prompt:
Chapter: The Rangoon--one of the Peninsular and Oriental Company's boats plying
in the Chinese and Japanese seas--was a screw steamer, built of iron,
weighing about seventeen hundred and seventy tons, and with engines of
four hundred horse-power.  She was as fast, but not as well fitted up,
as the Mongolia, and Aouda was not as comfortably provided for on board
of her as Phileas Fogg could have wished.  However, the trip from
Calcutta to Hong Kong only comprised some three thousand five hundred
miles, occupying from ten to twelve days, and the young woman was not
difficult to please.

During the first days of the journey Aouda became better acquainted
with her protector, and constantly gave evidence of her deep gratitude
for what he had done.  The phlegmatic gentleman listened to her,
apparently at least, with coldness, neither his voice nor his manner
betraying the slightest emotion; but he seemed to be always on the
watch that nothing should be wanting to Aouda's comfort.  He visited
her regularly each day at certain hours, not so much to talk himself,
as to sit and hear her talk.  He treated her with the strictest
politeness, but with the precision of an automaton, the movements of
which had been arranged for this purpose.  Aouda did not quite know
what to make of him, though Passepartout had given her some hints of
his master's eccentricity, and made her smile by telling her of the
wager which was sending him round the world.  After all, she owed
Phileas Fogg her life, and she always regarded him through the exalting
medium of her gratitude.

Aouda confirmed the Parsee guide's narrative of her touching history.
She did, indeed, belong to the highest of the native races of India.
Many of the Parsee merchants have made great fortunes there by dealing
in cotton; and one of them, Sir Jametsee Jeejeebhoy, was made a baronet
by the English government.  Aouda was a relative of this great man, and
it was his cousin, Jeejeeh, whom she hoped to join at Hong Kong.
Whether she would find a protector in him she could not tell; but Mr.
Fogg essayed to calm her anxieties, and to assure her that everything
would be mathematically--he used the very word--arranged.  Aouda
fastened her great eyes, "clear as the sacred lakes of the Himalaya,"
upon him; but the intractable Fogg, as reserved as ever, did not seem
at all inclined to throw himself into this lake.

The first few days of the voyage passed prosperously, amid favourable
weather and propitious winds, and they soon came in sight of the great
Andaman, the principal of the islands in the Bay of Bengal, with its
picturesque Saddle Peak, two thousand four hundred feet high, looming
above the waters.  The steamer passed along near the shores, but the
savage Papuans, who are in the lowest scale of humanity, but are not,
as has been asserted, cannibals, did not make their appearance.

The panorama of the islands, as they steamed by them, was superb.  Vast
forests of palms, arecs, bamboo, teakwood, of the gigantic mimosa, and
tree-like ferns covered the foreground, while behind, the graceful
outlines of the mountains were traced against the sky; and along the
coasts swarmed by thousands the precious swallows whose nests furnish a
luxurious dish to the tables of the Celestial Empire.  The varied
landscape afforded by the Andaman Islands was soon passed, however, and
the Rangoon rapidly approached the Straits of Malacca, which gave
access to the China seas.

What was detective Fix, so unluckily drawn on from country to country,
doing all this while?  He had managed to embark on the Rangoon at
Calcutta without being seen by Passepartout, after leaving orders that,
if the warrant should arrive, it should be forwarded to him at Hong
Kong; and he hoped to conceal his presence to the end of the voyage.
It would have been difficult to explain why he was on board without
awakening Passepartout's suspicions, who thought him still at Bombay.
But necessity impelled him, nevertheless, to renew his acquaintance
with the worthy servant, as will be seen.

All the detective's hopes and wishes were now centred on Hong Kong; for
the steamer's stay at Singapore would be too brief to enable him to
take any steps there.  The arrest must be made at Hong Kong, or the
robber would probably escape him for ever.  Hong Kong was the last
English ground on which he would set foot; beyond, China, Japan,
America offered to Fogg an almost certain refuge.  If the warrant
should at last make its appearance at Hong Kong, Fix could arrest him
and give him into the hands of the local police, and there would be no
further trouble.  But beyond Hong Kong, a simple warrant would be of no
avail; an extradition warrant would be necessary, and that would result
in delays and obstacles, of which the rascal would take advantage to
elude justice.

Fix thought over these probabilities during the long hours which he
spent in his cabin, and kept repeating to himself, "Now, either the
warrant will be at Hong Kong, in which case I shall arrest my man, or
it will not be there; and this time it is absolutely necessary that I
should delay his departure.  I have failed at Bombay, and I have failed
at Calcutta; if I fail at Hong Kong, my reputation is lost:  Cost what
it may, I must succeed!  But how shall I prevent his departure, if that
should turn out to be my last resource?"

Fix made up his mind that, if worst came to worst, he would make a
confidant of Passepartout, and tell him what kind of a fellow his
master really was.  That Passepartout was not Fogg's accomplice, he was
very certain.  The servant, enlightened by his disclosure, and afraid
of being himself implicated in the crime, would doubtless become an
ally of the detective.  But this method was a dangerous one, only to be
employed when everything else had failed.  A word from Passepartout to
his master would ruin all.  The detective was therefore in a sore
strait.  But suddenly a new idea struck him.  The presence of Aouda on
the Rangoon, in company with Phileas Fogg, gave him new material for
reflection.

Who was this woman?  What combination of events had made her Fogg's
travelling companion?  They had evidently met somewhere between Bombay
and Calcutta; but where?  Had they met accidentally, or had Fogg gone
into the interior purposely in quest of this charming damsel?  Fix was
fairly puzzled.  He asked himself whether there had not been a wicked
elopement; and this idea so impressed itself upon his mind that he
determined to make use of the supposed intrigue.  Whether the young
woman were married or not, he would be able to create such difficulties
for Mr. Fogg at Hong Kong that he could not escape by paying any amount
of money.

But could he even wait till they reached Hong Kong?  Fogg had an
abominable way of jumping from one boat to another, and, before
anything could be effected, might get full under way again for Yokohama.

Fix decided that he must warn the English authorities, and signal the
Rangoon before her arrival.  This was easy to do, since the steamer
stopped at Singapore, whence there is a telegraphic wire to Hong Kong.
He finally resolved, moreover, before acting more positively, to
question Passepartout.  It would not be difficult to make him talk;
and, as there was no time to lose, Fix prepared to make himself known.

It was now the 30th of October, and on the following day the Rangoon
was due at Singapore.

