《Around the World In 80 Days》 CHAPTER33
by Jules Verne
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 bank-notes 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 shortain. 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 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,' repli?t?Tànt 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 transatlantic 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 every one. 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 in 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. Sometimes 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 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 been 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 bank-notes, 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 transatlantic 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, December 21st. 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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