, at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very
shoes, which he left behind him."
Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.
"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape him.
The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair at
Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.
Fix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had
consulted the priests of Malabar Hill. Knowing that the English
authorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanour, he
promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to
Calcutta by the next train. Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of
the young widow, Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before
Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having been already warned by
a dispatch to arrest them should they arrive. Fix's disappointment
when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in
Calcutta may be imagined. He made up his mind that the robber had
stopped somewhere on the route and taken refuge in the southern
provinces. For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish
anxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout
arrive, accompanied by a young woman, whose presence he was wholly at a
loss to explain. He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the
party came to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied
the detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room, watching the
proceedings with an interest easily understood; for the warrant had
failed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash exclamation,
which the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally and
sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man Passepartout
has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill, at
Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout to
imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness
of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the act
was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and as
the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his
paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a
fine of one hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could be
detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant
to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence ruined his
master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a
precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the least
concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being
pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and
said, "I offer bail."
"You have that right," returned the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the
judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one
thousand pounds.
"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills
from the carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on
the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison," said
the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."
"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout
angrily.
"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to
him. "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the
crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes that the robber
would not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him, but
would decide to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on Mr.
Fogg's traces. That gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon
landed on one of the quays.
The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal of
departure hoisted at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr.
Fogg was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage
and push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet with
disappointment.
"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end
of the world if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on, the stolen
money will soon be exhausted."
The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of
the elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than
five thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum
recovered from the bank robber promised to the detectives, was rapidly
diminishing.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH THE BAG OF BANKNOTES DISGORGES SOME THOUSANDS OF POUNDS MORE
The train entered the station, and Passepartout jumping out first, was
followed by Mr. Fogg, who assisted his fair companion to descend.
Phileas Fogg intended to proceed at once to the Hong Kong steamer, in
order to get Aouda comfortably settled for the voyage. He was
unwilling to leave her while they were still on dangerous ground.
Just as he was leaving the station a policeman came up to him, and
said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg?"
"I am he."
"Is this man your servant?" added the policeman, pointing to
Passepartout.
"Yes."
"Be so good, both of you, as to follow me."
Mr. Fogg betrayed no surprise whatever. The policeman was a
representative of the law, and law is sacred to an Englishman.
Passepartout tried to reason about the matter, but the policeman tapped
him with his stick, and Mr. Fogg made him a signal to obey.
"May this young lady go with us?" asked he.
"She may," replied the policeman.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout were conducted to a palkigahri, a
sort of four-wheeled carriage, drawn by two horses, in which they took
their places and were driven away. No one spoke during the twenty
minutes which elapsed before they reached their destination. They
first passed through the "black town," with its narrow streets, its
miserable, dirty huts, and squalid population; then through the
"European town," which presented a relief in its bright brick mansions,
shaded by coconut-trees and bristling with masts, where, although it
was early morning, elegantly dressed horsemen and handsome equipages
were passing back and forth.
The carriage stopped before a modest-looking house, which, however, did
not have the appearance of a private mansion. The policeman having
requested his prisoners for so, truly, they might be called-to descend,
conducted them into a room with barred windows, and said: "You will
appear before Judge Obadiah at half-past eight."
He then retired, and closed the door.
"Why, we are prisoners!" exclaimed Passepartout, falling into a chair.
Aouda, with an emotion she tried to conceal, said to Mr. Fogg: "Sir,
you must leave me to my fate! It is on my account that you receive
this treatment, it is for having saved me!"
Phileas Fogg contented himself with saying that it was impossible. It
was quite unlikely that he should be arrested for preventing a suttee.
The complainants would not dare present themselves with such a charge.
There was some mistake. Moreover, he would not, in any event, abandon
Aouda, but would escort her to Hong Kong.
"But the steamer leaves at noon!" observed Passepartout, nervously.
"We shall be on board by noon," replied his master, placidly.
It was said so positively that Passepartout could not help muttering to
himself, "Parbleu that's certain! Before noon we shall be on board."
But he was by no means reassured.
At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman appeared, and,
requesting them to follow him, led the way to an adjoining hall. It
was evidently a court-room, and a crowd of Europeans and natives
already occupied the rear of the apartment.
