Round the World in Eighty Days

Without exactly comparing Mrs. Aouda with the foregoing description, it may be stated that she was a most charming woman, in the fullest acceptation of the term. She spoke English with fluency and purity, and the guide had only stated the truth when he had averred that the Parsee lady had been transformed by her education.

The train was about to start; Mr. Fogg was paying the Parsee guide his hire as agreed – not a farthing in excess. This business-like arrangement rather astonished Passe-partout, when he recalled all they owed to the guide's devotion. In fact, the Parsee had risked his life voluntarily by engaging in the affair at Pillaji, and if he should be caught by the Hindoos he would very likely be severely dealt with. There was still Kiouni, however. What was to be done with the elephant, which had cost so much? But Phileas Fogg had already made up his mind on that point.

"Parsee," said he to the guide, "you have been most useful and devoted to us. I have paid for your services, but not for your devotion. Would you like to have the elephant? If so, he is yours." The eyes of the guide sparkled.

"Your honour is giving me a fortune!" he exclaimed.

"Take him," replied Mr. Fogg, "and then I shall still be in your debt."

"Hurrah!" cried Passe-partout; "take him, my friend. Kiouni is a fine animal;" and going up to the beast, he gave him some pieces of sugar, saying, "Here, Kiouni, take this, and this."

The elephant gave vent to some grunts of satisfaction, and then seizing Passe-partout by the waist with his trunk, he lifted him up. Passe-partout, not in the least afraid, continued to caress the animal, which replaced him gently on the ground, and to the pressure of the honest Kiouni's trunk, Passe-partout responded with a kindly blow.

Some short time after, Phileas Fogg, Sir Francis Cromarty, and Passe-partout were seated with Mrs. Aouda, who occupied the best place in a comfortable compartment of the train, which was speeding towards Benares. This run of eighty miles from Allahabad was accomplished in two hours, and in that time the young lady had quite recovered from the drugs she had inhaled. Her astonishment at finding herself in the train, dressed in European garments, and with three travellers utterly unknown to her, may be imagined.

Her companions in the first place showed her every attention, even to the administration of a few drops of liqueur, and then the general told her what had happened. He particularly dwelt upon the devotedness of Phileas Fogg, who had risked his life to save hers, and upon the termination of the adventure, of which Passe-partout was the hero. Mr. Fogg made no remark whatever, and Passe-partout looked very bashful, and declared it was not worth speaking of.

Mrs. Aouda thanked her deliverers effusively by tears at least as much as by words. Her beautiful eyes even more than her lips expressed her gratitude. Then her thoughts flew back to the suttee, and as she remarked she was still on Indian territory, she shuddered with horror. Phileas Fogg, guessing her thoughts, hastened to reassure her, and quietly offered to escort her to Hong Kong, where she could remain till the affair had blown over. This offer the lady moat gratefully accepted, for – curiously enough – a relative of hers, a Parsee like herself, was then residing at Hong Kong, and was one of the principal merchants of that British settlement.

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Benares. Brahmin legends state that this town is built upon the site of the ancient Casi, which was at one time suspended between heaven and earth, like Mahomet's coffin. But in these practical days, Benares, which orientals call the Athens of India, rests prosaically upon the ground, and Passe-partout caught many a glimpse of brick houses and numerous clay huts, which gave the place a desolate appearance, without any local colour.

Sir Francis Cromarty had now reached his destination; the troops he was to command were encamped a few miles to the north of the town. He took farewell of Phileas Fogg, wished him every success, and expressed a hope that he would continue his journey in a more profitable and less original manner. Mr. Fogg gently pressed his companion's hand. Mrs. Aouda was more demonstrative; she could not forget what she owed to Sir Francis Cromarty. As for Passe-partout, he was honoured with a hearty shake of the general's hand, and was much impressed thereby. So they parted.

