Chapter: The Carnatic, setting sail from Hong Kong at half-past six on the 7th
of November, directed her course at full steam towards Japan.  She
carried a large cargo and a well-filled cabin of passengers.  Two
state-rooms in the rear were, however, unoccupied--those which had been
engaged by Phileas Fogg.

The next day a passenger with a half-stupefied eye, staggering gait,
and disordered hair, was seen to emerge from the second cabin, and to
totter to a seat on deck.

It was Passepartout; and what had happened to him was as follows:
Shortly after Fix left the opium den, two waiters had lifted the
unconscious Passepartout, and had carried him to the bed reserved for
the smokers.  Three hours later, pursued even in his dreams by a fixed
idea, the poor fellow awoke, and struggled against the stupefying
influence of the narcotic.  The thought of a duty unfulfilled shook off
his torpor, and he hurried from the abode of drunkenness.  Staggering
and holding himself up by keeping against the walls, falling down and
creeping up again, and irresistibly impelled by a kind of instinct, he
kept crying out, "The Carnatic! the Carnatic!"

The steamer lay puffing alongside the quay, on the point of starting.
Passepartout had but few steps to go; and, rushing upon the plank, he
crossed it, and fell unconscious on the deck, just as the Carnatic was
moving off.  Several sailors, who were evidently accustomed to this
sort of scene, carried the poor Frenchman down into the second cabin,
and Passepartout did not wake until they were one hundred and fifty
miles away from China.  Thus he found himself the next morning on the
deck of the Carnatic, and eagerly inhaling the exhilarating sea-breeze.
The pure air sobered him.  He began to collect his sense, which he
found a difficult task; but at last he recalled the events of the
evening before, Fix's revelation, and the opium-house.

"It is evident," said he to himself, "that I have been abominably
drunk!  What will Mr. Fogg say?  At least I have not missed the
steamer, which is the most important thing."

Then, as Fix occurred to him: "As for that rascal, I hope we are well
rid of him, and that he has not dared, as he proposed, to follow us on
board the Carnatic.  A detective on the track of Mr. Fogg, accused of
robbing the Bank of England!  Pshaw!  Mr. Fogg is no more a robber than
I am a murderer."

Should he divulge Fix's real errand to his master?  Would it do to tell
the part the detective was playing?  Would it not be better to wait
until Mr. Fogg reached London again, and then impart to him that an
agent of the metropolitan police had been following him round the
world, and have a good laugh over it?  No doubt; at least, it was worth
considering.  The first thing to do was to find Mr. Fogg, and apologise
for his singular behaviour.

Passepartout got up and proceeded, as well as he could with the rolling
of the steamer, to the after-deck.  He saw no one who resembled either
his master or Aouda.  "Good!"  muttered he; "Aouda has not got up yet,
and Mr. Fogg has probably found some partners at whist."

He descended to the saloon.  Mr. Fogg was not there.  Passepartout had
only, however, to ask the purser the number of his master's state-room.
The purser replied that he did not know any passenger by the name of
Fogg.

"I beg your pardon," said Passepartout persistently.  "He is a tall
gentleman, quiet, and not very talkative, and has with him a young
lady--"

"There is no young lady on board," interrupted the purser.  "Here is a
list of the passengers; you may see for yourself."

Passepartout scanned the list, but his master's name was not upon it.
All at once an idea struck him.

"Ah! am I on the Carnatic?"

"Yes."

"On the way to Yokohama?"

"Certainly."

Passepartout had for an instant feared that he was on the wrong boat;
but, though he was really on the Carnatic, his master was not there.

He fell thunderstruck on a seat.  He saw it all now.  He remembered
that the time of sailing had been changed, that he should have informed
his master of that fact, and that he had not done so.  It was his
fault, then, that Mr. Fogg and Aouda had missed the steamer.  Yes, but
it was still more the fault of the traitor who, in order to separate
him from his master, and detain the latter at Hong Kong, had inveigled
him into getting drunk!  He now saw the detective's trick; and at this
moment Mr. Fogg was certainly ruined, his bet was lost, and he himself
perhaps arrested and imprisoned!  At this thought Passepartout tore his
hair.  Ah, if Fix ever came within his reach, what a settling of
accounts there would be!

After his first depression, Passepartout became calmer, and began to
study his situation.  It was certainly not an enviable one.  He found
himself on the way to Japan, and what should he do when he got there?
His pocket was empty; he had not a solitary shilling, not so much as a
penny.  His passage had fortunately been paid for in advance; and he
had five or six days in which to decide upon his future course.  He
fell to at meals with an appetite, and ate for Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
himself.  He helped himself as generously as if Japan were a desert,
where nothing to eat was to be looked for.

