Around the World in 80 Days
'And when will another train pass here from San
Francisco?'
'To-morrow evening, madam.'
'To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We
must wait—'
'It is impossible,' responded the conductor. 'If you wish
to go, please get in.'
'I will not go,' said Aouda.
Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before,
when there was no prospect of proceeding on the journey,
he had made up his mind to leave Fort Kearney; but now
that the train was there, ready to start, and he had only to
take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence held him
back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could
not stir. The conflict in his mind again began; anger and
failure stifled him. He wished to struggle on to the end.
Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded,
among them Colonel Proctor, whose injuries were
serious, had taken their places in the train. The buzzing of
the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam was
escaping from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train
started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke
with the eddies of the densely falling snow.
The detective had remained behind.
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Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it
was very cold. Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station;
he might have been thought asleep. Aouda, despite the
storm, kept coming out of the waiting-room, going to the
end of the platform, and peering through the tempest of
snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon
around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound.
She heard and saw nothing. Then she would return,
chilled through, to issue out again after the lapse of a few
moments, but always in vain.
Evening came, and the little band had not returned.
Where could they be? Had they found the Indians, and
were they having a conflict with them, or were they still
wandering amid the mist? The commander of the fort was
anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As
night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it
became intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the
plains. Neither flight of bird nor passing of beast troubled
the perfect calm.
Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings,
her heart stifled with anguish, wandered about on the
verge of the plains. Her imagination carried her far off,
and showed her innumerable dangers. What she suffered
through the long hours it would be impossible to describe.
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Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not
sleep. Once a man approached and spoke to him, and the
detective merely replied by shaking his head.
Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished
disc of the sun rose above a misty horizon ; but it was now
possible to recognise objects two miles off. Phileas Fogg
and the squad had gone southward; in the south all was
still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.
The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know
what course to take.
Should he send another detachment to the rescue of
the first? Should he sacrifice more men, with so few
chances of saving those already sacrificed? His hesitation
did not last long, however. Calling one of his lieutenants,
he was on the point of ordering a reconnaissance, when
gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The soldiers rushed
out of the fort, and half a mile off they perceived a little
band returning in good order.
Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind
him were Passepartout and the other two travellers,
rescued from the Sioux.
They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of
Fort Kearney. Shortly before the detachment arrived,
Passepartout and his companions had begun to struggle
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with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman had
felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers
hastened up to their relief.
All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg
distributed the reward he had promised to the soldiers,
while Passepartout, not without reason, muttered to
himself, 'It must certainly be confessed that I cost my
master dear!'
Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it
would have been difficult to analyse the thoughts which
struggled within him. As for Aouda, she took her
protector's hand and pressed it in her own, too much
moved to speak.
Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the
train; he thought he should find it there, ready to start for
Omaha, and he hoped that the time lost might be
regained.
'The train! the train!' cried he.
'Gone,' replied Fix.
'And when does the next train pass here?' said Phileas
Fogg.
'Not till this evening.'
'Ah!' returned the impassible gentleman quietly.
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Chapter XXXI
IN WHICH FIX, THE
DETECTIVE, CONSIDERABLY
FURTHERS THE INTERESTS
OF PHILEAS FOGG
Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time.
Passepartout, the involuntary cause of this delay, was
desperate. He had ruined his master!
At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg,
and, looking him intently in the face, said:
'Seriously, sir, are you in great haste?'
'Quite seriously.'
'I have a purpose in asking,' resumed Fix. 'Is it
absolutely necessary that you should be in New York on
the 11th, before nine o'clock in the evening, the time that
the steamer leaves for Liverpool?'
'It is absolutely necessary.'
'And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these
Indians, you would have reached New York on the
morning of the 11th?'
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'Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer
left.'
'Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve
from twenty leaves eight. You must regain eight hours.
Do you wish to try to do so?'
'On foot?' asked Mr. Fogg.
'No; on a sledge,' replied Fix. 'On a sledge with sails. A
man has proposed such a method to me.'
It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the
night, and whose offer he had refused.
Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having
pointed out the man, who was walking up and down in
front of the station, Mr. Fogg went up to him. An instant
after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was
Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.
