If, then—for there were 'ifs' still—the sea did not
become too boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to
the east, if no accident happened to the boat or its
machinery, the Henrietta might cross the three thousand
miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days,
between the 12th and the 21st of December. It is true
that, once arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added
to that of the Bank of England, might create more
difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he imagined or could desire.
302 of 339
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During the first days, they went along smoothly
enough. The sea was not very unpropitious, the wind
seemed stationary in the north-east, the sails were hoisted,
and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves like a real
trans-Atlantic steamer.
Passepartout was delighted. His master's last exploit, the
consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never
had the crew seen so jolly and dexterous a fellow. He
formed warm friendships with the sailors, and amazed
them with his acrobatic feats. He thought they managed
the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like
heroes. His loquacious good-humour infected everyone.
He had forgotten the past, its vexations and delays. He
only thought of the end, so nearly accomplished; and
sometimes he boiled over with impatience, as if heated by
the furnaces of the Henrietta. Often, also, the worthy
fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a keen,
distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old
intimacy no longer existed.
Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what
was going on. The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery
of the crew, Fogg managing the boat like a skilled seaman,
amazed and confused him. He did not know what to
think. For, after all, a man who began by stealing fifty-five
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thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix
was not unnaturally inclined to conclude that the
Henrietta under Fogg's command, was not going to
Liverpool at all, but to some part of the world where the
robber, turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself in
safety. The conjecture was at least a plausible one, and the
detective began to seriously regret that he had embarked
on the affair.
As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and
growl in his cabin; and Passepartout, whose duty it was to
carry him his meals, courageous as he was, took the
greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg did not seem even to know
that there was a captain on board.
On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of
Newfoundland, a dangerous locality; during the winter,
especially, there are frequent fogs and heavy gales of wind.
Ever since the evening before the barometer, suddenly
falling, had indicated an approaching change in the
atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied,
the cold became sharper, and the wind veered to the
south-east.
This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to
deviate from his course, furled his sails and increased the
force of the steam; but the vessel's speed slackened, owing
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to the state of the sea, the long waves of which broke
against the stern. She pitched violently, and this retarded
her progress. The breeze little by little swelled into a
tempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might
not be able to maintain herself upright on the waves.
Passepartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for
two days the poor fellow experienced constant fright. But
Phileas Fogg was a bold mariner, and knew how to
maintain headway against the sea; and he kept on his
course, without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta,
when she could not rise upon the waves, crossed them,
swamping her deck, but passing safely. Sometinies the
screw rose out of the water, beating its protruding end,
when a mountain of water raised the stern above the
waves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.
The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as
might have been feared; it was not one of those tempests
which burst, and rush on with a speed of ninety miles an
hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily, it remained
obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since
Phileas Fogg's departure from London, and the Henrietta
had not yet been seriously delayed. Half of the voyage was
almost accomplished, and the worst localities had been
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passed. In summer, success would have been well-nigh
certain. In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad
season. Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope
in secret, and comforted himself with the reflection that, if
the wind failed them, they might still count on the steam.
On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to
Mr. Fogg, and began to speak earnestly with him.
Without knowing why it was a presentiment, perhaps
Passepartout became vaguely uneasy. He would have
given one of his ears to hear with the other what the
engineer was saying. He finally managed to catch a few
words, and was sure he heard his master say, 'You are
certain of what you tell me?'
'Certain, sir,' replied the engineer. 'You must
remember that, since we started, we have kept up hot fires
in all our furnaces, and, though we had coal enough to go
on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we haven't
enough to go with all steam from New York to
Liverpool.' 'I will consider,' replied Mr. Fogg.
Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with
mortal anxiety. The coal was giving out! 'Ah, if my master
can get over that,' muttered he, 'he'll be a famous man!'
He could not help imparting to Fix what he had
overheard.
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'Then you believe that we really are going to
Liverpool?'
'Of course.'
'Ass!' replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and
turning on his heel.
Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting
the epithet, the reason of which he could not for the life
of him comprehend; but he reflected that the unfortunate
Fix was probably very much disappointed and humiliated
in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a
false scent around the world, and refrained.