At dawn on the 13th the Carnatic entered the port of Yokohama.  This is
an important port of call in the Pacific, where all the mail-steamers,
and those carrying travellers between North America, China, Japan, and
the Oriental islands put in.  It is situated in the bay of Yeddo, and
at but a short distance from that second capital of the Japanese
Empire, and the residence of the Tycoon, the civil Emperor, before the
Mikado, the spiritual Emperor, absorbed his office in his own.  The
Carnatic anchored at the quay near the custom-house, in the midst of a
crowd of ships bearing the flags of all nations.

Passepartout went timidly ashore on this so curious territory of the
Sons of the Sun.  He had nothing better to do than, taking chance for
his guide, to wander aimlessly through the streets of Yokohama.  He
found himself at first in a thoroughly European quarter, the houses
having low fronts, and being adorned with verandas, beneath which he
caught glimpses of neat peristyles.  This quarter occupied, with its
streets, squares, docks, and warehouses, all the space between the
"promontory of the Treaty" and the river.  Here, as at Hong Kong and
Calcutta, were mixed crowds of all races, Americans and English,
Chinamen and Dutchmen, mostly merchants ready to buy or sell anything.
The Frenchman felt himself as much alone among them as if he had
dropped down in the midst of Hottentots.

He had, at least, one resource,--to call on the French and English
consuls at Yokohama for assistance.  But he shrank from telling the
story of his adventures, intimately connected as it was with that of
his master; and, before doing so, he determined to exhaust all other
means of aid.  As chance did not favour him in the European quarter, he
penetrated that inhabited by the native Japanese, determined, if
necessary, to push on to Yeddo.

The Japanese quarter of Yokohama is called Benten, after the goddess of
the sea, who is worshipped on the islands round about.  There
Passepartout beheld beautiful fir and cedar groves, sacred gates of a
singular architecture, bridges half hid in the midst of bamboos and
reeds, temples shaded by immense cedar-trees, holy retreats where were
sheltered Buddhist priests and sectaries of Confucius, and interminable
streets, where a perfect harvest of rose-tinted and red-cheeked
children, who looked as if they had been cut out of Japanese screens,
and who were playing in the midst of short-legged poodles and yellowish
cats, might have been gathered.

The streets were crowded with people.  Priests were passing in
processions, beating their dreary tambourines; police and custom-house
officers with pointed hats encrusted with lac and carrying two sabres
hung to their waists; soldiers, clad in blue cotton with white stripes,
and bearing guns; the Mikado's guards, enveloped in silken doubles,
hauberks and coats of mail; and numbers of military folk of all
ranks--for the military profession is as much respected in Japan as it
is despised in China--went hither and thither in groups and pairs.
Passepartout saw, too, begging friars, long-robed pilgrims, and simple
civilians, with their warped and jet-black hair, big heads, long busts,
slender legs, short stature, and complexions varying from copper-colour
to a dead white, but never yellow, like the Chinese, from whom the
Japanese widely differ.  He did not fail to observe the curious
equipages--carriages and palanquins, barrows supplied with sails, and
litters made of bamboo; nor the women--whom he thought not especially
handsome--who took little steps with their little feet, whereon they
wore canvas shoes, straw sandals, and clogs of worked wood, and who
displayed tight-looking eyes, flat chests, teeth fashionably blackened,
and gowns crossed with silken scarfs, tied in an enormous knot behind
an ornament which the modern Parisian ladies seem to have borrowed from
the dames of Japan.

Passepartout wandered for several hours in the midst of this motley
crowd, looking in at the windows of the rich and curious shops, the
jewellery establishments glittering with quaint Japanese ornaments, the
restaurants decked with streamers and banners, the tea-houses, where
the odorous beverage was being drunk with saki, a liquor concocted from
the fermentation of rice, and the comfortable smoking-houses, where
they were puffing, not opium, which is almost unknown in Japan, but a
very fine, stringy tobacco.  He went on till he found himself in the
fields, in the midst of vast rice plantations.  There he saw dazzling
camellias expanding themselves, with flowers which were giving forth
their last colours and perfumes, not on bushes, but on trees, and
within bamboo enclosures, cherry, plum, and apple trees, which the
Japanese cultivate rather for their blossoms than their fruit, and
which queerly-fashioned, grinning scarecrows protected from the
sparrows, pigeons, ravens, and other voracious birds.  On the branches
of the cedars were perched large eagles; amid the foliage of the
weeping willows were herons, solemnly standing on one leg; and on every
hand were crows, ducks, hawks, wild birds, and a multitude of cranes,
which the Japanese consider sacred, and which to their minds symbolise
long life and prosperity.

As he was strolling along, Passepartout espied some violets among the
shrubs.

"Good!" said he; "I'll have some supper."

But, on smelling them, he found that they were odourless.

"No chance there," thought he.

