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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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