Fix emerged from his cabin and went on deck.  Passepartout was
promenading up and down in the forward part of the steamer.  The
detective rushed forward with every appearance of extreme surprise, and
exclaimed, "You here, on the Rangoon?"

"What, Monsieur Fix, are you on board?" returned the really astonished
Passepartout, recognising his crony of the Mongolia.  "Why, I left you
at Bombay, and here you are, on the way to Hong Kong!  Are you going
round the world too?"

"No, no," replied Fix; "I shall stop at Hong Kong--at least for some
days."

"Hum!" said Passepartout, who seemed for an instant perplexed.  "But
how is it I have not seen you on board since we left Calcutta?"

"Oh, a trifle of sea-sickness--I've been staying in my berth.  The Gulf
of Bengal does not agree with me as well as the Indian Ocean.  And how
is Mr. Fogg?"

"As well and as punctual as ever, not a day behind time!  But, Monsieur
Fix, you don't know that we have a young lady with us."

"A young lady?" replied the detective, not seeming to comprehend what
was said.

Passepartout thereupon recounted Aouda's history, the affair at the
Bombay pagoda, the purchase of the elephant for two thousand pounds,
the rescue, the arrest, and sentence of the Calcutta court, and the
restoration of Mr. Fogg and himself to liberty on bail.  Fix, who was
familiar with the last events, seemed to be equally ignorant of all
that Passepartout related; and the later was charmed to find so
interested a listener.

"But does your master propose to carry this young woman to Europe?"

"Not at all.  We are simply going to place her under the protection of
one of her relatives, a rich merchant at Hong Kong."

"Nothing to be done there," said Fix to himself, concealing his
disappointment.  "A glass of gin, Mr. Passepartout?"

"Willingly, Monsieur Fix.  We must at least have a friendly glass on
board the Rangoon."

The detective and Passepartout met often on deck after this interview,
though Fix was reserved, and did not attempt to induce his companion to
divulge any more facts concerning Mr. Fogg.  He caught a glimpse of
that mysterious gentleman once or twice; but Mr. Fogg usually confined
himself to the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, according to his
inveterate habit, took a hand at whist.

Passepartout began very seriously to conjecture what strange chance
kept Fix still on the route that his master was pursuing.  It was
really worth considering why this certainly very amiable and complacent
person, whom he had first met at Suez, had then encountered on board
the Mongolia, who disembarked at Bombay, which he announced as his
destination, and now turned up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon, was
following Mr. Fogg's tracks step by step.  What was Fix's object?
Passepartout was ready to wager his Indian shoes--which he religiously
preserved--that Fix would also leave Hong Kong at the same time with
them, and probably on the same steamer.

Passepartout might have cudgelled his brain for a century without
hitting upon the real object which the detective had in view.  He never
could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being tracked as a robber
around the globe.  But, as it is in human nature to attempt the
solution of every mystery, Passepartout suddenly discovered an
explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth far from
unreasonable.  Fix, he thought, could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's
friends at the Reform Club, sent to follow him up, and to ascertain
that he really went round the world as had been agreed upon.

"It's clear!" repeated the worthy servant to himself, proud of his
shrewdness.  "He's a spy sent to keep us in view!  That isn't quite the
thing, either, to be spying Mr. Fogg, who is so honourable a man!  Ah,
gentlemen of the Reform, this shall cost you dear!"

Passepartout, enchanted with his discovery, resolved to say nothing to
his master, lest he should be justly offended at this mistrust on the
part of his adversaries.  But he determined to chaff Fix, when he had
the chance, with mysterious allusions, which, however, need not betray
his real suspicions.

During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered
the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from
Sumatra.  The mountainous and craggy islets intercepted the beauties of
this noble island from the view of the travellers.  The Rangoon weighed
anchor at Singapore the next day at four a.m., to receive coal, having
gained half a day on the prescribed time of her arrival.  Phileas Fogg
noted this gain in his journal, and then, accompanied by Aouda, who
betrayed a desire for a walk on shore, disembarked.

Fix, who suspected Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them cautiously,
without being himself perceived; while Passepartout, laughing in his
sleeve at Fix's manoeuvres, went about his usual errands.

The island of Singapore is not imposing in aspect, for there are no
mountains; yet its appearance is not without attractions.  It is a park
checkered by pleasant highways and avenues.  A handsome carriage, drawn
by a sleek pair of New Holland horses, carried Phileas Fogg and Aouda
into the midst of rows of palms with brilliant foliage, and of
clove-trees, whereof the cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants replaced the prickly hedges of European fields;
sago-bushes, large ferns with gorgeous branches, varied the aspect of
this tropical clime; while nutmeg-trees in full foliage filled the air
with a penetrating perfume.  Agile and grinning bands of monkeys
skipped about in the trees, nor were tigers wanting in the jungles.

After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg
returned to the town, which is a vast collection of heavy-looking,
irregular houses, surrounded by charming gardens rich in tropical
fruits and plants; and at ten o'clock they re-embarked, closely
followed by the detective, who had kept them constantly in sight.

Passepartout, who had been purchasing several dozen mangoes--a fruit
as large as good-sized apples, of a dark-brown colour outside and a
bright red within, and whose white pulp, melting in the mouth, affords
gourmands a delicious sensation--was waiting for them on deck.  He was
only too glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very
gracefully for them.

At eleven o'clock the Rangoon rode out of Singapore harbour, and in a
few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests, inhabited
by the most beautifully-furred tigers in the world, were lost to view.
Singapore is distant some thirteen hundred miles from the island of
Hong Kong, which is a little English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to accomplish the journey in six days, so as to be
in time for the steamer which would leave on the 6th of November for
Yokohama, the principal Japanese port.

The Rangoon had a large quota of passengers, many of whom disembarked
at Singapore, among them a number of Indians, Ceylonese, Chinamen,
Malays, and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.

The weather, which had hitherto been fine, changed with the last
quarter of the moon.  The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at intervals
rose almost to a storm, but happily blew from the south-west, and thus
aided the steamer's progress.  The captain as often as possible put up
his sails, and under the double action of steam and sail the vessel
made rapid progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China.  Owing
to the defective construction of the Rangoon, however, unusual
precautions became necessary in unfavourable weather; but the loss of
time which resulted from this cause, while it nearly drove Passepartout
out of his senses, did not seem to affect his master in the least.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and
consigned all who were connected with the ship to the land where the
pepper grows.  Perhaps the thought of the gas, which was remorselessly
burning at his expense in Saville Row, had something to do with his hot
impatience.