There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of
frame on two long beams, a little raised in front like the
runners of a sledge, and upon which there was room for
five or six persons. A high mast was fixed on the frame,
held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a
large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon
which to hoist a jib-sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to
guide the vehicle. It was, in short, a sledge rigged like a
sloop. During the winter, when the trains are blocked up
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by the snow, these sledges make extremely rapid journeys
across the frozen plains from one station to another.
Provided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind
behind them, they slip over the surface of the prairies with
a speed equal if not superior to that of the express trains.
Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this
land-craft. The wind was favourable, being fresh, and
blowing from the west. The snow had hardened, and
Mudge was very confident of being able to transport Mr.
Fogg in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward
run frequently to Chicago and New York. It was not
impossible that the lost time might yet be recovered; and
such an opportunity was not to be rejected.
Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of
travelling in the open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her
with Passepartout at Fort Kearney, the servant taking upon
himself to escort her to Europe by a better route and
under more favourable conditions. But Aouda refused to
separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted
with her decision; for nothing could induce him to leave
his master while Fix was with him.
It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts.
Was this conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or
did he still regard him as an exceedingly shrewd rascal,
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who, his journey round the world completed, would
think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps Fix's
opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he
was nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the
return of the whole party to England as much as possible.
At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start. The
passengers took their places on it, and wrapped themselves
up closely in their travelling-cloaks. The two great sails
were hoisted, and under the pressure of the wind the
sledge slid over the hardened snow with a velocity of forty
miles an hour.
The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the
birds fly, is at most two hundred miles. If the wind held
good, the distance might be traversed in five hours; if no
accident happened the sledge might reach Omaha by one
o'clock.
What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together,
could not speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at
which they were going. The sledge sped on as lightly as a
boat over the waves. When the breeze came skimming the
earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off the ground by its
sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a straight
line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which
the vehicle had a tendency to make. All the sails were up,
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and the jib was so arranged as not to screen the brigantine.
A top-mast was hoisted, and another jib, held out to the
wind, added its force to the other sails. Although the speed
could not be exactly estimated, the sledge could not be
going at less than forty miles an hour.
'If nothing breaks,' said Mudge, 'we shall get there!'
Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach
Omaha within the time agreed on, by the offer of a
handsome reward.
The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a
straight line, was as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen
lake. The railroad which ran through this section ascended
from the south-west to the north-west by Great Island,
Columbus, an important Nebraska town, Schuyler, and
Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right
bank of the Platte River. The sledge, shortening this
route, took a chord of the arc described by the railway.
Mudge was not afraid of being stopped by the Platte
River, because it was frozen. The road, then, was quite
clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to
fear— an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in
the wind.
But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to
bend the mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held
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firmly. These lashings, like the chords of a stringed
instrument, resounded as if vibrated by a violin bow. The
sledge slid along in the midst of a plaintively intense
melody.
'Those chords give the fifth and the octave,' said Mr.
Fogg.
These were the only words he uttered during the
journey. Aouda, cosily packed in furs and cloaks, was
sheltered as much as possible from the attacks of the
freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face was as red as
the sun's disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously
inhaled the biting air. With his natural buoyancy of spirits,
he began to hope again. They would reach New York on
the evening, if not on the morning, of the 11th, and there
was still some chances that it would be before the steamer
sailed for Liverpool.
Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally,
Fix, by the hand. He remembered that it was the detective
who procured the sledge, the only means of reaching
Omaha in time; but, checked by some presentiment, he
kept his usual reserve. One thing, however, Passepartout
would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr.
Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from
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Around the World in 80 Days
the Sioux. Mr. Fogg had risked his fortune and his life.
No! His servant would never forget that!
While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so
different, the sledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow.
The creeks it passed over were not perceived. Fields and
streams disappeared under the uniform whiteness. The
plain was absolutely deserted. Between the Union Pacific
road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint
Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island. Neither
village, station, nor fort appeared. From time to time they
sped by some phantom-like tree, whose white skeleton
twisted and rattled in the wind. Sometimes flocks of wild
birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious prairie-
wolves ran howling after the sledge. Passepartout, revolver
in hand, held himself ready to fire on those which came
too near. Had an accident then happened to the sledge,
the travellers, attacked by these beasts, would have been in
the most terrible danger; but it held on its even course,
soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling
band at a safe distance behind.
