No More Learning

He had sacrificed his fortune, and was now risking his life, all
without hesitation, from duty, in silence.

Fix did not have the same thoughts, and could scarcely conceal his
agitation. He walked feverishly up and down the platform, but soon
resumed his outward composure. He now saw the folly of which he had
been guilty in letting Fogg go alone. What! This man, whom he had
just followed around the world, was permitted now to separate himself
from him! He began to accuse and abuse himself, and, as if he were
director of police, administered to himself a sound lecture for his
greenness.

"I have been an idiot! " he thought, "and this man will see it. He has
gone, and won't come back! But how is it that I, Fix, who have in my
pocket a warrant for his arrest, have been so fascinated by him?
Decidedly, I am nothing but an ass! "

So reasoned the detective, while the hours crept by all too slowly. He
did not know what to do. Sometimes he was tempted to tell Aouda all;
but he could not doubt how the young woman would receive his
confidences. What course should he take? He thought of pursuing Fogg
across the vast white plains; it did not seem impossible that he might
overtake him. Footsteps were easily printed on the snow! But soon,
under a new sheet, every imprint would be effaced.

Fix became discouraged. He felt a sort of insurmountable longing to
abandon the game altogether. He could now leave Fort Kearney station,
and pursue his journey homeward in peace.

Towards two o'clock in the afternoon, while it was snowing hard, long
whistles were heard approaching from the east. A great shadow,
preceded by a wild light, slowly advanced, appearing still larger
through the mist, which gave it a fantastic aspect. No train was
expected from the east, neither had there been time for the succour
asked for by telegraph to arrive; the train from Omaha to San Francisco
was not due till the next day. The mystery was soon explained.

The locomotive, which was slowly approaching with deafening whistles,
was that which, having been detached from the train, had continued its
route with such terrific rapidity, carrying off the unconscious
engineer and stoker. It had run several miles, when, the fire becoming
low for want of fuel, the steam had slackened; and it had finally
stopped an hour after, some twenty miles beyond Fort Kearney. Neither
the engineer nor the stoker was dead, and, after remaining for some
time in their swoon, had come to themselves. The train had then
stopped. The engineer, when he found himself in the desert, and the
locomotive without cars, understood what had happened. He could not
imagine how the locomotive had become separated from the train; but he
did not doubt that the train left behind was in distress.

He did not hesitate what to do. It would be prudent to continue on to
Omaha, for it would be dangerous to return to the train, which the
Indians might still be engaged in pillaging. Nevertheless, he began to
rebuild the fire in the furnace; the pressure again mounted, and the
locomotive returned, running backwards to Fort Kearney. This it was
which was whistling in the mist.

The travellers were glad to see the locomotive resume its place at the
head of the train. They could now continue the journey so terribly
interrupted.

Aouda, on seeing the locomotive come up, hurried out of the station,
and asked the conductor, "Are you going to start? "

"At once, madam. "

"But the prisoners, our unfortunate fellow-travellers--"

"I cannot interrupt the trip," replied the conductor. "We are already
three hours behind time. "

"And when will another train pass here from San Francisco? "

"To-morrow evening, madam. "

"To-morrow evening! But then it will be too late! We must wait--"

"It is impossible," responded the conductor. "If you wish to go,
please get in. "

"I will not go," said Aouda.

Fix had heard this conversation. A little while before, when there was
no prospect of proceeding on the journey, he had made up his mind to
leave Fort Kearney; but now that the train was there, ready to start,
and he had only to take his seat in the car, an irresistible influence
held him back. The station platform burned his feet, and he could not
stir. The conflict in his mind again began; anger and failure stifled
him. He wished to struggle on to the end.

Meanwhile the passengers and some of the wounded, among them Colonel
Proctor, whose injuries were serious, had taken their places in the
train. The buzzing of the over-heated boiler was heard, and the steam
was escaping from the valves. The engineer whistled, the train
started, and soon disappeared, mingling its white smoke with the eddies
of the densely falling snow.

The detective had remained behind.

