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Around the World in 80 Days [Junior Edition] by Jules Verne

Part 3 out of 5

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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. 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 as 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
campbed 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. 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, while 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 tomorrow. 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 honor, 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 this
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 honorable 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 tried 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?" he said, at last, with an effort.

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

"I! But I -"

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

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

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

"You refuse?"

"I refuse."

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

"Yes, let us drink!"

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

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

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

Chapter 20

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 carpetbag; a lady could not be expected
to travel comfortably under such conditions. He acquitted his
task with characteristic serenity, and invariably replied to the
objections of his fair companion, who was confused by his
patience and generosity. "It is in the interest of my journey - a
part of my program."

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 carpetbag, 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 harbor. 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 where
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 servant, 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 on the Rangoon, which arrived
yesterday?"

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

"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. 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 favored 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 harbor of Hong Kong."

And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps towards 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 honor looking for a boat?"

"Have you a boat ready to sail?"

"Yes, your honor; a pilot boat - No. 43 - the best in the
harbor."

"Does she go fast?"

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

"Yes."

"Your honor 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 honor 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 honor," 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 southwest 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 money?"

"If it would not put your honor 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 favor."

"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 galvanized 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 center 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 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 seeing 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 that case an explanation the reverse of
satisfactory to the detective would have been necessary. But the
Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was still lying
under the stupefying influence of the opium. At length John
Bunsby, master, gave the order to start, and the Tankadere,
taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail and standing-jib,
bounded briskly forward over the waves.

Chapter 21

In Which the Master of the Tankadere Runs Great Risk
of Losing a Reward of Two Hundred Pounds

This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a
craft of twenty tons, and at that season of the year. The Chinese
seas are usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind,
especially during the equinoxes, and it was now early November.

It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his
passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day.
But he would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was
imprudent even to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby
believed in the Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a
seagull; and perhaps he was not wrong.

Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of
Hong Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favorable winds,
conducted herself admirably.

"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the
open sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."

"Trust me, your honor. We are carrying all the sail the wind will
let us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we
are going into port."

"It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."

Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like
a sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters. The
young woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she
looked out upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on
which she had ventured in so frail a vessel. Above her head
rustled the white sails, which seemed like great white wings. The
boat, carried forward by the wind, seemed to be flying in the
air.

Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.
Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of
the heavens.

The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in
these seas crowded with vessels bound landward. Collisions are
not uncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the
least shock would shatter the gallant little craft.

Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation. He kept
apart from his fellow-travelers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn
tastes. Besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose
favors he had accepted. He was thinking, too, of the future. It
seemed certain that Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at
once take the boat for San Francisco; and the vast extent of
America would ensure him impunity and safety. Fogg's plan
appeared to him the simplest in the world.

Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States,
like a common villain, he had traveled three quarters of the
globe, so as to gain the American continent more surely. There,
after throwing the police off his track, he would quietly enjoy
himself with the fortune stolen from the bank. But, once in the
United States, what should he, Fix, do? Should he abandon this
man? No, a hundred times no! Until he had secured his
extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an hour. It was
his duty, and he would fulfill it to the end. At all events,
there was one thing to be thankful for. Passepartout was not with
his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences
Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have
speech with his master.

Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so
strangely disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of
view, it did not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake,
the man might have embarked on the Carnatic at the last moment.
This was also Aouda's opinion, who regretted very much the loss
of the worthy fellow to whom she owed so much. They might then
find him at Yokohama, for, if the Carnatic was carrying him
thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he had been on board.

A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have
been prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully
examining the heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The
Tankadere bore sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water,
and everything was prepared for high speed in case of a gale.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having
been already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the
cots. The pilot and crew remained on deck all night.

At sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had
made more than one hundred miles. The log indicated a mean speed
of between eight and nine miles. The Tankadere still carried all
sail, and was accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If
the wind held as it was, the chances would be in her favor.
During the day she kept along the coast, where the currents were
favorable. The coast, regular in profile, and visible sometimes
across the clearings, was at most five miles distant. The sea was
less violent, since the wind came off land - a fortunate
circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing to its small
tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.

The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
southwest. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again
within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the
sea, ate with a good appetite. Fix was invited to share their
repast, and he accepted with secret chagrin. To travel at this
man's expense and live upon his provisions was not palatable to
him. Still, he was obliged to eat, and so he ate.

When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir" -
this "sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to
avoid collaring this "gentleman" - "sir, you have been very kind
to give me a passage on this boat. But, though my means will not
admit of my expending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my
share -"

"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.

"But, if I insist -"

"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a
reply. "This enters into my general expenses."

Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and, going forward,
where he ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest
of the day.

Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in
high hope. He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would
reach Shanghai in time; to which that gentleman responded that he
counted upon it. The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired
by the reward to be gained. There was not a sheet which was not
tightened, not a sail which was not vigorously hoisted; not a
lurch could be charged to the man at the helm. They worked as
desperately as if they were contesting in a Royal yacht regatta.

By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had
been accomplished from Hong Kong. Mr. Fogg might hope that he
would be able to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in
his journal; in which case, the many misadventures which had
overtaken him since he left London would not seriously affect
his journey.

