Showing how Phileas Fogg purchased a "Mount" at a Fabulous Price.
The train started punctually, carrying the usual complement of
travellers, including officers of the civil and military classes and
merchants. Passe-partout was seated near his master, a third traveller
had secured a corner opposite.
This gentleman was General Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's
whist-party on board the _Mongolia_, who was _en route_ to take up his
command at Benares.
Sir Francis was a tall fair specimen of the British officer, about
fifty years old. He had greatly distinguished himself during the
Mutiny. He had been in India almost all his life, and only paid
occasional visits to his native country. He was a well-informed man,
and would willingly have imparted any information he possessed, had
Phileas Fogg chosen to apply to him. But the latter did nothing of the
kind. He never travelled. He merely made a track across country. He
was a heavy body, describing an orbit around the terrestrial globe,
according to certain mechanical laws. At that time he was actually
engaged in calculating how many hours had passed since he left London,
and he would have rubbed his hands joyfully, had he been one of those
people who indulge in these needless enthusiastic demonstrations.
Sir Francis Cromarty had already noticed the eccentricity of his
companion while at whist, and had questioned seriously whether a human
heart actually beat beneath that cold envelope of flesh, whether Fogg
really possessed a soul alive to the beauties of nature, and subject
to human failings and aspirations. That was what puzzled the gallant
soldier. None of the many original characters which it had been his
fortune to encounter had, in any way, resembled this product of the
action of exact science upon humanity.
Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis the object of his
journey round the world, nor the conditions under which he had
undertaken it. The general saw nothing in this wager but the
eccentricity of its surroundings, and the want of _transire
benefaciendo_ which ought to guide any reasonable man. If this
extraordinary man went on in this manner all his life, he would
finally quit the world, having done absolutely nothing for his own
benefit or for that of others.
An hour after leaving Bombay, the train crossed the viaduct carrying
the line from Salsette to the mainland. At Callyan station they left
the branch-line to Kandallah and Poona on the right, and proceeded to
Panwell. Here they traversed the gorges of the Western Ghauts,
composed of trap and basaltic rocks, the highest summits of which are
crowned with thick trees.
Sir Francis Cromarty and Phileas Fogg occasionally exchanged a few
words, and at one time the general picked up the thread of
conversation by remarking:
"A few years ago, Mr. Fogg, you would have experienced a considerable
impediment to your journey here, and would most likely have
compromised your success."
"How do you mean, Sir Francis?"
"Because the railway did not go beyond the base of these mountains,
and it was then necessary to make the journey in palanquins or on
ponies as far as Kandallah on the opposite slope."
"Such an interruption would not in any way have disarranged my plans,"
replied Mr. Fogg. "I have taken precautions against certain
obstacles."
"Nevertheless, Mr. Fogg, you very nearly had an awkward bit of
business on hand in consequence of yonder fellow's adventure."
Passe-partout was fast asleep, with his feet well muffled up in the
railway-rug, and was quite unconscious that he was the subject of
conversation.
"The British Government is extremely strict, and with reason, upon any
such offences," continued Sir Francis. "Above everything, it considers
that the religious feelings of the native races should be respected,
and if your servant had been arrested--"
"Well," interrupted Mr. Fogg, "well. Sir Francis, suppose he had been
taken and condemned and punished, he might have returned quietly to
Europe afterwards. That would not have been a reason for stopping his
master."
And then the conversation again languished. During the night the train
crossed the mountains, passed Nassik, and next day, the 21st October,
it traversed a comparatively flat district of Kandish. The
well-cultivated country was sprinkled with villages, above which the
minarets of the pagodas took the place of the English church-spires.
Numerous tributaries of the Godavery watered this fertile territory.
Passe-partout awoke and looked about him. He could not at first
believe that he actually was crossing India in a carriage upon the G.
I. P. Railway. It appeared quite incredible, but it was none the less
real. The locomotive, driven by an English engineer and fed with
English coal, puffed its steam over coffee, cotton, clove, and pepper
plantations. The smoke curled around the palm-trees, amid which
picturesque bungalows were frequently visible, and "viharis," a sort
of abandoned monasteries, as well as a few temples enriched with
wonderful Indian architecture, were here and there apparent. Farther
on, they passed immense tracts of land extending as far as the eye
could reach, and jungles in which serpents and tigers fled scared at
the roar and rattle of the train; then succeeded forests through which
the line passed, the abode of elephants which, with pensive gaze,
watched the speeding train.