Several hours passed. The weather was dismal, and it was very cold.
Fix sat motionless on a bench in the station; he might have been
thought asleep. Aouda, despite the storm, kept coming out of the
waiting-room, going to the end of the platform, and peering through the
tempest of snow, as if to pierce the mist which narrowed the horizon
around her, and to hear, if possible, some welcome sound. She heard
and saw nothing. Then she would return, chilled through, to issue out
again after the lapse of a few moments, but always in vain.

Evening came, and the little band had not returned. Where could they
be? Had they found the Indians, and were they having a conflict with
them, or were they still wandering amid the mist? The commander of the
fort was anxious, though he tried to conceal his apprehensions. As
night approached, the snow fell less plentifully, but it became
intensely cold. Absolute silence rested on the plains. Neither flight
of bird nor passing of beast troubled the perfect calm.

Throughout the night Aouda, full of sad forebodings, her heart stifled
with anguish, wandered about on the verge of the plains. Her
imagination carried her far off, and showed her innumerable dangers.
What she suffered through the long hours it would be impossible to
describe.

Fix remained stationary in the same place, but did not sleep. Once a
man approached and spoke to him, and the detective merely replied by
shaking his head.

Thus the night passed. At dawn, the half-extinguished disc of the sun
rose above a misty horizon; but it was now possible to recognise
objects two miles off. Phileas Fogg and the squad had gone southward;
in the south all was still vacancy. It was then seven o'clock.

The captain, who was really alarmed, did not know what course to take.

Should he send another detachment to the rescue of the first? Should
he sacrifice more men, with so few chances of saving those already
sacrificed? His hesitation did not last long, however. Calling one of
his lieutenants, he was on the point of ordering a reconnaissance, when
gunshots were heard. Was it a signal? The soldiers rushed out of the
fort, and half a mile off they perceived a little band returning in
good order.

Mr. Fogg was marching at their head, and just behind him were
Passepartout and the other two travellers, rescued from the Sioux.

They had met and fought the Indians ten miles south of Fort Kearney.
Shortly before the detachment arrived, Passepartout and his companions
had begun to struggle with their captors, three of whom the Frenchman
had felled with his fists, when his master and the soldiers hastened up
to their relief.

All were welcomed with joyful cries. Phileas Fogg distributed the
reward he had promised to the soldiers, while Passepartout, not without
reason, muttered to himself, "It must certainly be confessed that I
cost my master dear! "

Fix, without saying a word, looked at Mr. Fogg, and it would have been
difficult to analyse the thoughts which struggled within him. As for
Aouda, she took her protector's hand and pressed it in her own, too
much moved to speak.

Meanwhile, Passepartout was looking about for the train; he thought he
should find it there, ready to start for Omaha, and he hoped that the
time lost might be regained.

"The train! the train! " cried he.

"Gone," replied Fix.

"And when does the next train pass here? " said Phileas Fogg.

"Not till this evening. "

"Ah! " returned the impassible gentleman quietly.




Chapter XXXI

IN WHICH FIX, THE DETECTIVE, CONSIDERABLY FURTHERS THE INTERESTS OF
PHILEAS FOGG


Phileas Fogg found himself twenty hours behind time. Passepartout, the
involuntary cause of this delay, was desperate. He had ruined his
master!

At this moment the detective approached Mr. Fogg, and, looking him
intently in the face, said:

"Seriously, sir, are you in great haste? "

"Quite seriously. "

"I have a purpose in asking," resumed Fix. "Is it absolutely necessary
that you should be in New York on the 11th, before nine o'clock in the
evening, the time that the steamer leaves for Liverpool? "

"It is absolutely necessary. "

"And, if your journey had not been interrupted by these Indians, you
would have reached New York on the morning of the 11th? "

"Yes; with eleven hours to spare before the steamer left. "

"Good! you are therefore twenty hours behind. Twelve from twenty
leaves eight. You must regain eight hours. Do you wish to try to do
so? "

"On foot? " asked Mr. Fogg.

"No; on a sledge," replied Fix. "On a sledge with sails. A man has
proposed such a method to me. "

It was the man who had spoken to Fix during the night, and whose offer
he had refused.