The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the
island of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of
the night, and crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very
rough in the straits, full of eddies formed by the
counter-currents, and the chopping waves broke her course, while
it became very difficult to stand on deck.

At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens
seemed to predict a gale. The barometer announced a speedy
change, the mercury rising and falling capriciously. The sea
also, in the southeast, raised long surges which indicated a
tempest. The sun had set the evening before in a red mist, in the
midst of the phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.

John Bunsby examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a
low voice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honor?"

"Of course."

"Well, we are going to have a squall."

"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.

"South. Look! A typhoon is coming up."

"Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us
forward."

"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing
more to say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less
advanced season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous
meteorologist, would have passed away like a luminous cascade of
electric flame; but in the winter equinox it was to be feared
that it would burst upon them with great violence.

The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail,
the pole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the
bows. A single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as
a storm-jib, so as to hold the wind from behind. Then they
waited.

John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat
bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg,
Fix, nor Aouda consented to leave the deck. The storm of rain and
wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock. With but its bit
of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a wind, an
idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To compare her
speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam
would be below the truth.

The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to
theirs. Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these
mountains of water which rose behind her, but the adroit
management of the pilot saved her. The passengers were often
bathed in spray, but they submitted to it philosophically. Fix
cursed it, but Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector,
whose coolness amazed her, showed herself worthy of him, and
bravely weathered the storm. As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just
as if the typhoon were a part of his program.

Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the
north; but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore
down from the northwest. The boat, now lying in the trough of the
waves, shook and rolled terribly. The sea struck her with fearful
violence. At night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby
saw the approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with
dark misgivings. He thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it
was not time to slacken speed. After a consultation he approached
Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think, your honor, that we should do well
to make for one of the ports on the coast."

"I think so too."

"Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?"

"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.

"And that is -"

"Shanghai."

The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend. He could
scarcely realize so much determination and tenacity. Then he
cried, "Well - yes! Your honor is right. To Shanghai!"

So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.

The night was really terrible. It would be a miracle if the craft
did not founder. Twice it would have been all over with her if
the crew had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was
exhausted, but did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg
rushed to protect her from the violence of the waves.

Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury,
but the wind now returned to the southeast. It was a favorable
change, and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this
mountainous sea, though the waves crossed each other, and
imparted shocks and countershocks which would have crushed a
craft less solidly built. From time to time the coast was visible
through the broken mist, but no vessel was in sight. The
Tankadere was alone upon the sea.

There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more
distinct as the sun descended towards the horizon. The tempest
had been as brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly
exhausted, could now eat a little, and take some repose.

The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good. The next
morning at dawn they saw the coast, and John Bunsby was able to
assert that they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A
hundred miles, and only one day to cross them! That very evening
Mr. Fogg was due at Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the
steamer to Yokohama. Had there been no storm, during which
several hours were lost, they would be at this moment within
thirty miles of their destination.

The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.
All sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within
forty-five miles of Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in
which to accomplish that distance. All on board feared that it
could not be done, and every one - Phileas Fogg, no doubt,
excepted - felt his heart beat with impatience. The boat must
keep up an average of nine miles an hour, and the wind was
becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious breeze, coming
from the coast, and after it passed the sea became smooth. Still,
the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught the fickle
zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the current, John Bunsby
found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles from the
mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai itself is situated at least
twelve miles up the stream. At seven they were still three miles
from Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two
hundred pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He
looked at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil, yet his
whole fortune was at this moment at stake.

At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths
of smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American
steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.

"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
desperate jerk.

"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.

A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere
for making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle, but
just as the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the
touchhole, Mr. Fogg said, "Hoist your flag!"

The flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it,
would change her course a little, so as to help the pilot boat.

"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon
resounded in the air.

Chapter 22

In Which Passepartout Finds Out That, Even at the Antipodes,
It Is Convenient to Have Some Money in One's Pocket

The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the
7th of November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan.
She carried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers.
Two state-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied - those
which had been engaged by Phileas Fogg.

The next day a passenger with a half-stupefied eye, staggering
gait and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second
cabin, and to totter to a seat on deck.

It was Passepartout. What had happened to him was as follows.
Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved
for the smokers. Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by
a fixed idea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the
stupefying influence of the narcotic. The thought of a duty
unfulfilled shook off his torpor, and he hurried from the abode
of drunkenness. Staggering and holding himself up by keeping
against the walls, falling down and creeping up again, and
irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he kept crying out,
"The Carnatic! the Carnatic!"

The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of
starting. Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon
the plank, he crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just
as the Carnatic was moving off. Several sailors, who were
evidently accustomed to this sort of scene, carried the poor
Frenchman down into the second cabin, and Passepartout did not
wake until they were one hundred and fifty miles away from China.
Thus he found himself the next morning on the deck of the
Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea breeze. The
pure air sobered him. He began to collect his sense, which he
found a difficult task, but at last he recalled the events of the
evening before, Fix's revelation, and the opium house.

"It is evident," he said to himself, "that I have been
abominably drunk! What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not
missed the steamer, which is the most important thing."