"You are in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach
Hong Kong?"

"A very great hurry!"

"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"

"Terribly anxious."

"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"

"Absolutely.  Don't you, Mr. Fix?"

"I?  I don't believe a word of it."

"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.

This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why.  Had the
Frenchman guessed his real purpose?  He knew not what to think.  But
how could Passepartout have discovered that he was a detective?  Yet,
in speaking as he did, the man evidently meant more than he expressed.

Passepartout went still further the next day; he could not hold his
tongue.

"Mr. Fix," said he, in a bantering tone, "shall we be so unfortunate as
to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"

"Why," responded Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know; perhaps--"

"Ah, if you would only go on with us!  An agent of the Peninsular
Company, you know, can't stop on the way!  You were only going to
Bombay, and here you are in China.  America is not far off, and from
America to Europe is only a step."

Fix looked intently at his companion, whose countenance was as serene
as possible, and laughed with him.  But Passepartout persisted in
chaffing him by asking him if he made much by his present occupation.

"Yes, and no," returned Fix; "there is good and bad luck in such
things.  But you must understand that I don't travel at my own expense."

"Oh, I am quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing heartily.

Fix, fairly puzzled, descended to his cabin and gave himself up to his
reflections.  He was evidently suspected; somehow or other the
Frenchman had found out that he was a detective.  But had he told his
master?  What part was he playing in all this: was he an accomplice or
not?  Was the game, then, up?  Fix spent several hours turning these
things over in his mind, sometimes thinking that all was lost, then
persuading himself that Fogg was ignorant of his presence, and then
undecided what course it was best to take.

Nevertheless, he preserved his coolness of mind, and at last resolved
to deal plainly with Passepartout.  If he did not find it practicable
to arrest Fogg at Hong Kong, and if Fogg made preparations to leave
that last foothold of English territory, he, Fix, would tell
Passepartout all.  Either the servant was the accomplice of his master,
and in this case the master knew of his operations, and he should fail;
or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his
interest would be to abandon the robber.

Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout.  Meanwhile Phileas
Fogg moved about above them in the most majestic and unconscious
indifference.  He was passing methodically in his orbit around the
world, regardless of the lesser stars which gravitated around him.  Yet
there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star,
which might have produced an agitation in this gentleman's heart.  But
no! the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great
surprise; and the disturbances, if they existed, would have been more
difficult to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery
of Neptune.

It was every day an increasing wonder to Passepartout, who read in
Aouda's eyes the depths of her gratitude to his master.  Phileas Fogg,
though brave and gallant, must be, he thought, quite heartless.  As to
the sentiment which this journey might have awakened in him, there was
clearly no trace of such a thing; while poor Passepartout existed in
perpetual reveries.

One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine-room, and was
observing the engine, when a sudden pitch of the steamer threw the
screw out of the water.  The steam came hissing out of the valves; and
this made Passepartout indignant.

"The valves are not sufficiently charged!" he exclaimed.  "We are not
going.  Oh, these English!  If this was an American craft, we should
blow up, perhaps, but we should at all events go faster!"

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

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

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

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

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

On the 4th, however, the sea became more calm, and the storm lessened
its violence; the wind veered southward, and was once more favourable.
Passepartout cleared up with the weather.  Some of the sails were
unfurled, and the Rangoon resumed its most rapid speed.  The time lost
could not, however, be regained.  Land was not signalled until five
o'clock on the morning of the 6th; the steamer was due on the 5th.
Phileas Fogg was twenty-four hours behind-hand, and the Yokohama
steamer would, of course, be missed.

The pilot went on board at six, and took his place on the bridge, to
guide the Rangoon through the channels to the port of Hong Kong.
Passepartout longed to ask him if the steamer had left for Yokohama;
but he dared not, for he wished to preserve the spark of hope, which
still remained till the last moment.  He had confided his anxiety to
Fix who--the sly rascal!--tried to console him by saying that Mr. Fogg
would be in time if he took the next boat; but this only put
Passepartout in a passion.

Mr. Fogg, bolder than his servant, did not hesitate to approach the
pilot, and tranquilly ask him if he knew when a steamer would leave
Hong Kong for Yokohama.

"At high tide to-morrow morning," answered the pilot.

"Ah!" said Mr. Fogg, without betraying any astonishment.

Passepartout, who heard what passed, would willingly have embraced the
pilot, while Fix would have been glad to twist his neck.

"What is the steamer's name?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"The Carnatic."

"Ought she not to have gone yesterday?"

"Yes, sir; but they had to repair one of her boilers, and so her
departure was postponed till to-morrow."

"Thank you," returned Mr. Fogg, descending mathematically to the saloon.

Passepartout clasped the pilot's hand and shook it heartily in his
delight, exclaiming, "Pilot, you are the best of good fellows!"

The pilot probably does not know to this day why his responses won him
this enthusiastic greeting.  He remounted the bridge, and guided the
steamer through the flotilla of junks, tankas, and fishing boats which
crowd the harbour of Hong Kong.

At one o'clock the Rangoon was at the quay, and the passengers were
going ashore.

Chance had strangely favoured Phileas Fogg, for had not the Carnatic
been forced to lie over for repairing her boilers, she would have left
on the 6th of November, and the passengers for Japan would have been
obliged to await for a week the sailing of the next steamer.  Mr. Fogg
was, it is true, twenty-four hours behind his time; but this could not
seriously imperil the remainder of his tour.

The steamer which crossed the Pacific from Yokohama to San Francisco
made a direct connection with that from Hong Kong, and it could not
sail until the latter reached Yokohama; and if Mr. Fogg was twenty-four
hours late on reaching Yokohama, this time would no doubt be easily
regained in the voyage of twenty-two days across the Pacific.  He found
himself, then, about twenty-four hours behind-hand, thirty-five days
after leaving London.

The Carnatic was announced to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
Mr. Fogg had sixteen hours in which to attend to his business there,
which was to deposit Aouda safely with her wealthy relative.

On landing, he conducted her to a palanquin, in which they repaired to
the Club Hotel.  A room was engaged for the young woman, and Mr. Fogg,
after seeing that she wanted for nothing, set out in search of her
cousin Jeejeeh.  He instructed Passepartout to remain at the hotel
until his return, that Aouda might not be left entirely alone.