And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt? It
was difficult to imagine. Nevertheless he seemed to have
decided upon one, for that evening he sent for the
engineer, and said to him, 'Feed all the fires until the coal
is exhausted.'
A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta
vomited forth torrents of smoke. The vessel continued to
proceed with all steam on; but on the 18th, the engineer,
as he had predicted, announced that the coal would give
out in the course of the day.
'Do not let the fires go down,' replied Mr. Fogg. 'Keep
them up to the last. Let the valves be filled.'
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Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their
position, called Passepartout, and ordered him to go for
Captain Speedy. It was as if the honest fellow had been
commanded to unchain a tiger. He went to the poop,
saying to himself, 'He will be like a madman!'
In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb
appeared on the poop-deck. The bomb was Captain
Speedy. It was clear that he was on the point of bursting.
'Where are we?' were the first words his anger permitted
him to utter. Had the poor man be an apoplectic, he could
never have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.
'Where are we?' he repeated, with purple face.
'Seven hundred and seven miles from Liverpool,'
replied Mr. Fogg, with imperturbable calmness.
'Pirate!' cried Captain Speedy.
'I have sent for you, sir—'
'Pickaroon!'
'—sir,' continued Mr. Fogg, 'to ask you to sell me your
vessel.'
'No! By all the devils, no!'
'But I shall be obliged to burn her.'
'Burn the Henrietta!'
'Yes; at least the upper part of her. The coal has given
out.'
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'Burn my vessel!' cried Captain Speedy, who could
scarcely pronounce the words. 'A vessel worth fifty
thousand dollars!'
'Here are sixty thousand,' replied Phileas Fogg, handing
the captain a roll of bank-bills. This had a prodigious effect
on Andrew Speedy. An American can scarcely remain
unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand dollars. The
captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment,
and all his grudges against his passenger. The Henrietta
was twenty years old; it was a great bargain. The bomb
would not go off after all. Mr. Fogg had taken away the
match.
'And I shall still have the iron hull,' said the captain in a
softer tone.
'The iron hull and the engine. Is it agreed?'
'Agreed.'
And Andrew Speedy, seizing the banknotes, counted
them and consigned them to his pocket.
During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a
sheet, and Fix seemed on the point of having an apoplectic
fit. Nearly twenty thousand pounds had been expended,
and Fogg left the hull and engine to the captain, that is,
near the whole value of the craft! It was true, however,
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that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the
Bank.
When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr.
Fogg said to him, 'Don't let this astonish you, sir. You
must know that I shall lose twenty thousand pounds,
unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on the
evening of the 21st of December. I missed the steamer at
New York, and as you refused to take me to Liverpool—'
'And I did well!' cried Andrew Speedy; 'for I have
gained at least forty thousand dollars by it!' He added,
more sedately, 'Do you know one thing, Captain—'
'Fogg.'
'Captain Fogg, you've got something of the Yankee
about you.'
And, having paid his passenger what he considered a
high compliment, he was going away, when Mr. Fogg
said, 'The vessel now belongs to me?'
'Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts—all
the wood, that is.'
'Very well. Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames
pulled down, and burn them.'
It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up
to the adequate pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins,
bunks, and the spare deck were sacrificed. On the next
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day, the 19th of December, the masts, rafts, and spars were
burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the fires.
Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his
might. There was a perfect rage for demolition.
The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and
top sides disappeared on the 20th, and the Henrietta was
now only a flat hulk. But on this day they sighted the Irish
coast and Fastnet Light. By ten in the evening they were
passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only twenty-four
hours more in which to get to London; that length of time
was necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on. And
the steam was about to give out altogether!
'Sir,' said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply
interested in Mr. Fogg's project, 'I really commiserate you.
Everything is against you. We are only opposite
Queenstown.'
'Ah,' said Mr. Fogg, 'is that place where we see the
lights Queenstown?'
'Yes.'
'Can we enter the harbour?'
'Not under three hours. Only at high tide.'
'Stay,' replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in
his features that by a supreme inspiration he was about to
attempt once more to conquer ill-fortune.