Then, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are
well rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to
follow us on board the Carnatic. A detective on the track of Mr.
Fogg, accused of robbing the Bank of England! Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is
no more a robber than I am a murderer. "Should he divulge Fix's
real errand to his master? Would it do to tell the part the
detective was playing? Would it not be better to wait until Mr.
Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an agent
of the metropolitan police had been following him round the
world, and have a good laugh over it? No doubt, at least, it was
worth considering. The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg,
and apologize for his singular behavior.

Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the
rolling of the steamer, to the afterdeck. He saw no one who
resembled either his master or Aouda. "Good!" muttered he; "Aouda
has not gotten up yet, and Mr. Fogg has probably found some
partners at whist."

He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout
had only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's
stateroom. The purser replied that he did not know any passenger
by the name of Fogg.

"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently. "He is a
tall gentleman, quiet and not very talkative, and has with him a
young lady -"

"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser. "Here
is a list of the passengers. You may see for yourself."

Passepartout scanned the list, but his master's name was not upon
it. All at once an idea struck him.

"Ah! Am I on the Carnatic?"

"Yes."

"On the way to Yokohama?"

"Certainly."

Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong
boat; but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was
not there. He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He
remembered that the time of sailing had been changed, that he
should have informed his master of that fact, and that he had not
done so. It was his fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had
missed the steamer. Yes, but it was still more the fault of the
traitor who, in order to separate him from his master, and detain
the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled him into getting drunk! He
now saw the detective's trick, and at this moment Mr. Fogg was
certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself perhaps
arrested and imprisoned! At this thought Passepartout tore his
hair. Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of
accounts there would be!

After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began
to study his situation. It was certainly not an enviable one. He
found himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he
got there? His pocket was empty. He had not a solitary shilling -
not so much as a penny. His passage had fortunately been paid for
in advance, and he had five or six days in which to decide upon
his future course. He fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate
for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and himself. He helped himself as generously
as if Japan were a desert, where nothing to eat was to be looked
for.

At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama.
This is an important port of call in the Pacific, where all the
mail-steamers, and those carrying travelers between North
America, China, Japan and the Oriental islands put in. It is
situated in the bay of Yeddo, and at but a short distance from
that second capital of the Japanese Empire, and the residence of
the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the Mikado, the spiritual
Emperor, absorbed his office in his own. The Carnatic anchored at
the quay near the customhouse, in the midst of a crowd of ships
bearing the flags of all nations.

Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of
the Sons of the Sun. He had nothing better to do than, taking
chance for his guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of
Yokohama. He found himself at first in a thoroughly European
quarter, the houses having low fronts, and being adorned with
verandas, beneath which he caught glimpses of neat peristyles.
This quarter occupied, with its streets, squares, docks and
warehouses, all the space between the "promontory of the Treaty"
and the river. Here, as at Hong Kong and Calcutta, were mixed
crowds of all races - Americans and English, Chinamen and
Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything. The
Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had
dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.

He had, at least, one resource - to call on the French and
English consuls at Yokohama for assistance. But he shrank from
telling the story of his adventures, intimately connected as it
was with that of his master; and, before doing so, he determined
to exhaust all other means of aid. As chance did not favor him in
the European quarter, he penetrated that inhabited by the native
Japanese, determined, if necessary, to push on to Yeddo.

The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the
goddess of the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about.
There Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred
gates of a singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst
of bamboos and reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees. He
saw holy retreats where there were sheltered Buddhist priests and
sectaries of Confucius, and interminable streets, where a perfect
harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked children, who looked as if
they had been cut out of Japanese screens, and who were playing
in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish cats, had been
gathered.

The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and
custom-house officers with pointed hats encrusted with lace, and
carrying two sabres hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue
cotton with white stripes, and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards,
enveloped in silken doubles, hauberks and coats of mail; and
numbers of military folk of all ranks - for the military
profession is as much respected in Japan as it is despised in
China - went hither and thither in groups and pairs. Passepartout
saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims and simple
civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long
busts, slender legs, short stature and complexions varying from
copper-color to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese,
from whom the Japanese widely differ. He did not fail to observe
the curious equipages - carriages and palanquins, barrows
supplied with sails and litters made of bamboo; nor the women -
whom he thought not especially handsome - who took little steps
with their little feet, upon which they wore canvas shoes, straw
sandals and clogs of worked wood, and who displayed tight-looking
eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened and gowns crossed
with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind - an
ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed
from the dames of Japan.

Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this
motley crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious
shops, the jewelry establishments glittering with quaint Japanese
ornaments, the restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the
teahouses, where the odorous beverage was being drunk with saki,
a liquor concocted from the fermentation of rice, and the
comfortable smoking houses, where they were puffing, not opium,
which is almost unknown in Japan, but a very fine, stringy
tobacco. He went on till he found himself in the fields, in the
midst of vast rice plantations. There he saw dazzling camellias
expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth their
last colors and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and within
bambooenclosures, cherry, plum and apple trees, which the
Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit,
and which queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from
the sparrows, pigeons, ravens and other voracious birds. On the
branches of the cedars were perched large eagles. Amid the
foliage of the weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on
one leg. On every hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds and a
multitude of cranes, which the Japanese consider sacred, and
which to their minds symbolize long life and prosperity.

