Жюль Верн
Round the World in Eighty Days

CHAPTER XXI

Showing how the Owner of the Tankadere nearly lost the Bonus of Two Hundred Pounds.

This voyage of eight hundred miles was one of great risk at that season of the year in those seas, which are usually very rough, particularly during the equinoxes, and it was then the beginning of November.

It would have been very much to the advantage of the owner of the Tankadere to have gone on to Yokohama, as he was paid so much a day, but such a voyage would have been extremely rash. It was a risk to go to Shanghai; still, John Bunsby had confidence in his ship, which sailed like a bird, and perhaps he was right.

"There is no need for me to urge you to speed," said Fogg to Bunsby, when they had got out to sea.

"Your honour may depend upon me," replied Bunsby; "I will do all I can."

"Well, it is your business and not mine, pilot, and I trust you thoroughly."

Phileas Fogg, standing upright, with his legs stretched apart, was as steady as a sailor as he gazed over the foaming sea. Mrs. Aouda, seated aft, was somewhat nervous as she contemplated the ocean. The sails bellied out overhead like great wings, and the schooner ran before the wind at a great pace. Night fell. The moon was only in the first quarter, and her light would soon be quenched beneath the horizon. Clouds were rising in the east, and already banking up.

The pilot hung out the vessel's lights, an indispensable proceeding, for collisions were by no means unfrequent, and any such occurrence, at the speed they were now going, would shatter the gallant little craft to pieces.

Fix, seated up in the bows, held himself aloof, as he knew Fogg was not much of a talker; besides, he did not quite like to enter into conversation with this man whose good offices he had accepted. He thought of the future, for it now seemed certain that Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would immediately take the steamer for San Francisco, so as to reach America, where he would be safe. Fogg's plan seemed to the detective to be very simple.

Instead of embarking in England for the United States, like a common swindler, Fogg had made a tour three-parts round the globe, so as to gain the American continent more safely; and once there, he could enjoy himself comfortably with his spoil. But what could Fix do in the United States? Should he give up the man? No, certainly not; and until he had obtained an act of extradition, he would not lose sight of him. This was his duty, and he would carry it out to the bitter end. There was one thing, at any rate, to be thankful for, Passe-partout was not now with his master; and after Fix's confidence imparted to him, it was very important that the servant should not see his master again in a hurry.

Phileas Fogg was himself thinking about his servant, who had so curiously disappeared. But after consideration of the circumstances, it did not appear improbable that the young man had gone on board the Carnatic at the last moment. This was also Mrs. Aouda's opinion, for she deeply regretted the worthy fellow's absence, as she was so deeply indebted to him. They might, therefore, find him at Yokohama, and if he were on the Carnatic, it would be easy to ascertain the fact.

About ten o'clock the breeze began to freshen, and though it might have been prudent to take in a reef or two, the pilot, after taking an observation, let the sails stand, for the Tankadere carried her canvas well; but everything was prepared to furl the sails in case of necessity.

At midnight, Phileas Fogg and Mrs. Aouda went below. Fix had already turned in, but the owner and his crew remained on deck all night.

By sunrise next morning the schooner had made a hundred miles. The log showed they were going about eight or nine knots an hour. They were still carrying on, and, if the wind held, the chances were in their favour. The vessel made her way along the coast all that day. The sea was not so rough, as the wind blew off-shore, which was a very fortunate circumstance for such a small vessel.

About noon the breeze fell a little, and shifted to the south-east. The owner spread his topsails, but furled them again, as the breeze showed signs of freshening once more.

Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda did not suffer from sea-sickness, and ate with a good appetite, and Fix, invited to partake of the meal, was obliged to accept very unwillingly. He did not like to travel and eat at the expense of the man he was tracking; but yet he was obliged to eat, and so he ate.

After dinner he found an opportunity to speak to Mr. Fogg privately. "Sir," he said – this term scorched his lips, so to speak, and he had to control himself; his impulse was to arrest this "gentleman" – "sir," said he, "it is very good of you to give me a passage; but although I cannot spend money as freely as you do, I shall be happy to pay my expenses."

"You need not say anything about that," replied Mr. Fogg.

"But if I insist upon it?"

"No, sir," replied Fogg, in a tone which admitted of no discussion, "this is included in my general expenses."

Fix bowed, he felt half stifled; and going forward, he sat down and did not speak for the whole day.