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Around the World in 80 Days
Queenstown is the Irish port at which the trans-
Atlantic steamers stop to put off the mails. These mails are
carried to Dublin by express trains always held in readiness
to start; from Dublin they are sent on to Liverpool by the
most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the
Atlantic steamers.
Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the
same way. Instead of arriving at Liverpool the next
evening by the Henrietta, he would be there by noon, and
would therefore have time to reach London before a
quarter before nine in the evening.
The Henrietta entered Queenstown Harbour at one
o'clock in the morning, it then being high tide; and
Phileas Fogg, after being grasped heartily by the hand by
Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the levelled hulk
of his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it
for.
The party went on shore at once. Fix was greatly
tempted to arrest Mr. Fogg on the spot; but he did not.
Why? What struggle was going on within him? Had he
changed his mind about 'his man'? Did he understand that
he had made a grave mistake? He did not, however,
abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got upon the train, which
was just ready to start, at half-past one; at dawn of day
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they were in Dublin; and they lost no time in embarking
on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon the waves,
invariably cut through them.
Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay,
at twenty minutes before twelve, 21st December. He was
only six hours distant from London.
But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon
Mr. Fogg's shoulder, and, showing his warrant, said, 'You
are really Phileas Fogg?'
'I am.'
'I arrest you in the Queen's name!'
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Around the World in 80 Days
Chapter XXXIV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
AT LAST REACHES LONDON
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the
Custom House, and he was to be transferred to London
the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would
have fallen upon Fix had he not been held back by some
policemen. Aouda was thunderstruck at the suddenness of
an event which she could not understand. Passepartout
explained to her how it was that the honest and
courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The young
woman's heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and
when she saw that she could attempt to do nothing to save
her protector, she wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his
duty, whether Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the
cause of this new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's
errand from his master? When Fix revealed his true
character and purpose, why had he not told Mr. Fogg? If
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the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given
Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his
mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his
journey at the expense and on the heels of his master, only
to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil.
Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing
his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under
the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave
the place; both were anxious to see Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the
moment when he was about to attain his end. This arrest
was fatal. Having arrived at Liverpool at twenty minutes
before twelve on the 21st of December, he had till a
quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform
Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from
Liverpool to London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom
House, he would have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless,
calm, and without apparent anger, upon a wooden bench.
He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow failed to
force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Was
he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the
more terrible because contained, and which only burst
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forth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No
one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting—for what?
Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that
the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he
would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put
his watch upon the table, and observed its advancing
hands. Not a word escaped his lips, but his look was
singularly set and stern. The situation, in any event, was a
terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg was
honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if
there were any practicable outlet from his prison? Did he
think of escaping from it? Possibly; for once he walked
slowly around the room. But the door was locked, and the
window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again,
and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where
these words were written, '21st December, Saturday,
Liverpool,' he added, '80th day, 11.40 a.m.,' and waited.
The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg
observed that his watch was two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment
taking an express train, he could reach London and the
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Around the World in 80 Days
Reform Club by a quarter before nine, p.m. His forehead
slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular
noise outside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's
voice was audible, and immediately after that of Fix.
Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for an instant.
The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout,
Aouda, and Fix, who hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He
could not speak. 'Sir,' he stammered, 'sir—forgive me—
most— unfortunate resemblance— robber arrested three
days ago—you are free!'
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective,
looked him steadily in the face, and with the only rapid
motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever
would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision
of a machine knocked Fix down.
'Well hit!' cried Passepartout, 'Parbleu! that's what you
might call a good application of English fists!'
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a
word. He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda,
and Passepartout left the Custom House without delay,
got into a cab, and in a few moments descended at the
station.
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Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to
leave for London. It was forty minutes past two. The
express train had left thirty-five minutes before. Phileas
Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the
railway arrangements did not permit the special train to
leave until three o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the
engineer by the offer of a generous reward, at last set out
towards London with Aouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and
a half; and this would have been easy on a clear road
throughout. But there were forced delays, and when Mr.
Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all the clocks
in London were striking ten minutes before nine.'
Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-
hand five minutes. He had lost the wager!