Mr. Fogg and his two companions took their places on a bench opposite
the desks of the magistrate and his clerk. Immediately after, Judge
Obadiah, a fat, round man, followed by the clerk, entered. He
proceeded to take down a wig which was hanging on a nail, and put it
hurriedly on his head.
"The first case," said he. Then, putting his hand to his head, he
exclaimed, "Heh! This is not my wig!"
"No, your worship," returned the clerk, "it is mine."
"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can a judge give a wise sentence in a
clerk's wig?"
The wigs were exchanged.
Passepartout was getting nervous, for the hands on the face of the big
clock over the judge seemed to go around with terrible rapidity.
"The first case," repeated Judge Obadiah.
"Phileas Fogg?" demanded Oysterpuff.
"I am here," replied Mr. Fogg.
"Passepartout?"
"Present," responded Passepartout.
"Good," said the judge. "You have been looked for, prisoners, for two
days on the trains from Bombay."
"But of what are we accused?" asked Passepartout, impatiently.
"You are about to be informed."
"I am an English subject, sir," said Mr. Fogg, "and I have the right--"
"Have you been ill-treated?"
"Not at all."
"Very well; let the complainants come in."
A door was swung open by order of the judge, and three Indian priests
entered.
"That's it," muttered Passepartout; "these are the rogues who were
going to burn our young lady."
The priests took their places in front of the judge, and the clerk
proceeded to read in a loud voice a complaint of sacrilege against
Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having violated a
place held consecrated by the Brahmin religion.
"You hear the charge?" asked the judge.
"Yes, sir," replied Mr. Fogg, consulting his watch, "and I admit it."
"You admit it?"
"I admit it, and I wish to hear these priests admit, in their turn,
what they were going to do at the pagoda of Pillaji."
The priests looked at each other; they did not seem to understand what
was said.
"Yes," cried Passepartout, warmly; "at the pagoda of Pillaji, where
they were on the point of burning their victim."
The judge stared with astonishment, and the priests were stupefied.
"What victim?" said Judge Obadiah. "Burn whom? In Bombay itself?"
"Bombay?" cried Passepartout.
"Certainly. We are not talking of the pagoda of Pillaji, but of the
pagoda of Malabar Hill, at Bombay."
"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the desecrator's very
shoes, which he left behind him."
Whereupon he placed a pair of shoes on his desk.
"My shoes!" cried Passepartout, in his surprise permitting this
imprudent exclamation to escape him.
The confusion of master and man, who had quite forgotten the affair at
Bombay, for which they were now detained at Calcutta, may be imagined.
Fix the detective, had foreseen the advantage which Passepartout's
escapade gave him, and, delaying his departure for twelve hours, had
consulted the priests of Malabar Hill. Knowing that the English
authorities dealt very severely with this kind of misdemeanour, he
promised them a goodly sum in damages, and sent them forward to
Calcutta by the next train. Owing to the delay caused by the rescue of
the young widow, Fix and the priests reached the Indian capital before
Mr. Fogg and his servant, the magistrates having been already warned by
a dispatch to arrest them should they arrive. Fix's disappointment
when he learned that Phileas Fogg had not made his appearance in
Calcutta may be imagined. He made up his mind that the robber had
stopped somewhere on the route and taken refuge in the southern
provinces. For twenty-four hours Fix watched the station with feverish
anxiety; at last he was rewarded by seeing Mr. Fogg and Passepartout
arrive, accompanied by a young woman, whose presence he was wholly at a
loss to explain. He hastened for a policeman; and this was how the
party came to be arrested and brought before Judge Obadiah.
Had Passepartout been a little less preoccupied, he would have espied
the detective ensconced in a corner of the court-room, watching the
proceedings with an interest easily understood; for the warrant had
failed to reach him at Calcutta, as it had done at Bombay and Suez.
Judge Obadiah had unfortunately caught Passepartout's rash exclamation,
which the poor fellow would have given the world to recall.
"The facts are admitted?" asked the judge.
"Admitted," replied Mr. Fogg, coldly.
"Inasmuch," resumed the judge, "as the English law protects equally and
sternly the religions of the Indian people, and as the man Passepartout
has admitted that he violated the sacred pagoda of Malabar Hill, at
Bombay, on the 20th of October, I condemn the said Passepartout to
imprisonment for fifteen days and a fine of three hundred pounds."
