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, and especially during the
equinoxes; and it was now early
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
Late in the day they passed
through the capricious channels
of Hong Kong, and the Tankadere,
impelled by favourable 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."
your honour. 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."
"Its your trade,
not mine, pilot, and I confide
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; for 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-travellers,
knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like
to talk to the man whose favours
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
traversed three quarters of the
globe, so as to gain the American
continent more surely; and 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 fulfil 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; and 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
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 favour.
During the day she kept along
the coast, where the currents
were favourable; the coast, irregular
in profile, and visible sometimes
across the clearings, was at
most five miles distant. The
sea was less boisterous, 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 breeze subsided a little
towards noon, and set in from
the south-west. 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 being invited to share their
repast, which 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
"Let us not speak of that,
sir," replied Mr. Fogg.
"But, if I
"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, and 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, whilst 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 south-east, 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.
long 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 honour?"
"Well, we are
going to have a squall."
"Is the wind north or south?" asked
Mr. Fogg quietly.
a typhoon is coming up."
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
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 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, no doubt; 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 programme.
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 north-west.
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 honour, that we should
do well to make for one of the
ports on the coast."
"I think so
"Ah!" said the pilot. "But
"I know of but one," returned
Mr. Fogg tranquilly.
"And that is--"
at first, did not seem to comprehend;
scarcely realise so much determination
and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well--yes!
Your honour 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 could 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 south-east. It was a favourable
change, and the Tankadere again
bounded forward on this mountainous
sea, though the waves crossed
each other, and imparted shocks
and counter-shocks 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
toward the horizon. The tempest
had been as brief as terrific.
The passengers, thoroughly exhausted,
could now eat a little, and take
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 espied
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 traverse 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 currents
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; and 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
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
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 succour the
Mr. Fogg. And the booming of
the little cannon
resounded in the air.