 CHAPTER 1 IN EIGHTY DAYS CHAPTER 1 IN WHICH PHILLIUS FOG AND PASS PART II ACCEPT EACH OTHER, THE ONE IS MASTER, THE OTHER IS MAN. Mr. Phillius Fog lived in 1872 at No. 7 Savile Row, Burlington Gardens, the house in which Sheridan died in 1814. He was one of the most noticeable members of the reform club, though he seemed always to avoid attracting attention, an enigmatic personage about whom little was known except that he was a polished man of the world. People said that he resembled Byron, at least that his head was byronic, but he was a bearded tranquil Byron who might live on a thousand years without growing old. Certainly an Englishman, it was more doubtful whether Phillius Fog was a Londoner. He was never seen on change, nor at the bank, nor in the counting rooms of the city. No ships ever came into London docks of which he was the owner. He had no public employment. He had never been entered at any of the ends of court, either at the temple, or Lincoln's Inn, or Gray's Inn, nor had his voice ever resounded in the court of chancery, or in the Exchequer, or the Queen's Branch, or the ecclesiastical courts. He certainly was not a manufacturer, nor was he a merchant or a gentleman farmer. His name was strange to the scientific and learned societies, and he never was known to take part in the sage deliberations of the Royal Institution, or the London Institution, the Artisan's Association, or the Institution of Arts and Sciences. He belonged, in fact, to none of the numerous societies which swarm in the English capital, from the harmonic to that of the entomologists, founded mainly for the purpose of abolishing pernicious insects. Phillius Fog was a member of the Reform, and that was all. The way in which he got admission to this exclusive club was simple enough. He was recommended by the bearings with whom he had an open credit. His checks were regularly paid at sight from his account current, which was always flush. Was Phillius Fog rich? Undoubtedly. But those who knew him best could not imagine how he had made his fortune, and Mr. Fog was the last person to whom to apply for the information. He was not lavish, nor, on the contrary, avaricious. For, whenever he knew that money was needed for a noble, useful, or benevolent purpose, he supplied it quietly and sometimes anonymously. He was, in short, the least communicative of men. He talked very little, and seemed all the more mysterious for his taciturn matter. His daily habits were quite open to observation, but whatever he did was so exactly the same thing that he'd always done before that the wits of the curious were fairly puzzled. Had he traveled? It was likely, for no one seemed to know the world more familiarly. There was no spot so secluded that he did not appear to have an intimate acquaintance with it. He often corrected, with a few clear words, the thousand conjectures advanced by members of the club as to lost and unheard of travelers, pointing out the true probabilities, and seeming as if gifted with a sort of second sight, so often did events justify his predictions. He must have traveled everywhere, at least in the spirit. It was at least certain that Philius Fog had not absented himself from London for many years. Those who were honoured by a better acquaintance with him than the rest declared that nobody could pretend to have ever seen him anywhere else. His soul pastimes were reading the papers and playing wist. He often wanted this game, which, as a silent one, harmonised with his nature, but his winnings never went into his purse being reserved as a fund for his charities. Mr. Fog played, not to win, but for the sake of playing. The game was, in his eyes, a contest, a struggle with a difficulty, yet emotionless, unwearying struggle, congenial to his tastes. Philius Fog was not known to have either wife or children, which may happen to the most honest people, either relatives or near friends, which is certainly more unusual. He lived alone in his house in Savile Row, with or none penetrated. A single domestic suffice to serve him. He'd breakfasted and dined at the club, at ours mathematically fixed, in the same room, at the same table, never taking his meals with other members, much less bringing a guest with him, and went home at exactly midnight, only retire at once to bed. He never used the cozy chambers which the Reform provides for its favoured members. He passed ten hours out of the twenty-four in Savile Row, either in sleeping or making his toilet. When he chose to take a walk, it was with a regular step in the entrance hall with its mosaic flooring, or in the circular gallery with its domes supported by twenty red porphyry ionic columns and illumined by blue painted windows. When he breakfasted or dined all the resources of the club, its kitchens and pantries, its buttery and dairy, added to crowd his table with their most succulent stores. He was served by the gravest waiters in dress coats and shoes with swan-skinned soles, who proffered the vines and special porcelain, and on the finest linen, club decanters of a lost mould contained his sherry, his port, and his cinnamon-spiced claret, while his beverages were refreshingly cooled with ice, brought at great cost from the American lakes. If to live in this style is to be eccentric, it must be confessed that there is something good in eccentricity. The mansion in Savile Row, though not sumptuous, was exceedingly comfortable. The habits of its occupant were such as to demand but little from the sole domestic, but Philius Fogg required him to be almost superhumanly prompt and regular. On this very second of October he had dismissed James Forster because that luckless youth had brought him shaving water at 84 degrees Fahrenheit instead of 86, and he was awaiting his successor, who was due at the house between 11 and half past. Philius Fogg was seated squarely in his armchair, his feet close together like those of a grenadier on parade, his hands resting on his knees, his body straight, his head erect. He was steadily watching a complicated clock which indicated the hours, the minutes, the seconds, the days, the months, and the years. At exactly half past eleven Mr. Fogg would, according to his daily habit, quit Savile Row and repair to the reform. A rap at this moment sounded on the door of the cozy apartment where Philius Fogg was seated, and James Forster, the dismissed servant, appeared. The new servant said he, a young man of thirty advanced and bowed. You are a Frenchman, I believe, asked Philius Fogg, and your name is John. Jean, if Mr. pleases, replied the newcomer, Jean passe partout, and his name which is clung to me because I have a natural aptness for going out of one business into another. I believe I'm honest, Mr., but to be outspoken I've had several traits. I've been an itinerant singer, a circus writer, when I used to vault like Lyotard, and dance on a rope like Blondin. Then I got to be a professor of gymnastics so as to make better use of my talents, and then I was a sergeant fighterman at Paris and assisted at many a big fire. But I quitted France five years ago, and, wishing to taste the sweets of domestic life, took service as a valet here in England, finding myself out of place and hearing that Monsieur Philius Fogg was the most exact and settled gentleman in the United Kingdom. I have come to Monsieur in the hope of living with him a tranquil life and forgetting even the name of passe partout. Passe Partout suits me, responded Mr. Fogg. You are well recommended to me. I hear a good report of you. You know my conditions? Yes, Monsieur. Good. What time is it? Twenty-two minutes after eleven return Passe Partout drawing an enormous silver watch from the depths of his pocket. You are too slow, said Mr. Fogg. Pardon me, Monsieur. It is impossible. You are four minutes too slow. No matter. It's enough to mention the error. Now, from this moment, twenty-nine minutes after eleven AM, this Wednesday, second October, you are in my service. Philius Fogg got up, took his hat in his left hand, put it on his head with an automatic motion, and went off without a word. Passe Partout heard the street door shut once. It was his new master going out. He heard it shut again. It was his predecessor, James Forster, departing in his turn. Passe Partout remained alone in the house in Savile Row. End of chapter 2 of Around the World in Eighty Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. Chapter 2, in which Passe Partout is convinced that he has at last found his ideal. Faith, muttered Passe Partout, somewhat flurried, I've seen people at Madame Toussaud's as lively as my new master. Madame Toussaud's people, let it be said, are of wax, and are much visited in London. Speech is all that is wanting to make them human. During his brief interview with Mr. Fogg, Passe Partout had been carefully observing him. He appeared to be a man about forty years of age, with fine, handsome features, and a tall, well-shaped figure. His hair and whiskers were light, his forehead compact and unwrinkled, his face rather pale, his teeth magnificent. His countenance possessed in the highest degree what physiognomists call repose inaction, a quality of those who act rather than talk. Calm and phlegmatic with a clear eye, Mr. Fogg seemed a perfect type of that English composer which Angelica Kaufman has so skillfully represented on canvas. Saying in the various phases of his daily life, he gave the idea of being perfectly well-balanced, as exactly regulated as a Leroy chronometer. Philius Fogg was, indeed, exactitude personified, and this was betrayed even in the expression of his very hands and feet, for in men, as well as in animals, the limbs themselves are expressive of the passions. He was so exact that he was never in a hurry, was always ready, and was economical alike of his steps and his motions. He never took one step too many, and always went to his destination by the shortest cut. He made no superfluous gestures and was never seen to be moved or agitated. He was the most deliberate person in the world, yet always reached his destination at the exact moment. He lived alone and, so to speak, outside of every social relation, and as he knew that in this world account must be taken of friction and that friction retards, he never rubbed against anybody. As for Passepartout, he was a true Parisian of Paris. Since he had abandoned his own country for England, taking service as a valet, he had in vain searched for a master after his own heart. Passepartout was by no means one of those pert dunces depicted by Molière, with a bold gaze and a nose held high in the air. He was an honest fellow, with a pleasant face, lips a tribal protruding, soft-mannered and serviceable, with a good round head, such as one likes to see on the shoulders of a friend. His eyes were blue, his complexion rubacund, his figure almost portly and well-built, his body muscular, and his physical powers fully developed by the exercises of his younger days. His brown hair was somewhat tumbled for while the ancient sculptors