"Three hundred pounds!" cried Passepartout, startled at the largeness
of the sum.
"Silence!" shouted the constable.
"And inasmuch," continued the judge, "as it is not proved that the act
was not done by the connivance of the master with the servant, and as
the master in any case must be held responsible for the acts of his
paid servant, I condemn Phileas Fogg to a week's imprisonment and a
fine of one hundred and fifty pounds."
Fix rubbed his hands softly with satisfaction; if Phileas Fogg could be
detained in Calcutta a week, it would be more than time for the warrant
to arrive. Passepartout was stupefied. This sentence ruined his
master. A wager of twenty thousand pounds lost, because he, like a
precious fool, had gone into that abominable pagoda!
Phileas Fogg, as self-composed as if the judgment did not in the least
concern him, did not even lift his eyebrows while it was being
pronounced. Just as the clerk was calling the next case, he rose, and
said, "I offer bail."
"You have that right," returned the judge.
Fix's blood ran cold, but he resumed his composure when he heard the
judge announce that the bail required for each prisoner would be one
thousand pounds.
"I will pay it at once," said Mr. Fogg, taking a roll of bank-bills
from the carpet-bag, which Passepartout had by him, and placing them on
the clerk's desk.
"This sum will be restored to you upon your release from prison," said
the judge. "Meanwhile, you are liberated on bail."
"Come!" said Phileas Fogg to his servant.
"But let them at least give me back my shoes!" cried Passepartout
angrily.
"Ah, these are pretty dear shoes!" he muttered, as they were handed to
him. "More than a thousand pounds apiece; besides, they pinch my feet."
Mr. Fogg, offering his arm to Aouda, then departed, followed by the
crestfallen Passepartout. Fix still nourished hopes that the robber
would not, after all, leave the two thousand pounds behind him, but
would decide to serve out his week in jail, and issued forth on Mr.
Fogg's traces. That gentleman took a carriage, and the party were soon
landed on one of the quays.
The Rangoon was moored half a mile off in the harbour, its signal of
departure hoisted at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking; Mr.
Fogg was an hour in advance of time. Fix saw them leave the carriage
and push off in a boat for the steamer, and stamped his feet with
disappointment.
"The rascal is off, after all!" he exclaimed. "Two thousand pounds
sacrificed! He's as prodigal as a thief! I'll follow him to the end
of the world if necessary; but, at the rate he is going on, the stolen
money will soon be exhausted."
The detective was not far wrong in making this conjecture. Since
leaving London, what with travelling expenses, bribes, the purchase of
the elephant, bails, and fines, Mr. Fogg had already spent more than
five thousand pounds on the way, and the percentage of the sum
recovered from the bank robber promised to the detectives, was rapidly
diminishing.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 16 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:17 AM
Chapter XVI
IN WHICH FIX DOES NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND IN THE LEAST WHAT IS SAID TO
HIM
The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats plying
in the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron,
weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of
four hundred horse-power. She was as fast, but not as well fitted up,
as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board
of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished. However, the trip from
Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred
miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not
difficult to please.
During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude
for what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,
apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner
betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the
watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He visited
her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk. He treated her with the strictest
politeness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of
which had been arranged for this purpose. Aouda did not quite know
what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of
his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the
wager which was sending him round the world. After all, she owed
Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the exalting
medium of her gratitude.
Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing
in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet
by the English government. Aouda was a relative of this great man, and
it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr.
Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything
would be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged. Aouda
fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"
upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem
at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.
The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming
above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores, but the
savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not,
as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.
The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb. Vast
forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and
tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful
outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the
coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire. The varied
landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and
the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave
access to the China seas.
What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,
doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at
Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,
if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong
Kong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without
awakening Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance
with the worthy servant, as will be seen.
All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for
the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to
take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the
robber would probably escape him for ever. Hong Kong was the last
English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,
America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge. If the warrant
should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him
and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no
further trouble. But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no
avail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would result
in delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take advantage to
elude justice.
Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he
spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or
it will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I
should delay his departure. I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed
at Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost: Cost what
it may, I must succeed! But how shall I prevent his departure, if that
should turn out to be my last resource?"
Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his
master really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was
very certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid
of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an
ally of the detective. But this method was a dangerous one, only to be
employed when everything else had failed. A word from Passepartout to
his master would ruin all. The detective was therefore in a sore
strait. But suddenly a new idea struck him. The presence of Aouda on
the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for
reflection.
Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay
and Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone
into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel? Fix was
fairly puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked
elopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he
determined to make use of the supposed intrigue. Whether the young
woman were married or not, he would be able to create such difficulties
for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount
of money.
But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before
anything could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.
Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the
Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to
question Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.
It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.
Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The
detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and
exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"
"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished
Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia. "Why, I left you
at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong! Are you going
round the world too?"
"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some
days."
"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed. "But
how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth. The Gulf
of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how
is Mr. Fogg?"
"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time! But, Monsieur
Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what
was said.
Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the
Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds,
the rescue, the arrest, and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the
restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who was
familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all
that Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so
interested a listener.
"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
"Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection of
one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."
"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment. "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"
"Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass on
board the Rangoon."
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH FIX DOES NOT SEEM TO UNDERSTAND IN THE LEAST WHAT IS SAID TO
HIM
The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats plying
in the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron,
weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of
four hundred horse-power. She was as fast, but not as well fitted up,
as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board
of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished. However, the trip from
Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred
miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not
difficult to please.
During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude
for what he had done. The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,
apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner
betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the
watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort. He visited
her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk. He treated her with the strictest
politeness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of
which had been arranged for this purpose. Aouda did not quite know
what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of
his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the
wager which was sending him round the world. After all, she owed
Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the exalting
medium of her gratitude.
Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing
in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet
by the English government. Aouda was a relative of this great man, and
it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr.
Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything
would be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged. Aouda
fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"
upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem
at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.
The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming
above the waters. The steamer passed along near the shores, but the
savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not,
as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.
The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb. Vast
forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and
tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful
outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the
coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire. The varied
landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and
the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave
access to the China seas.
What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,
doing all this while? He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at
Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,
if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong
Kong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without
awakening Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance
with the worthy servant, as will be seen.
All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for
the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to
take any steps there. The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the
robber would probably escape him for ever. Hong Kong was the last
English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,
America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge. If the warrant
should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him
and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no
further trouble. But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no
avail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would result
in delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take advantage to
elude justice.
Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he
spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or
it will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I
should delay his departure. I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed
at Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost: Cost what
it may, I must succeed! But how shall I prevent his departure, if that
should turn out to be my last resource?"
Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his
master really was. That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was
very certain. The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid
of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an
ally of the detective. But this method was a dangerous one, only to be
employed when everything else had failed. A word from Passepartout to
his master would ruin all. The detective was therefore in a sore
strait. But suddenly a new idea struck him. The presence of Aouda on
the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for
reflection.
Who was this woman? What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion? They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay
and Calcutta; but where? Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone
into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel? Fix was
fairly puzzled. He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked
elopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he
determined to make use of the supposed intrigue. Whether the young
woman were married or not, he would be able to create such difficulties
for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount
of money.
But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong? Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before
anything could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.
Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the
Rangoon before her arrival. This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to
question Passepartout. It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.
It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.
Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck. Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer. The
detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and
exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"
"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished
Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia. "Why, I left you
at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong! Are you going
round the world too?"
"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some
days."
"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed. "But
how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"
"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth. The Gulf
of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean. And how
is Mr. Fogg?"
"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time! But, Monsieur
Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."
"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what
was said.
Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the
Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds,
the rescue, the arrest, and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the
restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail. Fix, who was
familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all
that Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so
interested a listener.
"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"
"Not at all. We are simply going to place her under the protection of
one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."
"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment. "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"
"Willingly, Monsieur Fix. We must at least have a friendly glass on
board the Rangoon."
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 17 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:16 AM
Chapter XVII
SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG
The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,
though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to
divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a glimpse of
that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined
himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his
inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance
kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It was
really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent
person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board
the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his
destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was
following Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step. What was Fix's object?
Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously
preserved--that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with
them, and probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber
around the globe. But, as it is in human nature to attempt the
solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an
explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from
unreasonable. Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's
friends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain
that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.