The worthy fellow had certainly taken good care to eat as hearty a
breakfast as possible before leaving the Carnatic; but, as he had been
walking about all day, the demands of hunger were becoming importunate.
He observed that the butchers stalls contained neither mutton, goat,
nor pork; and, knowing also that it is a sacrilege to kill cattle,
which are preserved solely for farming, he made up his mind that meat
was far from plentiful in Yokohama--nor was he mistaken; and, in
default of butcher's meat, he could have wished for a quarter of wild
boar or deer, a partridge, or some quails, some game or fish, which,
with rice, the Japanese eat almost exclusively.  But he found it
necessary to keep up a stout heart, and to postpone the meal he craved
till the following morning.  Night came, and Passepartout re-entered
the native quarter, where he wandered through the streets, lit by
vari-coloured lanterns, looking on at the dancers, who were executing
skilful steps and boundings, and the astrologers who stood in the open
air with their telescopes.  Then he came to the harbour, which was lit
up by the resin torches of the fishermen, who were fishing from their
boats.

The streets at last became quiet, and the patrol, the officers of
which, in their splendid costumes, and surrounded by their suites,
Passepartout thought seemed like ambassadors, succeeded the bustling
crowd.  Each time a company passed, Passepartout chuckled, and said to
himself: "Good! another Japanese embassy departing for Europe!"




The next morning poor, jaded, famished Passepartout said to himself
that he must get something to eat at all hazards, and the sooner he did
so the better.  He might, indeed, sell his watch; but he would have
starved first.  Now or never he must use the strong, if not melodious
voice which nature had bestowed upon him.  He knew several French and
English songs, and resolved to try them upon the Japanese, who must be
lovers of music, since they were for ever pounding on their cymbals,
tam-tams, and tambourines, and could not but appreciate European talent.

It was, perhaps, rather early in the morning to get up a concert, and
the audience prematurely aroused from their slumbers, might not
possibly pay their entertainer with coin bearing the Mikado's features.
Passepartout therefore decided to wait several hours; and, as he was
sauntering along, it occurred to him that he would seem rather too well
dressed for a wandering artist.  The idea struck him to change his
garments for clothes more in harmony with his project; by which he
might also get a little money to satisfy the immediate cravings of
hunger.  The resolution taken, it remained to carry it out.

It was only after a long search that Passepartout discovered a native
dealer in old clothes, to whom he applied for an exchange.  The man
liked the European costume, and ere long Passepartout issued from his
shop accoutred in an old Japanese coat, and a sort of one-sided turban,
faded with long use.  A few small pieces of silver, moreover, jingled
in his pocket.

"Good!" thought he.  "I will imagine I am at the Carnival!"

His first care, after being thus "Japanesed," was to enter a tea-house
of modest appearance, and, upon half a bird and a little rice, to
breakfast like a man for whom dinner was as yet a problem to be solved.

"Now," thought he, when he had eaten heartily, "I mustn't lose my head.
I can't sell this costume again for one still more Japanese.  I must
consider how to leave this country of the Sun, of which I shall not
retain the most delightful of memories, as quickly as possible."

It occurred to him to visit the steamers which were about to leave for
America.  He would offer himself as a cook or servant, in payment of
his passage and meals.  Once at San Francisco, he would find some means
of going on.  The difficulty was, how to traverse the four thousand
seven hundred miles of the Pacific which lay between Japan and the New
World.

Passepartout was not the man to let an idea go begging, and directed
his steps towards the docks.  But, as he approached them, his project,
which at first had seemed so simple, began to grow more and more
formidable to his mind.  What need would they have of a cook or servant
on an American steamer, and what confidence would they put in him,
dressed as he was?  What references could he give?

As he was reflecting in this wise, his eyes fell upon an immense
placard which a sort of clown was carrying through the streets.  This
placard, which was in English, read as follows:

          ACROBATIC JAPANESE TROUPE,
   HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR, PROPRIETOR,
           LAST REPRESENTATIONS,
PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE TO THE UNITED STATES,
                  OF THE
        LONG NOSES!   LONG NOSES!
UNDER THE DIRECT PATRONAGE OF THE GOD TINGOU!
           GREAT ATTRACTION!

"The United States!" said Passepartout; "that's just what I want!"

He followed the clown, and soon found himself once more in the Japanese
quarter.  A quarter of an hour later he stopped before a large cabin,
adorned with several clusters of streamers, the exterior walls of which
were designed to represent, in violent colours and without perspective,
a company of jugglers.

This was the Honourable William Batulcar's establishment.  That
gentleman was a sort of Barnum, the director of a troupe of
mountebanks, jugglers, clowns, acrobats, equilibrists, and gymnasts,
who, according to the placard, was giving his last performances before
leaving the Empire of the Sun for the States of the Union.