Meantime they were making good progress. John Bunsby was in hopes of succeeding, and frequently said to Mr. Fogg that "they would be in time;" to which Fogg merely replied that "he counted upon it." The crew, also inspired by the hope of reward, worked hard. Not a sheet required bracing, not a sail that was not well hoisted, not one unnecessary lurch could be attributed to the steersman. They could not have worked the schooner better if they had been sailing a match in the Royal Yacht Club Regatta.

By the evening the log showed that they had run two hundred and twenty miles, and Mr. Fogg hoped that when he arrived at Yokohama he would not have to record any delay in his journal. If so, the only check he had met with since he left London would not affect his journey.

Towards morning the Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-kien, which separate Formosa from the Chinese coasts. The sea was very rough, and it was difficult to stand on deck. At daybreak the wind freshened still more, and there was every appearance of a storm. The mercury rose and fell at intervals. In the south-east the sea rose in a long swell, which betokened a tempest.

The pilot studied the aspect of the heavens for a long time, and at last said to Mr. Fogg:

"I suppose I may tell your honour what I think?"

"Of course," replied Fogg.

"Well, then, we are going to have a storm."

"From the north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg calmly.

"From the south. A typhoon is approaching."

"I am glad it is coming from the south, it will help us on."

"Oh, if you look on it in that light," said Bunsby, "I have no more to say."

The presentiments of Bunsby were fulfilled. During the summer the typhoon would have been probably dissipated in an electric cascade, but in the winter it would probably have its course. So the pilot took his precautions. He took in his sails and set merely the storm-jib, and waited.

The pilot begged his passengers to go below, but in such a narrow and confined space the imprisonment was far from agreeable, so none of them would quit the deck.

About eight o'clock the hurricane, with torrents of rain, burst upon them. With nothing but the small jib, the Tankadere was almost lifted out of the water by the tempest. She darted through the sea like a locomotive at full-speed.

All that day the vessel was hurried towards the north, borne on the top of the monstrous waves. Time after time she was almost engulfed, but the careful steering of the pilot saved her. The passengers were drenched with spray, but took it philosophically. Fix grumbled, no doubt; but the brave Aouda regarded her companion and admired his coolness, while she endeavoured to imitate it. As for Phileas Fogg, he took it as a matter of course.

Hitherto the Tankadere had been sailing northwards, but towards evening, as the pilot had feared, the wind veered round to the north-west The schooner plunged terribly in the trough of the sea, and it was fortunate she was so solidly built. The tempest increased if possible at night, and John Bunsby began to feel anxious; he consulted his crew as to what they should do.

He then came to Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think we should make for one of the ports hereabouts."

"So do I," replied Fogg.

"Yes," said the pilot; "but which?"

"I only know of one," said Fogg quietly.

"And that is – ?"

"Shanghai."

This reply took the pilot aback rather at first; but recognising Mr. Fogg's firmness, he said: "Yes, your honour is right, Shanghai be it."

So they kept their course.

The night was fearful; it seemed a miracle that the little vessel did not founder. Twice she was caught in the trough of the sea, and would have gone down, but that everything was let fly. Mrs. Aouda was knocked about, and more than once Mr. Fogg rushed to her assistance, though she made no complaint.

At daybreak the storm was still raging, but suddenly the wind backed to the south-east. This was a change for the better, and the Tankadere again proceeded on her course, though the cross-sea gave her some tremendous blows, sufficient to have crushed a less solid craft. The coast was occasionally visible through the mist, but not a sail was in sight.

At noon the weather cleared a little, the gale had blown itself out, and the travellers were enabled to take some rest. The night was comparatively quiet, and the pilot was induced to set a little more sail, and at day-break next morning John Bunsby was able to declare that they were less than a hundred miles from Shanghai.

A hundred miles, and only one day to accomplish the distance. On that evening they ought to be at Shanghai if they wished to catch the steamer for Yokohama; but for the storm, which had delayed them several hours, they would then have been within thirty miles of their destination.

The breeze continued to fall, and the sea went down. All canvas was spread, and at twelve o'clock the Tankadere was only forty-five miles from Shanghai. Six hours still remained, and all were afraid they could not do it. Everyone on board, except Phileas Fogg no doubt, felt the keenest anxiety. They must maintain a speed of nine knots an hour, and the wind was falling rapidly, and coming in puffs.

Nevertheless, the schooner was so light and carried such a spread of canvas, besides being aided by the shore currents, that at six o'clock Bunsby reckoned they were only ten miles from the Shanghai river. The town itself was situated about twelve miles higher up.