"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness. "He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite the
thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man! Ah,
gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to
his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the
part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had
the chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray
his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having
gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg
noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who
betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously,
without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his
sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no
mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park
checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn
by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda
into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of
clove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields;
sago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of
this tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air
with a penetrating perfume. Agile and grinning bands of monkeys
skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical
fruits and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely
followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a
bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck. He was
only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very
gracefully for them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a
few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited
by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of
Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be
in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for
Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.
The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,
Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus
aided the steamer's progress. The captain as often as possible put up
his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel
made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China. Owing
to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual
precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of
time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout
out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and
consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the
pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly
burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot
impatience.
"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
Hong Kong?"
"A very great hurry!"
"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
"Terribly anxious."
"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it."
"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had the
Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But
how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet,
in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his
tongue.
"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as
to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"
"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps--"
"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to
Bombay, and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from
America to Europe is only a step."
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene
as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted in
chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.
"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."
"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his
reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his
master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or
not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these
things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then
persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then
undecided what course it was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved
to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it practicable
to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave
that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,
and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;
or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his
interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile Phileas
Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit around the
world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet
there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star,
which might have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart. But
no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great
surprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more
difficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery
of Neptune.
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas Fogg,
though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless. As to
the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was
clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in
perpetual reveries.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the
screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves; and
this made Passepartout indignant.
"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are not
going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG
The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,
though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to
divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg. He caught a glimpse of
that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined
himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his
inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance
kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing. It was
really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent
person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board
the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his
destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was
following Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step. What was Fix's object?
Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously
preserved--that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with
them, and probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view. He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber
around the globe. But, as it is in human nature to attempt the
solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an
explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from
unreasonable. Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's
friends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain
that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.
"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness. "He's a spy sent to keep us in view! That isn't quite the
thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man! Ah,
gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"
Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to
his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the
part of his adversaries. But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had
the chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray
his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra. The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers. The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having
gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival. Phileas Fogg
noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who
betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.
Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously,
without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his
sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no
mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions. It is a park
checkered by pleasant highways and avenues. A handsome carriage, drawn
by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda
into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of
clove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields;
sago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of
this tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air
with a penetrating perfume. Agile and grinning bands of monkeys
skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical
fruits and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely
followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.
Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a
bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck. He was
only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very
gracefully for them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a
few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited
by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of
Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be
in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for
Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.
The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,
Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon. The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus
aided the steamer's progress. The captain as often as possible put up
his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel
made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China. Owing
to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual
precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of
time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout
out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and
consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the
pepper grows. Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly
burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot
impatience.
"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
Hong Kong?"
"A very great hurry!"
"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
"Terribly anxious."
"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it."
"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why. Had the
Frenchman guessed his real purpose? He knew not what to think. But
how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective? Yet,
in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.
Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his
tongue.
"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as
to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"
"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps--"
"Ah, if you would only go on with us! An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way! You were only going to
Bombay, and here you are in China. America is not far off, and from
America to Europe is only a step."
Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene
as possible, and laughed with him. But Passepartout persisted in
chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.
"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."
"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.
Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his
reflections. He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective. But had he told his
master? What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or
not? Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these
things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then
persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then
undecided what course it was best to take.
Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved
to deal plainly with Passepartout. If he did not find it practicable
to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave
that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,
and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;
or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his
interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout. Meanwhile Phileas
Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference. He was passing methodically in his orbit around the
world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him. Yet
there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star,
which might have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart. But
no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great
surprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more
difficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery
of Neptune.
It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master. Phileas Fogg,
though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless. As to
the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was
clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in
perpetual reveries.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the
screw out of the water. The steam came hissing out of the valves; and
this made Passepartout indignant.
"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed. "We are not
going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 18 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:15 AM
Chapter XVIII
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG, PASSEPARTOUT, AND FIX GO EACH ABOUT HIS BUSINESS
The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage. The wind,
obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale, and retarded the
steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the passengers became
impatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised before
their path. A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall
knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running high. The
Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much,
whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was forced to
proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach Hong
Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty
hours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost
inevitably cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve
manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm
were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed
to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable
that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now
the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects,
his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and
steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were
to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made
him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.
Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction,
for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained
himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed
the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how
long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the
barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout
shook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor
maledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.