About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks
that he was crossing the Platte River. He said nothing, but
he felt certain that he was now within twenty miles of
Omaha. In less than an hour he left the rudder and furled
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his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great
impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further
with its sails unspread.
It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of
roofs white with snow, said: 'We have got there!'
Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily
communication, by numerous trains, with the Atlantic
seaboard!
Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their
stiffened limbs, and aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman
to descend from the sledge. Phileas Fogg generously
rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly
grasped, and the party directed their steps to the Omaha
railway station.
The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this
important Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with
Chicago by the Chicago and Rock Island Railroad, which
runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.
A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party
reached the station, and they only had time to get into the
cars. They had seen nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout
confessed to himself that this was not to be regretted, as
they were not travelling to see the sights.
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The train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by
Council Bluffs, Des Moines, and Iowa City. During the
night it crossed the Mississippi at Davenport, and by Rock
Island entered Illinois. The next day, which was the 10th,
at four o'clock in the evening, it reached Chicago, already
risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on
the borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.
Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New
York; but trains are not wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg
passed at once from one to the other, and the locomotive
of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left
at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that
gentleman had no time to lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio,
Pennsylvania, and New Jersey like a flash, rushing through
towns with antique names, some of which had streets and
car-tracks, but as yet no houses. At last the Hudson came
into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of
the 11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank
of the river, before the very pier of the Cunard line.
The China, for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of
an hour before!
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Chapter XXXII
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
ENGAGES IN A DIRECT
STRUGGLE WITH BAD
FORTUNE
The China, in leaving, seemed to have carried off
Phileas Fogg's last hope. None of the other steamers were
able to serve his projects. The Pereire, of the French
Transatlantic Company, whose admirable steamers are
equal to any in speed and comfort, did not leave until the
14th; the Hamburg boats did not go directly to Liverpool
or London, but to Havre; and the additional trip from
Havre to Southampton would render Phileas Fogg's last
efforts of no avail. The Inman steamer did not depart till
the next day, and could not cross the Atlantic in time to
save the wager.
Mr. Fogg learned all this in consulting his Bradshaw,
which gave him the daily movements of the trans-Atlantic
steamers.
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Passepartout was crushed; it overwhelmed him to lose
the boat by three-quarters of an hour. It was his fault, for,
instead of helping his master, he had not ceased putting
obstacles in his path! And when he recalled all the
incidents of the tour, when he counted up the sums
expended in pure loss and on his own account, when he
thought that the immense stake, added to the heavy
charges of this useless journey, would completely ruin Mr.
Fogg, he overwhelmed himself with bitter self-accusations.
Mr. Fogg, however, did not reproach him; and, on
leaving the Cunard pier, only said: 'We will consult about
what is best to-morrow. Come.'
The party crossed the Hudson in the Jersey City
ferryboat, and drove in a carriage to the St. Nicholas
Hotel, on Broadway. Rooms were engaged, and the night
passed, briefly to Phileas Fogg, who slept profoundly, but
very long to Aouda and the others, whose agitation did
not permit them to rest.
The next day was the 12th of December. From seven
in the morning of the 12th to a quarter before nine in the
evening of the 21st there were nine days, thirteen hours,
and forty-five minutes. If Phileas Fogg had left in the
China, one of the fastest steamers on the Atlantic, he
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would have reached Liverpool, and then London, within
the period agreed upon.
Mr. Fogg left the hotel alone, after giving Passepartout
instructions to await his return, and inform Aouda to be
ready at an instant's notice. He proceeded to the banks of
the Hudson, and looked about among the vessels moored
or anchored in the river, for any that were about to
depart. Several had departure signals, and were preparing
to put to sea at morning tide; for in this immense and
admirable port there is not one day in a hundred that
vessels do not set out for every quarter of the globe. But
they were mostly sailing vessels, of which, of course,
Phileas Fogg could make no use.
He seemed about to give up all hope, when he espied,
anchored at the Battery, a cable's length off at most, a
trading vessel, with a screw, well-shaped, whose funnel,
puffing a cloud of smoke, indicated that she was getting
ready for departure.
Phileas Fogg hailed a boat, got into it, and soon found
himself on board the Henrietta, iron-hulled, wood-built
above. He ascended to the deck, and asked for the captain,
who forthwith presented himself. He was a man of fifty, a
sort of sea-wolf, with big eyes, a complexion of oxidised
copper, red hair and thick neck, and a growling voice.
