In which Phileas Fogg rises to the Occasion.
An hour later the _Henrietta_ passed the light-ship at the mouth of
the Hudson, rounded Sandy Hook, and skirting Fire Island and Long
Island, steamed rapidly eastward.
At noon next day Phileas Fogg mounted the bridge, to ascertain the
ship's position, for Captain Speedy was safely locked up in his cabin,
where he was using some very strong, but, under the circumstances,
excusable language.
The fact was that Mr. Fogg wished to go to Liverpool, and the captain
did not; and had made such good use of the time he had been on board,
and of his money, that he had won the whole crew, who were not on the
best terms with the captain, over to his side. And this is why Phileas
Fogg was in command, why the captain was shut up in his cabin, and why
the ship was heading for Liverpool. By the way Mr. Fogg managed the
vessel, it was evident he had been a sailor.
How the adventure ended will be seen later on. Aouda was anxious, but
said nothing. Fix had been completely upset from the first; but
Passe-partout thought the manoeuvre simply splendid. The captain had
said that the _Henrietta_ could make between eleven and twelve knots,
and he had not exaggerated.
If, then--for there were still ifs--if the sea did not get too rough,
nor the wind shift to the east, nor any accident happen to the
machinery, it was possible for the _Henrietta_ to cross the Atlantic
in nine days. But it was not improbable that, when he reached
Liverpool, Mr. Fogg would have to answer some awkward questions about
the _Henrietta_, as well as about the bank business.
For the first few days everything went well, and the _Henrietta_
steamed and sailed like a transatlantic liner.
Passe-partout was charmed. This last exploit of his master delighted
him above everything; he was the life and soul of the crew, and his
good spirits were infectious. He had forgotten the past vexation, and
only looked forward to the future. He kept his eye warily upon Fix,
but scarcely spoke, for the old intimacy no longer existed between
them.
It must be confessed that Fix did not understand what was going on.
The seizure of the _Henrietta_, the bribery of the crew, and Fogg's
seamanlike qualities perfectly astounded him; he did not know what to
think; for a gentleman who had begun by stealing fifty-five thousand
pounds might end by stealing a vessel, and Fix not unnaturally came to
the conclusion that the _Henrietta_ would not reach Liverpool at all,
but proceed to some port where Mr. Fogg, turned pirate, would be in
safety. The detective was sorry he had gone into the business.
All this time Captain Speedy continued to grumble and swear in his
cabin, and Passe-partout, who took him his meals, was obliged to be
very circumspect. Mr. Fogg did not seem to care whether there was a
captain on board or not.
On the 13th they passed the Banks of Newfoundland. This was a
dangerous part of the coast, particularly in winter, when fogs and
gales are frequent. On this occasion the barometer had been falling
all the preceding day, and during the night the cold became more
intense, and the wind chopped to the south-east.
This was unfortunate. Mr. Fogg furled his sails and put on full-steam;
nevertheless the speed fell off, as the vessel pitched heavily. The
wind rose, and the position of the _Henrietta_ became precarious.
Passe-partout's face darkened as the sky, and for two days he was in
mortal terror. But Mr. Fogg was a bold sailor, and kept the ship head
to sea without even reducing the steam. The _Henrietta_ rushed through
the waves and deluged her decks. Sometimes the screw was clear out of
the water, but still they kept on.
Although the wind did not increase to a tempest, it held to the
south-east, so the sails were rendered useless, and a great aid to the
screw was thus lost.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Fogg's departure
from London, and half the voyage across the Atlantic had been
accomplished, and the worst was over. In the summer, success would
have been assured, but in winter the weather had them at its mercy.
Passe-partout said nothing, but consoled himself with the reflection
that the steam would not fail them, and he hoped on.
One day the engineer came on deck and spoke anxiously to Mr. Fogg.
This consultation made Passe-partout very uneasy; he would have given
his ears to have heard what they were saying; he managed to catch a
few words, and heard his master say, "Are you sure?"
"Quite certain," replied the engineer; "you must not forget that we
have been piling up the fire ever since we left, and though we had
sufficient coal to go under easy steam to Bordeaux, we had not enough
to carry us to Liverpool at full pressure."
"I will think about it," said Mr. Fogg; and then Passe-partout
understood it all.
The coal was failing!
"If my master can get over this," he thought, "he will be a clever
fellow."
He was so agitated he could not help imparting his knowledge to Fix,
who replied, "Then you really think we are going to Liverpool?"
"Of course we are."
"You idiot!" replied the detective, shrugging his shoulders, as he
turned away.
Passe-partout would have revenged himself for this insult if he had
not reflected that the unlucky Fix was very probably disappointed and
humiliated at having followed a false scent all the way round the
world.
But what would Phileas Fogg do now? No one could say; but he himself
appeared as cool as ever, and to have decided, for he told the
engineer, the same evening, to keep the full-steam on till the coal
was exhausted.
So the _Henrietta_ proceeded at full-steam until, on the 18th, the
coals began to give out, as the engineer had foretold.
