Works of Jules Verne/Round the World in Eighty Days/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII
IN WHICH ONE THING AND ANOTHER IS TALKED ABOUT DURING THE TRIP FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG
After this day, Passepartout and the detective met frequently, but the latter maintained a very great reserve towards his companion, and he did not try to make him talk. Once or twice only he had a glimpse of Mr. Fogg, who was glad to remain in the grand saloon of the Rangoon, either keeping company with Aouda, or playing at whist, according to his invariable habit.
As for Passepartout, he thought very seriously over the singular chance which had once more put Fix on his master's route. And in fact, it was a little surprising. This gentleman, very amiable and very complacent, certainly, whom they met first at Suez, who embarked upon the Mongolia, who landed at Bombay, where he said that he would stop, whom they meet again on the Rangoon, en route for Hong Kong—in a word, following step by step the route marked out by Mr. Fogg—he was worth the trouble of being thought about. There was at least a singular coincidence in it all. What interest had Fix in it? Passepartout was ready to bet his slippers—he had carefully preserved them—that Fix would leave Hong Kong at the same time as they, and probably on the same steamer.
If Passepartout had thought for a century, he would never have guessed the detective's mission. He would never have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being "followed," after the fashion of a robber, around the terrestrial globe. But as it is in human nature to give an explanation for everything, Passepartout, suddenly enlightened, interpreted in his way the permanent presence of Fix, and, indeed, his interpretation was very plausible. According to him Fix was, and could be, only a detective sent upon Mr. Fogg's tracks by his colleagues of the Reform Club, to prove that this tour around the world was accomplished regularly, according to the time agreed upon.
"That is plain! that is plain!" repeated the honest fellow to himself, quite proud of his clearsightedness. "He is a spy whom these gentlemen have put upon our heels. This is undignified! To have Mr. Fogg, a man so honorable and just, tracked by a detective! Ah! gentlemen of the Reform Club, that will cost you dearly!"
Passepartout, delighted with his discovery, resolved, however, to say nothing of it to his master, fearing that he would be justly wounded at this mistrust which his opponents showed. But he promised himself to banter Fix, as opportunity offered, with covert allusions, and without committing himself.
On Wednesday, October 30, in the afternoon, the Rangoon entered the Straits of Malacca, separating the peninsula of that name from Sumatra. Mountainous, craggy, and very picturesque islets concealed from the passenger the view of this large island.
At four o'clock the next morning, the Rangoon, having gained a half day on its time table, put in at Singapore, to take in a new supply of coal.
Phileas Fogg noted this gain in the proper column, and this time he landed, accompanying Aouda, who had expressed a desire to walk about for a few hours. Fix, to whom every act of Fogg seemed suspicious, followed him without letting himself be noticed. Passepartout, who was going to make his ordinary purchases, laughed in petto seeing Fix's maneuver.
The island of Singapore is neither large nor of an imposing aspect. It is wanting in mountains, that is to say, in profiles. However, it is charming even in its meagerness. It is a park laid out with fine roads. An elegant carriage, drawn by handsome horses, such as have been imported from New Holland, took Aouda and Phileas Fogg into the midst of massive groups of palm trees, of brilliant foliage, and clove trees, the cloves of which are formed from the very bud of the half opened flower. Bands of monkeys, lively and grimacing, were not wanting in the woods, nor perhaps tigers in the jungles. Should anyone be astonished to learn that in this island, comparatively so small, these terrible carnivorous animals were not destroyed to the very last one, we may reply that they come from Malacca, swimming across the straits.
After having driven about the country for two hours, Aouda and her companion—who looked a little without seeing anything—returned into the town, a vast collection of heavy, flat looking houses, surrounded by delightful gardens, in which grow mangoes, pineapples, and all the best fruits in the world. At ten o'clock they returned to the steamer, having been followed, without suspecting it, by the detective, who had also gone to the expense of a carriage.
Passepartout was waiting for them on the deck of the Rangoon. The good fellow had bought a few dozen of mangoes, as large as ordinary apples—dark brown outside, brilliant red inside—and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, gives the true gourmand an unexcelled enjoyment. Passepartout was only too happy to offer them to Aouda, who thanked him very gracefully.
About thirteen hundred miles separate Singapore from the island of Hong Kong, a small English territory, detached from the Chinese coast. It was Phileas Fogg's interest to accomplish this in six days at the most, in order to take at Hong Kong the steamer leaving on the 6th of November for Yokohama, one of the principal ports of Japan.