are said to have known eighteen methods of arranging manoeuvres stresses. Passepartout was familiar with but one of dressing his own. Three strokes of a large tooth comb completed his toilette. It would be rash to predict how Passepartout's lively nature would agree with Mr. Fogg. It was impossible to tell whether the new servant would turn out as absolutely methodical as his master required. Experience alone could solve the question. Passepartout had been a sort of vagrant in his early years and now yearned for repose. But so far he had failed to find it, though he had already served in ten English houses. But he could not take root in any of these. With Chagrin he found his master's invariably whimsical and irregular, constantly running about the country, or on the lookout for adventure. His last master, young Lord Longferry, member of Parliament, after passing his nights in the Haymarket taverns was too often brought home in the morning on policemen's shoulders. Passepartout, desirous of respecting the gentleman whom he served, ventured a mild remonstrance on such conduct, which, being ill-received, he took his leave. Hearing that Mr. Philius Fogg was looking for a servant and that his life was one of unbroken regularity, that he neither travelled nor stayed from home overnight, he felt sure that this would be the place he was after. He presented himself and was accepted as has been seen. At half-past eleven then Passepartout found himself alone in the house in Savile Row. He begun its inspection without delay, scouring it from cellar to garret. So clean, well arranged, solemn a mansion pleased him. It seemed to him like a snail's shell, lighted and warmed by gas, which suffice for both these purposes. When Passepartout reached the second story, he recognized at once the room which he was to inhabit, and he was well satisfied with it. Electric bells and speaking tubes afforded communication with the lower stories, while on the mantel stood an electric clock, precisely like that in Mr. Fogg's bent chamber, both beating the same second at the same instant. That's good, that'll do, said Passepartout to himself. He suddenly observed, hung over the clock, a card which, upon inspection, proved to be a programme of the daily routine of the house. It comprised all that was required of the servant from eight in the morning, exactly at which our Philius Fogg rose, till half past eleven, when he left the house for the Reform Club, all the details of service, the tea and toast at twenty-three minutes past eight, the shaving water at thirty-seven minutes past nine, and the toilet at twenty minutes before ten. Everything was regulated and foreseen that was to be done from half past eleven a.m. till midnight, the hour at which the methodical gentleman retired. Mr. Fogg's wardrobe was amply supplied and in the best taste. Each pair of trousers, coat and vest bore a number, indicating the time of year and season it which they were in turn to be laid out for wearing, and the same system was applied to the master's shoes. In short, the house in Savile Row, which must have been a very temple of disorder and unrest under the illustrious but dissipated Sheridan, was coziness, comfort and method idealized. There was no study, nor were there books, which would have been quite useless to Mr. Fogg, for at the Reform two libraries, one of general literature and the other of law and politics, were at his service. A moderate-sized safe stood in his bedroom, constructed so as to defy fire as well as burglars, but past part two found neither arms nor haunting weapons anywhere. Everything betrayed the most tranquil and peaceable habits. Having scrutinized the house from top to bottom, he rubbed his hands, a broad smile overspread his features, and he said joyfully, This is just what I wanted. Ah, we shall get on together, Mr. Fogg and I. What a domestic and regular gentleman! A real machine! Well, I don't mind serving a machine. End of chapter. Chapter 3 of Around the World in Eighty Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne Chapter 3 in which a conversation takes place which seems likely to cost Philius Fogg dear. Philius Fogg, having shut the door of his house at half past eleven, and having put his right foot before his left five hundred and seventy-five times, and his left foot before his right five hundred and seventy-six times, reached the Reform Club, and imposing edifice in Palmel, which could not have cost less than three millions. He repaired at once to the dining-room, the nine windows of which opened upon a tasteful garden where the trees were already gilded with an autumn coloring, and took his place at the habitual table, the cover of which had already been laid for him. His breakfast consisted of a side dish, a broiled fish with redding sauce, a scarlet slice of roast beef garnished with mushrooms, a rhubarb and gooseberry tart, and a morsel of Cheshire cheese, the whole being washed down with several cups of tea for which the Reform is famous. He rose at thirteen minutes to one and directed his steps towards the large hall, a sumptuous apartment adorned with lavishly-framed paintings. A flunky handed him an uncut times, which he proceeded to cut with a skill which betrayed familiarity with this delicate operation. The perusal of this paper absorbed Phileus Fogg until a quarter before four, whilst the standard, his next task, occupied him till the dinner-hour. Dinner passed as breakfast had done, and Mr. Fogg reappeared in the reading-room and sat down to the palmel at twenty minutes before six. Half an hour later several members of the Reform came in and drew up to the fireplace where a coal-fire was steadily burning. They were Mr. Fogg's usual partners at Wist, Andrew Stewart, an engineer, John Sullivan and Samuel Fallington, bankers, Thomas Flanagan, a brewer, and Gauthier Ralph, one of the directors of the Bank of England. All rich and highly respectable personages, even in a club which comprises the princes of English trade and finance. "'Well, Ralph,' said Thomas Flanagan, "'what about that robbery?' "'Oh,' replied Stewart, "'the bank will lose the money.' "'On the contrary, broken Ralph, "'I hope we may put our hands on the robber.' "'Skillful detectives have been sent "'to all the principal ports of America and the Continent, "'and he'll be a clever fellow if he slips through their fingers.' "'But have you got the robber's description?' asked Stewart. "'In the first place he is no robber at all,' returned Ralph positively. "'What? A fellow who makes off with fifty-five thousand pounds? No robber?' "'No.' "'Perhaps he's a manufacturer, then.' The Daily Telegraph says that he is a gentleman. It was Philias Fogg, whose head now emerged from behind its newspapers, who made this remark. He bowed to his friends and entered into the conversation the affair which formed its subject, and which was town talk, had occurred three days before at the Bank of England, a package of banknotes to the value of fifty-five thousand pounds had been taken from the principal cashier's table, that functionary being at the moment engaged in registering the receipt of three shillings and sixpence. Of course, he could not have his eyes everywhere. Let it be observed that the Bank of England reposes a touching confidence in the honesty of the public. There are neither guards nor gratings to protect its treasures, but gold, silver, banknotes are freely exposed at the mercy of the first comer. A keen observer of English customs relates that, being in one of the rooms of the bank one day, he had the curiosity to examine a gold ingot weighing some seven or eight pounds. He took it up, scrutinized it, passed it to his neighbor, he to the next man, and so on until the ingot, going from hand to hand, was transferred to the end of a dark entry, nor did it return to its place for half an hour. Meanwhile the cashier had not so much as raised his head. But in the present instance things had not gone so smoothly, the package of notes not being found when five o'clock sounded from the ponderous clock in the drawing-office, the amount was passed to the account of profit and loss. As soon as the robbery was discovered, picked detectives hastened off to Liverpool, Glasgow, Haver, Suez, Brindisi, New York, and other ports, inspired by the proffered reward of two thousand pounds and five percent on the sum that might be recovered. Detectives were also charged with narrowly watching those who arrived at or left London by rail, and a judicial examination was at once entered upon. There were real grounds for supposing, as the Daily Telegraph said, that the thief did not belong to a professional band. On the day of the robbery a well-dressed gentleman of polished manners and with a well-to-do air had been observed going to and fro in the paying-room where the crime was committed. A description of him was easily procured to the detectives, and some hopeful spirits, of whom Ralph was one, did not despair of his apprehension. The papers and clubs were full of the affair, and everywhere people were discussing the probabilities of a successful pursuit, and the reform club was especially agitated, several of its members being bank officials. Ralph would not concede that the work of the detectives was likely to be in vain, for he thought that the prize offered would greatly stimulate their zeal and activity. But Stuart was far from sharing this confidence, and as they placed themselves at the whisk-table they continued to argue the matter. Stuart and Flanagan played together, while Philius Fogg had Fallenton for his partner. As the game proceeded the conversation ceased, accepting between the rubbers when it revived again. "'I maintain,' said Stuart, "'that the chances are in favour of the thief, "'who must be a shrewd fellow.' "'Well, where can he fly to?' asked Ralph. "'No country is safe for him.' "'Pshaw!' "'Where can he go then?' "'Oh, I don't know that. The world is big enough.' "'It was once,' said Philius Fogg, in a low tone. "'Cut, sir,' he added, handing the cards to Thomas Flanagan. The discussion fell during the rubber after which Stuart took up its thread. "'What do you mean by once? Has the world grown smaller?' "'Certainly,' returned Ralph. "'I agree with Mr. Fogg. "'The world has grown smaller, "'since a man can now go round it ten times "'more quickly than a hundred years ago. "'And that is why the search for this thief "'will be more likely to succeed. "'And also why the thief "'can get away more easily.' "'Be so good as to play, Mr. Stuart,' said Philius Fogg. "'But the incredulous Stuart was not convinced, "'and when the hand was finished,' said eagerly, "'you have a strange way, Ralph, "'of proving that the world has grown smaller. "'So, because you can go round it in three months, "'in eighty days,' interrupted Philius Fogg. "'That is true, gentlemen,' added John Sullivan, "'only eighty days now that the section between "'Ruthall and Allahabad "'on the great Indian Peninsula Railway has been opened. "'Here is the estimate made by the