"Keep up the steam as much as possible," said Mr. Fogg.
About midday, Phileas Fogg, having taken the ship's reckoning, told
Passe-partout to release Captain Speedy. The Frenchman would rather
have unloosed a tiger, and said, as he went aft, "What an awful rage
he will be in."
A few minutes later a bomb appeared on deck. This bomb was Captain
Speedy, and looked ready to burst.
"Where are we?" was his first remark, as soon as his anger would allow
him to speak. "Where are we?" he repeated, looking round.
"Seven hundred and seventy miles from Liverpool," replied Mr. Fogg
calmly.
"Pirate!" roared Andrew Speedy.
"I requested your attendance, sir."
"You robber!"
"Sir," said Mr. Fogg, "I wish to ask you to sell me your vessel."
"Never, by all the devils!"
"Then I shall be obliged to burn her."
"Burn my ship?"
"Yes, at least the upper works, as we are in want of fuel."
"Burn my ship!" roared Captain Speedy; "why she is worth fifty
thousand dollars!"
"Here are sixty thousand dollars," replied Fogg, as he offered him a
roll of bank-notes.
This had a great effect upon Captain Speedy. In an instant he forgot
his anger, his incarceration, and all his complaints. The ship was
twenty years old, he would make his fortune. The bomb would not burst
after all. Mr. Fogg had extinguished the fuze.
"I shall still keep the hulk, I suppose?"
"The hulk and the engine are yours. Is it a bargain?"
"Yes." And Speedy, seizing the proffered money, put it (speedily) into
his pocket.
All this time Passe-partout was as pale as a ghost, while Fix looked
as if he were going into a fit. Twenty thousand pounds expended, and
the captain still possessed the hull and the machinery, the most
valuable portion of the vessel! It was true that fifty-five thousand
pounds had been stolen.
When Speedy had pocketed the money, Mr. Fogg said to him: "Don't be
astonished at all this; you must know that if I do not reach London on
the 21st of December, I shall lose twenty thousand pounds. Now you see
I lost the steamer at New York--you refused to take me to Liverpool--"
"And I was right," replied the captain, "for I have made twenty
thousand dollars by the refusal." Then he added, more seriously:
"Do you know one thing, Captain--"
"Fogg," said that worthy.
"Captain Fogg; you've got a spice of the Yankee in you!" And having
paid him this compliment, as he fancied, he was going below, when Fogg
said, "Now the vessel is mine!"
"Certainly; from truck to keelson--the wood I mean!"
"All right. Please have all the woodwork cut away and burnt."
It was absolutely necessary to burn the dry wood for fuel; and that
day the poop, cabin fittings, bunks, and the spar-deck were consumed.
Next day, the 19th December, they burned the masts and spars. The crew
worked with a will, and Passe-partout sawed away as lustily as any ten
men. Next day the upper works disappeared, and the _Henrietta_ was
then only a hulk. But on that day they sighted the Fastnet Light and
the Irish coast. By ten o'clock they passed Queenstown. Phileas Fogg
had now only twenty-four hours left to reach Liverpool, even if he
kept up full-speed; and the steam was likely to give out apparently.
"Sir," said Speedy, who was now almost as much interested as the rest,
"I should really suggest your giving up the game. Everything is
against you. We are only just passing Queenstown."
"Ah," exclaimed Fogg, "is that Queenstown where the lights are?"
"Yes."
"Cannot we enter the harbour?"
"Not before three o'clock; the tide will not serve."
"Let us wait then," said Fogg calmly, without betraying any emotion
that, by a last effort, he was about to conquer his ill-luck.
Queenstown is the port at which the American mails are landed, which
are then forwarded to Dublin by an express train, and from thence to
Liverpool[A] by fast steamers, thus gaining twelve hours upon the
fastest vessels.
[Footnote A: Holyhead.--_Trans_.]
Mr. Fogg calculated upon gaining this space of time, and so, instead
of reaching Liverpool next evening, he would be there at noon, and be
able to reach London by a quarter to nine p.m.
About one a.m. the _Henrietta_ entered Queenstown, and Mr. Fogg,
exchanging a clasp of the hand with Captain Speedy, left that
personage upon the vessel, now a mere hulk.
All the party went ashore at once. Fix was much inclined to arrest
Fogg on the spot, but refrained. Why? Did he think he was mistaken
after all? At any rate he would not abandon Mr. Fogg. They all got
into the train at half-past one a.m., and were in Dublin at daybreak,
and immediately embarked on the mail-steamer which, disdaining to ride
over the waves, cut through them.
At twenty minutes to twelve (noon) Mr. Fogg disembarked at
Liverpool.[B] He was within six hours' run from London now.
[Footnote B: Holyhead.--_Trans_.]
But at that moment Fix approached him, and putting his hand upon Mr.
Fogg's shoulder, said:
"Are you really Phileas Fogg?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"Then I arrest you in the Queen's name!"