The Rangoon was heavily laden. Many passengers had come aboard at Singapore—Hindoos, Ceylonese, Chinamen, Malays and Portuguese—mostly second class. The weather, which had been quite fine until this time, changed with the last quarter of the moon. The sea was high. The wind sometimes blew a gale, but fortunately from the southeast, which favored the movement of the steamer. When it was practicable, the captain had the sails unfurled. The Rangoon, brig-rigged, sailed frequently with its two topsails and foresail, and its speed increased under the double impetus of steam and sail. The vessel thus made her way over a short and sometimes fatiguing sea, along the shores of Anam and Cochin China.
But the passengers would have to blame the Rangoon rather than the ocean for their sickness and fatigue. In fact, the ships of the Peninsular Company, in the China service, are seriously defective in their construction. The proportion of their draught, when loaded, to their depth of hold, has been badly calculated, and consequently they stand the sea but poorly. Their bulk, closed, impenetrable to the water, is insufficient. They are "drowned," to use a maritime expression, and, in consequence, it does not take very many waves thrown upon the deck to slacken their speed.
Great precautions had to be taken then in bad weather. It was sometimes necessary to sail under a small head of steam. This loss of time did not seem to affect Phileas Fogg at all, but Passepartout was much put out about it. He blamed the captain, the engineer, and the company, and sent to old Nick all those who had anything to do with the transportation of the passengers. Perhaps, also, the thought of the gas burner still burning at his expense in the house in Saville Row had a large share in his impatience.
"Are you in a very great hurry to arrive at Hong Kong?" the detective asked him one day.
"In a very great hurry!" replied Passepartout.
"You think that Mr. Fogg is in a hurry to take the Yokohama steamer?"
"In a dreadful hurry."
"Then you believe now in this singular voyage around the world?"
"Absolutely. And you, Monsieur Fix?"
"I? I don't believe in it."
"You're a sly fellow," replied Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression left the detective in a reverie. The epithet disturbed him without his knowing very well why. Had the Frenchman guessed his purpose? He did not know what to think. But how had Passepartout been able to discover his capacity as a detective, the secret of which he alone knew. And yet, in speaking thus to him Passepartout certainly had an after thought.
It happened another day that the good fellow went a little further. It was too much for him; he could no longer hold his tongue. "Let us see, Monsieur Fix," he asked his companion in a roguish tone, "when we have arrived at Hong Kong, shall we be so unfortunate as to leave you there?"
"Oh!" replied Fix, quite embarrassed, "I do not know! Perhaps———"
"Ah!" said Passepartout, "if you accompany us, I would be so happy! Let us see! An agent of the Peninsular Company could not stop on the route! You were only going to Bombay, and now you will soon be in China. America is not far off, and from America to Europe it is only a step!"
Fix looked attentively at his companion, who showed the pleasantest face in the world, and he decided to laugh with him. But the latter, who was in the humor, asked him if his business brought him in much?
"Yes and no," replied Fix without frowning. "There are fortunate and unfortunate business enterprises. But you understand of course that I don't travel at my own expense!"
"Oh! I am very sure of that," replied Passepartout, laughing still louder.
The conversation finished, Fix returned to his cabin, and sat down to think. He was evidently suspected. In one way or another the Frenchman had recognized his capacity as a detective. But had he warned his master? What role would he play in all this? Was he an accomplice or not? Had they got wind of the matter, and was it consequently all up? The detective passed some perplexing hours there, at one time believing everything lost; at one time hoping that Fogg was ignorant of the situation; and, finally, not knowing what course to pursue.
Meanwhile his brain became calmer, and he resolved to act frankly with Passepartout. If matters were not in the proper shape to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg was then prepared to leave finally the English territory, he (Fix) would tell Passepartout everything. Either the servant was the accomplice of his master, and the latter knew everything, and in this case the affair was definitely compromised, or the servant had no part in the robbery, and then his interest would be to abandon the robber.
Such was the respective situation of these two men, and above them Phileas Fogg was hovering in his majestic indifference. He was accomplishing rationally his orbit around the world, without being troubled by the asteroids gravitating around him.
And yet, in the vicinity, there was—according to the expression of astronomers—a disturbing star which ought to have produced a certain agitation in this gentleman's heart. But no! The charm Aouda did not act, to the great surprise of Passepartout, and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more difficult to calculate than those of Uranus, which led to the discovery of Neptume. Yes! it was a surprise every day for Passepartout, who read in the eyes of the young woman so much gratitude to his master! Phileas Fogg had decidedly heart enough for heroic actions, but for love, none at all! As for the thoughts which the chances of the journey might have produced in him, there was not a trace.
Passepartout was living in a continual trance. One day, leaning on the railing of the engine-room, he was looking at the powerful engine which sometimes moved very violently, when, with the pitching of the vessel the screw would fly out of the water. The steam then escaped from the valves, which provoked the anger of the worthy fellow. "These valves are not charged enough!" he cried. "We are not going! Oh, these Englishmen! If we were only in an American vessel, we would blow up, perhaps, but we would go more swiftly!"