Mr. Fogg repaired to the Exchange, where, he did not doubt, every one
would know so wealthy and considerable a personage as the Parsee
merchant.  Meeting a broker, he made the inquiry, to learn that Jeejeeh
had left China two years before, and, retiring from business with an
immense fortune, had taken up his residence in Europe--in Holland the
broker thought, with the merchants of which country he had principally
traded.  Phileas Fogg returned to the hotel, begged a moment's
conversation with Aouda, and without more ado, apprised her that
Jeejeeh was no longer at Hong Kong, but probably in Holland.

Aouda at first said nothing.  She passed her hand across her forehead,
and reflected a few moments.  Then, in her sweet, soft voice, she said:
"What ought I to do, Mr. Fogg?"

"It is very simple," responded the gentleman.  "Go on to Europe."

"But I cannot intrude--"

"You do not intrude, nor do you in the least embarrass my project.
Passepartout!"

"Monsieur."

"Go to the Carnatic, and engage three cabins."

Passepartout, delighted that the young woman, who was very gracious to
him, was going to continue the journey with them, went off at a brisk
gait to obey his master's order.

Hong Kong is an island which came into the possession of the English by
the Treaty of Nankin, after the war of 1842; and the colonising genius
of the English has created upon it an important city and an excellent
port.  The island is situated at the mouth of the Canton River, and is
separated by about sixty miles from the Portuguese town of Macao, on
the opposite coast.  Hong Kong has beaten Macao in the struggle for the
Chinese trade, and now the greater part of the transportation of
Chinese goods finds its depot at the former place.  Docks, hospitals,
wharves, a Gothic cathedral, a government house, macadamised streets,
give to Hong Kong the appearance of a town in Kent or Surrey
transferred by some strange magic to the antipodes.

Passepartout wandered, with his hands in his pockets, towards the
Victoria port, gazing as he went at the curious palanquins and other
modes of conveyance, and the groups of Chinese, Japanese, and Europeans
who passed to and fro in the streets.  Hong Kong seemed to him not
unlike Bombay, Calcutta, and Singapore, since, like them, it betrayed
everywhere the evidence of English supremacy.  At the Victoria port he
found a confused mass of ships of all nations: English, French,
American, and Dutch, men-of-war and trading vessels, Japanese and
Chinese junks, sempas, tankas, and flower-boats, which formed so many
floating parterres.  Passepartout noticed in the crowd a number of the
natives who seemed very old and were dressed in yellow.  On going into
a barber's to get shaved he learned that these ancient men were all at
least eighty years old, at which age they are permitted to wear yellow,
which is the Imperial colour.  Passepartout, without exactly knowing
why, thought this very funny.

On reaching the quay where they were to embark on the Carnatic, he was
not astonished to find Fix walking up and down.  The detective seemed
very much disturbed and disappointed.

"This is bad," muttered Passepartout, "for the gentlemen of the Reform
Club!"  He accosted Fix with a merry smile, as if he had not perceived
that gentleman's chagrin.  The detective had, indeed, good reasons to
inveigh against the bad luck which pursued him.  The warrant had not
come!  It was certainly on the way, but as certainly it could not now
reach Hong Kong for several days; and, this being the last English
territory on Mr. Fogg's route, the robber would escape, unless he could
manage to detain him.

"Well, Monsieur Fix," said Passepartout, "have you decided to go with
us so far as America?"

"Yes," returned Fix, through his set teeth.

"Good!" exclaimed Passepartout, laughing heartily.  "I knew you could
not persuade yourself to separate from us.  Come and engage your berth."

They entered the steamer office and secured cabins for four persons.
The clerk, as he gave them the tickets, informed them that, the repairs
on the Carnatic having been completed, the steamer would leave that
very evening, and not next morning, as had been announced.

"That will suit my master all the better," said Passepartout.  "I will
go and let him know."

Fix now decided to make a bold move; he resolved to tell Passepartout
all.  It seemed to be the only possible means of keeping Phileas Fogg
several days longer at Hong Kong.  He accordingly invited his companion
into a tavern which caught his eye on the quay.  On entering, they
found themselves in a large room handsomely decorated, at the end of
which was a large camp-bed furnished with cushions.  Several persons
lay upon this bed in a deep sleep.  At the small tables which were
arranged about the room some thirty customers were drinking English
beer, porter, gin, and brandy; smoking, the while, long red clay pipes
stuffed with little balls of opium mingled with essence of rose.  From
time to time one of the smokers, overcome with the narcotic, would slip
under the table, whereupon the waiters, taking him by the head and
feet, carried and laid him upon the bed.  The bed already supported
twenty of these stupefied sots.

Fix and Passepartout saw that they were in a smoking-house haunted by
those wretched, cadaverous, idiotic creatures to whom the English
merchants sell every year the miserable drug called opium, to the
amount of one million four hundred thousand pounds--thousands devoted
to one of the most despicable vices which afflict humanity!  The
Chinese government has in vain attempted to deal with the evil by
stringent laws.  It passed gradually from the rich, to whom it was at
first exclusively reserved, to the lower classes, and then its ravages
could not be arrested.  Opium is smoked everywhere, at all times, by
men and women, in the Celestial Empire; and, once accustomed to it, the
victims cannot dispense with it, except by suffering horrible bodily
contortions and agonies.  A great smoker can smoke as many as eight
pipes a day; but he dies in five years.  It was in one of these dens
that Fix and Passepartout, in search of a friendly glass, found
themselves.  Passepartout had no money, but willingly accepted Fix's
invitation in the hope of returning the obligation at some future time.

They ordered two bottles of port, to which the Frenchman did ample
justice, whilst Fix observed him with close attention.  They chatted
about the journey, and Passepartout was especially merry at the idea
that Fix was going to continue it with them.  When the bottles were
empty, however, he rose to go and tell his master of the change in the
time of the sailing of the Carnatic.

Fix caught him by the arm, and said, "Wait a moment."

"What for, Mr. Fix?"

"I want to have a serious talk with you."

"A serious talk!" cried Passepartout, drinking up the little wine that
was left in the bottom of his glass.  "Well, we'll talk about it
to-morrow; I haven't time now."

"Stay!  What I have to say concerns your master."

Passepartout, at this, looked attentively at his companion.  Fix's face
seemed to have a singular expression.  He resumed his seat.

"What is it that you have to say?"

Fix placed his hand upon Passepartout's arm, and, lowering his voice,
said, "You have guessed who I am?"

"Parbleu!" said Passepartout, smiling.