From Benares the railway traverses the valley of the Ganges. The travellers had many glimpses of the varied country of Behar, the hills covered with verdure, and a succession of barley, wheat, and com fields, jungles full of alligators, neat villages, and thick forests. Elephants and other animals were bathing in the sacred river, as were also bands of Hindoos of both sexes, who, notwithstanding the advanced season of the year, were accomplishing their pious ablutions. These devotees were declared enemies of Buddhism, and were strict Brahmins, believing in Vishnu, the sun god; Shiva, the personification of nature; and Brahma, the head of priests and rulers. But how do Brahma, Shiva, and Vishnu regard India, now completely Anglicised, with hundreds of steamers darting and screaming along the holy waters of the Ganges, frightening the birds and beasts and faithful followers of the gods dwelling along the banks?

The landscape passed rapidly by, and was occasionally hidden by the stream. The travellers could now discern the fort of Chunar, twenty miles south-west of Benares; then Ghazipore and its important rose-water manufactories came in sight; then they caught a glimpse of the tomb of Lord Cornwallis, which rises on the left bank of the river; then the fortified town of Buxar; Patna, the great commercial city and principal opium-market of India; Monghir, an European town, as English as Manchester or Birmingham, with its foundries, factories, and tall chimneys vomiting forth volumes of black smoke.

Night fell, and still the train rushed on, in the midst of the roaring and growling of wild animals, which fled from the advancing locomotive. Nothing could of course then be seen of those wonders of Bengal, Golconda, the ruins of Gom, and Morschabad, Burdwan, the ancient capital, Hooghly, Chandernagore, in French territory, where Passe-partout would have been glad to see his country's ensign.

At last, at seven o'clock in the morning, they reached Calcutta. The steamer for Hong Kong was not to leave till mid-day, so Phileas Fogg had still five hours to spare.

According to his journal, he was due at Calcutta on the 25th October – twenty-three days from London; and at Calcutta he was as arranged. He had neither gained nor lost so far. Unfortunately, the two days he had had to spare he spent as we have seen while crossing the peninsula; but we must not suppose that Phileas Fogg regretted his actions for a moment.

CHAPTER XV

In which the Bag of Bank-notes is lightened by some Thousands of Pounds more.

Passe-partout was the first to alight from the train; Mr. Fogg followed, and helped out his fair companion. Phileas had counted upon proceeding directly to the steamer, so as to settle Mrs. Aouda comfortably on board. He was unwilling to leave her so long, as she was on such dangerous ground.

As Mr. Fogg was leaving the station a policeman approached him, and said, "Mr. Phileas Fogg, is it not?"

"It is," replied Phileas.

"And this is your servant?" continued the policeman, indicating Passe-partout.

"Yes."

"Will you be so good as to follow me?"

Mr. Fogg did not appear in the least degree surprised. The policeman was a representative of the law, and to an Englishman the law is sacred. Passe-partout, like a Frenchman, wanted to argue the point, but the policeman touched him with his cane, and his master made him a sign to obey.

"This young lady can accompany us?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Certainly," replied the policeman.

Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout were then conducted to a "palkighari," a sort of four-wheeled carriage, holding four people, and drawn by two horses. They drove away, and no one spoke during the twenty minutes' drive.

The carriage passed through the "Black Town," and then through the European quarter, which, with its brick houses, well-dressed people, and handsome equipages, presented a marked contrast to the native town. The carriage stopped before a quiet-looking house, which, however, did not appear to be a private mansion. The policeman directed his prisoners – for so we may term them – to alight, and conducted them to a room, the windows of which were barred.

"At half-past eight," he said, "you will be brought before Judge Obadiah." He then went out and locked the door.

"So we are prisoners," exclaimed Passe-partout, dropping into a chair.

Mrs. Aouda, turning to Mr. Fogg, said tearfully: "Oh sir, pray do not think of me any longer. It is on my account that you have been arrested. It is for having saved me."

Phileas Fogg calmly replied that such a thing was not possible. It was quite out of the question that they could be arrested on account of the suttee. The complainants would not dare to present themselves. There must be some mistake, and Mr. Fogg added that in any case he would see the young lady safe to Hong Kong.

"But the steamer starts at twelve o'clock," said Passe-partout.

"We shall be on board before that," replied the impassible Fogg.

This was said so decidedly that Passe-partout could not help muttering, "That's all right then, we shall be on board in time no doubt." But in his soul he was not so very certain of it.

