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.
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 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.
"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."
"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."
"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.
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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