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Around the World in 80 Days
Chapter XXXV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
DOES NOT HAVE TO REPEAT
HIS ORDERS TO
PASSEPARTOUT TWICE
The dwellers in Saville Row would have been
surprised the next day, if they had been told that Phileas
Fogg had returned home. His doors and windows were
still closed, no appearance of change was visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout
instructions to purchase some provisions, and quietly went
to his domicile.
He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity.
Ruined! And by the blundering of the detective! After
having steadily traversed that long journey, overcome a
hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, and still found
time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by
a sudden event which he could not have foreseen, and
against which he was unarmed; it was terrible! But a few
pounds were left of the large sum he had carried with him.
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There only remained of his fortune the twenty thousand
pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to
his friends of the Reform Club. So great had been the
expense of his tour that, even had he won, it would not
have enriched him; and it is probable that he had not
sought to enrich himself, being a man who rather laid
wagers for honour's sake than for the stake proposed. But
this wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon;
he knew what remained for him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for
Aouda, who was overwhelmed with grief at her
protector's misfortune. From the words which Mr. Fogg
dropped, she saw that he was meditating some serious
project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea
sometimes resort to the desperate expedient of suicide,
Passepartout kept a narrow watch upon his master, though
he carefully concealed the appearance of so doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room,
and had extinguished the gas burner, which had been
burning for eighty days. He had found in the letter-box a
bill from the gas company, and he thought it more than
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time to put a stop to this expense, which he had been
doomed to bear.
The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he
sleep? Aouda did not once close her eyes. Passepartout
watched all night, like a faithful dog, at his master's door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to
get Aouda's breakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for
himself. He desired Aouda to excuse him from breakfast
and dinner, as his time would be absorbed all day in
putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would ask
permission to have a few moment's conversation with the
young lady.
Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to
do but obey them. He looked at his imperturbable master,
and could scarcely bring his mind to leave him. His heart
was full, and his conscience tortured by remorse; for he
accused himself more bitterly than ever of being the cause
of the irretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr.
Fogg, and had betrayed Fix's projects to him, his master
would certainly not have given the detective passage to
Liverpool, and then—
Passepartout could hold in no longer.
'My master! Mr. Fogg!' he cried, 'why do you not
curse me? It was my fault that—'
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become too boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to
the east, if no accident happened to the boat or its
machinery, the Henrietta might cross the three thousand
miles from New York to Liverpool in the nine days,
between the 12th and the 21st of December. It is true
that, once arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta, added
to that of the Bank of England, might create more
difficulties for Mr. Fogg than he imagined or could desire.
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During the first days, they went along smoothly
enough. The sea was not very unpropitious, the wind
seemed stationary in the north-east, the sails were hoisted,
and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves like a real
trans-Atlantic steamer.
Passepartout was delighted. His master's last exploit, the
consequences of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never
had the crew seen so jolly and dexterous a fellow. He
formed warm friendships with the sailors, and amazed
them with his acrobatic feats. He thought they managed
the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like
heroes. His loquacious good-humour infected everyone.
He had forgotten the past, its vexations and delays. He
only thought of the end, so nearly accomplished; and
sometimes he boiled over with impatience, as if heated by
the furnaces of the Henrietta. Often, also, the worthy
fellow revolved around Fix, looking at him with a keen,
distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him, for their old
intimacy no longer existed.
Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what
was going on. The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery
of the crew, Fogg managing the boat like a skilled seaman,
amazed and confused him. He did not know what to
think. For, after all, a man who began by stealing fifty-five
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thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix
was not unnaturally inclined to conclude that the
Henrietta under Fogg's command, was not going to
Liverpool at all, but to some part of the world where the
robber, turned into a pirate, would quietly put himself in
safety. The conjecture was at least a plausible one, and the
detective began to seriously regret that he had embarked
on the affair.
As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and
growl in his cabin; and Passepartout, whose duty it was to
carry him his meals, courageous as he was, took the
greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg did not seem even to know
that there was a captain on board.
On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of
Newfoundland, a dangerous locality; during the winter,
especially, there are frequent fogs and heavy gales of wind.
Ever since the evening before the barometer, suddenly
falling, had indicated an approaching change in the
atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied,
the cold became sharper, and the wind veered to the
south-east.
