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CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
CHAPTER 37
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CHAPTER 9
In Which The Red Sea And The Indian Ocean
Prove Propitious To The Designs Of Phileas
Fogg
The distance between Suez and Aden is
precisely thirteen hundred and ten miles, and
the regulations of the company allow the
steamers one hundred and thirty-eight hours in
which to traverse it. The Mongolia, thanks to
the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed
likely, so rapid was her speed, to reach her
destination considerably within that time. The
greater part of the passengers from Brindisi
were bound for India some for Bombay, others
for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the nearest
route thither, now that a railway crosses the
Indian peninsula. Among the passengers was a
number of officials and military officers of
various grades, the latter being either
attached to the regular British forces or
commanding the Sepoy troops, and receiving high
salaries ever since the central government has
assumed the powers of the East India Company:
for the sub-lieutenants get 280 pounds,
brigadiers, 2,400 pounds, and generals of
divisions, 4,000 pounds. What with the military
men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their
travels, and the hospitable efforts of the
purser, the time passed quickly on the
Mongolia. The best of fare was spread upon the
cabin tables at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and
the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies
scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day;
and the hours
were whirled away, when the sea was
tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.
But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and
often boisterous, like most long and narrow
gulfs. When the wind came from the African or
Asian coast the Mongolia, with her long hull,
rolled fearfully. Then the ladies speedily
disappeared below; the pianos were silent;
singing and dancing suddenly ceased. Yet the
good ship ploughed straight on, unretarded by
wind or wave, towards the straits of
Bab-el-Mandeb. What was Phileas Fogg doing all
this time? It might be thought that, in his
anxiety, he would be constantly watching the
changes of the wind, the disorderly raging of
the billows--every chance, in short, which
might force the Mongolia to slacken her speed,
and thus interrupt his journey. But, if he
thought of these possibilities, he did not
betray the fact by any outward sign.
Always the same impassible member of the
Reform Club, whom no incident could surprise,
as unvarying as the ship's chronometers, and
seldom having the curiosity even to go upon the
deck, he passed through the memorable scenes of
the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not
care to recognise the historic towns and
villages which, along its borders, raised their
picturesque outlines against the sky; and
betrayed no fear of the dangers of the Arabic
Gulf, which the old historians always spoke of
with horror, and upon which the ancient
navigators never ventured without propitiating
the gods by ample sacrifices. How did this
eccentric personage pass his time on the
Mongolia? He made his four hearty meals every
day, regardless of the most persistent rolling
and pitching on the part of the steamer; and he
played whist indefatigably, for he had found
partners as enthusiastic in the game as
himself. A tax-collector, on the way to his
post at Goa; the Rev. Decimus Smith, returning
to his parish at Bombay; and a
brigadier-general of the English army, who was
about to rejoin his brigade at Benares, made up
the party, and, with Mr. Fogg, played whist by
the hour together in absorbing silence.
As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped
sea-sickness, and took his meals
conscientiously in the forward cabin. He rather
enjoyed the voyage, for he was well fed and
well lodged, took a great interest in the
scenes through which they were passing, and
consoled himself with the delusion that his
master's whim would end at Bombay. He was
pleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find
on deck the obliging person with whom he had
walked and chatted on the quays.
"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching
this person, with his most amiable smile, "you
are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to
guide me at Suez?"
"Ah! I quite recognise you. You are the
servant of the strange Englishman--"
"Just so, monsieur--"
"Fix."
"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm
charmed to find you on board. Where are you
bound?"
"Like you, to Bombay."
"That's capital! Have you made this trip
before?"
"Several times. I am one of the agents of
the Peninsular Company."
"Then you know India?"
"Why yes," replied Fix, who spoke
cautiously.
"A curious place, this India?"
"Oh, very curious. Mosques, minarets,
temples, fakirs, pagodas, tigers, snakes,
elephants! I hope you will have ample time to
see the sights."
"I hope so, Monsieur Fix. You see, a man of
sound sense ought not to spend his life jumping
from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending
to make the tour of the world in eighty days!
No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will
cease at Bombay."
"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked
Fix, in the most natural tone in the world.
"Quite well, and I too. I eat like a
famished ogre; it's the sea air.
"But I never see your master on deck."
"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."
"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this
pretended tour in eighty days may conceal some
secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic
mission?"
"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know
nothing about it, nor would I give half a crown
to find out."
After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got
into the habit of chatting together, the latter
making it a point to gain the worthy man's
confidence. He frequently offered him a glass
of whiskey or pale ale in the steamer bar-room,
which Passepartout never failed to accept with
graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the
best of good fellows.
Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward
rapidly; on the 13th, Mocha, surrounded by its
ruined walls whereon date-trees were growing,
was sighted, and on the mountains beyond were
espied vast coffee-fields. Passepartout was
ravished to behold this celebrated place, and
thought that, with its circular walls and
dismantled fort, it looked like an immense
coffee-cup and saucer. The following night they
passed through the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb,
which means in Arabic The Bridge of Tears, and
the next day they put in at Steamer Point,
north-west of Aden harbour, to take in coal.
This matter of fuelling steamers is a serious
one at such distances from the coal-mines; it
costs the Peninsular Company some eight hundred
thousand pounds a year. In these distant seas,
coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a
ton.
The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and
fifty miles to traverse before reaching Bombay,
and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer
Point to coal up. But this delay, as it was
foreseen, did not affect Phileas Fogg's
programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of
reaching Aden on the morning of the 15th, when
she was due, arrived there on the evening of
the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.
Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden
to have the passport again visaed; Fix,
unobserved, followed them. The visa procured,
Mr. Fogg returned on board to resume his former
habits; while Passepartout, according to
custom, sauntered about among the mixed
population of Somanlis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews,
Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the
twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden. He
gazed with wonder upon the fortifications which
make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian
Ocean, and the vast cisterns where the English
engineers were still at work, two thousand
years after the engineers of Solomon.
"Very curious, very curious," said
Passepartout to himself, on returning to the
steamer. "I see that it is by no means useless
to travel, if a man wants to see something
new." At six p.m. the Mongolia slowly moved out
of the roadstead, and was soon once more on the
Indian Ocean. She had a hundred and sixty-eight
hours in which to reach Bombay, and the sea was
favourable, the wind being in the north-west,
and all sails aiding the engine. The steamer
rolled but little, the ladies, in fresh
toilets, reappeared on deck, and the singing
and dancing were resumed. The trip was being
accomplished most successfully, and
Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial
companion which chance had secured him in the
person of the delightful Fix. On Sunday,
October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight
of the Indian coast: two hours later the pilot
came on board. A range of hills lay against the
sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms
which adorn Bombay came distinctly into view.
The steamer entered the road formed by the
islands in the bay, and at half-past four she
hauled up at the quays of Bombay.
Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the
thirty-third rubber of the voyage, and his
partner and himself having, by a bold stroke,
captured all thirteen of the tricks, concluded
this fine campaign with a brilliant
victory.
The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd;
she arrived on the 20th. This was a gain to
Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure
from London, and he calmly entered the fact in
the itinerary, in the column of gains.
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