A Glimpse of San Francisco. A Political Meeting.
At seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Fogg and his companions landed in
America, or rather upon the floating pier at which the steamers load
and unload. There they mingled with ships and steamers of all
nationalities, and steam ferry-boats with two or three decks which
performed the service on the Sacramento and its affluents.
Passe-partout was so delighted to reach America, that he thought it
necessary to execute one of his most active leaps. But when he landed
upon the quay, he found the planks worm-eaten, and he went through
them. His cry of alarm frightened all the birds which perched upon
these floating quays.
Mr. Fogg's first care was to ascertain when the next train left for
New York. It started at six o'clock, so they had a whole day before
them. Then hiring a carriage, they drove to the International Hotel.
From his position on the box of the vehicle, Passe-partout observed
with great curiosity the wide streets, the rows of lofty houses, the
churches and other places of worship built in the Anglo-Saxon gothic
style, immense docks, palatial warehouses, innumerable cabs,
omnibuses, and tramway-cars; while Americans, Europeans, Chinese, and
Indians occupied the pathways. San Francisco surprised Passe-partout.
It was no longer the habitation of bandits, incendiaries, and
assassins, who gambled for gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a
knife in the other. This "good time" had passed. The city was now the
hive of commerce. The tower of the city-hall overlooked the labyrinth
of streets and avenues, which crossed each other at right angles,
amongst which verdant squares extended; and the Chinese quarter looked
like an importation from the Celestial Empire in a toy-puzzle.
Sombreros, red shirts, and Indian head-dresses had given way to silk
hats and black coats, and some of the principal streets were lined
with splendid shops, offering the products of the whole world for
sale.
When Passe-partout reached the International Hotel, he could scarcely
recognise that he was not in England. The ground-floor of this immense
building was occupied by a bar, at which free lunch of cold meat,
oyster soup, biscuits and cheese, was always to be had; wine or beer
had to be paid for. The restaurant was comfortable. Mr. Fogg and Mrs.
Aouda sat down to a table, and were waited on by the blackest of
negroes.
After breakfast, Phileas Fogg, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda, went to the
English Consul to have his passport _viséd_. On the pavement he met
his servant, who wanted to know whether he should not purchase some
revolvers and rifles. Passe-partout had heard of Sioux and Pawnees,
who are in the habit of stopping the trains. His master replied that
the precaution was needless, but permitted him to do what he pleased
in the matter, and pursued his way to the Consulate.
He had not gone very far when, of course by the merest chance, he met
Fix. The detective appeared very much astonished. Was it possible that
he and Mr. Fogg had crossed in the same steamer, and never met? Fix
professed himself honoured at meeting the gentleman to whom he owed so
much. Business called him to Europe, and he would be proud to travel
in such agreeable company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his, and thereupon Fix, who
had made up his mind not to lose sight of the other, requested
permission to accompany Mr. Fogg in his walks about the city, which
was granted.
So the three travellers soon found themselves in Montgomery Street,
and on the outskirts of a great crowd. People were everywhere looking
on and shouting, going about carrying large printed bills; flags, and
streamers were waving, and everyone was calling out "Hurrah for
Camerfield!" or "Hurrah for Maudiboy!"
It was a political meeting, at least Fix thought so; and said to Mr.
Fogg that it might perhaps be better not to mingle with the crowd for
fear of accidents.
Mr. Fogg agreed, and added "that blows, even though inflicted in a
political sense, were nevertheless blows."
Fix smiled, and then in order to be able to see without being hustled,
the three travellers mounted a flight of steps at the upper end of the
street. Opposite was a large platform towards which the crowd appeared
to be moving.
Mr. Fogg could not form any opinion as to what the meeting was about.
Perhaps it was the nomination of a governor of a State, or of a member
of Congress, which was not unlikely. Just then the excitement of the
crowd became greater, fists were raised as if to register a vote by a
show of hands. The crowd swayed backwards and forwards, flags were
displayed and immediately torn to pieces, hats were smashed, and the
greater part of the crowd seemed to have grown suddenly shorter.
"It is evidently a political meeting," said Fix; "perhaps it is about
the Alabama Claims, although they are settled by this time."
"Perhaps it is," replied Mr. Fogg.
"At any rate," continued Fix, "here are the candidates. The Honourable
Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Maudiboy have met."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, was regarding the tumult with
curiosity, and Fix was about to ask the reason of the disturbance when
the uproar increased to a terrific extent. The crowd became more
excited, blows were exchanged, boots and shoes were sent whirling
through the air, and the spectators thought they could hear the crack
of revolvers mingling with the cries of men. The combatants approached
the steps on which the party had taken refuge. One of the candidates
had evidently been repulsed, but whether Camerfield or Maudiboy had
got the best of it, mere spectators could not tell.
"I think we had better retire," said Fix; "if there is any discussion
about England, and we were recognised, we might receive some injury."
"An Englishman--" began Mr. Fogg.
But he never finished the sentence, for a tremendous uproar arose on
the terrace just behind them, and there were loud shouts for Maudiboy,
a party of whose adherents were taking their opponents in the flank.
Our travellers were now between two fires; it was too late to escape;
the torrent of men armed with life-preservers and sticks could not be
withstood. Phileas Fogg and Fix did all they could to protect their
fair companions with the weapons nature had provided, but
unsuccessfully. A great ruffian, with a red beard, who appeared to be
the chief of the band, was about to strike Mr. Fogg, and would
probably have done him serious injury if Fix had not stepped in and
received the blow in his stead, thereby getting his hat completely
smashed.
"You low Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg contemptuously.
"You English beast!" replied the other.
"We shall meet again."
"Whenever you please."
"What is your name?"
"Phileas Fogg; and yours?"
"Colonel Stamp Proctor."
And the tide of humanity swept past, overturning Fix, who, however,
speedily regained his feet, and though much dishevelled was not
seriously hurt. His overcoat was torn in two, and his trousers were
more like those worn by the Indians; but fortunately Aouda had
escaped, and Fix only showed any traces of the encounter.
"Thank you," said Mr. Fogg to the detective when they were out of the
crowd.
"Don't mention it," replied Fix; "let us go on."
"Where to?"
"To a tailor's."
In fact this course had become necessary, for the clothes of both men
were torn as badly as if they had taken an active part in the contest,
but in an hour they were newly clad and safely back at the hotel
again.
There they found Passe-partout waiting and armed with a dozen
six-barrelled central-fire revolvers. When he perceived Fix with Mr.
Fogg he frowned, but when Mrs. Aouda had told him all that had passed
his brow cleared. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy; he was an
ally, and was adhering to his agreement.
After dinner they took a carriage and drove to the railway-station. As
Mr. Fogg was getting into the cab he said to Fix, "Have you seen that
Colonel Proctor since?"
"No," replied Fix.
"I will make a point of coming back to America to find him out,"
replied Fogg coolly. "It would never do for an Englishman to allow
himself to be treated as he treated us."
The detective smiled, but made no reply. It was evident, however, that
Mr. Fogg was of that race of Britons who, though they do not permit
duelling at home, fight in foreign countries when their honour is in
any way attacked.
At a quarter to six the travellers reached the railway-station, and
found the train ready. Mr. Fogg called a porter and asked him the
reason of the excitement that afternoon.
"It was a meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"I thought there was some great commotion in the streets."
"It was merely an election meeting."
"For a commander-in-chief, no doubt?" suggested Mr. Fogg.
"Oh dear no," replied the man. "It was for a justice of the peace."
On this reply Phileas Fogg entered the train, which started almost
immediately.