On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened
its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails were
unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The time lost
could not, however, be regained. Land was not signalled until five
o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama
steamer would, of course, be missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which
still remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to
Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg
would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave
Hong Kong for Yokohama.
"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the
pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"The Carnatic."
"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till to-morrow."
"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.
Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him
this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.
At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were
going ashore.
Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left
on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg
was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not
seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not
sail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four
hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily
regained in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found
himself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.
The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to
the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her
cousin Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh
had left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an
immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe--in Holland the
broker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally
traded. Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment's
conversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that
Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."
"But I cannot intrude--"
"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!"
"Monsieur."
"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to
him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master's order.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG, PASSEPARTOUT, AND FIX GO EACH ABOUT HIS BUSINESS
The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage. The wind,
obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale, and retarded the
steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the passengers became
impatient of the long, monstrous waves which the wind raised before
their path. A sort of tempest arose on the 3rd of November, the squall
knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running high. The
Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much,
whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was forced to
proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach Hong
Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty
hours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost
inevitably cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve
manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm
were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed
to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable
that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now
the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects,
his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and
steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were
to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made
him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.
Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction,
for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained
himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed
the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions. He wanted to know exactly how
long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the
barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising. Passepartout
shook it, but with no perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor
maledictions could prevail upon it to change its mind.
On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened
its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather. Some of the sails were
unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed. The time lost
could not, however, be regained. Land was not signalled until five
o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama
steamer would, of course, be missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which
still remained till the last moment. He had confided his anxiety to
Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg
would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave
Hong Kong for Yokohama.
"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the
pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"The Carnatic."
"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"
"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till to-morrow."
"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.
Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him
this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.
At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were
going ashore.
Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left
on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg
was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not
seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not
sail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four
hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily
regained in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found
himself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.
The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to
the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her
cousin Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh
had left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an
immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe--in Holland the
broker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally
traded. Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment's
conversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that
Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"
"It is very simple," responded the gentleman. "Go on to Europe."
"But I cannot intrude--"
"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!"
"Monsieur."
"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to
him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master's order.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 19 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:13 AM
Chapter XIX
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER, AND
WHAT COMES OF IT
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by
the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius
of the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent
port. The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is
separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on
the opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the
Chinese trade, and now the greater part of the transportation of
Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals,
wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other
modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans
who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed to him not
unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed
everywhere the evidence of English supremacy. At the Victoria port he
found a confused mass of ships of all nations: English, French,
American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and
Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many
floating parterres. Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the
natives who seemed very old and were dressed in yellow. On going into
a barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at
least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow,
which is the Imperial colour. Passepartout, without exactly knowing
why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was
not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The detective seemed
very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform
Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived
that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed, good reasons to
inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him. The warrant had not
come! It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now
reach Hong Kong for several days; and, this being the last English
territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless he could
manage to detain him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with
us so far as America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your berth."
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs
on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that
very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I will
go and let him know."
Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout
all. It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg
several days longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion
into a tavern which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they
found themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of
which was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons
lay upon this bed in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were
arranged about the room some thirty customers were drinking English
beer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes
stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose. From
time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip
under the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and
feet, carried and laid him upon the bed. The bed already supported
twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by
those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the
amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted
to one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity! The
Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by
stringent laws. It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at
first exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its ravages
could not be arrested. Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by
men and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the
victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily
contortions and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight
pipes a day; but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens
that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's
invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that
was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
to-morrow; I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's face
seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If
you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as well
waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more
excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes
a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to
interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some time
ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.
The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he
spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that
the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined
to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he
will help me."
He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an agent
of the members of the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and
the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for securing
your innocent complicity."
"But why?"
"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured. Here is his description; it
answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes. And
yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his
hands, and did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg, the
saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet how
many presumptions there were against him! Passepartout essayed to
reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not
wish to believe that his master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as
yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to
London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have
been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and
I will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world. I come
from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."