At half-past eight the door opened, the policeman entered, and conducted the friends into an adjoining room. This was the court, and was pretty well filled by Europeans and natives. The three companions were allotted seats on a bench lacing the magistrate's desk. Judge Obadiah, followed by the clerk, entered almost immediately. He was a fat, round-faced man. He took down a wig from a nail and put it on.

"Call the first case," he began, but immediately putting his hand to his head he said, "This is not my wig."

"The fact is, your honour, it is mine," replied the clerk.

"My dear Mr. Oysterpuff, how can you expect a judge to administer justice in a clerk's wig?"

The exchange was made. All this time Passe-partout was boiling over with impatience, for the hands of the clock were getting on terribly fast towards noon.

"Now, then, the first case," said the judge.

"Phileas Fogg," called out the clerk.

"Here I am."

"Passe-partout."

"Here."

"Good," said the judge.

"For two days we have been awaiting you."

"But of what do you accuse us?" cried Passe-partout impatiently.

"You are going to hear," said the judge quietly.

"Your honour," said Mr. Fogg, "I am a British citizen, and I have the right – "

"Have you not been properly treated?" asked the judge,

"Oh yes, but – "

"Very well, then. Call the plaintiffs."

As the judge spoke the door opened, and three Hindoo priests were introduced by an usher.

"It is that, after all," muttered Passe-partout. "Those are the fellows that wanted to burn our young lady."

The priests stood erect before the judge, and the clerk read aloud the complaint of sacrilege against Phileas Fogg and his servant, who were accused of having defiled a place consecrated to the Brahmin religion.

"You hear the charge," said the judge to Phileas Fogg.

"Yes, your honour," replied the accused, looking at his watch, "and I confess it."

"You admit it?"

"I admit it, and I wait to see what these priests in their turn will confess respecting their doings at the Pagoda of Pillaji."

The priests looked at each other. They evidently did not understand the reference.

"Of course," cried Passe-partout impetuously, "at the Pagoda of Pillaji, where they were about to burn their victim."

The priests looked stupefied, and the judge was almost equally astonished.

"What victim?" he asked. "To burn whom? In Bombay?"

"Bombay!" exclaimed Passe-partout.

"Of course. We are not talking of the Pagoda of Pillaji but of the Pagoda of Malabar Hill at Bombay."

"And as a proof," added the clerk, "here are the shoes of the profaner of the temple;" and he placed a pair of shoes upon the desk as he spoke.

"My shoes!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was surprised into this incautious admission.

One can imagine the confusion which ensued. The incident at the pagoda in Bombay had been quite forgotten by both master and man, and it was on account of that that they were both detained.

The detective Fix had seen at once the advantage he could derive from that contretemps; so, delaying his departure for twelve hours, he consulted with the priests at Malabar Hill and had promised them a large reward, knowing very well that the English Government would punish with extreme severity any trespass of such a description. Then he had sent the priests by train on the track of the offenders. Owing to the time spent by Phileas Fogg and his party in releasing the young widow from the suttee, Fix and the Hindoo priests had reached Calcutta first, but in any case Mr. Fogg and his servant would have been arrested as they left the train in consequence of a telegraphic despatch which had been forwarded to Calcutta by the authorities. The disappointment of Fix may be imagined when he heard on his arrival that Fogg had not reached Calcutta. He thought that his victim had stopped at one of the intermediate stations, and Had taken refuge in the southern provinces. For four-and-twenty hours Fix had restlessly paced the railway station at Calcutta. What was his joy when that very morning he perceived his man descending from the train in company with a lady whose presence he could not account for. He had immediately directed a policeman to arrest Mr. Fogg, and that is how the whole party came to be brought before Judge Obadiah.

If Passe-partout had been less wrapped up in his own business he would have noticed the detective seated in the corner of the court, watching the proceedings with an interest easy to be understood, for at Calcutta, as heretofore, he still wanted the warrant to arrest the supposed thief.

But Judge Obadiah had noticed the avowal, which Passe-partout would have given the world to recall.

"So the facts are admitted," said the judge.

"They are," replied Fogg coldly.