During the forenoon our travellers traversed the blood-stained
district beyond Malligaum, sacred to the votaries of the goddess Kâli.
Not far from this arose the minarets of Ellora and its pagodas, and
the famous Aurungabad, the capital of the ferocious Aurung-Zeb, now
the chief town of one of the detached kingdoms of the Nizam. It was in
this country that Feringhea, chief of the Thugs--the King of
Stranglers--exercised sway. These assassins, united in an invisible
and secret association, strangled, in honour of the goddess of death,
victims of every age without shedding blood, and in time there was
scarcely a place where a corpse was not to be found. The English
Government has succeeded in checking very considerably these wholesale
massacres, but Thugs still exist and pursue their horrible vocation.
At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampore, and Passe-partout
succeeded in obtaining a pair of slippers decorated with false pearls,
which he wore with evident conceit.
The passengers ate a hurried breakfast, and the train again started
for Assinghur, skirting for a moment the river Tapy, a small stream
which flows into the Gulf of Cambay, near Surat.
It may now not be out of place to record Passe-partout's reflections.
Until his arrival at Bombay he had cherished the idea that the journey
would not be continued farther. But now that he was being carried
across India he saw things in a different light. His old love of
wandering returned in full force. The fantastic ideas of his youthful
days came back to him again; he took his master's projects quite
seriously; he began to believe in the wager, and consequently in the
tour of the world to be completed in that maximum of eighty days which
must not on any account be exceeded. Even now he was beginning to feel
anxious about possible delays and accidents _en route_. He felt
interested in winning, and trembled when he considered that he had
actually compromised the whole thing by his stupidity on the previous
day. So he was much more restless than Mr. Fogg, because less
phlegmatic. He counted over and over again the days that had already
passed since he had started, cursed at the stoppages at stations,
found fault with the slow speed, and in his heart blamed Mr. Fogg for
not having "tipped" the engine-driver. He quite overlooked the fact
that, though such a thing was possible on board a steamer, it was out
of question on a railroad where the time of the trains is fixed and
the speed regulated.
Towards evening they penetrated the defiles of the mountains of
Sutpoor, which separate the territory of Khandeish from that of
Bundelcund.
Next day, the 22nd, Passe-partout replied, to a question of Sir
Francis Cromarty, that it was three a.m., but, as a matter of fact,
this wonderful watch was about four hours slow, as it was always kept
at Greenwich time, which was then nearly seventy-seven degrees west,
and the watch would of course get slower and slower.
Sir Francis corrected Passe-partout's time, respecting which he made a
remark similar to that made by Mr. Fix. He endeavoured to convince the
valet that he ought to regulate his watch by each new meridian, and as
he was still going east the days became shorter and shorter by four
minutes for every degree. But all this was useless. Whether the
headstrong fellow understood the general or not, he certainly did not
alter his watch, which was steadily kept at London time. At any rate
it was a delusion which pleased him and hurt nobody.
At eight o'clock in the morning the train stopped about fifteen miles
from Rothal, at a place where there were many bungalows and huts
erected. The guard passed along the line, crying out, "All change
here!"
Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty, who did not appear to
understand this unexpected halt.
Passe-partout, not less astonished, leaped down, and in a moment or
two returned, exclaiming, "There is no railway beyond this place,
sir."
"What do you mean?" inquired Sir Francis.
"I mean that the train does not go any farther."
The general immediately got out. Phileas Fogg followed quietly. Both
these gentlemen accosted the guard.
"Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.
"At the village of Kholby, sir," replied the guard.
"Why do we stop here?"
"Because the line is not finished beyond."
"Not finished! How is that?"
"There are about fifty miles yet to be laid between this point and
Allahabad, where we take the train again."
"The papers announced the line complete."
"I cannot help that, sir; the papers were mistaken."
"But you book people 'through' from Bombay to Calcutta," persisted Sir
Francis, who was waxing angry.
"Certainly we do; but it is an understood thing that the passengers
provide their own conveyance between Kholby and Allahabad."
Sir Francis was furious. Passe-partout would have liked to have
knocked the guard down, if he had been able. He did not dare to look
at his master.
"We had better get on, Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg; "we must get to
Allahabad somehow; let us see how we can do so."
"It strikes me that this delay will upset your arrangements
considerably, Mr. Fogg," replied Sir Francis.
"Oh dear no! all this has been discounted," replied Fogg.
"What! did you know that the line was unfinished?"