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'The captain?' asked Mr. Fogg.
'I am the captain.'
'I am Phileas Fogg, of London.'
'And I am Andrew Speedy, of Cardiff.'
'You are going to put to sea?'
'In an hour.'
'You are bound for—'
'Bordeaux.'
'And your cargo?'
'No freight. Going in ballast.'
'Have you any passengers?'
'No passengers. Never have passengers. Too much in
the way.'
'Is your vessel a swift one?'
'Between eleven and twelve knots. The Henrietta, well
known.'
'Will you carry me and three other persons to
Liverpool?'
'To Liverpool? Why not to China?'
'I said Liverpool.'
'No!'
'No?'
'No. I am setting out for Bordeaux, and shall go to
Bordeaux.'
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'Money is no object?'
'None.'
The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a
reply.
'But the owners of the Henrietta—' resumed Phileas
Fogg.
'The owners are myself,' replied the captain. 'The
vessel belongs to me.'
'I will freight it for you.'
'No.'
'I will buy it of you.'
'No.'
Phileas Fogg did not betray the least disappointment;
but the situation was a grave one. It was not at New York
as at Hong Kong, nor with the captain of the Henrietta as
with the captain of the Tankadere. Up to this time money
had smoothed away every obstacle. Now money failed.
Still, some means must be found to cross the Atlantic
on a boat, unless by balloon—which would have been
venturesome, besides not being capable of being put in
practice. It seemed that Phileas Fogg had an idea, for he
said to the captain, 'Well, will you carry me to Bordeaux?'
'No, not if you paid me two hundred dollars.'
'I offer you two thousand.'
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'Apiece?'
'Apiece.'
'And there are four of you?'
'Four.'
Captain Speedy began to scratch his head. There were
eight thousand dollars to gain, without changing his route;
for which it was well worth conquering the repugnance
he had for all kinds of passengers. Besides, passenger's at
two thousand dollars are no longer passengers, but valuable
merchandise. 'I start at nine o'clock,' said Captain Speedy,
simply. 'Are you and your party ready?'
'We will be on board at nine o'clock,' replied, no less
simply, Mr. Fogg.
It was half-past eight. To disembark from the
Henrietta, jump into a hack, hurry to the St. Nicholas, and
return with Aouda, Passepartout, and even the inseparable
Fix was the work of a brief time, and was performed by
Mr. Fogg with the coolness which never abandoned him.
They were on board when the Henrietta made ready to
weigh anchor.
When Passepartout heard what this last voyage was
going to cost, he uttered a prolonged 'Oh!' which
extended throughout his vocal gamut.
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As for Fix, he said to himself that the Bank of England
would certainly not come out of this affair well
indemnified. When they reached England, even if Mr.
Fogg did not throw some handfuls of bank-bills into the
sea, more than seven thousand pounds would have been
spent!
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Chapter XXXIII
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
SHOWS HIMSELF EQUAL TO
THE OCCASION
An hour after, the Henrietta passed the lighthouse
which marks the entrance of the Hudson, turned the point
of Sandy Hook, and put to sea. During the day she skirted
Long Island, passed Fire Island, and directed her course
rapidly eastward.
At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to
ascertain the vessel's position. It might be thought that this
was Captain Speedy. Not the least in the world. It was
Phileas Fogg, Esquire. As for Captain Speedy, he was shut
up in his cabin under lock and key, and was uttering loud
cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable and
excessive.
What had happened was very simple. Phileas Fogg
wished to go to Liverpool, but the captain would not
carry him there. Then Phileas Fogg had taken passage for
Bordeaux, and, during the thirty hours he had been on
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board, had so shrewdly managed with his banknotes that
the sailors and stokers, who were only an occasional crew,
and were not on the best terms with the captain, went
over to him in a body. This was why Phileas Fogg was in
command instead of Captain Speedy; why the captain was
a prisoner in his cabin; and why, in short, the Henrietta
was directing her course towards Liverpool. It was very
clear, to see Mr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a
sailor.
How the adventure ended will be seen anon. Aouda
was anxious, though she said nothing. As for Passepartout,
he thought Mr. Fogg's manoeuvre simply glorious. The
captain had said 'between eleven and twelve knots,' and
the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.
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