"Well," continued the judge, "inasmuch as the English law is intended to protect rigorously, and without distinction, all religions in India, and as this fellow, Passe-partout, has confessed his crime, and is convicted of having violated with sacrilegious feet the Pagoda of Malabar Hill at Bombay during the day of the 20th of October, the said Passe-partout is condemned to fifteen days' imprisonment and to pay a fine of three hundred pounds."

"Three hundred pounds!" exclaimed Passe-partout, who was scarcely conscious of anything but the amount of the fine.

"Silence!" shouted the usher.

"And," continued the judge, "seeing that it is not proved that this sacrilege was connived at by the master, but as he must be held responsible for the acts and deeds of his servant, the said Phileas Fogg is sentenced to eight days' imprisonment and a fine of one hundred and fifty pounds. Usher, call the next case."

Fix, in his corner, rubbed his hands to his satisfaction. Phileas Fogg detained eight days at Calcutta! This was fortunate, by that time the warrant would have arrived from England. Passe-partout was completely dumbfoundered. This conviction would ruin his master. His wager of twenty thousand pounds would be lost; and all because he, like an idiot, had gone into that cursed pagoda.

But Phileas Fogg was as cool and collected as if he were in no way concerned in the matter. At the moment the usher was calling on the next cause, Phileas rose and said, "I offer bail."

"That is within your right," said the judge.

Fix's blood ran cold; but he revived again, when he heard the judge say, that as the prisoners were strangers, a bail of a thousand pounds each would be necessary. So it would cost Mr. Fogg two thousand pounds, if he did not put in an appearance when called upon.

"I will pay the money now," said that gentleman; and from the bag which Passe-partout still held, he drew bank-notes for two thousand pounds, and placed them on the clerk's desk.

"This sum will be restored to you, when you come out of prison," said the judge. "Meantime you are free on bail."

"Come along," said Phileas Fogg to his servant.

"But I suppose they will give me back my shoes?" said Passe-partout angrily.

They gave him back his shoes. "They have cost us pretty dearly," he muttered, "more than one thousand pounds apiece, without counting the inconvenience to myself;" and with the most hang-dog appearance, Passe-partout followed his master, who had offered his arm to the young lady. Fix was still in hopes that his prey would not abandon such a sum as two thousand pounds; so he followed Mr. Fogg closely.

Phileas took a fly, and the whole party were driven down to the quays. Half-a-mile from the pier the Rangoon was moored, the "blue-peter" at the mast-head. Eleven o'clock was striking, so Mr. Fogg had an hour to spare. Fix saw him put off in a boat, with Mrs. Aouda and his servant. The detective stamped with rage.

"The rascal!" he exclaimed; "he is going then. Two thousand pounds sacrificed. He is as reckless as a thief. I will follow him to the end of the world, if necessary; but at the rate he is going, the stolen money will soon be spent."

The detective was not far wrong. In fact, since he had left London, what with travelling expenses, "tips," the money paid for the elephant, in fines, and in bail, Phileas Fogg had already disbursed more than five thousand pounds, so that the percentage upon the sum likely to be recovered by the detective (as he imagined) was growing small by degrees and beautifully less.

CHAPTER XVI

Fix does not at all understand what is said to him.

The Rangoon, one of the P. and O. Company's vessels, plying between India, China, and Japan, was an iron screw steamer of about one thousand seven hundred and seventy tons, with engines of four hundred horse-power. She was as fast but not so comfortable as the Mongolia, and Mrs. Aouda was scarcely as well accommodated as Phileas Fogg would have wished. But as the voyage was only three thousand five hundred miles, that is to say eleven or twelve days' steaming, and the young lady was not difficult to please, it was no great matter.

During the first portion of the voyage she became well acquainted with Phileas Fogg, and gave expression to her great gratitude on every occasion. That phlegmatic gentleman listened to her protestations with the most unmoved exterior, not an expression, not a movement evidenced the slightest emotion; but he took care that the young lady should want for nothing. He saw her at certain hours every day, if not to talk, at least to listen to her conversation; he exhibited towards her the greatest politeness, but the politeness of an automaton. Mrs. Aouda did not know what to think of him, though Passe-partout had given her a few hints about his eccentric master, and had told her of the wager about going round the world. Mrs. Aouda had rather ridiculed the idea, but after all did she not owe him her life? And Mr. Fogg would not lose by being regarded through the glasses of gratitude.

