In Which a Slight Glimpse Is Had of San Francisco
It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda and
Passepartout set foot upon the American continent, if this name
can be given to the floating quay upon which they disembarked.
These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate
the loading and unloading of vessels. Alongside them were
clippers of all sizes, steamers of all nationalities, and the
steamboats, with several decks rising one above the other, which
ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were also heaped
up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Chili,
Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia and all the Pacific islands.
Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American
continent, thought he would show it by executing a perilous vault
in fine style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell
through them. Put out of countenance by the manner in which he
thus "set foot" upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry. This
so frightened the innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are
always perched upon these movable quays, that they flew noisily
away.
Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour
the first train left for New York, and learned that this was at
six o'clock P.M. He had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the
Californian city. Taking a carriage for three dollars, he and
Aouda entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the
driver, and they set out for the International Hotel.
From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much
curiosity the wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the
Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden
and brick warehouses, the numerous conveyances, omnibuses,
horse-cars, and upon the side-walks, not only Americans and
Europeans, but Chinese and Indians. Passepartout was surprised at
all he saw. San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of
1849--a city of banditti, assassins and incendiaries, who had
flocked here in crowds in pursuit of plunder. Formerly a paradise
of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in one
hand and a bowie-knife in the other, it was now a great
commercial emporium.
The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of
the streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles,
and in the midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares.
Beyond appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the
Celestial Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros and red shirts and
plumed Indians were rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats
and black coats everywhere worn by a multitude of nervously
active, gentlemanly-looking men. Some of the streets--especially
Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco what Regent Street
is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris and Broadway to
New York--were lined with splendid and spacious stores, which
exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not
seem to him as if he had left England at all.
The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort
of restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of
dried beef, oyster soup, biscuits and cheese, without taking out
their purses. Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or
sherry which was drunk. This seemed "very American" to
Passepartout. The hotel refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing themselves at a table, were
abundantly served on diminutive plates by Negroes of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed. As he was going
out, he met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well,
before taking the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield
rifles and Colt's revolvers. He had been listening to stories of
attacks upon the trains by the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg
thought it a useless precaution, but told him to do as he thought
best, and went on to the consulate.
He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the
greatest chance in the world," he met Fix. The detective seemed
wholly taken by surprise. What! Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed
the Pacific together, and not met on the steamer! At least Fix
felt honored to behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so
much, and, as his business recalled him to Europe, he should be
delighted to continue the journey in such pleasant company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honor would be his; and the detective--who
was determined not to lose sight of him--begged permission
to accompany them in their walk about San Francisco--a request
which Mr. Fogg readily granted.
They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great
crowd was collected. The side-walks, street, horse-car rails, the
shop-doors, the windows of the houses and even the roofs, were
full of people. Men were going about carrying large posters, and
flags and streamers were floating in the wind, while loud cries
were heard on every hand.
"Hurrah for Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"
It was a political meeting; at least so Fix guessed. He said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd. There
may be danger in it."
"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg, "and blows, even if they are political
are still blows."
Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see
without being jostled about, the party took up a position on the
top of a flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery
Street. Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a
coal wharf and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been
erected in the open air, towards which the current of the crowd
seemed to be directed.
For what purpose was this meeting? What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg could not imagine. Was it to
nominate some high official--a governor or member of Congress?
It was not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.
Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass.
All the hands were raised in the air. Some, tightly closed,
seemed to disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries-an
energetic way, no doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd swayed
back, the banners and flags wavered, disappeared an instant, then
reappeared in tatters. The undulations of the human surge reached
the steps, while all the heads floundered on the surface like a
sea agitated by a squall. Many of the black hats disappeared, and
the greater part of the crowd seemed to have diminished in
height.
"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one. I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that question is settled."
"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.
"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honorable Mr. Camerfield and the Honorable Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene
with surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of
it all was. Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose.
Hurrahs and excited shouts were heard. The staffs of the banners
began to be used as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in
every direction. Thumps were exchanged from the tops of the
carriages and omnibuses which had been blocked up in the crowd.
Boots and shoes went whirling through the air, and Mr. Fogg
thought he even heard the crack of revolvers mingling in the din.
The rout approached the stairway, and flowed over the lower step.
One of the parties had evidently been repulsed, but the mere
onlookers could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had
gained the upper hand.
"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious
that Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they
got back to London. "If there is any question about England in
all this, and we were recognized, I fear it would go hard with
us."
"An English subject--" began Mr. Fogg.
He did not finish his sentence, for a terrific hubbub now arose
on the terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and
there were frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy! Hip, hip,
hurrah!"
It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda and Fix
found themselves between two fires. It was too late to escape.
The torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was
irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their
attempts to protect their fair companion. The former, as cool as
ever, tried to defend himself with the weapons which nature has
placed at the end of every Englishman's arm, but in vain. A big
brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face and broad shoulders,
who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his clenched fist
to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have given a crushing blow, had
not Fix rushed in and received it in his stead. An enormous
bruise immediately made its appearance under the detective's silk
hat, which was completely smashed in.
"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
ruffian.
"Englishman!" returned the other. "We will meet again!"
"When you please."
"What is your name?"
"Phileas Fogg. And yours?"
"Colonel Stamp Proctor."
The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily
got upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes. Happily,
he was not seriously hurt. His traveling overcoat was divided
into two unequal parts, and his trousers resembled those of
certain Indians, which fit less compactly than they are easy to
put on. Aouda had escaped unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of
the fray in his black and blue bruise.
"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were
out of the crowd.
"No thanks are necessary," replied Fix, "but let us go."
"Where?"
"To a tailor's."
Such a visit was, indeed, necessary. The clothing of both Mr.
Fogg and Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively
engaged in the contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour
after, they were once more suitably attired, and with Aouda
returned to the International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barreled revolvers. When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows;
but Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure,
his countenance resumed its placid expression. Fix evidently was
no longer an enemy, but an ally. He was faith-fully keeping his
word.
Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and
their luggage to the station drew up to the door. As he was
getting in, Mr. Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel
Proctor again?"
"No."
"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg
calmly. "It would not be right for an Englishman to permit
himself to be treated in that way without retaliating."
The detective smiled, but did not reply. It was clear that Mr.
Fogg was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate
dueling at home, fight abroad when their honor is attacked.
At a quarter before six the travelers reached the station, and
found the train ready to depart. As he was about to enter it, Mr.
Fogg called a porter, and said to him: "My friend, was there not
some trouble today in San Francisco?"
"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the
streets."
"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."
"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."
Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.