"Then I'm going to tell you everything--"

"Now that I know everything, my friend!  Ah! that's very good.  But go
on, go on.  First, though, let me tell you that those gentlemen have
put themselves to a useless expense."

"Useless!" said Fix.  "You speak confidently.  It's clear that you
don't know how large the sum is."

"Of course I do," returned Passepartout.  "Twenty thousand pounds."

"Fifty-five thousand!" answered Fix, pressing his companion's hand.

"What!" cried the Frenchman.  "Has Monsieur Fogg dared--fifty-five
thousand pounds!  Well, there's all the more reason for not losing an
instant," he continued, getting up hastily.

Fix pushed Passepartout back in his chair, and resumed: "Fifty-five
thousand pounds; and if I succeed, I get two thousand pounds.  If
you'll help me, I'll let you have five hundred of them."

"Help you?" cried Passepartout, whose eyes were standing wide open.

"Yes; help me keep Mr. Fogg here for two or three days."

"Why, what are you saying?  Those gentlemen are not satisfied with
following my master and suspecting his honour, but they must try to put
obstacles in his way!  I blush for them!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that it is a piece of shameful trickery.  They might as well
waylay Mr. Fogg and put his money in their pockets!"

"That's just what we count on doing."

"It's a conspiracy, then," cried Passepartout, who became more and more
excited as the liquor mounted in his head, for he drank without
perceiving it.  "A real conspiracy!  And gentlemen, too. Bah!"

Fix began to be puzzled.

"Members of the Reform Club!" continued Passepartout.  "You must know,
Monsieur Fix, that my master is an honest man, and that, when he makes
a wager, he tries to win it fairly!"

"But who do you think I am?" asked Fix, looking at him intently.

"Parbleu!  An agent of the members of the Reform Club, sent out here to
interrupt my master's journey.  But, though I found you out some time
ago, I've taken good care to say nothing about it to Mr. Fogg."

"He knows nothing, then?"

"Nothing," replied Passepartout, again emptying his glass.

The detective passed his hand across his forehead, hesitating before he
spoke again.  What should he do?  Passepartout's mistake seemed
sincere, but it made his design more difficult.  It was evident that
the servant was not the master's accomplice, as Fix had been inclined
to suspect.

"Well," said the detective to himself, "as he is not an accomplice, he
will help me."

He had no time to lose: Fogg must be detained at Hong Kong, so he
resolved to make a clean breast of it.

"Listen to me," said Fix abruptly.  "I am not, as you think, an agent
of the members of the Reform Club--"

"Bah!" retorted Passepartout, with an air of raillery.

"I am a police detective, sent out here by the London office."

"You, a detective?"

"I will prove it.  Here is my commission."

Passepartout was speechless with astonishment when Fix displayed this
document, the genuineness of which could not be doubted.

"Mr. Fogg's wager," resumed Fix, "is only a pretext, of which you and
the gentlemen of the Reform are dupes.  He had a motive for securing
your innocent complicity."

"But why?"

"Listen.  On the 28th of last September a robbery of fifty-five
thousand pounds was committed at the Bank of England by a person whose
description was fortunately secured.  Here is his description; it
answers exactly to that of Mr. Phileas Fogg."

"What nonsense!" cried Passepartout, striking the table with his fist.
"My master is the most honourable of men!"

"How can you tell?  You know scarcely anything about him.  You went
into his service the day he came away; and he came away on a foolish
pretext, without trunks, and carrying a large amount in banknotes.  And
yet you are bold enough to assert that he is an honest man!"

"Yes, yes," repeated the poor fellow, mechanically.

"Would you like to be arrested as his accomplice?"

Passepartout, overcome by what he had heard, held his head between his
hands, and did not dare to look at the detective.  Phileas Fogg, the
saviour of Aouda, that brave and generous man, a robber!  And yet how
many presumptions there were against him!  Passepartout essayed to
reject the suspicions which forced themselves upon his mind; he did not
wish to believe that his master was guilty.

"Well, what do you want of me?" said he, at last, with an effort.

"See here," replied Fix; "I have tracked Mr. Fogg to this place, but as
yet I have failed to receive the warrant of arrest for which I sent to
London.  You must help me to keep him here in Hong Kong--"

"I!  But I--"

"I will share with you the two thousand pounds reward offered by the
Bank of England."

"Never!" replied Passepartout, who tried to rise, but fell back,
exhausted in mind and body.

"Mr. Fix," he stammered, "even should what you say be true--if my
master is really the robber you are seeking for--which I deny--I have
been, am, in his service; I have seen his generosity and goodness; and
I will never betray him--not for all the gold in the world.  I come
from a village where they don't eat that kind of bread!"

"You refuse?"

"I refuse."

"Consider that I've said nothing," said Fix; "and let us drink."

"Yes; let us drink!"

Passepartout felt himself yielding more and more to the effects of the
liquor.  Fix, seeing that he must, at all hazards, be separated from
his master, wished to entirely overcome him.  Some pipes full of opium
lay upon the table.  Fix slipped one into Passepartout's hand.  He took
it, put it between his lips, lit it, drew several puffs, and his head,
becoming heavy under the influence of the narcotic, fell upon the table.

"At last!" said Fix, seeing Passepartout unconscious.  "Mr. Fogg will
not be informed of the Carnatic's departure; and, if he is, he will
have to go without this cursed Frenchman!"

And, after paying his bill, Fix left the tavern.

While these events were passing at the opium-house, Mr. Fogg,
unconscious of the danger he was in of losing the steamer, was quietly
escorting Aouda about the streets of the English quarter, making the
necessary purchases for the long voyage before them.  It was all very
well for an Englishman like Mr. Fogg to make the tour of the world with
a carpet-bag; a lady could not be expected to travel comfortably under
such conditions.  He acquitted his task with characteristic serenity,
and invariably replied to the remonstrances of his fair companion, who
was confused by his patience and generosity:

"It is in the interest of my journey--a part of my programme."

The purchases made, they returned to the hotel, where they dined at a
sumptuously served table-d'hote; after which Aouda, shaking hands with
her protector after the English fashion, retired to her room for rest.
Mr. Fogg absorbed himself throughout the evening in the perusal of The
Times and Illustrated London News.

Had he been capable of being astonished at anything, it would have been
not to see his servant return at bedtime.  But, knowing that the
steamer was not to leave for Yokohama until the next morning, he did
not disturb himself about the matter.  When Passepartout did not appear
the next morning to answer his master's bell, Mr. Fogg, not betraying
the least vexation, contented himself with taking his carpet-bag,
calling Aouda, and sending for a palanquin.