"Yes; let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the
liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from
his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium
lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He took
it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,
becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he will
have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER, AND
WHAT COMES OF IT
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by
the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius
of the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent
port. The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is
separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on
the opposite coast. Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the
Chinese trade, and now the greater part of the transportation of
Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals,
wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other
modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans
who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed to him not
unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed
everywhere the evidence of English supremacy. At the Victoria port he
found a confused mass of ships of all nations: English, French,
American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and
Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many
floating parterres. Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the
natives who seemed very old and were dressed in yellow. On going into
a barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at
least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow,
which is the Imperial colour. Passepartout, without exactly knowing
why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was
not astonished to find Fix walking up and down. The detective seemed
very much disturbed and disappointed.
"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform
Club!" He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived
that gentleman's chagrin. The detective had, indeed, good reasons to
inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him. The warrant had not
come! It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now
reach Hong Kong for several days; and, this being the last English
territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless he could
manage to detain him.
"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with
us so far as America?"
"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.
"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily. "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us. Come and engage your berth."
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs
on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that
very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.
"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout. "I will
go and let him know."
Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout
all. It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg
several days longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion
into a tavern which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they
found themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of
which was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons
lay upon this bed in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were
arranged about the room some thirty customers were drinking English
beer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes
stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose. From
time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip
under the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and
feet, carried and laid him upon the bed. The bed already supported
twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by
those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the
amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted
to one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity! The
Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by
stringent laws. It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at
first exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its ravages
could not be arrested. Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by
men and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the
victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily
contortions and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight
pipes a day; but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens
that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves. Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's
invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them. When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."
"What for, Mr. Fix?"
"I want to have a serious talk with you."
"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that
was left in the bottom of his glass. "Well, we'll talk about it
to-morrow; I haven't time now."
"Stay! What I have to say concerns your master."
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion. Fix's face
seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
"What is it that you have to say?"
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"
"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.
"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"
"Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that's very good. But go
on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."
"Useless!" said Fix. "You speak confidently. It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."
"Of course I do," returned Passepartout. "Twenty thousand pounds."
"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.
"What!" cried the Frenchman. "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds! Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.
Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds. If
you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."
"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.
"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."
"Why, what are you saying? Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way! I blush for them!"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery. They might as well
waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"
"That's just what we count on doing."
"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more
excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it. "A real conspiracy! And gentlemen, too. Bah!"
Fix began to be puzzled.
"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout. "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes
a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"
"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.
"Parbleu! An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to
interrupt my master's journey. But, though I found you out some time
ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."
"He knows nothing, then?"
"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.
The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he
spoke again. What should he do? Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult. It was evident that
the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined
to suspect.
"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he
will help me."
He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.
"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly. "I am not, as you think, an agent
of the members of the Reform Club--"
"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.
"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."
"You, a detective?"
"I will prove it. Here is my commission."
Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.
"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and
the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes. He had a motive for securing
your innocent complicity."
"But why?"
"Listen. On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured. Here is his description; it
answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."
"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"
"How can you tell? You know scarcely anything about him. You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes. And
yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"
"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.
"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"
Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his
hands, and did not dare to look at the detective. Phileas Fogg, the
saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber! And yet how
many presumptions there were against him! Passepartout essayed to
reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not
wish to believe that his master was guilty.
"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.
"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as
yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to
London. You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"
"I! But I--"
"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."
"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.
"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have
been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and
I will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world. I come
from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"
"You refuse?"
"I refuse."
"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."
"Yes; let us drink!"
Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the
liquor. Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from
his master, wished to entirely overcome him. Some pipes full of opium
lay upon the table. Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand. He took
it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,
becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.
"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious. "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he will
have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"
And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
Chapter 20 : Jules Verne - Around the World in 80 Days
12:11 AM
Chapter XX
IN WHICH FIX COMES FACE TO FACE WITH PHILEAS FOGG
While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly
escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them. It was all very
well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with
a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under
such conditions. He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity,
and invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who
was confused by his patience and generosity:
"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."
The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a
sumptuously served table-d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with
her protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest.
Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The
Times and Illustrated London News.
Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been
not to see his servant return at bedtime. But, knowing that the
steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did
not disturb himself about the matter. When Passepartout did not appear
the next morning to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying
the least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-bag,
calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide,
the Carnatic would leave the harbour. Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the
palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half
an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark. Mr.
Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before. He
had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was
forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his
face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;
nothing more."
At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not, like me,
sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"
"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honour--"
"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."
