No More Learning

Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is
sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong. "

"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.

"It's the same thing. "

Fix breathed more freely.

"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way. "

Fix ceased to breathe at all.

"How? " asked Mr. Fogg.

"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here. In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us. "

"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki. "

"Why not? " returned the pilot. "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama. It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai. "

"You are sure of that? "

"Perfectly. "

"And when does the boat leave Shanghai? "

"On the 11th, at seven in the evening. We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good
luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai. "

"And you could go--"

"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up. "

"It is a bargain. Are you the master of the boat? "

"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere. "

"Would you like some earnest-money? "

"If it would not put your honour out--"

"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"

"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour. "

"Very well. In half an hour we shall go on board. "

"But poor Passepartout? " urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
servant's disappearance.

"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.

While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,
the others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of
money to be spent in the search for him. The same formalities having
been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having
stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,
they returned to the wharf.

It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.

The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht. Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride
taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable. Her two masts leaned a
trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and
standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she
seemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by
gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races. The crew of the Tankadere
was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who
were familiar with the Chinese seas. John Bunsby, himself, a man of
forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly
expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.

Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed. Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a
table provided with a swinging lamp. The accommodation was confined,
but neat.

"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,
who bowed without responding.

The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.

"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
one! "

The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the
quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout. Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,
whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have
ensued. But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was
still lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.

John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.




Chapter XXI

IN WHICH THE MASTER OF THE "TANKADERE" RUNS GREAT RISK OF LOSING A
REWARD OF TWO HUNDRED POUNDS


This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of
twenty tons, and at that season of the year. The Chinese seas are
usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and especially
during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.

It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his
passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he
would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent
even to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby believed in the
Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a seagull; and perhaps he was
not wrong.

Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong
Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favourable winds, conducted
herself admirably.

"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open
sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed. "

"Trust me, your honour. We are carrying all the sail the wind will let
us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going
into port. "

"It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you. "

Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a
sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters. The young
woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out
upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had
ventured in so frail a vessel. Above her head rustled the white sails,
which seemed like great white wings. The boat, carried forward by the
wind, seemed to be flying in the air.

Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.
Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the
heavens.

The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these
seas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not
uncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock
would shatter the gallant little craft.

Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation. He kept apart
from his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had
accepted. He was thinking, too, of the future. It seemed certain that
Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for
San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would ensure him impunity
and safety. Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in the world.
Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a
common villain, he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to
gain the American continent more surely; and there, after throwing the
police off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune
stolen from the bank. But, once in the United States, what should he,
Fix, do? Should he abandon this man? No, a hundred times no! Until
he had secured his extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an
hour. It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end. At all
events, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not
with his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences
Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have speech with
his master.

Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did
not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have
embarked on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's
opinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom
she owed so much. They might then find him at Yokohama; for, if the
Carnatic was carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he
had been on board.

A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have been
prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the
heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The Tankadere bore
sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was
prepared for high speed in case of a gale.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been
already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots. The
pilot and crew remained on deck all night.

At sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had made more
than one hundred miles. The log indicated a mean speed of between
eight and nine miles. The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was
accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If the wind held as it
was, the chances would be in her favour. During the day she kept along
the coast, where the currents were favourable; the coast, irregular in
profile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most five
miles distant. The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off
land--a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing
to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.

The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
south-west. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again
within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate
with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he
accepted with secret chagrin. To travel at this man's expense and live
upon his provisions was not palatable to him. Still, he was obliged to
eat, and so he ate.

When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir"--this
"sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid
collaring this "gentleman"--"sir, you have been very kind to give me a
passage on this boat. But, though my means will not admit of my
expending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share--"

"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.

"But, if I insist--"

"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
"This enters into my general expenses. "

Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and, going forward, where he
ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high
hope. He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai
in time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it.
The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be
gained. There was not a sheet which was not tightened, not a sail which
was not vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at
the helm. They worked as desperately as if they were contesting in a
Royal yacht regatta.

By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been
accomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be
able to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his journal; in
which case, the many misadventures which had overtaken him since he
left London would not seriously affect his journey.

The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the island
of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and
crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very rough in the straits,
full of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the chopping waves
broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.

At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed
to predict a gale. The barometer announced a speedy change, the
mercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the
south-east, raised long surges which indicated a tempest. The sun had
set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the
phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.

John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low
voice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honour? "

"Of course. "

"Well, we are going to have a squall. "

"Is the wind north or south? " asked Mr. Fogg quietly.

"South. Look! a typhoon is coming up. "

"Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward. "

"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing more to
say. " John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less advanced
season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist,
would have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but
in the winter equinox it was to be feared that it would burst upon them
with great violence.

The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the
pole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows. A
single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib,
so as to hold the wind from behind. Then they waited.

John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat
bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix,
nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.