It was then eight o'clock; at half-past nine, it being then high tide,
the Carnatic would leave the harbour.  Mr. Fogg and Aouda got into the
palanquin, their luggage being brought after on a wheelbarrow, and half
an hour later stepped upon the quay whence they were to embark.  Mr.
Fogg then learned that the Carnatic had sailed the evening before.  He
had expected to find not only the steamer, but his domestic, and was
forced to give up both; but no sign of disappointment appeared on his
face, and he merely remarked to Aouda, "It is an accident, madam;
nothing more."

At this moment a man who had been observing him attentively approached.
It was Fix, who, bowing, addressed Mr. Fogg:  "Were you not, like me,
sir, a passenger by the Rangoon, which arrived yesterday?"

"I was, sir," replied Mr. Fogg coldly.  "But I have not the honour--"

"Pardon me; I thought I should find your servant here."

"Do you know where he is, sir?" asked Aouda anxiously.

"What!" responded Fix, feigning surprise.  "Is he not with you?"

"No," said Aouda.  "He has not made his appearance since yesterday.
Could he have gone on board the Carnatic without us?"

"Without you, madam?" answered the detective.  "Excuse me, did you
intend to sail in the Carnatic?"

"Yes, sir."

"So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed.  The Carnatic, its
repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated
time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for
another steamer."

As he said "a week" Fix felt his heart leap for joy.  Fogg detained at
Hong Kong for a week!  There would be time for the warrant to arrive,
and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law.  His horror
may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, "But
there are other vessels besides the Carnatic, it seems to me, in the
harbour of Hong Kong."

And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks
in search of some craft about to start.  Fix, stupefied, followed; it
seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread.
Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had
hitherto served so well.  For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about
the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to
carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were
loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail.  Fix
began to hope again.

But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search,
resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted
by a sailor on one of the wharves.

"Is your honour looking for a boat?"

"Have you a boat ready to sail?"

"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat--No. 43--the best in the harbour."

"Does she go fast?"

"Between eight and nine knots the hour.  Will you look at her?"

"Yes."

"Your honour will be satisfied with her.  Is it for a sea excursion?"

"No; for a voyage."

"A voyage?"

"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"

The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is
your honour joking?"

"No.  I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the
14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."

"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."

"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two
hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."

"Are you in earnest?"

"Very much so."

The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea,
evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the
fear of venturing so far.  Fix was in mortal suspense.

Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would
you, madam?"

"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.

The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.

"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.

"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or
my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time
of year.  Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is
sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."

"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.

"It's the same thing."

Fix breathed more freely.

"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."

Fix ceased to breathe at all.

"How?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"By going to Nagasaki, at the extreme south of Japan, or even to
Shanghai, which is only eight hundred miles from here.  In going to
Shanghai we should not be forced to sail wide of the Chinese coast,
which would be a great advantage, as the currents run northward, and
would aid us."

"Pilot," said Mr. Fogg, "I must take the American steamer at Yokohama,
and not at Shanghai or Nagasaki."

"Why not?" returned the pilot.  "The San Francisco steamer does not
start from Yokohama.  It puts in at Yokohama and Nagasaki, but it
starts from Shanghai."

"You are sure of that?"

"Perfectly."

"And when does the boat leave Shanghai?"

"On the 11th, at seven in the evening.  We have, therefore, four days
before us, that is ninety-six hours; and in that time, if we had good
luck and a south-west wind, and the sea was calm, we could make those
eight hundred miles to Shanghai."

"And you could go--"

"In an hour; as soon as provisions could be got aboard and the sails
put up."

"It is a bargain.  Are you the master of the boat?"

"Yes; John Bunsby, master of the Tankadere."

"Would you like some earnest-money?"

"If it would not put your honour out--"

"Here are two hundred pounds on account sir," added Phileas Fogg,
turning to Fix, "if you would like to take advantage--"

"Thanks, sir; I was about to ask the favour."

"Very well.  In half an hour we shall go on board."

"But poor Passepartout?" urged Aouda, who was much disturbed by the
servant's disappearance.

"I shall do all I can to find him," replied Phileas Fogg.

While Fix, in a feverish, nervous state, repaired to the pilot-boat,
the others directed their course to the police-station at Hong Kong.
Phileas Fogg there gave Passepartout's description, and left a sum of
money to be spent in the search for him.  The same formalities having
been gone through at the French consulate, and the palanquin having
stopped at the hotel for the luggage, which had been sent back there,
they returned to the wharf.

It was now three o'clock; and pilot-boat No. 43, with its crew on
board, and its provisions stored away, was ready for departure.

The Tankadere was a neat little craft of twenty tons, as gracefully
built as if she were a racing yacht.  Her shining copper sheathing, her
galvanised iron-work, her deck, white as ivory, betrayed the pride
taken by John Bunsby in making her presentable.  Her two masts leaned a
trifle backward; she carried brigantine, foresail, storm-jib, and
standing-jib, and was well rigged for running before the wind; and she
seemed capable of brisk speed, which, indeed, she had already proved by
gaining several prizes in pilot-boat races.  The crew of the Tankadere
was composed of John Bunsby, the master, and four hardy mariners, who
were familiar with the Chinese seas.  John Bunsby, himself, a man of
forty-five or thereabouts, vigorous, sunburnt, with a sprightly
expression of the eye, and energetic and self-reliant countenance,
would have inspired confidence in the most timid.

Phileas Fogg and Aouda went on board, where they found Fix already
installed.  Below deck was a square cabin, of which the walls bulged
out in the form of cots, above a circular divan; in the centre was a
table provided with a swinging lamp.  The accommodation was confined,
but neat.

"I am sorry to have nothing better to offer you," said Mr. Fogg to Fix,
who bowed without responding.

The detective had a feeling akin to humiliation in profiting by the
kindness of Mr. Fogg.

"It's certain," thought he, "though rascal as he is, he is a polite
one!"

The sails and the English flag were hoisted at ten minutes past three.
Mr. Fogg and Aouda, who were seated on deck, cast a last glance at the
quay, in the hope of espying Passepartout.  Fix was not without his
fears lest chance should direct the steps of the unfortunate servant,
whom he had so badly treated, in this direction; in which case an
explanation the reverse of satisfactory to the detective must have
ensued.  But the Frenchman did not appear, and, without doubt, was
still lying under the stupefying influence of the opium.