"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.
"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
"Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
"Yes, sir."
"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic, its
repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated
time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
another steamer."
As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained at
Hong Kong for a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law. His horror
may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But
there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the
harbour of Hong Kong."
And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks
in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed; it
seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had
hitherto served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about
the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to
carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were
loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail. Fix
began to hope again.
But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted
by a sailor on one of the wharves.
"Is your honour looking for a boat?"
"Have you a boat ready to sail?"
"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."
"Does she go fast?"
"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
"Yes."
"Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
"No; for a voyage."
"A voyage?"
"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is
your honour joking?"
"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."
"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two
hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
"Are you in earnest?"
"Very much so."
The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the
fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would
you, madam?"
"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time
of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is
sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."
"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"It's the same thing."
Fix breathed more freely.
"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
Fix ceased to breathe at all.
"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us."
"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
"Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai."
"You are sure of that?"
"Perfectly."
"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good
luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai."
"And you could go--"
"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up."
"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"
"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
"Would you like some earnest-money?"
"If it would not put your honour out--"
"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"
"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."
"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
servant's disappearance.
"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,
the others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of
money to be spent in the search for him. The same formalities having
been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having
stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,
they returned to the wharf.
It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride
taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her two masts leaned a
trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and
standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she
seemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by
gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races. The crew of the Tankadere
was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who
were familiar with the Chinese seas. John Bunsby, himself, a man of
forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly
expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.
Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a
table provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined,
but neat.
"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,
who bowed without responding.
The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.
"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
one!"
The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the
quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,
whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have
ensued. But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was
still lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.
John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]
IN WHICH FIX COMES FACE TO FACE WITH PHILEAS FOGG
While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly
escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them. It was all very
well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with
a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under
such conditions. He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity,
and invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who
was confused by his patience and generosity:
"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."
The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a
sumptuously served table-d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with
her protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest.
Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The
Times and Illustrated London News.
Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been
not to see his servant return at bedtime. But, knowing that the
steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did
not disturb himself about the matter. When Passepartout did not appear
the next morning to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying
the least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-bag,
calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.
It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide,
the Carnatic would leave the harbour. Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the
palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half
an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark. Mr.
Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before. He
had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was
forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his
face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;
nothing more."
At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg: "Were you not, like me,
sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"
"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly. "But I have not the honour--"
"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."
"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.
"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise. "Is he not with you?"
"No," said Aouda. "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"
"Without you, madam?" answered the detective. "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"
"Yes, sir."
"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The Carnatic, its
repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated
time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
another steamer."
As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained at
Hong Kong for a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law. His horror
may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But
there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the
harbour of Hong Kong."
And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks
in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed; it
seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had
hitherto served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about
the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to
carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were
loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail. Fix
began to hope again.
But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted
by a sailor on one of the wharves.
"Is your honour looking for a boat?"
"Have you a boat ready to sail?"
"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."
"Does she go fast?"
"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
"Yes."
"Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
"No; for a voyage."
"A voyage?"
"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is
your honour joking?"
"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."
"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two
hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
"Are you in earnest?"
"Very much so."
The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the
fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would
you, madam?"
"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time
of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is
sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."
"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
"It's the same thing."
Fix breathed more freely.
"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
Fix ceased to breathe at all.
"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us."
"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."
"Why not?" returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai."
"You are sure of that?"
"Perfectly."
"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"
"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good
luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai."
"And you could go--"
"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up."
"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat?"
"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."
"Would you like some earnest-money?"
"If it would not put your honour out--"
"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"
"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."
"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board."
"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
servant's disappearance.
"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.
While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,
the others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of
money to be spent in the search for him. The same formalities having
been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having
stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,
they returned to the wharf.
It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.
The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride
taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her two masts leaned a
trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and
standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she
seemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by
gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races. The crew of the Tankadere
was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who
were familiar with the Chinese seas. John Bunsby, himself, a man of
forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly
expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.
Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a
table provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined,
but neat.
"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,
who bowed without responding.
The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.
"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
one!"
The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the
quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,
whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have
ensued. But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was
still lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.
John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.
[PREVIOUS CHAPTER][CONTENT][NEXT CHAPTER]