Passepartout entered and asked for Mr. Batulcar, who straightway
appeared in person.

"What do you want?" said he to Passepartout, whom he at first took for
a native.

"Would you like a servant, sir?" asked Passepartout.

"A servant!" cried Mr. Batulcar, caressing the thick grey beard which
hung from his chin.  "I already have two who are obedient and faithful,
have never left me, and serve me for their nourishment and here they
are," added he, holding out his two robust arms, furrowed with veins as
large as the strings of a bass-viol.

"So I can be of no use to you?"

"None."

"The devil!  I should so like to cross the Pacific with you!"

"Ah!" said the Honourable Mr. Batulcar.  "You are no more a Japanese
than I am a monkey!  Who are you dressed up in that way?"

"A man dresses as he can."

"That's true.  You are a Frenchman, aren't you?"

"Yes; a Parisian of Paris."

"Then you ought to know how to make grimaces?"

"Why," replied Passepartout, a little vexed that his nationality should
cause this question, "we Frenchmen know how to make grimaces, it is
true but not any better than the Americans do."

"True.  Well, if I can't take you as a servant, I can as a clown.  You
see, my friend, in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign
parts French clowns."

"Ah!"

"You are pretty strong, eh?"

"Especially after a good meal."

"And you can sing?"

"Yes," returned Passepartout, who had formerly been wont to sing in the
streets.

"But can you sing standing on your head, with a top spinning on your
left foot, and a sabre balanced on your right?"

"Humph!  I think so," replied Passepartout, recalling the exercises of
his younger days.

"Well, that's enough," said the Honourable William Batulcar.

The engagement was concluded there and then.

Passepartout had at last found something to do.  He was engaged to act
in the celebrated Japanese troupe.  It was not a very dignified
position, but within a week he would be on his way to San Francisco.

The performance, so noisily announced by the Honourable Mr. Batulcar,
was to commence at three o'clock, and soon the deafening instruments of
a Japanese orchestra resounded at the door.  Passepartout, though he
had not been able to study or rehearse a part, was designated to lend
the aid of his sturdy shoulders in the great exhibition of the "human
pyramid," executed by the Long Noses of the god Tingou.  This "great
attraction" was to close the performance.

Before three o'clock the large shed was invaded by the spectators,
comprising Europeans and natives, Chinese and Japanese, men, women and
children, who precipitated themselves upon the narrow benches and into
the boxes opposite the stage.  The musicians took up a position inside,
and were vigorously performing on their gongs, tam-tams, flutes, bones,
tambourines, and immense drums.

The performance was much like all acrobatic displays; but it must be
confessed that the Japanese are the first equilibrists in the world.

One, with a fan and some bits of paper, performed the graceful trick of
the butterflies and the flowers; another traced in the air, with the
odorous smoke of his pipe, a series of blue words, which composed a
compliment to the audience; while a third juggled with some lighted
candles, which he extinguished successively as they passed his lips,
and relit again without interrupting for an instant his juggling.
Another reproduced the most singular combinations with a spinning-top;
in his hands the revolving tops seemed to be animated with a life of
their own in their interminable whirling; they ran over pipe-stems, the
edges of sabres, wires and even hairs stretched across the stage; they
turned around on the edges of large glasses, crossed bamboo ladders,
dispersed into all the corners, and produced strange musical effects by
the combination of their various pitches of tone.  The jugglers tossed
them in the air, threw them like shuttlecocks with wooden battledores,
and yet they kept on spinning; they put them into their pockets, and
took them out still whirling as before.

It is useless to describe the astonishing performances of the acrobats
and gymnasts.  The turning on ladders, poles, balls, barrels, &c., was
executed with wonderful precision.

But the principal attraction was the exhibition of the Long Noses, a
show to which Europe is as yet a stranger.

The Long Noses form a peculiar company, under the direct patronage of
the god Tingou.  Attired after the fashion of the Middle Ages, they
bore upon their shoulders a splendid pair of wings; but what especially
distinguished them was the long noses which were fastened to their
faces, and the uses which they made of them.  These noses were made of
bamboo, and were five, six, and even ten feet long, some straight,
others curved, some ribboned, and some having imitation warts upon
them.  It was upon these appendages, fixed tightly on their real noses,
that they performed their gymnastic exercises.  A dozen of these
sectaries of Tingou lay flat upon their backs, while others, dressed to
represent lightning-rods, came and frolicked on their noses, jumping
from one to another, and performing the most skilful leapings and
somersaults.

As a last scene, a "human pyramid" had been announced, in which fifty
Long Noses were to represent the Car of Juggernaut.  But, instead of
forming a pyramid by mounting each other's shoulders, the artists were
to group themselves on top of the noses.  It happened that the
performer who had hitherto formed the base of the Car had quitted the
troupe, and as, to fill this part, only strength and adroitness were
necessary, Passepartout had been chosen to take his place.

