"You can," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Well, we are going to have a squall."
"Will it come from the north or the south," asked Mr. Fogg simply.
"From the south. See. A typhoon is coming up."
"Good for the typhoon from the south, since it will send us in the right direction," replied Mr. Fogg.
"If you take it so," replied the pilot, "I have nothing more to say."
John Bunsby's presentiments did not deceive him. At a less advanced season of the year, the typhoon, according to the expression of a celebrated meteorologist, would have passed off like a luminous cascade of electric flames, but in November it was to be feared that it would burst with violence.
The pilot took his precautions in advance. He had all the schooner's sails reefed, and the yards brought on deck. The pole-masts were dispensed with. All hands went forward. The hatches were carefully fastened. Not a drop of water could then enter the hull of the vessel. A single triangular sail, a foresail of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib, so as to hold the schooner to the wind behind. And they waited.
John Bunsby had begged his passengers to go down into the cabin; but in the narrow space, almost deprived of air, and knocked about by the waves, this imprisonment had in it nothing agreeable. Neither Mr. Fogg, nor Aouda, nor even Fix was contented to leave the deck.
Towards eight o'clock the storm of rain and wind struck the deck. With nothing but her little bit of sail, the Tankadere was raised like a feather by the wind, the violence of which could not well be described in words. Compare her speed to quadruple that of a locomotive rushing along under full head of steam, and it would still be below the truth.
During the whole day the vessel ran on thus towards the north, carried by the tremendous waves, preserving, fortunately, a rapidity equal to theirs. Twenty times she was almost submerged by these mountains of water which rose upon her from the rear, but an adroit turn of the helm by the pilot warded off the catastrophe. The passengers were sometimes covered all over by the showers of spray, which they received philosophically. Fix did not like it, doubt-