Daily Telegraph. "'From London to Suez via Monsinnes and Brindisi "'by rail and steamboats seven days. "'From Suez to Bombay by steamer thirteen days. "'From Bombay to Calcutta by rail three days. "'From Calcutta to Hong Kong by steamer thirteen days. "'From Hong Kong to Yokohama, Japan by steamer six days. "'From Yokohama to San Francisco by steamer twenty-two days. "'From San Francisco to New York by rail seven days. "'From New York to London by steamer and rail nine days. "'Total eighty days.' "'Yes, in eighty days,' exclaimed Stuart, "'who in his excitement made a false deal. "'But that doesn't take into account bad weather, "'contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on. "'All included,' returned Philius Fogg, "'continuing to play, despite the discussion. "'But suppose the Hindus or Indians pull up the rails?' replied Stuart. "'Suppose they stop the trains, pillage the luggage fans, "'and scalp the passengers.' "'All included,' calmly retorted Fogg, "'adding, as he threw down the cards, two trumps. "'Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, "'gathered them up and went on. "'You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically.' "'Practically also, Mr. Stuart?' "'I'd like to see you do it in eighty days.' "'It depends on you, shall we go?' "'Heaven preserve me, but I would wait "'your four thousand pounds that such a journey "'made under these conditions is impossible. "'On the contrary,' returned Mr. Fogg. "'Well, make it, then.' "'The journey round the world in eighty days?' "'Yes. "'I should like nothing better.' "'When?' "'At once. "'Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.' "'It's absurd,' cried Stuart, "'who was beginning to be annoyed "'at the persistency of his friend. "'Come, let's go on with the game.' "'Deal over again, then,' said Philius Fogg. "'There's a false deal.' "'Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand, "'then suddenly put them down again.' "'Well, Mr. Fogg,' said he, "'it shall be so. "'I will wager the four thousand on it.' "'Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,' said Valentin. "'It's only a joke.' "'When I say I'll wager,' returned Stuart, "'I mean it.' "'All right,' said Mr. Fogg, "'and turning to the others,' he continued, "'I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Bering's, "'which I will willingly risk upon it.' "'Twenty thousand pounds,' cried Stuart, "'twenty thousand pounds, "'which you would lose by a single accidental delay. "'The unforeseen does not exist.' "'Quietly,' replied Philius Fogg. "'But Mr. Fogg, "'eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible time "'in which the journey can be made. "'A well-used minimum suffices for everything. "'But in order not to exceed it, "'you must jump mathematically from the trains upon the steamers "'and from the steamers upon the trains again. "'I will jump mathematically.' "'You are joking!' "'A true Englishman doesn't joke "'when he is talking about so serious a thing as a wager,' replied Philius Fogg solemnly. "'I will bet twenty thousand pounds "'against anyone who wishes "'that I will make the tour of the world in eighty days or less, "'in nineteen hundred and twenty hours "'or a hundred and fifteen thousand two hundred minutes. "'Do you accept?' "'We accept,' replied M. Stewart, "'Falentine, Sullivan, Flanagan, and Ralph "'after consoling each other. "'Good,' said Mr. Fogg. "'The train leaves for Dover at a quarter before nine. "'I will take it.' "'This very evening?' asked Stewart. "'This very evening.' returned Philius Fogg. He took out and consulted a pocket almanac and added. "'As today is Wednesday, the second of October, "'I shall be due in London in this very room of the Reform Club, "'on Saturday, the twenty-first of December, "'at a quarter before nine p.m., "'or else the twenty thousand pounds, "'now deposited in my name at Bering's, "'will belong to you, in fact, and in right, gentlemen. "'Here is a check for the amount.' A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by the six parties, during which Philius Fogg preserved a stoical composure. He certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked the twenty thousand pounds, half of his fortune, because he foresaw that he might have to expend the other half to carry out this difficult, not to say unattainable, project. As for his antagonists, they seemed much agitated, not so much by the value of their stake, as because they had some scruples about betting under conditions so difficult to their friend. The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure. "'I am quite ready now,' was his tranquil response. "'Diamonds are trumps. Be so good as to play, gentlemen.' End of Chapter 4 of Around the World in Eighty Days. This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne Chapter 4 In which Philius Fogg astounds Passpartout his servant. Having won twenty guineas at Wist, and taken leave of his friends, Philius Fogg at twenty-five minutes past seven left the Reform Club. Passpartout, who had conscientiously studied the program of his duties, was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness of appearing at this unaccustomed hour. For, according to rule, he was not due in Savile Row until precisely midnight. Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom and called out, "'Passpartout!' Passpartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called. It was not the right hour. "'Passpartout!' repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice. Passpartout made his appearance. "'I've called you twice,' observed his master. "'But it is not midnight,' responded the other, showing his watch. "'I know it. I don't blame you. We start for Dover and Calais in ten minutes.' A puzzled grin overspread Passpartout's round face. Clearly he had not comprehended his master. "'Monsieur is going to leave home?' "'Yes,' returned Mephilius Fogg. "'We are going round the world.' Passpartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows, held up his hands, and seemed about to collapse, so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment. "'Round the world!' he murmured. "'In eighty days,' responded Mr. Fogg, "'so we haven't a moment to lose.' "'But the trunks!' gasped Passpartout, unconsciously swaying his head from right to left. "'We'll have no trunks, only a carpet bag, with two shirts and three pairs of stockings for me, and same for you. We'll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down my Macintosh and traveling cloak and some stout shoes, though we shall do little walking. Make haste!' Passpartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out, mounted to his own room, fell into a chair and muttered, "'That's good, that is, and I who wanted to remain quiet!' He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure. "'Around the world in eighty days. Was his master a fool?' "'Was this a joke, then?' "'They were going to Dover, good. To Calais, good again. After all, Passpartout, who had been away from France five years, would not be sorry to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they would go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more. But surely a gentleman so cherry of his steps would stop there, no doubt. But then it was none the less true that he was going away, this so domestic person hitherto!' By eight o'clock Passpartout had packed the modest carpet bag, containing the wardrobes of his master and himself, then, still troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room and descended to Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound copy of Bradshaw's Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide, with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways. He took the carpet bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of Bank of England notes which would pass wherever he might go. "'You have forgotten nothing?' asked he. "'Nothing, Monsieur. My Macintosh and Cloak. Here they are!' "'Good. Take this carpet bag.' Hanning it to Passpartout. "'Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.' Passpartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds were in gold, and weighed him down. Master and man then descended. The street door was double-locked, and at the end of Savile Row they took a cab and drove rapidly to Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station in twenty minutes past eight. Passpartout jumped off the box and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman, was about to enter the station. When a poor beggar woman, with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud, her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather, and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, and approached, and mournfully asked for alms. Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just wanted whisked, and handed them to the beggar, saying, "'Here, my good woman, I'm glad that I met you,' and passed on. Passpartout had a moist sensation about the eyes. His master's action touched his susceptible heart. Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased, Mr. Fogg was crossing the station to the train when he perceived his five friends of the reform. "'Well, gentlemen,' said he, "'I'm off, you see, and if you will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.' "'Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,' said Ralph politely, "'we will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour. "'Do not forget when you are due in London again,' asked Stuart. "'In eighty days, on Saturday, the twenty-first of December, "'1872, at a quarter before nine p.m.' "'Good-bye, gentlemen!' Philias Fogg and his servants seated themselves in a first-class carriage at twenty minutes before nine, five minutes later the whistle screamed, and the train slowly glided out of the station. The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling. Philias Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips. Passpartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction, clung mechanically to the carpet-bag with its enormous treasure. Just as the train was whirling through Sidonham, Passpartout suddenly uttered a cry of despair. "'What's the matter?' asked Mr. Fogg. "'Alas! Am I a hurry? I forgot!' "'What?' "'To turn off the gas in my room.' "'Very well, young man,' returned Mr. Fogg coolly. "'It will burn at your expense.' End of chapter. CHAPTER V. OF AROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS. CHAPTER V. IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN, APPEARS ON CHANGE. Philias Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London would create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the bet spread through the Reform Club and afforded an exciting topic of conversation to its members. From the club it soon got into the papers throughout England. The boasted, tour of the world was talked about, disputed, argued with as much warmth as if the subject was another Alabama claim. It took sides with Philias