Phileas Fogg did not reply at once; but Fix, having pointed out the
man, who was walking up and down in front of the station, Mr. Fogg went
up to him. An instant after, Mr. Fogg and the American, whose name was
Mudge, entered a hut built just below the fort.

There Mr. Fogg examined a curious vehicle, a kind of frame on two long
beams, a little raised in front like the runners of a sledge, and upon
which there was room for five or six persons. A high mast was fixed on
the frame, held firmly by metallic lashings, to which was attached a
large brigantine sail. This mast held an iron stay upon which to hoist
a jib-sail. Behind, a sort of rudder served to guide the vehicle. It
was, in short, a sledge rigged like a sloop. During the winter, when
the trains are blocked up by the snow, these sledges make extremely
rapid journeys across the frozen plains from one station to another.
Provided with more sails than a cutter, and with the wind behind them,
they slip over the surface of the prairies with a speed equal if not
superior to that of the express trains.

Mr. Fogg readily made a bargain with the owner of this land-craft. The
wind was favourable, being fresh, and blowing from the west. The snow
had hardened, and Mudge was very confident of being able to transport
Mr. Fogg in a few hours to Omaha. Thence the trains eastward run
frequently to Chicago and New York. It was not impossible that the
lost time might yet be recovered; and such an opportunity was not to be
rejected.

Not wishing to expose Aouda to the discomforts of travelling in the
open air, Mr. Fogg proposed to leave her with Passepartout at Fort
Kearney, the servant taking upon himself to escort her to Europe by a
better route and under more favourable conditions. But Aouda refused
to separate from Mr. Fogg, and Passepartout was delighted with her
decision; for nothing could induce him to leave his master while Fix
was with him.

It would be difficult to guess the detective's thoughts. Was this
conviction shaken by Phileas Fogg's return, or did he still regard him
as an exceedingly shrewd rascal, who, his journey round the world
completed, would think himself absolutely safe in England? Perhaps
Fix's opinion of Phileas Fogg was somewhat modified; but he was
nevertheless resolved to do his duty, and to hasten the return of the
whole party to England as much as possible.

At eight o'clock the sledge was ready to start. The passengers took
their places on it, and wrapped themselves up closely in their
travelling-cloaks. The two great sails were hoisted, and under the
pressure of the wind the sledge slid over the hardened snow with a
velocity of forty miles an hour.

The distance between Fort Kearney and Omaha, as the birds fly, is at
most two hundred miles. If the wind held good, the distance might be
traversed in five hours; if no accident happened the sledge might reach
Omaha by one o'clock.

What a journey! The travellers, huddled close together, could not
speak for the cold, intensified by the rapidity at which they were
going. The sledge sped on as lightly as a boat over the waves. When
the breeze came skimming the earth the sledge seemed to be lifted off
the ground by its sails. Mudge, who was at the rudder, kept in a
straight line, and by a turn of his hand checked the lurches which the
vehicle had a tendency to make. All the sails were up, and the jib was
so arranged as not to screen the brigantine. A top-mast was hoisted,
and another jib, held out to the wind, added its force to the other
sails. Although the speed could not be exactly estimated, the sledge
could not be going at less than forty miles an hour.

"If nothing breaks," said Mudge, "we shall get there! "

Mr. Fogg had made it for Mudge's interest to reach Omaha within the
time agreed on, by the offer of a handsome reward.

The prairie, across which the sledge was moving in a straight line, was
as flat as a sea. It seemed like a vast frozen lake. The railroad
which ran through this section ascended from the south-west to the
north-west by Great Island, Columbus, an important Nebraska town,
Schuyler, and Fremont, to Omaha. It followed throughout the right bank
of the Platte River. The sledge, shortening this route, took a chord
of the arc described by the railway. Mudge was not afraid of being
stopped by the Platte River, because it was frozen. The road, then,
was quite clear of obstacles, and Phileas Fogg had but two things to
fear--an accident to the sledge, and a change or calm in the wind.

But the breeze, far from lessening its force, blew as if to bend the
mast, which, however, the metallic lashings held firmly. These
lashings, like the chords of a stringed instrument, resounded as if
vibrated by a violin bow. The sledge slid along in the midst of a
plaintively intense melody.