Mrs. Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's explanation of her past history. She was, in fact, of the highest native caste.

Many Parsee merchants had made great fortunes in cotton in India. One of them, Sir Jamsetjee Jejeebhoy, has been made a baronet by the English Government, and Mrs. Aouda was connected with this personage, who was then living in Bombay. It was a cousin of his whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong, and with whom she trusted to find protection. She could not say whether she would be received or not; but Mr. Fogg told her not to trouble herself, as all would come mathematically square. These were the words he used. It was uncertain whether the young lady quite understood him. She fixed her great eyes – "those eyes as limpid as the sacred lakes of the Himalayas" – upon him; but Mr. Fogg was as impassive as ever, and did not show any disposition to throw himself into those lakes.

The first portion of the voyage passed very pleasantly. Everything was favourable. The Rangoon soon sighted the great Andaman, with its picturesque mountain called Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, a landmark for all sailors. They skirted the coast, but they saw none of the inhabitants. The appearance of the islands was magnificent. Immense forests of palm, teak, and gigantic mimosas (tree-ferns), covered the foreground of the landscape, while at the back rose the undulating profile of the hills. The cliffs swarmed with that species of swallows which build the edible nests so prized in China.

But the islands were soon passed, and the Rangoon rapidly steamed towards the Straits of Malacca, which give access to the Chinese Sea.

Now what is Fix doing all this time? Having left instructions for the transmission of the warrant to Hong Kong, he had embarked on board the Rangoon without being perceived by Passe-partout, and was in hopes to be able to keep out of sight until the steamer should have reached her destination. In fact, it would be difficult to explain his presence on board without awakening the suspicions of Passe-partout, who thought him in Bombay. But fate obliged him to resume acquaintance with the lad, as we shall see later.

All the aspirations and hopes of the detective were now centred in Hong Kong, for the steamer would not stop at Singapore long enough for him to do anything there. It was at Hong Kong that the arrest must be made, or the thief would escape, and, so to speak, for ever.

Hong Kong, in fact, was English territory, but the last British territory which they would see on the route. Beyond that, China, Japan, and America would offer an almost secure asylum to Mr. Fogg. If they should find the warrant of arrest at Hong Kong, Fix could hand Fogg over to the local police, and have done with him. But after leaving the island a simple warrant would not be sufficient; a warrant of extradition would be necessary, which would give rise to delays of all kinds, and of which the criminal might take advantage and escape; so if he did not arrest him at Hong Kong, he might give up the idea altogether.

"Now," said Fix to himself, "either the warrant will be at Hong Kong, and I shall arrest my man, or it will not be there; and this time I must delay his departure at any cost. I have failed both at Bombay and Calcutta, and if I make a mess of it at Hong Kong, my reputation is gone. I must succeed, at any cost; but what means shall I adopt to stop him if the worst comes to the worst?"

Fix then, as a last resource, made up his mind to tell Passe-partout everything, and what sort of a man his master was, for he was not his accomplice evidently. Passe-partout would no doubt under those circumstances assist him (Fix). But in any case this was a dangerous expedient, and one not to be employed except under pressure. A hint from Passe-partout to his master would upset the whole thing at once.

The detective, therefore, was very much embarrassed, and the presence of Mrs. Aouda on board gave him more food for thought. Who was this woman? and how did it happen that she was in Fogg's society? They must have met between Bombay and Calcutta, but at what place? Was it by chance, or had he purposely gone to seek this charming woman? for she was charming no doubt – Fix had seen as much in the court at Calcutta.

He was puzzled, and began to think that perhaps there had been an elopement. He was certain of it. This idea now took complete possession of Fix, and he began to think what advantage he could gain from the circumstance: whether the young lady was married or not, there was still the elopement; and he might make it so unpleasant for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he would not be able to get away by paying money.

But the Rangoon had to get to Hong Kong first, and could he wait? for Fogg had an unpleasant habit of jumping from one steamer to another, and might be far away before anything had been settled. The thing to do, therefore, was to give notice to the English authorities, and to signal the Rangoon before she arrived. This was not difficult, as the steamer stopped at Singapore, and he could telegraph thence to Hong Kong.