At seven o'clock they were still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot swore a formidable oath as he perceived the bonus of two hundred pounds slipping away from him. He looked at Mr. Fogg; Mr. Fogg was impassible, although his whole fortune was in the balance.

At this moment a long black funnel, from which a thick train of smoke was issuing, appeared. This was the American steamer leaving Shanghai at the proper time.

"Confound it!" cried Bunsby, as he kept the schooner away a point.

"Signal her," said Fogg quietly.

There was a small brass cannon on the forecastle, which was used during fogs.

This piece was charged to the muzzle, but just as the pilot was going to fire, Phileas said:

"Hoist your flag."

The ensign was run up half-mast. This was a signal of distress, and they hoped that the steamer would see it and heave-to to assist them.

"Fire!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg.

And the report of the little cannon immediately boomed over the sea.

CHAPTER XXII

Showing how Passe-partout finds out that, even at the Antipodes, it is prudent to have Money in his Pocket.

The Carnatic, bound for Japan, left Hong Kong on the 7th of November. Two cabins were unoccupied – they had been engaged by Mr. Phileas Fogg. The following morning the sailors were astonished to perceive a dishevelled, half-stupefied figure emerge from the fore-cabin and sit down on deck.

This passenger was Passe-partout, and this is what had happened:

Soon after Fix had left the opium-tavern, two waiters had laid Passe-partout upon the couch reserved for smokers; three hours later Passe-partout, haunted by one idea, woke up and struggled against the stupefying influence of the drug. The thought of his unfulfilled duties assisted him to shake off his torpor. He left the den of drunkenness, and guiding himself by the walls, he staggered on, crying out, as in a dream: "The Carnatic, the Carnatic!"

The steamer was alongside the wharf, ready to start. Passe-partout had but a few paces to traverse; he rushed across the gangway, and fell senseless on the deck just as the paddles began to revolve. The sailors, accustomed to this sort of thing, took him down to the fore-cabin, and when he awoke he was fifty miles from Hong Kong.

This is how he found himself on board the Carnatic, inhaling the sea-air, which sobered him by degrees. He began to collect his thoughts, which was no easy matter, but at length he was able to recall the occurrences of the day before – Fix's confidence and the opium-smoking, etc.

"The fact is," he thought, "I have been very tipsy. What will Mr. Fogg say? At any rate, I have not missed the steamer, and that is the principal thing;" then he thought of Fix. "As for him," he muttered, "I trust he has not dared to follow us on board this ship, as he said. A detective tracking my master, and accusing him of robbing the Bank of England! Bosh! he is no more a robber than I am an assassin."

Now, was he to tell all this to his master? Would it not be better to wait till they all reached London, and when the detective had followed them all round the world, to have a good laugh at him? This was a point to be considered. The first thing was to find Mr. Fogg and ask his pardon.

Passe-partout accordingly got up; the sea was rough, and the ship rolled considerably. It was with some difficulty he reached the quarterdeck, but could not see anyone at all like his master or Mrs. Aouda.

"All right," he thought, "the lady is not up yet, and Mr. Fogg is probably playing whist as usual."

Passe-partout accordingly went down to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. All he could do now was to ask the purser for his master's cabin. That individual replied that he knew no passenger by the name of Fogg.

"Excuse me," said Passe-partout, "he is a tall, cool, quiet-looking gentleman, and is accompanied by a young lady."

"There is no young lady on board," said the purser. "However, here is the passenger-list, and you can see for yourself."

Passe-partout did so. His master's name was not entered.

Suddenly an idea occurred to him, and he said: "Am I on the Carnatic?"

"Yes," replied the purser.

"On the way to Hong Kong?"

"Yes, decidedly."

Passe-partout for the moment was afraid he had got on the wrong ship, but if he was on the Carnatic it was evident his master was not.

Passe-partout fell back on a chair. He was thunder-struck. All at once the light broke in upon his mind; he remembered that the hour of the ship sailing had been altered, that he ought to have told his master, and he had not done so. It was therefore his fault that they had missed the vessel.

His fault no doubt, but still more the fault of that traitor who had endeavoured to keep his master at Hong Kong, and had made him (Passe-partout) tipsy. He saw it all now. His master was ruined, arrested, and imprisoned perhaps. Passe-partout was furious. Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of accounts there would be!

Passe-partout by degrees recovered his composure, and began to look things in the face. He was on his route to Japan, at any rate, but he had no money in his pocket, and this was not a pleasant reflection. He literally did not possess a penny. Fortunately his passage had been paid, so he had five or six days to make up his mind. He ate accordingly for the whole party, and as if there was nothing to be got to eat when he reached Japan.