John Bunsby, master, at length gave the order to start, and the
Tankadere, taking the wind under her brigantine, foresail, and
standing-jib, bounded briskly forward over the waves.

This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of
twenty tons, and at that season of the year.  The Chinese seas are
usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales of wind, and especially
during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.

It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his
passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he
would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent
even to attempt to reach Shanghai.  But John Bunsby believed in the
Tankadere, which rode on the waves like a seagull; and perhaps he was
not wrong.

Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong
Kong, and the Tankadere, impelled by favourable winds, conducted
herself admirably.

"I do not need, pilot," said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open
sea, "to advise you to use all possible speed."

"Trust me, your honour.  We are carrying all the sail the wind will let
us.  The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going
into port."

"It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you."

Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a
sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters.  The young
woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected as she looked out
upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight, on which she had
ventured in so frail a vessel.  Above her head rustled the white sails,
which seemed like great white wings.  The boat, carried forward by the
wind, seemed to be flying in the air.

Night came.  The moon was entering her first quarter, and her
insufficient light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon.
Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast a part of the
heavens.

The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these
seas crowded with vessels bound landward; for collisions are not
uncommon occurrences, and, at the speed she was going, the least shock
would shatter the gallant little craft.

Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation.  He kept apart
from his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr. Fogg's taciturn tastes;
besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had
accepted.  He was thinking, too, of the future.  It seemed certain that
Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for
San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would ensure him impunity
and safety.  Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in the world.
Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a
common villain, he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to
gain the American continent more surely; and there, after throwing the
police off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune
stolen from the bank.  But, once in the United States, what should he,
Fix, do?  Should he abandon this man?  No, a hundred times no!  Until
he had secured his extradition, he would not lose sight of him for an
hour.  It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end.  At all
events, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not
with his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences
Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have speech with
his master.

Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely
disappeared.  Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did
not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have
embarked on the Carnatic at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's
opinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy fellow to whom
she owed so much.  They might then find him at Yokohama; for, if the
Carnatic was carrying him thither, it would be easy to ascertain if he
had been on board.

A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have been
prudent to take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the
heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before.  The Tankadere bore
sail admirably, as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was
prepared for high speed in case of a gale.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda descended into the cabin at midnight, having been
already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots.  The
pilot and crew remained on deck all night.

At sunrise the next day, which was 8th November, the boat had made more
than one hundred miles.  The log indicated a mean speed of between
eight and nine miles.  The Tankadere still carried all sail, and was
accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed.  If the wind held as it
was, the chances would be in her favour.  During the day she kept along
the coast, where the currents were favourable; the coast, irregular in
profile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most five
miles distant.  The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off
land--a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing
to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.

The breeze subsided a little towards noon, and set in from the
south-west.  The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again
within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.

Mr. Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate
with a good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he
accepted with secret chagrin.  To travel at this man's expense and live
upon his provisions was not palatable to him.  Still, he was obliged to
eat, and so he ate.

When the meal was over, he took Mr. Fogg apart, and said, "sir"--this
"sir" scorched his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid
collaring this "gentleman"--"sir, you have been very kind to give me a
passage on this boat.  But, though my means will not admit of my
expending them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share--"

"Let us not speak of that, sir," replied Mr. Fogg.

"But, if I insist--"

"No, sir," repeated Mr. Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
"This enters into my general expenses."

Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled feeling, and, going forward, where he
ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high
hope.  He several times assured Mr. Fogg that they would reach Shanghai
in time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it.
The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be
gained.  There was not a sheet which was not tightened, not a sail which
was not vigorously hoisted; not a lurch could be charged to the man at
the helm.  They worked as desperately as if they were contesting in a
Royal yacht regatta.

By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been
accomplished from Hong Kong, and Mr. Fogg might hope that he would be
able to reach Yokohama without recording any delay in his journal; in
which case, the many misadventures which had overtaken him since he
left London would not seriously affect his journey.

The Tankadere entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the island
of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and
crossed the Tropic of Cancer.  The sea was very rough in the straits,
full of eddies formed by the counter-currents, and the chopping waves
broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.

At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed
to predict a gale.  The barometer announced a speedy change, the
mercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the
south-east, raised long surges which indicated a tempest.  The sun had
set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the
phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.

John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens,
muttering indistinctly between his teeth.  At last he said in a low
voice to Mr. Fogg, "Shall I speak out to your honour?"

"Of course."

"Well, we are going to have a squall."

"Is the wind north or south?" asked Mr. Fogg quietly.

"South.  Look! a typhoon is coming up."

"Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward."

"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing more to
say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed.  At a less advanced
season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist,
would have passed away like a luminous cascade of electric flame; but
in the winter equinox it was to be feared that it would burst upon them
with great violence.

The pilot took his precautions in advance.  He reefed all sail, the
pole-masts were dispensed with; all hands went forward to the bows.  A
single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib,
so as to hold the wind from behind.  Then they waited.

John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this
imprisonment in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat
bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant.  Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix,
nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.

The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock.
With but its bit of sail, the Tankadere was lifted like a feather by a
wind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given.  To compare her
speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be
below the truth.

The boat scudded thus northward during the whole day, borne on by
monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to
theirs.  Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these
mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit management of
the pilot saved her.  The passengers were often bathed in spray, but
they submitted to it philosophically.  Fix cursed it, no doubt; but
Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed
her, showed herself worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm.  As
for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his
programme.

Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course to the north;
but towards evening the wind, veering three quarters, bore down from
the north-west.  The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook
and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence.  At
night the tempest increased in violence.  John Bunsby saw the approach
of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings.  He
thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken
speed.  After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I
think, your honour, that we should do well to make for one of the ports
on the coast."

"I think so too."

"Ah!" said the pilot.  "But which one?"

"I know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.

"And that is--"

"Shanghai."

The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely
realise so much determination and tenacity.  Then he cried, "Well--yes!
Your honour is right.  To Shanghai!"

So the Tankadere kept steadily on her northward track.

The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did
not founder.  Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew
had not been constantly on the watch.  Aouda was exhausted, but did not
utter a complaint.  More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from
the violence of the waves.

Day reappeared.  The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but
the wind now returned to the south-east.  It was a favourable change,
and the Tankadere again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though
the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks
which would have crushed a craft less solidly built.  From time to time
the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in
sight.  The Tankadere was alone upon the sea.