The poor fellow really felt sad when--melancholy reminiscence of his
youth!--he donned his costume, adorned with vari-coloured wings, and
fastened to his natural feature a false nose six feet long.  But he
cheered up when he thought that this nose was winning him something to
eat.

He went upon the stage, and took his place beside the rest who were to
compose the base of the Car of Juggernaut.  They all stretched
themselves on the floor, their noses pointing to the ceiling.  A second
group of artists disposed themselves on these long appendages, then a
third above these, then a fourth, until a human monument reaching to
the very cornices of the theatre soon arose on top of the noses.  This
elicited loud applause, in the midst of which the orchestra was just
striking up a deafening air, when the pyramid tottered, the balance was
lost, one of the lower noses vanished from the pyramid, and the human
monument was shattered like a castle built of cards!

It was Passepartout's fault.  Abandoning his position, clearing the
footlights without the aid of his wings, and, clambering up to the
right-hand gallery, he fell at the feet of one of the spectators,
crying, "Ah, my master! my master!"

"You here?"

"Myself."

"Very well; then let us go to the steamer, young man!"

Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout passed through the lobby of the
theatre to the outside, where they encountered the Honourable Mr.
Batulcar, furious with rage.  He demanded damages for the "breakage" of
the pyramid; and Phileas Fogg appeased him by giving him a handful of
banknotes.

At half-past six, the very hour of departure, Mr. Fogg and Aouda,
followed by Passepartout, who in his hurry had retained his wings, and
nose six feet long, stepped upon the American steamer.




What happened when the pilot-boat came in sight of Shanghai will be
easily guessed.  The signals made by the Tankadere had been seen by the
captain of the Yokohama steamer, who, espying the flag at half-mast,
had directed his course towards the little craft.  Phileas Fogg, after
paying the stipulated price of his passage to John Busby, and rewarding
that worthy with the additional sum of five hundred and fifty pounds,
ascended the steamer with Aouda and Fix; and they started at once for
Nagasaki and Yokohama.

They reached their destination on the morning of the 14th of November.
Phileas Fogg lost no time in going on board the Carnatic, where he
learned, to Aouda's great delight--and perhaps to his own, though he
betrayed no emotion--that Passepartout, a Frenchman, had really arrived
on her the day before.

The San Francisco steamer was announced to leave that very evening, and
it became necessary to find Passepartout, if possible, without delay.
Mr. Fogg applied in vain to the French and English consuls, and, after
wandering through the streets a long time, began to despair of finding
his missing servant.  Chance, or perhaps a kind of presentiment, at
last led him into the Honourable Mr. Batulcar's theatre.  He certainly
would not have recognised Passepartout in the eccentric mountebank's
costume; but the latter, lying on his back, perceived his master in the
gallery.  He could not help starting, which so changed the position of
his nose as to bring the "pyramid" pell-mell upon the stage.

All this Passepartout learned from Aouda, who recounted to him what had
taken place on the voyage from Hong Kong to Shanghai on the Tankadere,
in company with one Mr. Fix.

Passepartout did not change countenance on hearing this name.  He
thought that the time had not yet arrived to divulge to his master what
had taken place between the detective and himself; and, in the account
he gave of his absence, he simply excused himself for having been
overtaken by drunkenness, in smoking opium at a tavern in Hong Kong.

Mr. Fogg heard this narrative coldly, without a word; and then
furnished his man with funds necessary to obtain clothing more in
harmony with his position.  Within an hour the Frenchman had cut off
his nose and parted with his wings, and retained nothing about him
which recalled the sectary of the god Tingou.

The steamer which was about to depart from Yokohama to San Francisco
belonged to the Pacific Mail Steamship Company, and was named the
General Grant.  She was a large paddle-wheel steamer of two thousand
five hundred tons; well equipped and very fast.  The massive
walking-beam rose and fell above the deck; at one end a piston-rod
worked up and down; and at the other was a connecting-rod which, in
changing the rectilinear motion to a circular one, was directly
connected with the shaft of the paddles.  The General Grant was rigged
with three masts, giving a large capacity for sails, and thus
materially aiding the steam power.  By making twelve miles an hour, she
would cross the ocean in twenty-one days.  Phileas Fogg was therefore
justified in hoping that he would reach San Francisco by the 2nd of
December, New York by the 11th, and London on the 20th--thus gaining
several hours on the fatal date of the 21st of December.