As he was strolling along, Passepartout saw some violets among
the shrubs.

"Good!" said he. "I'll have some supper."

But, on smelling them, he found that they were odorless.

"No chance there," thought he.

The worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty
a breakfast as possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he
had been walking about all day, the demands of hunger were
growing. He observed that the butchers' stalls contained neither
mutton, goat, nor pork. Knowing also that it is a sacrilege to
kill cattle, which are preserved solely for farming, he made up
his mind that meat was far from plentiful in Yokohama - nor was
he mistaken. In default of butcher's meat, he could have wished
for a quarter of wild boar or deer, a partridge, or some quails,
some game or fish, which, with rice, the Japanese eat almost
exclusively. But he found it necessary to keep up a stout heart,
and to postpone the meal he craved till the following morning.
Night came, and Passepartout re-entered the native quarter, where
he wandered through the streets, lit by vari-colored lanterns. He
looked on at the dancers, who were executing skillful steps and
boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open air with
their telescopes. Then he came to the harbor, which was lit up by
the resin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their
boats.

The streets at last became quiet. The patrol, the officers, in
splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites, succeeded the
bustling crowd. Passepartout thought they seemed like
ambassadors. Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled,
and said to himself: "Good! Another Japanese embassy departing
for Europe!"

Chapter 23

In Which Passepartout's Nose Becomes Outrageously Long

The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to
himself that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the
sooner he did so the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch;
but he would have starved first. Now or never he must use the
strong, if not melodious voice which nature had bestowed upon
him. He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to
try them upon the Japanese, who must be lovers of music, since
they were forever pounding on their cymbals, tam-tams and
tambourines. They could not but appreciate European talent.

It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert,
and the audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might
not possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's
features. Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours.
As he was sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem
rather too well dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck
him to change his garments for clothes more in harmony with his
project. In this manner he might also get a little money to
satisfy the immediate cravings of hunger. The resolution taken,
it remained to carry it out.

It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a
native dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.
The man liked the European costume, and before long Passepartout
left his shop dressed in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of
one-sided turban, faded from long use. A few small pieces of
silver, moreover, jingled in his pocket.

"Good!" thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"

His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a
teahouse of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little
rice, to breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a
problem to be solved.

"Now," he thought, after he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose
my head. I can't sell this costume again for one still more
Japanese. I must consider how to leave this country of the Sun,
of which I shall not retain the most delightful of memories, as
quickly as possible."

It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to
leave for America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant,
in payment of his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he
would find some means of going on. The difficulty was, how to
travel the four thousand seven hundred miles of the Pacific which
lay between Japan and the New World.

Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and
directed his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them,
his project, which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow
more and more formidable to his mind. What need would they have
of a cook or servant on an American steamer, and what confidence
would they put in him, dressed as he was? What references could
he give?

As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets.
This placard, which was in English, read as follows:

ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,
HONORABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
LAST REPRESENTATIONS,
PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE
UNITED STATES,
OF THE
LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE
OF THE GOD TINGOU!
GREAT ATTRACTION!

"The United States!" said Passepartout. "That's just what I
want!"

He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the
Japanese quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a
large cabin, adorned with several clusters of streamers, the
exterior walls of which were designed to represent, in violent
colors and without perspective, a company of jugglers.

This was the Honorable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists and
gymnasts, who, according to the placard, was giving his last
performances before leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States
of the Union.

Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.

"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first
took for a native.

"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.

"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard
which hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient
and faithful, have never left me, and serve me for their
nourishment - and here they are," added he, holding out his two
robust arms, furrowed with veins as large as the strings of a
bass viol.

"So I can be of no use to you?"

"None."

"The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"

"Ah!" said the Honorable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a
Japanese than I am a monkey! Why are you dressed up in that way?"

"A man dresses as he can."

"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"

"Yes. A Parisian of Paris."

"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"

"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality
should cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make
grimaces, it is true - but not any better than the Americans do."

"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown.
You see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in
foreign parts French clowns."

"Ah!"

"You are pretty strong, eh?"

"Especially after a good meal."

"And you can sing?"

"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly sung in street
concerts.

"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on
your left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"

"Humph! I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the
exercises of his younger days.

"Well, that's enough," said the Honorable William Batulcar.

The engagement was concluded there and then.

Passepartout had at last found something to do. He was engaged to
act in the celebrated Japanese troupe. It was not a very
dignified position, but within a week he would be on his way to
San Francisco.

The performance, so noisily announced by the Honorable Mr.
Batulcar, was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the
deafening instruments of a Japanese orchestra resounded at the
door. Passepartout, though he had not been able to study or
rehearse a part, was designated to lend the aid of his sturdy
shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human pyramid,"
executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou. This "great
attraction" was to close the performance.