There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct
as the sun descended toward the horizon.  The tempest had been as brief
as terrific.  The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a
little, and take some repose.

The night was comparatively quiet.  Some of the sails were again
hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good.  The next morning at
dawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that
they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai.  A hundred miles, and
only one day to traverse them!  That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at
Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama.  Had
there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would
be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.

The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it.  All
sails were now hoisted, and at noon the Tankadere was within forty-five
miles of Shanghai.  There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish
that distance.  All on board feared that it could not be done, and
every one--Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with
impatience.  The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour,
and the wind was becoming calmer every moment!  It was a capricious
breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became
smooth.  Still, the Tankadere was so light, and her fine sails caught
the fickle zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the currents John
Bunsby found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles from the
mouth of Shanghai River.  Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve
miles up the stream.  At seven they were still three miles from
Shanghai.  The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred
pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him.  He looked at Mr.
Fogg.  Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole fortune was
at this moment at stake.

At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of
smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters.  It was the American
steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.

"Confound her!" cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a
desperate jerk.

"Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly.

A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the Tankadere, for
making signals in the fogs.  It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as
the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg
said, "Hoist your flag!"

The flag was run up at half-mast, and, this being the signal of
distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would
change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot-boat.

"Fire!" said Mr. Fogg.  And the booming of the little cannon resounded
in the air.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The voyage to Hong Kong begins on the steamer named the Rangoon, and the dynamic is slightly different with Aouda there. She gets to know Fogg better and continuously shows her gratitude for what he did for her, but as usual, Fogg does not display any emotion. He does, however, assure her that everything will work out fine, calming her anxieties. Little did they know, Detective Fix had gotten on the Rangoon as well, after leaving orders at Calcutta that if the warrant for Fogg's arrest arrives, it should be forwarded to Hong Kong. He knows he needs to get him in Hong Kong, since it will be the last English-owned place that Fogg will be in on his trip. Too much would be required to arrest him in anyone else's territory. He decides that, if worst comes to worst, he will tell Passepartout everything, hoping to convince him that his master is really a bad man. A few days into the voyage, Fix goes to question Passepartout, who is surprised to see him on the ship. Passepartout tells him the story of how Aouda came to be with them. Passepartout begins to wonder why Fix is so concerned with Fogg's affairs, and comes to the conclusion that he must be an agent sent by someone from the Reform Club to make sure Fogg really does go around the world. Between Singapore and Hong Kong the weather becomes stormy and delays them time, but as usual, Fogg is unaffected. Seeing Fix around often, Passepartout begins to drop hints about what he thinks Fix is up to. Fix is uneasy, thinking that Passepartout suspects he is a detective chasing Fogg. The captain announces that the steamer will be delayed at least twenty hours in its arrival to Hong Kong. As usual, Fogg shows no signs of frustration even though this would mean missing his ship to Yokohama, Japan. Fix is pleased, since it seems that Fogg will have to remain some time in Hong Kong, enough to acquire a warrant for his arrest. Passepartout is extremely upset about the delay. The weather calms, though, and when they reach Hong Kong they discover that the steamer for Yokohama will not be leaving until the following day, since it needed an extra day for repairs. They realize, however, that Aouda's relation in Hong Kong had actually gone to Europe two years before, so Mr. Fogg insists she continue on to Europe with them. Passepartout wanders around the city; he is struck by how very British it is even though it is in China. He runs into Fix, who is extremely upset; Passepartout takes this to be because since they are in time for the ship, Fogg may still win the bet after all, which would be bad for the Reform Club. Fix tells Passepartout that he will be going on to America with them. During this conversation, the clerk of the steamer Carnatic tells them that since the repairs had not been finished the ship would be leaving for Yokohama that evening instead of the following morning. Passepartout goes to tell his master the good news--however, before he can, Fix makes the decision to tell Passepartout everything, and takes him to a tavern near the harbor, which turns out to be an opium den. They sit down over drinks, and Fix asks Passepartout if he has guessed who he actually is. Passepartout says yes, and Fix is confused when he reveals that he thinks he is an agent sent by the reform club to monitor Fogg's progress. He tells Passepartout that he is actually a detective, and that Mr. Fogg robbed the Bank of England. Passepartout repeatedly denies this, insisting that his master is an honest man. Fix threatens to have him arrested as Fogg's accomplice unless he helps to keep Fogg here in Hong Kong so that he can arrest him. Passepartout still refuses to betray his master, so Fix slips a pipe full of opium into the servant's hand. Passepartout smokes a few puffs and falls upon the table in a deep sleep under the influence of the narcotic, and this means that Fogg will not find out about the early departure of the Carnatic. Meanwhile, Fogg is unaware of any of this, and spends the night at their hotel, not particularly concerned with why Passepartout had not returned. In the morning he and Aouda go to where the ship is supposed to be docked, but learn that it sailed the previous night instead. He runs into Fix at the harbor, who remarks that they will have to wait a week for another steamer. A sailor asks Fogg if they are looking for a boat, offering them his; however, when he hears they want to go to Yokohama, he flat-out refuses, insisting they will never make it in time for Fogg to catch his steamer. Instead, for a large sum of money, the sailor offers to take them to Shanghai instead, where a steamer will stop before it goes to Yokohama. Shanghai is closer to Hong Kong, and if they sail extremely fast they might make it in time. Fogg takes the offer, and spends the next half hour looking everywhere for Passepartout, leaving a sum of money with the authorities to be spent searching for him. Fogg decides they must go anyway, and, taking Fix with them, they head off to Shanghai in the sailor John Bunsby's boat. As they sail, Fix worries about what he will do when they reach America, for it will be impossible to arrest Fogg there. Fogg thinks about Passepartout, hoping they will find him at Yokohama because perhaps he got on the Carnatic at the last minute. Uncomfortable with the idea of traveling and eating at Fogg's expense, Fix offers to pay his share for the voyage to Shanghai, but Fogg insists on not taking any money. At first the boat is off to a great start, but eventually a storm comes, delaying them greatly. The storm is horrible and Bunsby says he wants to head to a port on the coast, but Fogg insists that they continue on to Shanghai. At last they approach Shanghai, and as they sail down the Shanghai River they encounter the very steamer they need going in the opposite direction, heading to Yokohama right on time. They are too late to catch it in port, but Fogg will not give up. They hoist their own boat's flag and fire the cannon, signaling the ship to stop for them to board.