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CHAPTER 32
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, passenger's
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!
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