Before three o'clock the large shed was crowded with spectators,
Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and
children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and
into the boxes opposite the stage. The musicians took up a
position inside, and were vigorously performing on their gongs,
tam-tams, flutes, bones, tambourines and immense drums.

The performance was much like all acrobatic displays. But it must
be confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the
world.

One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful
trick of the butterflies and the flowers. Another traced in the
air, with the odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words,
which composed a compliment to the audience. A third juggled with
some lighted candles, which he extinguished successively as they
passed his lips, and relit again without interrupting for an
instant his juggling. Another reproduced the most singular
combinations with a spinning-top. In his hands the revolving tops
seemed to be animated with a life of their own in their
interminable whirling. They ran over pipe-stems, the edges of
sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage. They
turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo
ladders, dispersed into all the corners, and produced strange
musical effects by the combination of their various pitches of
tone. The jugglers tossed them in the air, threw them like
shuttlecocks with wooden battledores, and yet they kept on
spinning; they put them into their pockets, and took them out
still whirling as before.

It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the
acrobats and gymnasts. The turning on ladders, poles, balls,
barrels, etc., was executed with wonderful precision.

But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long
Noses, a show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.

The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct
patronage of the god Tingou. Attired after the fashion of the
Middle Ages, they bore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of
wings. But what especially distinguished them was the long noses
which were fastened to their faces, and the uses which they made
of them. These noses were made of bamboo, and were five, six and
even ten feet long, some straight, others curved, some ribboned
and some having imitation warts upon them. It was upon these
appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses, that they
performed their gymnastic exercises. A dozen of these sectaries
of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others, dressed to
represent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses,
jumping from one to another, and performing the most skillful
leapings and somersaults.

As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which
fifty Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut. But,
instead of forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders,
the artists were to group themselves on top of the noses. It
happened that the performer who had hitherto formed the base of
the Car had left the troupe, and as, to fill this part, only
strength and adroitness were necessary, Passepartout had been
chosen to take his place.

The poor fellow really felt sad when - melancholy reminiscence of
his youth! - he donned his costume, adorned with vari-colored
wings, and fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet
long. But he cheered up when he thought that this nose was
winning him something to eat.

He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who
were to compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut. They all
stretched themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the
ceiling. A second group of artists stood on these long
appendages, then a third above these, then a fourth, until a
human monument reaching to the very cornices of the theatre soon
arose on top of the noses. This elicited loud applause, in the
midst of which the orchestra was just striking up a deafening
air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was lost, one of the
lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human monument was
shattered like a castle built of cards!

It was Passepartout's fault. Abandoning his position, clearing
the footlights without the aid of his wings, and clambering up to
the right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the
spectators, crying, "Ah, my master! My master!"

"You here?"

"Myself."

"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"

Mr. Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honorable Mr.
Batulcar, furious with rage. He demanded damages for the
"breakage" of the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by
giving him a handful of banknotes.

At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings
and nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.

Chapter 24

During Which Mr. Fogg and Party Cross the Pacific Ocean

What happened when the pilot boat came in sight of Shanghai will
be easily guessed. The signals made by the Tankadere had been
seen by the captain of the Yokohama steamer, who, seeing the flag
at half-mast, had directed his course towards the little craft.
Phileas Fogg, after paying the stipulated price of his passage to
John Bunsby, and rewarding that worthy with the additional sum of
five hundred and fifty pounds, boarded the steamer with Aouda and
Fix; and they started at once for Nagasaki and Yokohama.

They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of
November. Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the
Carnatic, where he learned, to Aouda's great delight - and
perhaps to his own, though he betrayed no emotion - that
Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived on her the day
before.

The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very
evening, and it became necessary to find Passepartout, if
possible, without delay. Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French
and English consuls, and, after wandering through the streets a
long time, began to despair of finding his missing servant.
Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at last led him into
the Honorable Mr. Batulcar's theatre. He certainly would not have
recognized Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank's costume;
but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the
gallery. He could not help starting, which so changed the
position of his nose as to bring the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the
stage.

All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who told him what had
taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the
Tankadere, in company with one Mr. Fix.

Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name. He
thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his
master what had taken place between the detective and himself. In
the account he gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for
having become drunk smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.

Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word. Then he
furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in
harmony with his position. Within an hour the Frenchman had cut
off his nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing
about him which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.

The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San
Francisco belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and
was named the General Grant. She was a large paddle-wheel steamer
of two thousand five hundred tons, well-equipped and very fast.
The massive walking-beam rose and fell above the deck. At one end
a piston-rod worked up and down. At the other was a
connecting-rod which, in changing the rectilinear motion to a
circular one, was directly connected with the shaft of the
paddles. The General Grant was rigged with three masts, giving a
large capacity for sails, and thus materially aiding the steam
power. By making twelve miles an hour, she would cross the ocean
in twenty-one days. Phileas Fogg was therefore justified in
hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of December,
New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th - thus gaining
several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.

There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them
English, many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way
to California, and several East Indian officers, who were
spending their vacation in making a tour of the world. Nothing of
moment happened on the voyage. The steamer, sustained on its
large paddles, rolled but little, and the Pacific almost
justified its name.