"No; but I was quite sure that some obstacles would crop up to retard
me. Nothing is yet lost I have two days in reserve. The steamer does
not leave Calcutta for Hong Kong until the 23rd, at mid-day. This is
only the 22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in good time even now."
What could be urged against such an assured reply as this? It was only
too evident that the railway ceased at that point. Newspapers are so
fond of anticipating, and in this case they had been decidedly
premature in announcing the completion of the line. The majority of
the passengers had been made aware of the existing state of things,
and provided themselves with conveyance accordingly, whatever they
could obtain--"palkigharies" with four wheels, waggons drawn by zebus,
a sort of brahma ox, palanquins, ponies, &c. So it happened that there
was nothing left for Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty.
"I shall walk," said Phileas Fogg. Passe-partout, who was close to his
master, made a very expressive grimace when he gazed at his elegant
but very thin slippers. Fortunately he had made a discovery, but
hesitated a little to announce it.
"Sir," he said at length, "I think I have found means for our
transport."
"What is it?"
"An elephant. It belongs to a native who lives close by."
"Let us go and see this animal," said Mr. Fogg. Five minutes later Sir
Francis and Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Passe-partout, reached the hut,
which was surrounded by a palisade. In the hut resided the native;
inside the palisade the elephant lived. The former introduced the new
arrivals to the latter, at their particular request.
They found that the animal was half domesticated; it had originally
been purchased for a fighting elephant, not for carrying purposes.
With this end in view, the owner had begun to alter the naturally
placid disposition of the beast by irritating him, and getting him
gradually up to that pitch of fury called "mutsh" by the Hindoos, and
this is done by feeding the elephant on sugar and butter for three
months. This at first sight would appear scarcely the treatment likely
to conduce to such an object, but it is successfully employed.
Fortunately, however, for Mr. Fogg, the elephant in question had not
been subjected to this treatment for a very long time, and the "mutsh"
had not appeared.
Kiouni--for so was the animal called--was no doubt quite competent to
perform the journey required, and in the absence of other conveyance,
Phileas Fogg determined to hire him.
But elephants in India are dear, for they are becoming somewhat
scarce. The males, which only are suited to the circus training, are
much in request. They seldom breed when in a domesticated state, so
they can only be procured by hunting. They are, therefore, the objects
of much solicitude, and when Mr. Fogg asked the owner what he could
hire his elephant for, the man declined point-blank to lend him at
all.
Fogg persisted, and offered ten pounds an hour for the beast! It was
refused. Twenty? Still refused. Forty? Declined with thanks.
Passe-partout actually jumped at each "bid." But the native would not
yield to the temptation.
Nevertheless the price tendered was a handsome one. Supposing that the
elephant took fifteen hours to reach Allahabad, the price would amount
to six hundred pounds!
Phileas Fogg, without betraying the least irritation, then proposed to
the owner that he should sell the animal outright, and offered one
thousand pounds for him.
But the Hindoo declined; perhaps he thought he would make more by so
doing.
Sir Francis Cromarty then took Mr. Fogg aside, and requested him to
reflect ere he bid higher. Mr. Fogg replied that he was not in the
habit of acting on impulse, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds
depended upon the accomplishment of the journey, that the elephant was
absolutely necessary, and if he paid twenty times the value of the
animal, it must be had.
So Mr. Fogg returned to the Indian, who perceived it was only a
question of asking. Phileas offered in quick succession twelve
hundred, fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, and finally two thousand
pounds. Passe-partout, usually so ruddy, was now pale with emotion. At
two thousand pounds the native yielded. "I declare by my slippers,
that's a pretty price for an elephant!" exclaimed Passe-partout.
This business over, there was nothing but to obtain a guide. That was
easily done. A young and intelligent-looking Parsee offered his
services. Mr. Fogg engaged him, and promised him a good reward, which
would naturally increase his intelligence.
The elephant was got ready without delay. The Parsee was quite skilled
in the business of a "mahout." He placed a sort of saddle on the
elephant's back, and at each end of it he fixed a small howdah.
Mr. Fogg paid the native the two thousand pounds in bank-notes, which
he took from the inexhaustible carpet-bag. Passe-partout writhed as
they were paid over. Then Mr. Fogg offered Sir Francis Cromarty a seat
on the elephant, which the general gratefully accepted. One traveller
more or less would not signify to such an animal.
Provisions were purchased. Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg each occupied a
howdah, while Passe-partout sat astride between them. The Parsee
seated himself upon the elephant's neck, and at nine o'clock they
quitted the village, the elephant taking a short cut through the thick
palm-forest.