Around the World in 80 Days - Jules Verne (best finance books of all time TXT) 📗
- Author: Jules Verne
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On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm
lessened its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once
more favourable. Passepartout cleared up with the weather.
Some of the sails were unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its
most rapid speed. The time lost could not, however, be regained.
Land was not signalled until five o’clock on the morning of the 6th;
the steamer was due on the 5th. Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours
behind-hand, and the Yokohama steamer would, of course, be missed.
The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge,
to guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope,
which still remained till the last moment. He had confided
his anxiety to Fix who—the sly rascal!—tried to console him
by saying that Mr. Fogg would be in time if he took the next boat;
but this only put Passepartout in a passion.
Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the pilot,
and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave Hong Kong
for Yokohama.
“At high tide tomorrow morning,” answered the pilot.
“Ah!” said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.
Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the pilot,
while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.
“What is the steamer’s name?” asked Mr. Fogg.
“The Carnatic.”
“Ought she not to have gone yesterday?”
“Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers,
and so her departure was postponed till tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.
Passepartout clasped the pilot’s hand and shook it heartily in his delight,
exclaiming, “Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!”
The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses
won him this enthusiastic greeting. He remounted the bridge,
and guided the steamer through the flotilla of junks,
tankas, and fishing boats which crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.
At one o’clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers
were going ashore.
Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the
Carnatic been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers,
she would have left on the 6th of November, and the passengers
for Japan would have been obliged to await for a week the sailing
of the next steamer. Mr. Fogg was, it is true, twenty-four hours
behind his time; but this could not seriously imperil the
remainder of his tour.
The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not sail
until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four hours
late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily regained
in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific. He found himself,
then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.
The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.
On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they
repaired to the Club Hotel. A room was engaged for the young woman,
and Mr. Fogg, after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search
of her cousin Jeejeeh. He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.
Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt,
every one would know so wealthy and considerable a personage
as the Parsee merchant. Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry,
to learn that Jeejeeh had left China two years before, and, retiring
from business with an immense fortune, had taken up his residence
in Europe—in Holland the broker thought, with the merchants
of which country he had principally traded. Phileas Fogg returned
to the hotel, begged a moment’s conversation with Aouda, and without
more ado, apprised her that Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong,
but probably in Holland.
Aouda at first said nothing. She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments. Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
“What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?”
“It is very simple,” responded the gentleman. “Go on to Europe.”
“But I cannot intrude—”
“You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!”
“Monsieur.”
“Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins.”
Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to him,
was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk gait
to obey his master’s order.
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT TAKES A TOO GREAT INTEREST IN HIS MASTER,
AND WHAT COMES OF IT
Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the
English by the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842;
and the colonising genius of the English has created upon it
an important city and an excellent port. The island is situated
at the mouth of the Canton River, and is separated by about sixty miles
from the Portuguese town of Macao, on the opposite coast. Hong Kong
has beaten Macao in the struggle for the Chinese trade, and now
the greater part of the transportation of Chinese goods finds
its depot at the former place. Docks, hospitals, wharves,
a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.
Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins
and other modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese,
and Europeans who passed to and fro in the streets. Hong Kong seemed
to him not unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them,
it betrayed everywhere the evidence of English supremacy.
At the Victoria port he found a confused mass of ships of all nations:
English, French, American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels,
Japanese and Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats,
which formed so many floating parterres. Passepartout noticed
in the crowd a number of the natives who seemed very old
and were dressed in yellow. On going into a barber’s
to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all
at least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted
to wear yellow, which is the Imperial colour. Passepartout,
without exactly knowing why, thought this very funny.
On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic,
he was not astonished to find Fix walking up and down.
The detective seemed very much disturbed and disappointed.
“This is bad,” muttered Passepartout, “for the gentlemen of
the Reform Club!” He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he
had not perceived that gentleman’s chagrin. The detective had, indeed,
good reasons to inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him.
The warrant had not come! It was certainly on the way,
but as certainly it could not now reach Hong Kong for several days;
and, this being the last English territory on Mr. Fogg’s route,
the robber would escape, unless he could manage to detain him.
“Well, Monsieur Fix,” said Passepartout, “have you decided to go with us
so far as America?”
“Yes,” returned Fix, through his set teeth.
“Good!” exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily.
“I knew you could not persuade yourself to separate from us.
Come and engage your berth.”
They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that,
the repairs on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer
would leave that very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.
“That will suit my master all the better,” said Passepartout.
“I will go and let him know.”
Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout all.
It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg several days
longer at Hong Kong. He accordingly invited his companion into a tavern
which caught his eye on the quay. On entering, they found themselves
in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of which was a large
camp-bed furnished with cushions. Several persons lay upon this bed
in a deep sleep. At the small tables which were arranged about the room
some thirty customers were drinking English beer, porter, gin, and brandy;
smoking, the while, long red clay pipes stuffed with little balls of opium
mingled with essence of rose. From time to time one of the smokers,
overcome with the narcotic, would slip under the table, whereupon the waiters,
taking him by the head and feet, carried and laid him upon the bed.
The bed already supported twenty of these stupefied sots.
Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted
by those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium,
to the amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds—
thousands devoted to one of the most despicable vices
which afflict humanity! The Chinese government has in vain
attempted to deal with the evil by stringent laws. It passed
gradually from the rich, to whom it was at first exclusively reserved,
to the lower classes, and then its ravages could not be arrested.
Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by men and women,
in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the victims
cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily contortions
and agonies. A great smoker can smoke as many as eight pipes a day;
but he dies in five years. It was in one of these dens that Fix
and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found themselves.
Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix’s invitation
in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.
They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample justice,
whilst Fix observed him with close attention. They chatted about the journey,
and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea that Fix was going to
continue it with them. When the bottles were empty, however,
he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the time
of the sailing of the Carnatic.
Fix caught him by the arm, and said, “Wait a moment.”
“What for, Mr. Fix?”
“I want to have a serious talk with you.”
“A serious talk!” cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine
that was left in the bottom of his glass. “Well, we’ll talk
about it tomorrow; I haven’t time now.”
“Stay! What I have to say concerns your master.”
Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.
Fix’s face seemed to have a singular expression. He resumed his seat.
“What is it that you have to say?”
Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout’s arm, and,
lowering his voice, said, “You have guessed who I am?”
“Parbleu!” said Passepartout, smiling.
“Then I’m going to tell you everything—”
“Now that I know everything, my friend! Ah! that’s very good.
But go on, go on. First, though, let me tell you that those
gentlemen have put themselves to a useless expense.”
“Useless!” said Fix. “You speak confidently. It’s clear that
you don’t know how large the sum is.”
“Of course I do,” returned Passepartout. “Twenty thousand pounds.”
“Fifty-five thousand!” answered
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