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 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.
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.
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 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 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 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.
"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."
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."
"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, 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 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.
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 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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