Fogg, but the large majority shook their heads and declared against him. It was absurd, impossible, they declared, that the tour of the world could be made, except theoretically and on paper, in this minimum of time, and with the existing means of travelling. The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other highly respectable newspapers, scouted Mr. Fogg's project as Madness. The Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general thought him a lunatic and blamed his Reform Club friends for having accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer. Articles no less passionate than logical appeared on this question, for geography is one of the pet subjects of the English, and the columns devoted to Philias Fogg's venture were eagerly devoured by all classes of readers. At first some rash individuals, principally of the gentler sex, espoused his cause, which became still more popular when the illustrated London news came out with his portrait, copied from a photograph and the Reform Club. A few readers of the Daily Telegraph even dared to say, Why not, after all, stranger things have come to pass? At last a long article appeared on the 7th of October in the Bulletin of the Royal Geographical Society which treated the question from every point of view and demonstrated the utter folly of the enterprise. Everything, it said, was against the travellers, every obstacle imposed alike by man and by nature. A miraculous agreement of the times of departure and arrival, which was impossible, was absolutely necessary to his success. He might perhaps reckon on the arrival of trains at the designated hours in Europe, where the distances were relatively moderate, but when he calculated upon crossing India in three days, and the United States in seven, could he rely beyond misgiving upon accomplishing his task? There were accidents to machinery, the liability of trains to run off the line, collisions, bad weather, the blocking up by snow, were not all these against Philius Fogg? Would he not find himself when travelling by steamer in winter at the mercy of the winds and fogs? Is it uncommon for the best ocean steamers to be two or three days behind time? But a single delay would suffice to fatally break the chain of communication should Philius Fogg once miss, even by an hour. A steamer, he would have had to wait for the next that would irrevocably render his attempt vain. This article made a great deal of noise, and being copied into all the papers, seriously depressed the advocates of the rash tourist. Everybody knows that England is the world of betting men, who are of a higher class than mere gamblers, to bet is in the English temperament. Not only the members of the reform, but the general public made heavy wages for or against Philius Fogg, who was set down in the betting books as if he were a racehorse. Bonds were issued, and made their appearance on change. Philius Fogg bonds were offered at par or at a premium, and a great business was done in them. But five days after the article in the Bulletin of the Geographical Society appeared, the demand began to subside. Philius Fogg declined. They were offered by packages at first of five, then of ten, until at last nobody would take less than twenty, fifty, a hundred. Lord Albemarle, an elderly paralytic gentleman, was now the only advocate of Philius Fogg left. This noble lord, who was fastened to his chair, would have given his fortune to be able to make the tour of the world and take ten years, and he bet five thousand pounds on Philius Fogg. When the folly, as well as the uselessness of the adventure, was pointed out to him, he contended himself with replying, If the thing is feasible, the first to do it ought to be an Englishman. The Fogg party dwindled more and more. Everybody was going against him, and the bets stood a hundred and fifty and two hundred to one, and a week after his departure an incident occurred which deprived him of backers at any price. The Commissioner of Police was sitting in his office at nine o'clock one evening when the following telegraphic dispatch was put into his hands. Suez to London. Rowan, Commissioner of Police, Scotland Yard. I've found the bank robber, Philius Fogg, Sand Without Delay warrant of arrest to Bombay. Signed, Fix Detective. The effect of this dispatch was instantaneous. The polished gentleman disappeared to give place to the bank robber. His photograph, which was hung with those of the rest of the members at the Reform Club, was minutely examined, and it betrayed, feature by feature, the description of the robber which had been provided to the police. The mysterious habits of Philius Fogg were recalled, his solitary ways, his sudden departure, and it seemed clear that, in undertaking a tour round the world on the pretext of a wager, he had had no other end in view than to elude the detectives and throw them off his track. End of chapter. Chapter 6 of Around the World in Eighty Days This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. Chapter 6, in which Fix the Detective betrays a very natural impatience. The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Philius Fogg was sent were as follows. The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Company, built of iron, of 2,800 tons burden, and 500 horsepower, was due at 11 o'clock a.m. on Wednesday the 9th of October at Suez. The Mongolia applied regularly between Brindisi and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers belonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour between Brindisi and Suez, and nine-and-a-half between Suez and Bombay. Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of natives, and strangers who were so journeying at this once-straggling village. Now, thanks to the enterprise of Mr. Lesseps, a fast-growing town, England was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies of the English government and the unfavorable predictions of Stevenson, was in the habit of seeing from his office window English ships daily passing to and fro on the Great Canal, by which the old roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was abridged by at least a half. The other was a small, slight-built personage with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering out from under eyebrows, which he was incessantly twitching. He was just now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing up and down, and unable to stand still for a moment. This was FIX one of the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the bank robber. It was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal, which he had received two days before from the police headquarters at London. The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining the splendid reward, which would be the prize of success, and awaited with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the steamer Mongolia. "'So you say, Consul,' asked he for the twentieth time, "'that this steamer is never behind time?' "'No, Mr. FIX,' replied the Consul. She was bespoken yesterday at Port Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft. I repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by the company's regulations and gained the prize awarded for excess of speed. "'Does she come directly from Brindisi?' "'Directly from Brindisi. She takes on the Indian males there, and she left there Saturday at five p.m. "'Have patience, Mr. FIX. She will not be late. "'But really, I don't see how, from the description you have, you will be able to recognize your man, even if he is on board the Mongolia. "'A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, Consul, than recognizes them. "'You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a six-sense, which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling. "'I've arrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and if my thief is on board, I'll answer for it. He'll not slip through my fingers.' "'I hope so, Mr. FIX, for it was a heavy robbery.' "'A magnificent robbery, Consul, fifty-five thousand pounds. "'We don't often have such windfalls. The burglars are getting to be so contemptible nowadays. A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings.' "'Mr. FIX,' said the Consul, "'I like your way of talking, and hope you'll succeed, but I fear you will find it far from easy. "'Don't you see? The description which you have there has a singular resemblance to an honest man.' "'Consul,' remarked the detective dogmatically, "'Great robbers always resemble honest folks. Fellows who have rascally faces have only one course to take, and that is to remain honest. Otherwise they would be arrested offhand. The artistic thing is, to unmask honest countenances is no like task, I admit, but a real art.' Mr. FIX evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit. Little by little the scene on the key became more animated. Sailors of various nations, merchants, shipbrokers, porters, fellas, bustled to and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected. The weather was clear and slightly chilly. The minarets of the town loomed above the houses in the pale rays of the sun. A jetty pier, some 2,000 yards along, extended into the roadstead. A number of fishing-smacks and coasting-boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient galleries, were discernible on the Red Sea. As he passed among the busy crowd, FIX, according to Habit, scrutinized the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance. It was now half-past ten. The steamer doesn't come, he exclaimed, as the port-clock struck. She can't be far off now, returned his companion. How long would she stop at Suez? Four hours, long enough to get in her coal. It is thirteen hundred and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and she has to take in a fresh coal supply. And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay? Without putting in anywhere. Good, said FIX, if the robber is on board he will no doubt get off at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some other route. He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in India, which is English soil. Unless, objected the consul, he is exceptionally shrewd, and English criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere else. This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and meanwhile the consul went away to his office. FIX left alone was more impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on board the Mongolia. If he had indeed left London intending to reach the New World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was less watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic. But FIX's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp whistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia. The porters and fellas rushed down the key, and a dozen boats pushed off from the shore to go and meet the steamer. Soon her gigantic hull appeared passing along between the banks, and eleven o'clock struck as she anchored in the road. She