In which Phileas Fogg, Passepartout, and Fix go each about his business

The weather was bad during the latter days of the voyage.
The wind, obstinately remaining in the north-west, blew a gale,
and retarded the steamer. The Rangoon rolled heavily and the
passengers became impatient of the long, monstrous waves which
the wind raised before their path. A sort of tempest arose on
the 3rd of November, the squall knocking the vessel about with fury,
and the waves running high. The Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even
the rigging proved too much, whistling and shaking amid the squall.
The steamer was forced to proceed slowly, and the captain estimated
that she would reach Hong Kong twenty hours behind time, and more
if the storm lasted.

Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be struggling
especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He never changed
countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty hours, by making him
too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost inevitably cause the loss
of the wager. But this man of nerve manifested neither impatience
nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm were a part of his programme,
and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed to find him as calm as he had been
from the first time she saw him.

Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light.
The storm greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have
been complete had the Rangoon been forced to retreat before
the violence of wind and waves. Each delay filled him with hope,
for it became more and more probable that Fogg would be obliged
to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now the heavens themselves
became his allies, with the gusts and squalls. It mattered not
that they made him sea-sick–he made no account of this inconvenience;
and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his spirit bounded
with hopeful exultation.

Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master’s service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam
united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds
were to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him,
the gale made him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea
into obedience. Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him
his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could
scarcely have restrained himself from personal violence.

Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted,
being unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head
to aid the progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew.
He overwhelmed the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not
help laughing at his impatience, with all sorts of questions.
He wanted to know exactly how long the storm was going to last;
whereupon he was referred to the barometer, which seemed to have
no intention of rising. Passepartout shook it, but with no
perceptible effect; for neither shaking nor maledictions
could prevail upon it to change its mind.

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 to-morrow 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 to-morrow.”

“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.