The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock.
With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a
wind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To compare her
speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be
below the truth.

The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to
theirs. Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these
mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit management of
the pilot saved her. The passengers were often bathed in spray, but
they submitted to it philosophically. Fix cursed it, no doubt; but
Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed
her, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm. As
for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his
programme.

Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north;
but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from
the north-west. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook
and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence. At
night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the approach
of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings. He
thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken
speed. After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I
think, your honour, that we should do well to make for one of the ports
on the coast. "

"I think so too. "

"Ah! " said the pilot. "But which one? "

"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.

"And that is--"

"Shanghai. "

The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely
realise so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well--yes!
Your honour is right. To Shanghai! "

So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.

The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did
not founder. Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew
had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but did not
utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from
the violence of the waves.

Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but
the wind now returned to the south-east. It was a favourable change,
and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though
the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks
which would have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time
the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in
sight. The Tankadere was alone upon the sea.

There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct
as the sun descended toward the horizon. The tempest had been as brief
as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a
little, and take some repose.

The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good. The next morning at
dawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that
they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and
only one day to traverse them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at
Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had
there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would
be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.

The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.
All
sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five
miles of Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish
that distance. All on board feared that it could not be done, and
every one--Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with
impatience. The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour,
and the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious
breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became
smooth. Still, the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught
the fickle zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the currents John
Bunsby found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles from the
mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve
miles up the stream. At seven they were still three miles from
Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred
pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He looked at Mr.
Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole fortune was
at this moment at stake.

At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of
smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American
steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.

"Confound her! " cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
desperate jerk.

"Signal her! " said Phileas Fogg quietly.

A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for
making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as
the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg
said, "Hoist your flag! "

The flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would
change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot-boat.

"Fire! " said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon resounded
in the air.




Chapter XXII

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT FINDS OUT THAT, EVEN AT THE ANTIPODES, IT IS
CONVENIENT TO HAVE SOME MONEY IN ONE'S POCKET


The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th
of November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan. She
carried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers. Two
state-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied--those which had been
engaged by Phileas Fogg.

The next day a passenger with a half-stupefied eye, staggering gait,
and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to
totter to a seat on deck.

It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:
Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved for
the smokers. Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed
idea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the stupefying
influence of the narcotic. The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off
his torpor, and he hurried from the abode of drunkenness. Staggering
and holding himself up by keeping against the walls, falling down and
creeping up again, and irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he
kept crying out, "The Carnatic! the Carnatic! "

The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.
Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he
crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was
moving off. Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this
sort of scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin,
and Passepartout did not wake until they were one hundred and fifty
miles away from China. Thus he found himself the next morning on the
deck of the Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze.
The pure air sobered him. He began to collect his sense, which he
found a difficult task; but at last he recalled the events of the
evening before, Fix's revelation, and the opium-house.

"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably
drunk! What will Mr. Fogg say? At least I have not missed the
steamer, which is the most important thing. "

Then, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are well
rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us on
board the Carnatic. A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of
robbing the Bank of England! Pshaw! Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than
I am a murderer. "

Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master? Would it do to tell
the part the detective was playing? Would it not be better to wait
until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an
agent of the metropolitan police had been following him round the
world, and have a good laugh over it? No doubt; at least, it was worth
considering. The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologise
for his singular behaviour.

Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the rolling
of the steamer, to the after-deck. He saw no one who resembled either
his master or Aouda. "Good! " muttered he; "Aouda has not got up yet,
and Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist. "

He descended to the saloon. Mr. Fogg was not there. Passepartout had
only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's state-room.
The purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of
Fogg.

"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently. "He is a tall
gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young
lady--"

"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser. "Here is a
list of the passengers; you may see for yourself. "

Passepartout scanned the list, but his master's name was not upon it.
All at once an idea struck him.

"Ah! am I on the Carnatic? "

"Yes. "

"On the way to Yokohama? "

"Certainly. "

Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;
but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.

He fell thunderstruck on a seat. He saw it all now. He remembered
that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed
his master of that fact, and that he had not done so. It was his
fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer. Yes, but
it was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate
him from his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled
him into getting drunk! He now saw the detective's trick; and at this
moment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself
perhaps arrested and imprisoned! At this thought Passepartout tore his
hair. Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of
accounts there would be!

After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to
study his situation. It was certainly not an enviable one. He found
himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got there?
His pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling, not so much as a
penny. His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he
had five or six days in which to decide upon his future course. He
fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
himself. He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert,
where nothing to eat was to be looked for.

At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama. This is
an important port of call in the Pacific, where all the mail-steamers,
and those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and
the Oriental islands put in. It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and
at but a short distance from that second capital of the Japanese
Empire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the
Mikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own. The
Carnatic anchored at the quay near the custom-house, in the midst of a
crowd of ships bearing the flags of all nations.

Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the
Sons of the Sun. He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for
his guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama. He
found himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses
having low fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he
caught glimpses of neat peristyles. This quarter occupied, with its
streets, squares, docks, and warehouses, all the space between the
"promontory of the Treaty" and the river. Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, Americans and English,
Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.
The Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had
dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.

He had, at least, one resource,--to call on the French and English
consuls at Yokohama for assistance. But he shrank from telling the
story of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of
his master; and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other
means of aid. As chance did not favour him in the European quarter, he
penetrated that inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if
necessary, to push on to Yeddo.

The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of
the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about. There
Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a
singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and
reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where were
sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable
streets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked
children, who looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens,
and who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish
cats, might have been gathered.

The streets were crowded with people. Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house
officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes,
and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in silken doubles,
hauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all
ranks--for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it
is despised in China--went hither and thither in groups and pairs.
Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple
civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts,
slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper-colour
to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the
Japanese widely differ. He did not fail to observe the curious
equipages--carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and
litters made of bamboo; nor the women--whom he thought not especially
handsome--who took little steps with their little feet, whereon they
wore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who
displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened,
and gowns crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind
an ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from
the dames of Japan.

Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley
crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the
jewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the
restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where
the odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from
the fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses, where
they were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a
very fine, stringy tobacco. He went on till he found himself in the
fields, in the midst of vast rice plantations. There he saw dazzling
camellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth
their last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and
within bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees, which the
Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and
which queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the
sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds. On the branches
of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the
weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every
hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a multitude of cranes,
which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds symbolise
long life and prosperity.

As he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among the
shrubs.

"Good! " said he; "I'll have some supper. "

But, on smelling them, he found that they were odourless.

"No chance there," thought he.

The worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty a
breakfast as possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he had been
walking about all day, the demands of hunger were becoming importunate.
He observed that the butchers stalls contained neither mutton, goat,
nor pork; and, knowing also that it is a sacrilege to kill cattle,
which are preserved solely for farming, he made up his mind that meat
was far from plentiful in Yokohama--nor was he mistaken; and, in
default of butcher's meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild
boar or deer, a partridge, or some quails, some game or fish, which,
with rice, the Japanese eat almost exclusively. But he found it
necessary to keep up a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he craved
till the following morning. Night came, and Passepartout re-entered
the native quarter, where he wandered through the streets, lit by
vari-coloured lanterns, looking on at the dancers, who were executing
skilful steps and boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open
air with their telescopes. Then he came to the harbour, which was lit
up by the resin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their
boats.

The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of
which, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,
Passepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling
crowd. Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to
himself: "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe! "




Chapter XXIII

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT'S NOSE BECOMES OUTRAGEOUSLY LONG


The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself
that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did
so the better. He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have
starved first. Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious
voice which nature had bestowed upon him. He knew several French and
English songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be
lovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals,
tam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.

It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and
the audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not
possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features.
Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was
sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well
dressed for a wandering artist. The idea struck him to change his
garments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he
might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of
hunger. The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.

It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native
dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange. The man
liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his
shop accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban,
faded with long use. A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled
in his pocket.

"Good! " thought he. "I will imagine I am at the Carnival! "

His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea-house
of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to
breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.

"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my head.
I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese. I must
consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which I shall not
retain the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible. "

It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave for
America. He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of
his passage and meals. Once at San Francisco, he would find some means
of going on. The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand
seven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New
World.

Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed
his steps towards the docks. But, as he approached them, his project,
which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more
formidable to his mind. What need would they have of a cook or servant
on an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him,
dressed as he was? What references could he give?

As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets. This
placard, which was in English, read as follows:

ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,
HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
LAST REPRESENTATIONS,
PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES,
OF THE
LONG NOSES! LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU!
GREAT ATTRACTION!

"The United States! " said Passepartout; "that's just what I want! "

He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese
quarter. A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin,
adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which
were designed to represent, in violent colours and without perspective,
a company of jugglers.

This was the Honourable William Batulcar's establishment. That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts,
who, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before
leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.

Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.

"What do you want? " said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for
a native.

"Would you like a servant, sir? " asked Passepartout.

"A servant! " cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which
hung from his chin. "I already have two who are obedient and faithful,
have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they
are," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as
large as the strings of a bass-viol.

"So I can be of no use to you? "

"None. "

"The devil! I should so like to cross the Pacific with you! "

"Ah! " said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar. "You are no more a Japanese
than I am a monkey! Who are you dressed up in that way? "

"A man dresses as he can. "

"That's true. You are a Frenchman, aren't you? "

"Yes; a Parisian of Paris. "

"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces? "

"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should
cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is
true but not any better than the Americans do. "

"True. Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown. You
see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign
parts French clowns. "

"Ah! "

"You are pretty strong, eh?