Mr. Fogg was as calm and taciturn as ever. His young companion
felt herself more and more attached to him by other ties than
gratitude. His silent but generous nature impressed her more than
she thought; and it was almost unconsciously that she yielded to
emotions which did not seem to have the least effect upon her
protector. Aouda took the keenest interest in his plans, and
became impatient at any incident which seemed likely to retard
his journey.

She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive
the state of the lady's heart. Being the most faithful of
servants, he never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg's
honesty, generosity and devotion. He took pains to calm Aouda's
doubts of a successful termination of the journey, telling her
that the most difficult part of it had passed, that now they were
beyond the fantastic countries of Japan and China, and were
fairly on their way to civilized places again. A railway train
from San Francisco to New York, and a transatlantic steamer from
New York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring them to the end of
this impossible journey round the world within the period agreed
upon.

On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had
traveled exactly one half of the terrestrial globe. The General
Grant passed, on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and
eightieth meridian, and was at the very antipodes of London. Mr.
Fogg had, it is true, exhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in
which he was to complete the tour, and there were only
twenty-eight left. But, though he was only halfway by the
difference of meridians, he had really gone over two-thirds of
the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long circuits
from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to
Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama. Could he have followed
without deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of London,
the whole distance would only have been about twelve thousand
miles; whereas he would be forced, by the irregular methods of
locomotion, to travel twenty-six thousand, of which he had, on
the 23rd of November, accomplished seventeen thousand five
hundred. And now the course was a straight one, and Fix was no
longer there to put obstacles in their way!

It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made
a joyful discovery. It will be remembered that the obstinate
fellow had insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London
time, and on regarding that of the countries he had passed
through as quite false and unreliable. Now, on this day, though
he had not changed the hands, he found that his watch exactly
agreed with the ship's chronometers. His triumph was hilarious.
He would have liked to know what Fix would say if he were aboard!

"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout,
"about the meridians, the sun, and the moon! Moon, indeed!
Moonshine more likely! If one listened to that sort of people, a
pretty sort of time one would keep! I was sure that the sun would
some day regulate itself by my watch!"

Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been
divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would
have no reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would
then, instead of as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning,
indicate nine o'clock in the evening. That is, it would have
shown the twenty-first hour after midnight - precisely the
difference between London time and that of the one hundred and
eightieth meridian. But if Fix had been able to explain this
purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have admitted it,
even if he had comprehended it. Moreover, if the detective had
been on board at that moment, Passepartout would have joined
issue with him on a quite different subject, and in an entirely
different manner.

Where was Fix at that moment?

He was actually on board the General Grant.

On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he
expected to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to
the English consulate, where he at last found the warrant of
arrest. It had followed him from Bombay, and had come by the
Carnatic, on which steamer he himself was supposed to be. Fix's
disappointment may be imagined when he reflected that the warrant
was now useless. Mr. Fogg had left English ground, and it was now
necessary to procure his extradition!

"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not
good here, but it will be in England. The rogue evidently intends
to return to his own country, thinking he has thrown the police
off his track. Good! I will follow him across the Atlantic. As
for the money, heaven grant there may be some left! But the
fellow has already spent in traveling, rewards, trials, bail,
elephants and all sorts of charges, more than five thousand
pounds. Yet, after all, the bank is rich!"

His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and
was there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived. To his utter
amazement, he recognized Passepartout, despite his theatrical
disguise. He quickly concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an
awkward explanation, and hoped - thanks to the number of
passengers -to remain unperceived by Mr. Fogg's servant.

On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on
the forward deck. The latter, without a word, made a rush for
him, grasped him by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a
group of Americans, who immediately began to bet on him,
administered to the detective a perfect volley of blows, which
proved the great superiority of French over English pugilistic
skill.

When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and
comforted. Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and,
looking at his adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"

"For this time - yes."

"Then let me have a word with you."

"But I -"

"In your master's interests."

Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he
quietly followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of
the passengers.

"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix. "Good, I expected it.
Now, listen to me. Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's
adversary. I am now in his game."

"Aha!" cried Passepartout. "You are convinced he is an honest
man?"

"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal. Sh! don't budge,
and let me speak. As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it
was for my interest to detain him there until my warrant of
arrest arrived. I did everything I could to keep him back. I sent
the Bombay priests after him. I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong.
I separated you from him, and I made him miss the Yokohama
steamer."

Passepartout listened, with closed fists.

"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.
Well, I will follow him there. But hereafter I will do as much to
keep obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to
put them in his path. I've changed my game, you see, and simply
because it was in my interest to change it. Your interest is the
same as mine, for it is only in England that you will know
whether you are in the service of a criminal or an honest man."

Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced
that he spoke with entire good faith.

"Are we friends?" asked the detective.

"Friends? No," replied Passepartout. "But allies, perhaps. At the
least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you.

"Agreed," said the detective quietly.

Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant
entered the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.

Chapter 25

In Which a Slight Glimpse Is Had of San Francisco

It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda and
Passepartout set foot upon the American continent, if this name
can be given to the floating quay upon which they disembarked.
These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate
the loading and unloading of vessels. Alongside them were
clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities, and the
steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which
ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were also heaped
up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chili,
Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia and all the Pacific islands.

Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American
continent, thought he would show it by executing a perilous vault
in fine style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell
through them. Put out of countenance by the manner in which he
thus "set foot" upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry. This
so frightened the innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are
always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew noisily
away.

Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour
the first train left for New York, and learned that this was at
six o'clock P.M. He had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the
Californian city. Taking a carriage for three dollars, he and
Aouda entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the
driver, and they set out for the International Hotel.

From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much
curiosity the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the
Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden
and brick warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses,
horse-cars, and upon the side-walks, not only Americans and
Europeans, but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was surprised at
all he saw. San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of
1849 - a city of banditti, assassins and incendiaries, who had
flocked here in crowds in pursuit of plunder. Formerly a paradise
of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in one
hand and a bowie-knife in the other, it was now a great
commercial emporium.

The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of
the streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles,
and in the midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares.
Beyond appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the
Celestial Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros and red shirts and
plumed Indians were rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats
and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously
active, gentlemanly-looking men. Some of the streets -especially
Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what Regent Street
is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris and Broadway to
New York - were lined with splendid and spacious stores, which
exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.

When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not
seem to him as if he had left England at all.

The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort
of restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of
dried beef, oyster soup, biscuits and cheese, without taking out
their purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or
sherry which was drunk. This seemed "very American" to
Passepartout. The hotel refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing themselves at a table, were
abundantly served on diminutive plates by Negroes of darkest hue.

After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going
out, he met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well,
before taking the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield
rifles and Colt's revolvers. He had been listening to stories of
attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg
thought it a useless precaution, but told him to do as he thought
best, and went on to the consulate.

He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the
greatest chance in the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed
wholly taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed
the Pacific together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix
felt honored to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so
much, and, as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be
delighted to continue the journey in such pleasant company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honor would be his; and the detective -
who was determined not to lose sight of him - begged permission
to accompany them in their walk about San Francisco - a request
which Mr. Fogg readily granted.

They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great
crowd was collected. The side-walks, street, horse-car rails, the
shop-doors, the windows of the houses and even the roofs, were
full of people. Men were going about carrying large posters, and
flags and streamers were floating in the wind, while loud cries
were heard on every hand.

"Hurrah for Camerfield!"

"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"

It was a political meeting; at least so Fix guessed. He said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. There
may be danger in it."

"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg, "and blows, even if they are political
are still blows."

Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see
without being jostled about, the party took up a position on the
top of a flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery
Street. Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a
coal wharf and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been
erected in the open air, towards which the current of the crowd
seemed to be directed.

For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to
nominate some high official - a governor or member of Congress?
It was not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.

Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass.
All the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed,
seemed to disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries-an
energetic way, no doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed
back, the banners and flags wavered, disappeared an instant, then
reappeared in tatters. The undulations of the human surge reached
the steps, while all the heads floundered on the surface like a
sea agitated by a squall. Many of the black hats disappeared, and
the greater part of the crowd seemed to have diminished in
height.

"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that question is settled."

"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.

"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honorable Mr. Camerfield and the Honorable Mr. Mandiboy."

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene
with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of
it all was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose.
Hurrahs and excited shouts were heard. The staffs of the banners
began to be used as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in
every direction. Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the
carriages and omnibuses which had been blocked up in the crowd.
Boots and shoes went whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg
thought he even heard the crack of revolvers mingling in the din.
The rout approached the stairway, and flowed over the lower step.
One of the parties had evidently been repulsed, but the mere
onlookers could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had
gained the upper hand.

"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious
that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they
got back to London. "If there is any question about England in
all this, and we were recognized, I fear it would go hard with
us."

"An English subject - " began Mr. Fogg.

He did not finish his sentence, for a terrific hubbub now arose
on the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and
there were frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip,
hurrah!"

It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda and Fix
found themselves between two fires. It was too late to escape.
The torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was
irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their
attempts to protect their fair companion. The former, as cool as
ever, tried to defend himself with the weapons which nature has
placed at the end of every Englishman's arm, but in vain. A big
brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face and broad shoulders,
who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist
to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have given a crushing blow, had
not Fix rushed in and received it in his stead. An enormous
bruise immediately made its appearance under the detective's silk
hat, which was completely smashed in.

"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
ruffian.

"Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"

"When you please."

"What is your name?"

"Phileas Fogg. And yours?"

"Colonel Stamp Proctor."

The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily
got upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily,
he was not seriously hurt. His traveling overcoat was divided
into two unequal parts, and his trousers resembled those of
certain Indians, which fit less compactly than they are easy to
put on. Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of
the fray in his black and blue bruise.

"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were
out of the crowd.

"No thanks are necessary," replied Fix, "but let us go."

"Where?"

"To a tailor's."

Such a visit was, indeed, necessary. The clothing of both Mr.
Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively
engaged in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour
after, they were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda
returned to the International Hotel.

Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barreled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows;
but Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure,
his countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was
no longer an enemy, but an ally. He was faith-fully keeping his
word.

Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and
their luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was
getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel
Proctor again?"

"No."

"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg
calmly. "It would not be right for an Englishman to permit
himself to be treated in that way without retaliating."

The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr.
Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate
dueling at home, fight abroad when their honor is attacked.

At a quarter before six the travelers reached the station, and
found the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr.
Fogg called a porter, and said to him: "My friend, was there not
some trouble today in San Francisco?"

"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.

"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the
streets."

"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."

"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."

Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.

Chapter 26

In Which Phileas Fogg and Party Travel by the Pacific Railroad

"From ocean to ocean" - so say the Americans; and these four
words compose the general designation of the "great trunk line"
which crosses the entire width of the United States. The Pacific
Railroad is, however, really divided into two distinct lines: the
Central Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union
Pacific, between Ogden and Omaha. Five main lines connect Omaha
with New York.

New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted
metal ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven
hundred and eighty-six miles. Between Omaha and the Pacific the
railway crosses a territory which is still infested by Indians
and wild beasts, and a large tract which the Mormons, after they
were driven from Illinois in 1845, began to colonize.

The journey from New York to San Francisco took, formerly, under
the most favorable conditions, at least six months. It is now
accomplished in seven days. In 1862, in spite of the Southern
Members of Congress, who wished a more southerly route, it was
decided to lay the road between the forty-first and forty-second
parallels. President Lincoln himself fixed the end of the line at
Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was started at once and pursued with
true American energy. The rapidity with which it went on did not
injuriously affect its good execution. The road grew, on the
prairies, a mile and a half a day. A locomotive, running on the
rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid
the next day, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put in
position.

The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa,
Kansas, Colorado and Oregon. On leaving Omaha, it passes along
the left bank of the Platte Rivet as far as the junction of its
northern branch, follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie
territory and the Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake,
and reaches Salt Lake City, the Mormon capital, plunges into the
Tuilla Valley, across the American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt
Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and descends, via Sacramento, to
the Pacific - its grade, even on the Rocky Mountains, never
exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.

Such was the road to be traveled in seven days. It would enable
Phileas Fogg - at least, so he hoped - to take the Atlantic
steamer at New York on the 11th for Liverpool.

The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight
wheels, with no compartments in the interior. It was supplied
with two rows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the
train on either side of an aisle which led to the front and rear
platforms. These platforms were found throughout the train, and
the passengers were able to pass from one end of the train to the
other. It was supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars,
restaurants and smoking-cars. Theatre cars alone were missing,
and they will have these some day.

Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, beverages and cigars,
who seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually
circulating in the aisles.

The train left Oakland station at six o'clock. It was already
night, cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds
which seemed to threaten snow. The train did not proceed rapidly.
Counting the stops, it did not run more than twenty miles an
hour, which was a sufficient speed, however, to enable it to
reach Omaha within its designated time.

There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of
the passengers were asleep. Passepartout found himself beside the
detective, but he did not talk to him. After recent events, their
relations with each other had grown somewhat cold. There could no
longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them. Fix's manner
had not changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to
strangle his former friend on the slightest provocation.

Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow,
however, which happily did not deter the train. Nothing could be
seen from the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the
smoke of the locomotive had a greyish aspect.

At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that
bedtime had arrived. In a few minutes the car was transformed
into a dormitory. The backs of the seats were thrown back,
bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious
system, berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveler soon
had at his disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious
eyes by thick curtains. The sheets were clean and the pillows
soft. It only remained to go to bed and sleep - which everybody
did - while the train sped on across the State of California.

The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very
hilly. The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting
point, extends eastward to meet the road from Omaha. The line
from San Francisco to Sacramento runs in a northeasterly
direction, along the American River, which empties into San Pablo
Bay. The one hundred and twenty miles between these cities were
accomplished in six hours. Towards midnight, while fast asleep,
the travelers passed through Sacramento; so that they saw nothing
of that important place, the seat of the state government, with
its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels, squares and
churches.

The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction,
Roclin, Auburn and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra
Nevada. 'Cisco was reached at seven in the morning; and an hour
later the dormitory was transformed into an ordinary car, and the
travelers could observe the picturesque beauties of the mountain
region through which they were steaming. The railway track wound
in and out among the passes, now approaching the mountainsides,
now suspended over precipices, avoiding abrupt angles by bold
curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which seemed to have no
outlet. The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a weird light,
with its sharp bell, and its cowcatcher extended like a spur,
mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and
cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic
pines.

There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route. The
railway turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not
attempt to violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one
point to another.

The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley
about nine o'clock, going always northeasterly. At midday it
reached Reno where there was a delay of twenty minutes for
breakfast.

From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks. Then it turned
eastward, and kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt
Range, nearly at the extreme eastern limit of Nevada.

After breakfast, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places
in the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded as
they passed along: the vast prairies, the mountains lining the
horizon, and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams.
Sometimes a great herd of buffaloes, massing together in the
distance, seemed like a movable dam. These innumerable
multitudes of beasts often form an insurmountable obstacle to the
passage of the trains. Thousands of them have been seen passing

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