brought an unusual number of passengers, some of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the town, while the greater part disembarked in the boats and landed on the key. FIX took up a position and carefully examined each face and figure which made its appearance. Presently one of the passengers, after vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters, came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have vis-a-d. FIX instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance read the description of its bearer. An involuntary motion of surprise nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard. Is this your passport? asked he. No, it is my master's. And your master is? He stayed on board. But he must go to the consuls in person so as to establish his identity. Oh, is that necessary? Quite indispensable. And where is the consulate? There, on the corner of the square, said FIX pointing to a house two hundred steps off. I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to be disturbed. The passenger bowed to FIX and returned to the steamer. End of chapter. Chapter 7 Of Around the World in Eighty Days Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne Chapter 7 The detective passed down the key and rapidly made his way to the consul's office where he was at once admitted to the presence of that official. Consul, said he without preamble, I have strong reasons for believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia. And he narrated what had just passed concerning the passport. Well, Mr. FIX replied the consul, I shall not be sorry, to see the rascals face. But perhaps he won't come here. That is, if he is the person you suppose him to be. A robber doesn't quite like to leave traces of his flight behind him. And besides, he is not obliged to have his passport counter-signed. If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come. To have his passport vis-a-d? Yes. Passports are only good people. Yes. Passports are only good for annoying, honest folks, and aiding in the flight of rogues. I assure you it will be quite the thing for him to do, but I hope you will not vis-a the passport. Why not? If the passport is genuine, I have no right to refuse. Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest him from London. Ah! That's your look out. But I cannot. The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the servant whom Fix had met on the key. The other, who was his master, held out his passport with the request that the consul would do him the favour to vis-a it. The consul took the document and carefully read it, whilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes from a corner of the room. You are Mr. Philius Fogg, said the consul after reading the passport. I am. And this man is your servant? He is. A Frenchman named Passepartout. You are from London? Yes. And you are going? To Bombay. Very good, sir. You know that a vis-a is useless and that no passport is required. I know it, sir, replied Philius Fogg, but I wished to prove by your vis-a that I came by Suez. Very well, sir. The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he added his official seal. Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly bowed, and went out, followed by his servant. Well, queried the detective. Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man, replied the consul. Possibly, but that is not the question. Do you think consul that this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber whose description I have received? I concede that, but then you know all descriptions. I'll make certain of it. Interrupted fix. The servant seems to me less mysterious than the master. Besides, he's a Frenchman and can't help talking. Excuse me for a little while, consul. Fix started off in search of Passepartout. Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the key, gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the Mongolia in a boat, and descended to his cabin. He took up his notebook which contained the following memoranda. Left London Wednesday October 2nd at 8.45 p.m. Reached Paris Thursday October 3rd at 7.20 a.m. Left Paris Thursday at 8.40 a.m. Reached Turin by Mount Sinus Friday October 4th at 6.35 a.m. Left Turin Friday at 7.20 a.m. Arrived at Brindisi Saturday October 5th at 4 p.m. Sailed on the Mongolia Saturday at 5 p.m. Reached Suez Wednesday October 9th at 11 a.m. Total of hours spent 158 plus, or in days six days and a half. These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns, indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point, Paris, Brindisi, Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco, New York, and London from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December, and giving a space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered on arrival at each locality. This methodical record thus contained an account of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was behindhand or in advance of his time. On this Friday, October 9th, he noted his arrival at Suez and observed that he had as yet neither gained nor lost. He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never once thinking of inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who are want to see foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics. End of Chapter 8 of Around the World in Eighty Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days Chapter 8 in which Passepartout talks rather more, perhaps, than is prudent. Fogg soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on the key, as if he did not feel that he at least was obliged not to see anything. Well, my friend, said the detective, coming up with him, is your passport visit? Ah, it's you, is it, Monsieur? responded Passepartout. Thanks, yes, the passport is all right. And you are looking about you? Yes, but we travel so fast, that I seem to be journeying in a dream. So this is Suez. Yes, in Egypt? Certainly in Egypt. And in Africa? In Africa? In Africa, repeated Passepartout. Just think, Monsieur, I had no idea that we should go farther than Paris, and all that I saw Paris was between twenty minutes past seven, and twenty minutes before nine in the morning, between the northern and the Lyon stations, through the window of a car, and in a driving rain. How I regret not having seen once more Père Lachaise and the Circus in the Champs-Élysées. You are in a great hurry, then. I am not, but my master is. By the way, I must buy some shoes and shirts. We came away without trunks, only with a carpet bag. I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want. Really, Monsieur, you are very kind. And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting voluably as they went along. Above all, said he, don't let me lose the steamer. You have plenty of time, it's only twelve o'clock. Passepartout pulled out his big watch. Twelve, he exclaimed. Why, it's only eight minutes before ten. Your watch is slow. My watch, a family watch, Monsieur, which has come down from my great-grandfather, it doesn't vary five minutes in the year. It is a perfect chronometer, look you. I see how it is, said Vix. You have kept London time, which is two hours behind that of Suez. You ought to regulate your watch at noon in each country. I regulate my watch? Never! Well then, it will not agree with the sun. So much the worse for the sun, Monsieur, the sun will be wrong then. And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant gesture. After a few minutes' silence, Vix resumed. You left London hastily then. I rather think so. Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening, Monsieur Fogg came home from his club and three-quarters of an hour afterwards we were off. But where is your master going? Always straight ahead. He is going round the world. Round the world! cried Vix. Yes, and in eighty days. He says it is on a wager. But between us I don't believe a word of it. That wouldn't be common sense. There's something else in the wind. Ah, Mr. Fogg is a character, is he? I should say he was. Is he rich? No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sun in brand new banknotes with him. And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either. He has offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to Bombay well in advance of time. And you have known your master a long time? Why, no! I entered his service the very day we left London. The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited detective may be imagined. The hasty departure from London soon after the robbery, the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg, his eagerness to reach distant countries, the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet, all confirmed fix in his theory. He continued to pump poor Paspartout and learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who lived a solitary existence in London, was said to be rich, though no one knew whence came his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in his affairs and habits. Fix felt sure that Philius Fogg would not land at Suez but was really going on to Bombay. Is Bombay far from here? Asked Paspartout. Pretty far. It is a ten days voyage by sea. And in what country is Bombay? India. In Asia? Certainly. Fix, I was going to tell you that there's one thing that worries me, my burner. What burner? My gas burner, which I forgot to turn off and which is at this moment burning at my expense. I have calculated, Mr. Earth, that I lose two shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I earn, and you will understand that the longer our journey Did Fix pay any attention to Paspartout's trouble about the gas? It is not probable. He was not listening but was cogitating a project. Paspartout and he had now reached the shop where Fix left his companion to make his purchases after recommending him not to miss the steamer and hurried back to the consulate. Now that he was fully convinced Fix had quite recovered his equanimity. Consul, said he, I have no longer any doubt. I have spotted my man. He passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in eighty days. Then he's a sharp fellow, return the Consul, and counts on returning to London after putting the police of the two countries off his track. We'll see about that, replied Fix. But are you not mistaken? I am not mistaken. Why was this robber so anxious to prove by the visa that he had passed through Suez? Why? I have no idea, but listen to me. He reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation with Paspartout. In short, said the Consul, appearances are wholly against this man and what are you going to do? Send a dispatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be dispatched instantly to Bombay. Take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my rogue to India, and there on English ground arrest him politely with my warrant in my hand and my hand on his shoulder. Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective took leave of the Consul and repaired to the telegraph office whence he sent the dispatch which we have seen to the London police office. A quarter of an hour later found Fix with a small bag in his hand proceeding on board the Mongolia, and, air many moments longer, the noble steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea. End of chapter. Chapter 9 of Around the World in Eighty Days This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne. Chapter 9, in which the Red Sea and the Indian Ocean prove propitious to the designs of Philius Fogg. The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it. The Mongolia, thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so rapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that time. The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for India, some for Bombay, others for Calcutta, by way of Bombay, the nearest route Thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian Peninsula. Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of various grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British forces or commanding the Seapoy troops and receiving high salaries ever since the central government had assumed the powers of the East India Company. For the sub-lieutenants get two hundred and eighty pounds, brigadiers twenty four hundred pounds, and generals of divisions four thousand pounds. What with the military men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels and the hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the Mongolia. The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, the ladies scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day and the hours were whirled away when the sea was tranquil with music, dancing, and games. But the Red Sea is full of caprice and often boisterous, like most long and narrow gulfs. When the wind came from the African or Asian coast, the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearfully. Then the ladies speedily disappeared below, the pianos were silent, singing and dancing suddenly ceased. Yet the good ship plowed straight on, unretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab El Mandeb. What was Philius Fogg doing all this time? It might be thought that, in his anxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind, the disorderly raging of the billows, every chance, in short, which might force the Mongolia to slacken her speed and thus interrupt his journey. But, if he thought of these possibilities, he did not betray the fact by any outward sign. Always the same impassable member of the Reform Club, whom no incident could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers and seldom having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through the memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference, and he did not care to recognize the historic towns and villages which, along its borders, raised their picturesque outlines against the sky, and betrayed no fear of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always spoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never ventured without propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices. How did this eccentric personage pass his time on the Mongolia? He made his four hardy meals every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling and pitching on the part of the steamer, and he played wist indefatigably, for he had found partners as enthusiastic in the game as himself. A tax collector, on the way to his post at Goa, the Reverend Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at Bombay, and a brigadier general of the English army who was about to rejoin his brigade at Benares, made up the party, and with Mr. Fogg played wist by the hour together in absorbing silence. As for Passepartout, he too had escaped sea sickness and took his meals conscientiously in the forward cabin. He rather enjoyed the voyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in the scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself with the delusion that his master's whim would end at Bombay. He was pleased on the day after leaving Suez to find on deck the obliging person with whom he had walked and chatted on the keys. If I am not mistaken, said he, approaching this person, with his most amiable smile, you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to guide me at Suez? Ah! I quite recognize you. You are the servant of the strange Englishman. Just so, monsieur. Fix. Monsieur Fix, resumed Passepartout, I am charmed to find you on board. Where are you bound? Like you, to Bombay. That's capital. Have you made this trip before? Several times. I am one of the agents of the peninsular company. Then you knew India? Why, yes, replied Fix, who spoke cautiously. A curious place, this India? Oh, very curious. Mosques, minarets, temples, fakers, pagodas, tigers, snakes, elephants. I hope you will have ample time to see the sights. I hope so, monsieur Fix. You see a man of sound sense ought not to spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a railway train upon a steamer again, to make the tour of the world in eighty days. No, all these gymnastics you may be sure will cease at Bombay. Am Mr. Fogg is getting on well? asked Fix in the most natural tone in the world. Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre. It is the seer. But I never see your master on deck. Never, he hasn't at least curiosity. Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty days may conceal some secret errand, perhaps a diplomatic mission? Faith, monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would I give half a crown to find out. After this meeting Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man's confidence. He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale in the steamer-bar room, which Passepartout never failed to accept, with graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows. Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly. On the thirteenth mocha, surrounded by its ruined walls, where on-date trees were growing, was sighted, and on the mountains beyond were his spied coffee-fields. Passepartout was ravished to behold the celebrated place, and thought that with its circular walls and dismantled fort it looked like an immense coffee-cup in saucer. The following night they passed through the Strait of Bab el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic, the Bridge of Tears, and the next day they put in its steamer-point northwest of Aden Harbour to take in coal. This matter of fueling steamers is a serious one at such distances from the coal mines. It cost the Peninsular Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year. In these distant seas coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton. The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at steamer-point to coal up. But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect Philius Fogg's program. Besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching Aden on the morning of the fifteenth when she was due, arrived there on the evening of the fourteenth, a gain of fifteen hours. Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport again vis-a-d, fix, unobserved, followed them. The visa procured Mr. Fogg returned on board to resume his former habits, while past part two, according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of Somalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprised the twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden. He gazed with wonder upon the fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian Ocean and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at work two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon. Very curious, very curious, said past part two to himself on returning to the steamer, I see that it is by no means useless to travel if a man wants to see something new. At six p.m. the Mongolia slowly moved out of the roadstead and was soon once more on the Indian Ocean. She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to reach Bombay and the sea was favourable, the wind being to the northwest and all sails aiding the engine. The steamer rolled but little, the ladies in fresh toilets reappeared on deck and the singing and dancing were resumed. The trip was being accomplished most successfully and past part two was enchanted with a congenial companion which Chance had secured him in the person of the delightful Fix. On Sunday, October 20, towards noon, they came in sight of the Indian coast. Two hours later the pilot came on board. A range of hills lay against the sky in the horizon and soon the rows of palms which adorned Bombay came distinctly into view. The steamer entered the road forward by the islands in the bay and at half-past four she hauled up at the keys of Bombay. Philius Fogg was in the act of the third rubber of the voyage and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a brilliant victory. The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd. She arrived on the 20th. This was a gain to Philius Fogg of two days since his departure from London and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary in the column of gains. End of CHAPTER 10 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne CHAPTER 10 In which Passpartout is only too glad to get off with the loss of his shoes. Everybody knows that the Great Reverse Triangle of Land with its base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The British Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of this vast country and has a governor general, stationed at Calcutta, governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant governor at Agra. But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred thousand square miles and a population of from one hundred to one hundred and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion of India is still free from British authority and there are certain ferocious rogers in the interior who are absolutely independent. The celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756 when the English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city of Madras, down to the time of the Great Seapoy insurrection. It gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor general and his subordinates civil and military. But the East India Company has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly under the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well as the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing. Formally one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbersome methods of going on foot or on horseback in palinkans or unwieldy coaches. Now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges and a great railway with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its route traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days. This railway does not run in a direct line across India. The distance between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from 1,000 to 1,100 miles, but the deflections of the road increase this distance by more than a third. The general route of the great Indian Peninsula railway is as follows. Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcet, crossing to the continent opposite Tanna, goes over the chain of the western goutts, runs thence northeast as far as Burampur, skirts the nearly independent territory of Bundelkund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence easterly, meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little and descending southeastward by Burdavan and the French town of Chanturnagore has its terminus at Calcutta. The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half past 4 p.m. At exactly 8, the train would start for Calcutta. Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whisked partners, left the steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to be at the station promptly at 8, and with his regular step, which beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to the passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay, its famous city hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques, synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar Hill with its two polygonal towers, he cared not a straw to see them. He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta or the mysterious Hypogea, concealed southeast from the docks, or those fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Canarian grottoes of the island of South Set. Having transacted his business at the passport office, Philius Fogg repaired quietly to the railway station where he ordered dinner. Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended a certain giblet of native rabbit on which he prided himself. Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but despite its spiced sauce found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord and on his appearance said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "'Is this rabbit, sir?' "'Yes, my lord,' the rogue boldly replied, "'rabbit from the jungles.' "'And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?' "'Mew, my lord, what a rabbit mew? "'Yes, where to you?' "'Be so good, landlord, as not to swear. "'But remember this. "'Cats were formally considered in India "'as sacred animals. "'That was a good time.' "'Fall the cats, my lord!' "'Perhaps for the travellers as well,' after which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone on shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the headquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a London detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had arrived from London. It had not reached the office. Indeed there had not yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely disappointed and tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay police. This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant. Fix did not insist, and was feigned to resign himself to await the arrival of the important document, but he was determined not to lose sight of the mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay. He did not doubt for a moment any more than Past Part 2 that Philius Fogg would remain there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive. Past Part 2, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on leaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay as they had done Suez in Paris, and that the journey would be extended at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He began to ask himself of this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in good earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him, despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days. Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many nationalities, Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round turbans, Cindies with square bonnets, Parsis with black mitres, and long-robed Armenians were collected. It happened to be a day of a Parsi festival. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster, the most thrifty, civilized, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay, were celebrating a sort of religious carnival with processions and shows, in the midst of which Indian dancing girls, clothed in rose-colored gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily but with perfect modesty, to the sound of vials and the clanging of tambourines. It is needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the greenest booby imaginable. Unhappily for his master as well as himself, his curiosity drew him unconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seen the Parsi carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps towards the station when he happened to aspire the splendid begota on Malabar Hill and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its interior. He was quite ignorant that it was forbidden to Christians to enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in without first leaving their shoes outside the door. It may be said here that the wise policy of the British government severely punishes a disregard of the practices of the native religions. Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist and was soon lost in admiration for the splendid Brahmin ornamentation which everywhere met his eyes when all of a sudden he found himself sprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enraged priests who forthwith fell upon him, tore off his shoes, and began to beat him with loud savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soon upon his feet again and lost no time in knocking down two of his long-gowned adversaries with fists and a vigorous application of his toes. Then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd in the streets. At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed breathlessly into the station. Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station and saw that he was really going to leave Bombay, was there upon the platform. He had resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta and farther if necessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective who stood in an obscure corner, but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words to Mr. Fogg. I hope this will not happen again, said Philius Fogg coldly as he got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed his master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering another carriage when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan. No, I'll stay, muttered he, and a fence has been committed on Indian soil. I've got my man. Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech and the train passed out into the darkness of the night. CHAPTER 11 OF A ROUND THE WORLD IN EIGHTY DAYS This is the LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This recording is by Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina. Around the World in Eighty Days, by Jules Verne. Chapter 11, in which Philius Fogg secures a curious means of conveyance at a fabulous price. The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were a number of officers, government officials, and opium and indigo merchants, whose business called them to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode in the same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a seat opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's Wisp partners on the Mongolia, now on his way to join his corps at Benares. Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatly distinguished himself from the last seapoy revolt. He made India his home, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals, and was almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history, and character of India and its people. But Philius Fogg, who was not travelling, but only describing a circumference, took no pains to inquire into these subjects. He was a solid body, traversing an orbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the laws of rational mechanics. He was at this moment calculating in his mind the number of hours spent since his departure from London. And had it been in his nature to make a useless demonstration, would have rubbed his hands for satisfaction. Sir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his travelling companion, although the only opportunity he had for studying him had been while he was dealing the cards, and between two rubbers, and questioned himself whether a human heart really beat beneath this cold exterior, and whether Philius Fogg had any sense of the beauties of nature. The Brigadier General was free to mentally confess that of all the eccentric persons he had ever met, none was comparable to this product of the exact sciences. Philius Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design of going round the world, nor the circumstances under which he set out, and the General only saw in the wager a useless eccentricity, and a lack of sound common sense. In the way this strange gentleman was going on he would leave the world without having done any good to himself or anybody else. An hour after leaving Bombay, the train had passed the viaducts and the island of Salset, and it got into the open country. At Kalyan they reached the junction of the branch line, which descends towards southeastern India by Kandala and Pune, and passing Palwell they entered the defiles of the mountains with their basalt bases and their summits crowned with thick and verdant forests. Philius Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty exchanged a few words from time to time, and now Sir Francis, reviving the conversation, observed, Some years ago, Mr. Fogg, you would have met with a delay at this point, which would probably have lost you, your wager. How so, Sir Francis? Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, which the passengers were obliged to cross in Palinkans or on ponies to Kandala on the other side. Such a delay would not have deranged my plans in the least, said Mr. Fogg. I have constantly foreseen the likelihood of certain obstacles. But, Mr. Fogg, pursued Sir Francis, you're on the risk of having some difficulty about this worthy fellow's adventure at the pagoda. Past Part 2, his feet comfortably wrapped in his travelling blanket was sound asleep and did not dream that anybody was talking about him. The government is very severe upon that kind of offence. It takes particular care that the religious customs of the Indians should be respected, and if your servant were caught. Very well, Sir Francis. Replyed Mr. Fogg, if he had been caught he would have been condemned and punished, and then would have quietly returned to Europe. I don't see how this affair could have delayed his master. The conversation fell again. During the night the train left the mountains behind and passed Nessek, and the next day proceeded over the flat, well-cultivated country of the Kandish, with its straggling villages, above which rose the minarets of the pagodas. This fertile territory is watered by numerous small rivers and limpid streams, mostly tributaries of the Godavari. Past Part 2, on waking and looking out, could not realize that he was actually crossing India in a railway train. The locomotive, guided by an English engineer and fed with English coal, threw out its smoke upon cotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove, and pepper plantations, while the steam curled in spirals round groups of palm trees, in the midst of which were seen picturesque bungalows, viharis, sort of abandoned monasteries, and marvelous temples enriched by the exhaustless ornamentation of Indian architecture. Then they came upon vast tracks extending to the horizon, with jungles inhabited by snakes and tigers, which fled at the noise of the train, succeeded by forests penetrated by the railway, and still haunted by elephants which, with pensive eyes, gazed at the train as it passed. The travelers crossed beyond Miligom, the fatal country so often stained with blood by the sectaries of the goddess Kali. Not far off rose Ellora with its graceful pagodas, and the famous Arungabad, capital of the ferocious Aurangzeb, now the chieftown of one of the detached provinces of the kingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts that Farangia, the Thuggy chief, king of the stranglers, held his sway. These ruffians, united by a secret bond, strangled victims of every age in honour of the goddess Death, without ever shedding blood. There was a period when this part of the country could scarcely be travelled over without corpses being found in every direction. The English government had succeeded in greatly diminishing these murders, so the Thuggies still exist and pursue the exercise of their horrible rites. At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhanpur, where Paspartu was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with false pearls, in which, with evident vanity, he proceeded to encase his feet. The travelers made a hasty breakfast and started off for Asarghur. After skirting for a little, the small river Tapti, which empties into the Gulf of Cambrai, near Surat. Paspartu was now plunged into absorbing reverie. Up to his arrival at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journey would end there. But, now that they were plainly whirling across India at full speed, a sudden change had come over the spirit of his dreams. His old vagabond nature returned to him. The fantastic ideas of his youth once more took possession of him. He came to regard his master's project as intended in good earnest, believed in the reality of the bet, and therefore in the tour of the world, and the necessity of making it without fail within the designated period. Already he began to worry about possible delays and accidents which might happen on the way. He raised himself as being personally interested in the wager and trembled at the thought that he might have been the means of losing it by his unpardonable folly of the night before. Being much less cool-headed than Mr. Fogg, he was much more restless, counting and recounting the days passed over, uttering maledictions when the train stopped, and accusing it of sluggishness and mentally blaming Mr. Fogg for not having bribed the engineer. The worthy fellow was ignorant that, while it was possible by such means to hasten the rate of a steamer, it could not be done on the railway. The train entered the defiles of the Sattpur Mountains, which separate the Khandish from Buldakund towards evening. The next day, Sir Francis Cromarty asked past part two what time it was, to which, on consulting his watch, he replied that it was three in the morning. This famous timepiece, always regulated on the Greenwich Meridian, which was now some seventy-seven degrees westward, was at least four hours slow. Sir Francis corrected past part two's time, whereupon the latter made the same remark that he had done to fix, and upon the general insisting that the watch should be regulated in each new meridian, since he was constantly going eastward, that is, in the face of the sun, and therefore the days were shorter by four minutes for each degree gone over, past part two obstinately refused to alter his watch, which he kept at London time. It was an innocent delusion which could harm no one. The train stopped at eight o'clock, in the midst of a glade some fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows and workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along the carriages, shouted, Passengers, we'll get out here. Philius Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation, but the general could not tell what meant a halt in the midst of this forest of dates and acacias. Past part two, not less surprise, rushed out and speedily returned crying, Miss you, no more railway! What do you mean? asked Sir Francis. I mean to say that the train isn't going on. The general at once stepped out, while Philius Fogg calmly followed him, and they proceeded together to the conductor. Where are we? asked Sir Francis, at the hamlet of Colby. Do we stop here? Certainly, the railway isn't finished. What, not finished? You know, there's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from here to Allahabad, where the line begins again. But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout. What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken. Yet you'll sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta! retorted Sir Francis, who was growing warm. No doubt, replied the conductor, but the passengers know that they must provide means of transportation for themselves from Colby to Allahabad. Sir Francis was furious. Past part two would willingly have knocked the conductor down and did not dare to look at his master. Sir Francis, said Mr. Fogg quietly, we will, if you please, look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad. Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage. No, Sir Francis, it was foreseen. What, you knew that the way? Not at all, but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooner or later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days which I have already gained to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon on the twenty-fifth. This is the twenty-second, and we shall reach Calcutta in time. There was nothing to say to so confident a response. It was but too true that the railway came to a termination at this point. The papers were like some watches, which have a way of getting too fast, and had been premature in their announcement of the completion of the line. The greater part of the travellers were aware of this interruption, and, leaving the train, they began to engage such vehicles as the village could provide, four-wheeled pachygaris, wagons drawn by zebus, carriages that looked like perambulating pagodas, palinkans, ponies, and what-not. Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the village from end to end, came back without having found anything. I shall go afoot," said Philius Fogg. Passpartout who had now rejoined his master made a rye grimace as he thought of his magnificent but too frail Indian shoes. Happily he too had been looking about him, and after a moment's hesitation said, Monsieur, I think I have found our means of conveyance. What? An elephant, an elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives but a hundred steps from here. Let's go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg. They soon reached a small hut near which, enclosed within some high palings, was the animal in question. An Indian came out of the hut and at their request conducted them within the enclosure. The elephant, which its owner had reared, not for a beast of burden, but for warlike purposes, was half domesticated. The Indian had begun already, by often irritating him, and feeding him every three months on sugar and butter, to impart to him a ferocity not in his nature, this method being often employed by those who trained the Indian elephants for battle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal's instruction in this direction had not gone far, and the elephant still preserved his natural gentleness. Qiyuni—this was the name of the beast—could doubtless travel rapidly for a long time, and in default of any other means of conveyance Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are far from cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce. The males, which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought, especially as but few of them are domesticated. When therefore Mr. Fogg proposed to the Indian to hire Qiyuni, he refused point blank. Mr. Fogg persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds an hour for the loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twenty pounds. Refused also. Forty pounds. Still refused. Past part two jumped at each advance, but the Indian declined to be tempted. Yet the offer was an alluring one, for supposing it took the elephant fifteen hours to reach Allahabad, his owner would receive no less than six hundred pounds sterling. Philius Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, then proposed to purchase the animal outright, and it first offered a thousand pounds for him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he was going to make a great bargain, still refused. Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him to reflect before he went any further, to which that gentleman replied that he was not in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousand pounds was at stake, but the elephant was absolutely necessary to him, and that he would secure him if he had to pay twenty times his value. Returning to the Indian, whose small sharp eyes, glistening with avarice, betrayed that with him it was only a question of how great a price he could obtain. Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. Past part two, usually so Rubikand, was fairly white with suspense. At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded. What the price, good heavens! cried past part two, for an elephant! It only remained now to find a guide, which was comparatively easy. A young Parsi, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr. Fogg accepted, promising so generous a ward as to materially stimulate his zeal. The elephant was let out and equipped. The Parsi, who was an accomplished elephant driver, covered his back with a sort of saddle cloth, and attached to each of his flanks some curiously uncomfortable how-does. Philius Fogg paid the Indian with some bank notes which he extracted from the famous carpet bag, a proceeding that seemed to deprive poor past part two of his vitals. Then he offered to carry Sir Francis to Allahabad, which the Brigadier gratefully accepted, as one traveler the more would not be likely to fatigue the gigantic beast. Provisions were purchased at Colby, and while Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took the how-does on either side, past part two got us...