This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to
deviate from his course, furled his sails and increased the
force of the steam; but the vessel's speed slackened, owing
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Around the World in 80 Days
to the state of the sea, the long waves of which broke
against the stern. She pitched violently, and this retarded
her progress. The breeze little by little swelled into a
tempest, and it was to be feared that the Henrietta might
not be able to maintain herself upright on the waves.
Passepartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for
two days the poor fellow experienced constant fright. But
Phileas Fogg was a bold mariner, and knew how to
maintain headway against the sea; and he kept on his
course, without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta,
when she could not rise upon the waves, crossed them,
swamping her deck, but passing safely. Sometinies the
screw rose out of the water, beating its protruding end,
when a mountain of water raised the stern above the
waves; but the craft always kept straight ahead.
The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as
might have been feared; it was not one of those tempests
which burst, and rush on with a speed of ninety miles an
hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily, it remained
obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since
Phileas Fogg's departure from London, and the Henrietta
had not yet been seriously delayed. Half of the voyage was
almost accomplished, and the worst localities had been
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passed. In summer, success would have been well-nigh
certain. In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad
season. Passepartout said nothing; but he cherished hope
in secret, and comforted himself with the reflection that, if
the wind failed them, they might still count on the steam.
On this day the engineer came on deck, went up to
Mr. Fogg, and began to speak earnestly with him.
Without knowing why it was a presentiment, perhaps
Passepartout became vaguely uneasy. He would have
given one of his ears to hear with the other what the
engineer was saying. He finally managed to catch a few
words, and was sure he heard his master say, 'You are
certain of what you tell me?'
'Certain, sir,' replied the engineer. 'You must
remember that, since we started, we have kept up hot fires
in all our furnaces, and, though we had coal enough to go
on short steam from New York to Bordeaux, we haven't
enough to go with all steam from New York to
Liverpool.' 'I will consider,' replied Mr. Fogg.
Passepartout understood it all; he was seized with
mortal anxiety. The coal was giving out! 'Ah, if my master
can get over that,' muttered he, 'he'll be a famous man!'
He could not help imparting to Fix what he had
overheard.
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'Then you believe that we really are going to
Liverpool?'
'Of course.'
'Ass!' replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders and
turning on his heel.
Passepartout was on the point of vigorously resenting
the epithet, the reason of which he could not for the life
of him comprehend; but he reflected that the unfortunate
Fix was probably very much disappointed and humiliated
in his self-esteem, after having so awkwardly followed a
false scent around the world, and refrained.
And now what course would Phileas Fogg adopt? It
was difficult to imagine. Nevertheless he seemed to have
decided upon one, for that evening he sent for the
engineer, and said to him, 'Feed all the fires until the coal
is exhausted.'
A few moments after, the funnel of the Henrietta
vomited forth torrents of smoke. The vessel continued to
proceed with all steam on; but on the 18th, the engineer,
as he had predicted, announced that the coal would give
out in the course of the day.
'Do not let the fires go down,' replied Mr. Fogg. 'Keep
them up to the last. Let the valves be filled.'
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Towards noon Phileas Fogg, having ascertained their
position, called Passepartout, and ordered him to go for
Captain Speedy. It was as if the honest fellow had been
commanded to unchain a tiger. He went to the poop,
saying to himself, 'He will be like a madman!'
In a few moments, with cries and oaths, a bomb
appeared on the poop-deck. The bomb was Captain
Speedy. It was clear that he was on the point of bursting.
'Where are we?' were the first words his anger permitted
him to utter. Had the poor man be an apoplectic, he could
never have recovered from his paroxysm of wrath.
'Where are we?' he repeated, with purple face.
'Seven hundred and seven miles from Liverpool,'
replied Mr. Fogg, with imperturbable calmness.
'Pirate!' cried Captain Speedy.
'I have sent for you, sir—'
'Pickaroon!'
'—sir,' continued Mr. Fogg, 'to ask you to sell me your
vessel.'
'No! By all the devils, no!'
'But I shall be obliged to burn her.'
'Burn the Henrietta!'
'Yes; at least the upper part of her. The coal has given
out.'