There was a full complement of passengers on board, among them English,
many Americans, a large number of coolies on their way to California,
and several East Indian officers, who were spending their vacation in
making the tour of the world.  Nothing of moment happened on the
voyage; the steamer, sustained on its large paddles, rolled but little,
and the Pacific almost justified its name.  Mr. Fogg was as calm and
taciturn as ever.  His young companion felt herself more and more
attached to him by other ties than gratitude; his silent but generous
nature impressed her more than she thought; and it was almost
unconsciously that she yielded to emotions which did not seem to have
the least effect upon her protector.  Aouda took the keenest interest
in his plans, and became impatient at any incident which seemed likely
to retard his journey.

She often chatted with Passepartout, who did not fail to perceive the
state of the lady's heart; and, being the most faithful of domestics,
he never exhausted his eulogies of Phileas Fogg's honesty, generosity,
and devotion.  He took pains to calm Aouda's doubts of a successful
termination of the journey, telling her that the most difficult part of
it had passed, that now they were beyond the fantastic countries of
Japan and China, and were fairly on their way to civilised places
again.  A railway train from San Francisco to New York, and a
transatlantic steamer from New York to Liverpool, would doubtless bring
them to the end of this impossible journey round the world within the
period agreed upon.

On the ninth day after leaving Yokohama, Phileas Fogg had traversed
exactly one half of the terrestrial globe.  The General Grant passed,
on the 23rd of November, the one hundred and eightieth meridian, and
was at the very antipodes of London.  Mr. Fogg had, it is true,
exhausted fifty-two of the eighty days in which he was to complete the
tour, and there were only twenty-eight left.  But, though he was only
half-way by the difference of meridians, he had really gone over
two-thirds of the whole journey; for he had been obliged to make long
circuits from London to Aden, from Aden to Bombay, from Calcutta to
Singapore, and from Singapore to Yokohama.  Could he have followed
without deviation the fiftieth parallel, which is that of London, the
whole distance would only have been about twelve thousand miles;
whereas he would be forced, by the irregular methods of locomotion, to
traverse twenty-six thousand, of which he had, on the 23rd of November,
accomplished seventeen thousand five hundred.  And now the course was a
straight one, and Fix was no longer there to put obstacles in their way!

It happened also, on the 23rd of November, that Passepartout made a
joyful discovery.  It will be remembered that the obstinate fellow had
insisted on keeping his famous family watch at London time, and on
regarding that of the countries he had passed through as quite false
and unreliable.  Now, on this day, though he had not changed the hands,
he found that his watch exactly agreed with the ship's chronometers.
His triumph was hilarious.  He would have liked to know what Fix would
say if he were aboard!

"The rogue told me a lot of stories," repeated Passepartout, "about the
meridians, the sun, and the moon!  Moon, indeed!  moonshine more
likely!  If one listened to that sort of people, a pretty sort of time
one would keep!  I was sure that the sun would some day regulate itself
by my watch!"

Passepartout was ignorant that, if the face of his watch had been
divided into twenty-four hours, like the Italian clocks, he would have
no reason for exultation; for the hands of his watch would then,
instead of as now indicating nine o'clock in the morning, indicate nine
o'clock in the evening, that is, the twenty-first hour after midnight
precisely the difference between London time and that of the one
hundred and eightieth meridian.  But if Fix had been able to explain
this purely physical effect, Passepartout would not have admitted, even
if he had comprehended it.  Moreover, if the detective had been on
board at that moment, Passepartout would have joined issue with him on
a quite different subject, and in an entirely different manner.

Where was Fix at that moment?

He was actually on board the General Grant.

On reaching Yokohama, the detective, leaving Mr. Fogg, whom he expected
to meet again during the day, had repaired at once to the English
consulate, where he at last found the warrant of arrest.  It had
followed him from Bombay, and had come by the Carnatic, on which
steamer he himself was supposed to be.  Fix's disappointment may be
imagined when he reflected that the warrant was now useless.  Mr. Fogg
had left English ground, and it was now necessary to procure his
extradition!

"Well," thought Fix, after a moment of anger, "my warrant is not good
here, but it will be in England.  The rogue evidently intends to return
to his own country, thinking he has thrown the police off his track.
Good!  I will follow him across the Atlantic.  As for the money, heaven
grant there may be some left!  But the fellow has already spent in
travelling, rewards, trials, bail, elephants, and all sorts of charges,
more than five thousand pounds.  Yet, after all, the Bank is rich!"

His course decided on, he went on board the General Grant, and was
there when Mr. Fogg and Aouda arrived.  To his utter amazement, he
recognised Passepartout, despite his theatrical disguise.  He quickly
concealed himself in his cabin, to avoid an awkward explanation, and
hoped--thanks to the number of passengers--to remain unperceived by Mr.
Fogg's servant.

On that very day, however, he met Passepartout face to face on the
forward deck.  The latter, without a word, made a rush for him, grasped
him by the throat, and, much to the amusement of a group of Americans,
who immediately began to bet on him, administered to the detective a
perfect volley of blows, which proved the great superiority of French
over English pugilistic skill.

