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CHAPTER 33
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. Sometinies 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.
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 be an 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 banknotes,
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
trans-Atlantic 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, 21st December. 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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