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'Burn my vessel!' cried Captain Speedy, who could
scarcely pronounce the words. 'A vessel worth fifty
thousand dollars!'
'Here are sixty thousand,' replied Phileas Fogg, handing
the captain a roll of bank-bills. This had a prodigious effect
on Andrew Speedy. An American can scarcely remain
unmoved at the sight of sixty thousand dollars. The
captain forgot in an instant his anger, his imprisonment,
and all his grudges against his passenger. The Henrietta
was twenty years old; it was a great bargain. The bomb
would not go off after all. Mr. Fogg had taken away the
match.
'And I shall still have the iron hull,' said the captain in a
softer tone.
'The iron hull and the engine. Is it agreed?'
'Agreed.'
And Andrew Speedy, seizing the banknotes, counted
them and consigned them to his pocket.
During this colloquy, Passepartout was as white as a
sheet, and Fix seemed on the point of having an apoplectic
fit. Nearly twenty thousand pounds had been expended,
and Fogg left the hull and engine to the captain, that is,
near the whole value of the craft! It was true, however,
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that fifty-five thousand pounds had been stolen from the
Bank.
When Andrew Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr.
Fogg said to him, 'Don't let this astonish you, sir. You
must know that I shall lose twenty thousand pounds,
unless I arrive in London by a quarter before nine on the
evening of the 21st of December. I missed the steamer at
New York, and as you refused to take me to Liverpool—'
'And I did well!' cried Andrew Speedy; 'for I have
gained at least forty thousand dollars by it!' He added,
more sedately, 'Do you know one thing, Captain—'
'Fogg.'
'Captain Fogg, you've got something of the Yankee
about you.'
And, having paid his passenger what he considered a
high compliment, he was going away, when Mr. Fogg
said, 'The vessel now belongs to me?'
'Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts—all
the wood, that is.'
'Very well. Have the interior seats, bunks, and frames
pulled down, and burn them.'
It was necessary to have dry wood to keep the steam up
to the adequate pressure, and on that day the poop, cabins,
bunks, and the spare deck were sacrificed. On the next
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day, the 19th of December, the masts, rafts, and spars were
burned; the crew worked lustily, keeping up the fires.
Passepartout hewed, cut, and sawed away with all his
might. There was a perfect rage for demolition.
The railings, fittings, the greater part of the deck, and
top sides disappeared on the 20th, and the Henrietta was
now only a flat hulk. But on this day they sighted the Irish
coast and Fastnet Light. By ten in the evening they were
passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only twenty-four
hours more in which to get to London; that length of time
was necessary to reach Liverpool, with all steam on. And
the steam was about to give out altogether!
'Sir,' said Captain Speedy, who was now deeply
interested in Mr. Fogg's project, 'I really commiserate you.
Everything is against you. We are only opposite
Queenstown.'
'Ah,' said Mr. Fogg, 'is that place where we see the
lights Queenstown?'
'Yes.'
'Can we enter the harbour?'
'Not under three hours. Only at high tide.'
'Stay,' replied Mr. Fogg calmly, without betraying in
his features that by a supreme inspiration he was about to
attempt once more to conquer ill-fortune.
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Queenstown is the Irish port at which the trans-
Atlantic steamers stop to put off the mails. These mails are
carried to Dublin by express trains always held in readiness
to start; from Dublin they are sent on to Liverpool by the
most rapid boats, and thus gain twelve hours on the
Atlantic steamers.
Phileas Fogg counted on gaining twelve hours in the
same way. Instead of arriving at Liverpool the next
evening by the Henrietta, he would be there by noon, and
would therefore have time to reach London before a
quarter before nine in the evening.
The Henrietta entered Queenstown Harbour at one
o'clock in the morning, it then being high tide; and
Phileas Fogg, after being grasped heartily by the hand by
Captain Speedy, left that gentleman on the levelled hulk
of his craft, which was still worth half what he had sold it
for.
The party went on shore at once. Fix was greatly
tempted to arrest Mr. Fogg on the spot; but he did not.