When Passepartout had finished, he found himself relieved and
comforted.  Fix got up in a somewhat rumpled condition, and, looking at
his adversary, coldly said, "Have you done?"

"For this time--yes."

"Then let me have a word with you."

"But I--"

"In your master's interests."

Passepartout seemed to be vanquished by Fix's coolness, for he quietly
followed him, and they sat down aside from the rest of the passengers.

"You have given me a thrashing," said Fix.  "Good, I expected it.  Now,
listen to me.  Up to this time I have been Mr. Fogg's adversary.  I am
now in his game."

"Aha!" cried Passepartout; "you are convinced he is an honest man?"

"No," replied Fix coldly, "I think him a rascal.  Sh! don't budge, and
let me speak.  As long as Mr. Fogg was on English ground, it was for my
interest to detain him there until my warrant of arrest arrived.  I did
everything I could to keep him back.  I sent the Bombay priests after
him, I got you intoxicated at Hong Kong, I separated you from him, and
I made him miss the Yokohama steamer."

Passepartout listened, with closed fists.

"Now," resumed Fix, "Mr. Fogg seems to be going back to England.  Well,
I will follow him there.  But hereafter I will do as much to keep
obstacles out of his way as I have done up to this time to put them in
his path.  I've changed my game, you see, and simply because it was for
my interest to change it.  Your interest is the same as mine; for it is
only in England that you will ascertain whether you are in the service
of a criminal or an honest man."

Passepartout listened very attentively to Fix, and was convinced that
he spoke with entire good faith.

"Are we friends?" asked the detective.

"Friends?--no," replied Passepartout; "but allies, perhaps.  At the
least sign of treason, however, I'll twist your neck for you."

"Agreed," said the detective quietly.

Eleven days later, on the 3rd of December, the General Grant entered
the bay of the Golden Gate, and reached San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a single day.




It was seven in the morning when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout set
foot upon the American continent, if this name can be given to the
floating quay upon which they disembarked.  These quays, rising and
falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of
vessels.  Alongside them were clippers of all sizes, steamers of all
nationalities, and the steamboats, with several decks rising one above
the other, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries.  There were
also heaped up the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico,
Chili, Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and all the Pacific islands.

Passepartout, in his joy on reaching at last the American continent,
thought he would manifest it by executing a perilous vault in fine
style; but, tumbling upon some worm-eaten planks, he fell through them.
Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon
the New World, he uttered a loud cry, which so frightened the
innumerable cormorants and pelicans that are always perched upon these
movable quays, that they flew noisily away.

Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore, proceeded to find out at what hour the
first train left for New York, and learned that this was at six o'clock
p.m.; he had, therefore, an entire day to spend in the Californian
capital.  Taking a carriage at a charge of three dollars, he and Aouda
entered it, while Passepartout mounted the box beside the driver, and
they set out for the International Hotel.

From his exalted position Passepartout observed with much curiosity the
wide streets, the low, evenly ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic
churches, the great docks, the palatial wooden and brick warehouses,
the numerous conveyances, omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon the
side-walks, not only Americans and Europeans, but Chinese and Indians.
Passepartout was surprised at all he saw.  San Francisco was no longer
the legendary city of 1849--a city of banditti, assassins, and
incendiaries, who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder; a
paradise of outlaws, where they gambled with gold-dust, a revolver in
one hand and a bowie-knife in the other: it was now a great commercial
emporium.

The lofty tower of its City Hall overlooked the whole panorama of the
streets and avenues, which cut each other at right-angles, and in the
midst of which appeared pleasant, verdant squares, while beyond
appeared the Chinese quarter, seemingly imported from the Celestial
Empire in a toy-box.  Sombreros and red shirts and plumed Indians were
rarely to be seen; but there were silk hats and black coats everywhere
worn by a multitude of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking men.  Some
of the streets--especially Montgomery Street, which is to San Francisco
what Regent Street is to London, the Boulevard des Italiens to Paris,
and Broadway to New York--were lined with splendid and spacious
stores, which exposed in their windows the products of the entire world.

When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it did not seem to
him as if he had left England at all.

The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by a large bar, a sort of
restaurant freely open to all passers-by, who might partake of dried
beef, oyster soup, biscuits, and cheese, without taking out their
purses.  Payment was made only for the ale, porter, or sherry which was
drunk.  This seemed "very American" to Passepartout.  The hotel
refreshment-rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda, installing
themselves at a table, were abundantly served on diminutive plates by
negroes of darkest hue.

After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the
English consulate to have his passport visaed.  As he was going out, he
met Passepartout, who asked him if it would not be well, before taking
the train, to purchase some dozens of Enfield rifles and Colt's
revolvers.  He had been listening to stories of attacks upon the trains
by the Sioux and Pawnees.  Mr. Fogg thought it a useless precaution,
but told him to do as he thought best, and went on to the consulate.

