"And I have done well, by all the imps of the lower regions," cried Andrew Speedy, "since I make by it at least forty thousand dollars."
Then he added, more calmly: "Do you know one thing, captain———?"
"Fogg."
"Well, Captain Fogg, there is something of the Yankee in you."
And having paid his passenger what he thought to be a compliment, he went away, when Phileas Fogg said to him: "Now this ship belongs to me?"
"Certainly, from the keel to the truck of the masts, all the wood, understand."
"Very well. Cut away the inside arrangements and fire up with the débris."
It may be judged how much of this dry wood was necessary to maintain the steam at a sufficient pressure. This day, the poop deck, the cabins, the bunks, and the spare deck all went.
The next day, the 19th of December, they burned the masts, the rafts, and the spars. They cut down the masts, and delivered them to the ax. The crew displayed an incredible zeal. Passepartout, hewing, cutting, sawing, did the work of ten men. It was a perfect fury of demolition.
The next day, the 20th, the railings, the armor, all of the ship above water, the greater part of the deck, were consumed. The Henrietta was now a vessel cut down like a pontoon.
But on this day they sighted the coast of Ireland and Fastnet Light.
However, at ten o'clock in the evening, the ship was only passing Queenstown. Phileas Fogg had only twenty-four hours to reach London! Now, this was the time the Henrietta needed to reach Liverpool, even under full headway. And the steam was about to fail the bold gentleman!
"Sir," said Captain Speedy to him then, who had come to be interested in his projects, "I really pity you. Everything is against you. We are as yet only in front of Queenstown."
"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, "that is Queenstown, the place where we perceive the light?"
"Yes."