Why? What struggle was going on within him? Had he
changed his mind about 'his man'? Did he understand that
he had made a grave mistake? He did not, however,
abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got upon the train, which
was just ready to start, at half-past one; at dawn of day
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they were in Dublin; and they lost no time in embarking
on a steamer which, disdaining to rise upon the waves,
invariably cut through them.
Phileas Fogg at last disembarked on the Liverpool quay,
at twenty minutes before twelve, 21st December. He was
only six hours distant from London.
But at this moment Fix came up, put his hand upon
Mr. Fogg's shoulder, and, showing his warrant, said, 'You
are really Phileas Fogg?'
'I am.'
'I arrest you in the Queen's name!'
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Chapter XXXIV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
AT LAST REACHES LONDON
Phileas Fogg was in prison. He had been shut up in the
Custom House, and he was to be transferred to London
the next day.
Passepartout, when he saw his master arrested, would
have fallen upon Fix had he not been held back by some
policemen. Aouda was thunderstruck at the suddenness of
an event which she could not understand. Passepartout
explained to her how it was that the honest and
courageous Fogg was arrested as a robber. The young
woman's heart revolted against so heinous a charge, and
when she saw that she could attempt to do nothing to save
her protector, she wept bitterly.
As for Fix, he had arrested Mr. Fogg because it was his
duty, whether Mr. Fogg were guilty or not.
The thought then struck Passepartout, that he was the
cause of this new misfortune! Had he not concealed Fix's
errand from his master? When Fix revealed his true
character and purpose, why had he not told Mr. Fogg? If
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the latter had been warned, he would no doubt have given
Fix proof of his innocence, and satisfied him of his
mistake; at least, Fix would not have continued his
journey at the expense and on the heels of his master, only
to arrest him the moment he set foot on English soil.
Passepartout wept till he was blind, and felt like blowing
his brains out.
Aouda and he had remained, despite the cold, under
the portico of the Custom House. Neither wished to leave
the place; both were anxious to see Mr. Fogg again.
That gentleman was really ruined, and that at the
moment when he was about to attain his end. This arrest
was fatal. Having arrived at Liverpool at twenty minutes
before twelve on the 21st of December, he had till a
quarter before nine that evening to reach the Reform
Club, that is, nine hours and a quarter; the journey from
Liverpool to London was six hours.
If anyone, at this moment, had entered the Custom
House, he would have found Mr. Fogg seated, motionless,
calm, and without apparent anger, upon a wooden bench.
He was not, it is true, resigned; but this last blow failed to
force him into an outward betrayal of any emotion. Was
he being devoured by one of those secret rages, all the
more terrible because contained, and which only burst
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forth, with an irresistible force, at the last moment? No
one could tell. There he sat, calmly waiting—for what?
Did he still cherish hope? Did he still believe, now that
the door of this prison was closed upon him, that he
would succeed?
However that may have been, Mr. Fogg carefully put
his watch upon the table, and observed its advancing
hands. Not a word escaped his lips, but his look was
singularly set and stern. The situation, in any event, was a
terrible one, and might be thus stated: if Phileas Fogg was
honest he was ruined; if he was a knave, he was caught.
Did escape occur to him? Did he examine to see if
there were any practicable outlet from his prison? Did he
think of escaping from it? Possibly; for once he walked
slowly around the room. But the door was locked, and the
window heavily barred with iron rods. He sat down again,
and drew his journal from his pocket. On the line where
these words were written, '21st December, Saturday,
Liverpool,' he added, '80th day, 11.40 a.m.,' and waited.
The Custom House clock struck one. Mr. Fogg
observed that his watch was two hours too fast.
Two hours! Admitting that he was at this moment
taking an express train, he could reach London and the
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Reform Club by a quarter before nine, p.m. His forehead
slightly wrinkled.
At thirty-three minutes past two he heard a singular
noise outside, then a hasty opening of doors. Passepartout's
voice was audible, and immediately after that of Fix.
Phileas Fogg's eyes brightened for an instant.
The door swung open, and he saw Passepartout,
Aouda, and Fix, who hurried towards him.
Fix was out of breath, and his hair was in disorder. He
could not speak. 'Sir,' he stammered, 'sir—forgive me—
most— unfortunate resemblance— robber arrested three
days ago—you are free!'