The Carnatic entered the harbour of Yokohama on the morning tide of the 13th, and came alongside the quay, near the Custom House, amidst a crowd of ships of every nationality.

Passe-partout went on shore to this curious land without any enthusiasm; he had nothing to do but to wander aimlessly through the streets. He first found himself in a thoroughly European quarter of the town, with houses ornamented with verandahs and elegant peristyles. This portion of the town occupied all the space between the promontory of the Treaty and the river, and included docks and warehouses, with many streets and squares. Here, as at Hong Kong and Calcutta, were a crowd of Americans, English, Chinese, and Dutch merchants ready to buy or sell almost anything, and Passe-partout felt as strange amongst them as a Hottentot might have done.

He had one resource at any rate, he could apply to the French or English consuls; but he shrank from telling his adventures, which were so intimately connected with his master. So before doing so, he thought he would try every other chance for a livelihood.

After traversing the European quarter, he entered the Japanese district, and made up his mind to push on to Yeddo if necessary.

The native quarter of Yokohama is called Benter, after the sea-goddess worshipped on the neighbouring islands. Here he noticed beautiful groves of fir and cedar; sacred gates of peculiar construction; bridges, enclosed by bamboos and reeds; and temples, surrounded by immense and melancholy-looking cedars, wherein Buddhist priests and votaries of Confucius resided. There were long streets with crowds of infants, who looked as if they were cut out of Japanese screens, and who were playing with bandy-legged poodles, and with yellow cats without tails, of a very lazy and very affectionate disposition.

The streets were crowded with people passing and repassing: priests, policemen, custom-house officers, and soldiers – the Mikado's guard, in silken doublets and coats of mail, as well as other soldiers of all descriptions; for in Japan the army is as much regarded as it is despised in China. There were friars, pilgrims with long robes, and civilians with long black hair, large heads, long waists, thin legs, and short of stature; with complexions, some copper-colour, some pale, but never yellow like the Chinese, from whom the Japanese differ essentially. Amongst the carriages, the palanquins, the barrows with sails, bamboo litters, he noticed many very pretty women moving about with tiny steps, on tiny feet, and shod with canvas shoes, with straw sandals and wooden clogs. They appeared to have small eyes, fiat chests, black teeth, according to fashion; but wearing gracefully the national robe called "kirimon," a sort of dressing-gown, crossed with a silk scarf and tied behind in a large knot, a mode which Parisian ladies have borrowed from the Japanese.

Passe-partout wandered about in the crowd for some hours, looking at the shops, at the glittering jewellers' establishments; the restaurants, which he could not enter; the tea-houses, where they drank "saki," a liquor made from the fermentation of rice; and comfortable-looking tobacco-shops, where they smoked, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a fine tobacco. Thence he went on into the fields amongst the rice-plantations; there were flowers of all sorts, giving forth their last perfumes – beautiful camellias, not on bushes, but on trees; and bamboo enclosures, with cherry, plum, and apple trees, Which the natives cultivate rather for their blossom than their fruit. On almost every cedar-tree an eagle was perched, and on the willows were melancholy herons, standing on one leg; and crows, ducks, hawks, wild geese, and a quantity of cranes, which are looked upon as sacred by the Japanese, as conferring upon them long life and happiness.

As he wandered on, Passe-partout noted some violets amid the grass. "Good," he said, "here is my supper;" but he found they were scentless.

"No chance there," he thought.

Certainly, as a precaution, he had taken care to have a good meal before he left the Carnatic, but after walking a whole day, he felt somewhat hungry. He had already remarked that the butchers' shops displayed neither mutton, pork, nor kids; and as he knew that it was forbidden to kill oxen, which are reserved for farming, he concluded that meat was scarce in Japan. He was not mistaken, but he could have put up with wild boar even, partridges, quails, fish, or fowl, which the Japanese eat almost exclusively with rice. However, he kept his spirits up, and looked forward to a meal next day.

Night fell, and Passe-partout re-entered the native quarter, where he wandered through the streets in the midst of coloured lanterns, looking on at the conjurers, and at the astrologers, who had collected a crowd round their telescopes. Then he wandered back to the harbour, lighted up by the fishermen's torches.

At length the streets began to get empty, and to the crowd succeeded the patrols. These officers, in their splendid uniforms and followed by their attendants, looked like ambassadors; and every time Passe-partout met one of these parties, he said to himself:

"Good, good; another Japanese embassy going to Europe."