"Those chords give the fifth and the octave," said Mr. Fogg.

These were the only words he uttered during the journey. Aouda, cosily
packed in furs and cloaks, was sheltered as much as possible from the
attacks of the freezing wind. As for Passepartout, his face was as red
as the sun's disc when it sets in the mist, and he laboriously inhaled
the biting air. With his natural buoyancy of spirits, he began to hope
again. They would reach New York on the evening, if not on the
morning, of the 11th, and there was still some chances that it would be
before the steamer sailed for Liverpool.

Passepartout even felt a strong desire to grasp his ally, Fix, by the
hand. He remembered that it was the detective who procured the sledge,
the only means of reaching Omaha in time; but, checked by some
presentiment, he kept his usual reserve. One thing, however,
Passepartout would never forget, and that was the sacrifice which Mr.
Fogg had made, without hesitation, to rescue him from the Sioux. Mr.
Fogg had risked his fortune and his life. No! His servant would never
forget that!

While each of the party was absorbed in reflections so different, the
sledge flew past over the vast carpet of snow. The creeks it passed
over were not perceived. Fields and streams disappeared under the
uniform whiteness. The plain was absolutely deserted.
Between the
Union Pacific road and the branch which unites Kearney with Saint
Joseph it formed a great uninhabited island. Neither village, station,
nor fort appeared. From time to time they sped by some phantom-like
tree, whose white skeleton twisted and rattled in the wind. Sometimes
flocks of wild birds rose, or bands of gaunt, famished, ferocious
prairie-wolves ran howling after the sledge. Passepartout, revolver in
hand, held himself ready to fire on those which came too near. Had an
accident then happened to the sledge, the travellers, attacked by these
beasts, would have been in the most terrible danger; but it held on its
even course, soon gained on the wolves, and ere long left the howling
band at a safe distance behind.

About noon Mudge perceived by certain landmarks that he was crossing
the Platte River. He said nothing, but he felt certain that he was now
within twenty miles of Omaha. In less than an hour he left the rudder
and furled his sails, whilst the sledge, carried forward by the great
impetus the wind had given it, went on half a mile further with its
sails unspread.

It stopped at last, and Mudge, pointing to a mass of roofs white with
snow, said: "We have got there! "

Arrived! Arrived at the station which is in daily communication, by
numerous trains, with the Atlantic seaboard!

Passepartout and Fix jumped off, stretched their stiffened limbs, and
aided Mr. Fogg and the young woman to descend from the sledge. Phileas
Fogg generously rewarded Mudge, whose hand Passepartout warmly grasped,
and the party directed their steps to the Omaha railway station.

The Pacific Railroad proper finds its terminus at this important
Nebraska town. Omaha is connected with Chicago by the Chicago and Rock
Island Railroad, which runs directly east, and passes fifty stations.

A train was ready to start when Mr. Fogg and his party reached the
station, and they only had time to get into the cars. They had seen
nothing of Omaha; but Passepartout confessed to himself that this was
not to be regretted, as they were not travelling to see the sights.

The train passed rapidly across the State of Iowa, by Council Bluffs,
Des Moines, and Iowa City. During the night it crossed the Mississippi
at Davenport, and by Rock Island entered Illinois. The next day, which
was the 10th, at four o'clock in the evening, it reached Chicago,
already risen from its ruins, and more proudly seated than ever on the
borders of its beautiful Lake Michigan.

Nine hundred miles separated Chicago from New York; but trains are not
wanting at Chicago. Mr. Fogg passed at once from one to the other, and
the locomotive of the Pittsburgh, Fort Wayne, and Chicago Railway left
at full speed, as if it fully comprehended that that gentleman had no
time to lose. It traversed Indiana, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey
like a flash, rushing through towns with antique names, some of which
had streets and car-tracks, but as yet no houses. At last the Hudson
came into view; and, at a quarter-past eleven in the evening of the
11th, the train stopped in the station on the right bank of the river,
before the very pier of the Cunard line.

The China, for Liverpool, had started three-quarters of an hour before!




Chapter XXXII

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, passengers 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!




Chapter XXXIII

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. 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 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.