Phileas Fogg was free! He walked to the detective,
looked him steadily in the face, and with the only rapid
motion he had ever made in his life, or which he ever
would make, drew back his arms, and with the precision
of a machine knocked Fix down.
'Well hit!' cried Passepartout, 'Parbleu! that's what you
might call a good application of English fists!'
Fix, who found himself on the floor, did not utter a
word. He had only received his deserts. Mr. Fogg, Aouda,
and Passepartout left the Custom House without delay,
got into a cab, and in a few moments descended at the
station.
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Phileas Fogg asked if there was an express train about to
leave for London. It was forty minutes past two. The
express train had left thirty-five minutes before. Phileas
Fogg then ordered a special train.
There were several rapid locomotives on hand; but the
railway arrangements did not permit the special train to
leave until three o'clock.
At that hour Phileas Fogg, having stimulated the
engineer by the offer of a generous reward, at last set out
towards London with Aouda and his faithful servant.
It was necessary to make the journey in five hours and
a half; and this would have been easy on a clear road
throughout. But there were forced delays, and when Mr.
Fogg stepped from the train at the terminus, all the clocks
in London were striking ten minutes before nine.'
Having made the tour of the world, he was behind-
hand five minutes. He had lost the wager!
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Chapter XXXV
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG
DOES NOT HAVE TO REPEAT
HIS ORDERS TO
PASSEPARTOUT TWICE
The dwellers in Saville Row would have been
surprised the next day, if they had been told that Phileas
Fogg had returned home. His doors and windows were
still closed, no appearance of change was visible.
After leaving the station, Mr. Fogg gave Passepartout
instructions to purchase some provisions, and quietly went
to his domicile.
He bore his misfortune with his habitual tranquillity.
Ruined! And by the blundering of the detective! After
having steadily traversed that long journey, overcome a
hundred obstacles, braved many dangers, and still found
time to do some good on his way, to fail near the goal by
a sudden event which he could not have foreseen, and
against which he was unarmed; it was terrible! But a few
pounds were left of the large sum he had carried with him.
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There only remained of his fortune the twenty thousand
pounds deposited at Barings, and this amount he owed to
his friends of the Reform Club. So great had been the
expense of his tour that, even had he won, it would not
have enriched him; and it is probable that he had not
sought to enrich himself, being a man who rather laid
wagers for honour's sake than for the stake proposed. But
this wager totally ruined him.
Mr. Fogg's course, however, was fully decided upon;
he knew what remained for him to do.
A room in the house in Saville Row was set apart for
Aouda, who was overwhelmed with grief at her
protector's misfortune. From the words which Mr. Fogg
dropped, she saw that he was meditating some serious
project.
Knowing that Englishmen governed by a fixed idea
sometimes resort to the desperate expedient of suicide,
Passepartout kept a narrow watch upon his master, though
he carefully concealed the appearance of so doing.
First of all, the worthy fellow had gone up to his room,
and had extinguished the gas burner, which had been
burning for eighty days. He had found in the letter-box a
bill from the gas company, and he thought it more than
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time to put a stop to this expense, which he had been
doomed to bear.
The night passed. Mr. Fogg went to bed, but did he
sleep? Aouda did not once close her eyes. Passepartout
watched all night, like a faithful dog, at his master's door.
Mr. Fogg called him in the morning, and told him to
get Aouda's breakfast, and a cup of tea and a chop for
himself. He desired Aouda to excuse him from breakfast
and dinner, as his time would be absorbed all day in
putting his affairs to rights. In the evening he would ask
permission to have a few moment's conversation with the
young lady.
Passepartout, having received his orders, had nothing to
do but obey them. He looked at his imperturbable master,
and could scarcely bring his mind to leave him. His heart
was full, and his conscience tortured by remorse; for he
accused himself more bitterly than ever of being the cause
of the irretrievable disaster. Yes! if he had warned Mr.
Fogg, and had betrayed Fix's projects to him, his master
would certainly not have given the detective passage to
Liverpool, and then—
Passepartout could hold in no longer.
'My master! Mr. Fogg!' he cried, 'why do you not
curse me? It was my fault that—'
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