He had not proceeded two hundred steps, however, when, "by the greatest
chance in the world," he met Fix.  The detective seemed wholly taken by
surprise.  What!  Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed the Pacific
together, and not met on the steamer!  At least Fix felt honoured to
behold once more the gentleman to whom he owed so much, and, as his
business recalled him to Europe, he should be delighted to continue the
journey in such pleasant company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his; and the detective--who
was determined not to lose sight of him--begged permission to accompany
them in their walk about San Francisco--a request which Mr. Fogg
readily granted.

They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd
was collected; the side-walks, street, horsecar rails, the shop-doors,
the windows of the houses, and even the roofs, were full of people.
Men were going about carrying large posters, and flags and streamers
were floating in the wind; while loud cries were heard on every hand.

"Hurrah for Camerfield!"

"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"

It was a political meeting; at least so Fix conjectured, who said to
Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps we had better not mingle with the crowd.  There may
be danger in it."

"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and blows, even if they are political are
still blows."

Fix smiled at this remark; and, in order to be able to see without
being jostled about, the party took up a position on the top of a
flight of steps situated at the upper end of Montgomery Street.
Opposite them, on the other side of the street, between a coal wharf
and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected in the
open air, towards which the current of the crowd seemed to be directed.

For what purpose was this meeting?  What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage?  Phileas Fogg could not imagine.  Was it to
nominate some high official--a governor or member of Congress?  It was
not improbable, so agitated was the multitude before them.

Just at this moment there was an unusual stir in the human mass.  All
the hands were raised in the air.  Some, tightly closed, seemed to
disappear suddenly in the midst of the cries--an energetic way, no
doubt, of casting a vote.  The crowd swayed back, the banners and flags
wavered, disappeared an instant, then reappeared in tatters.  The
undulations of the human surge reached the steps, while all the heads
floundered on the surface like a sea agitated by a squall.  Many of the
black hats disappeared, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to
have diminished in height.

"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix, "and its object must be an
exciting one.  I should not wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that question is settled."

"Perhaps," replied Mr. Fogg, simply.

"At least, there are two champions in presence of each other, the
Honourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy."

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, observed the tumultuous scene with
surprise, while Fix asked a man near him what the cause of it all was.
Before the man could reply, a fresh agitation arose; hurrahs and
excited shouts were heard; the staffs of the banners began to be used
as offensive weapons; and fists flew about in every direction.  Thumps
were exchanged from the tops of the carriages and omnibuses which had
been blocked up in the crowd.  Boots and shoes went whirling through
the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he even heard the crack of revolvers
mingling in the din, the rout approached the stairway, and flowed over
the lower step.  One of the parties had evidently been repulsed; but
the mere lookers-on could not tell whether Mandiboy or Camerfield had
gained the upper hand.

"It would be prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who was anxious that
Mr. Fogg should not receive any injury, at least until they got back to
London.  "If there is any question about England in all this, and we
were recognised, I fear it would go hard with us."

"An English subject--" began Mr. Fogg.

He did not finish his sentence; for a terrific hubbub now arose on the
terrace behind the flight of steps where they stood, and there were
frantic shouts of, "Hurrah for Mandiboy!  Hip, hip, hurrah!"

It was a band of voters coming to the rescue of their allies, and
taking the Camerfield forces in flank.  Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found
themselves between two fires; it was too late to escape.  The torrent
of men, armed with loaded canes and sticks, was irresistible.  Phileas
Fogg and Fix were roughly hustled in their attempts to protect their
fair companion; the former, as cool as ever, tried to defend himself
with the weapons which nature has placed at the end of every
Englishman's arm, but in vain.  A big brawny fellow with a red beard,
flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the
band, raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg, whom he would have
given a crushing blow, had not Fix rushed in and received it in his
stead.  An enormous bruise immediately made its appearance under the
detective's silk hat, which was completely smashed in.

"Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous look at the
ruffian.

"Englishman!" returned the other.  "We will meet again!"

"When you please."

"What is your name?"

"Phileas Fogg.  And yours?"

"Colonel Stamp Proctor."

The human tide now swept by, after overturning Fix, who speedily got
upon his feet again, though with tattered clothes.  Happily, he was not
seriously hurt.  His travelling overcoat was divided into two unequal
parts, and his trousers resembled those of certain Indians, which fit
less compactly than they are easy to put on.  Aouda had escaped
unharmed, and Fix alone bore marks of the fray in his black and blue
bruise.

"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of
the crowd.

"No thanks are necessary," replied.  Fix; "but let us go."

"Where?"

"To a tailor's."

Such a visit was, indeed, opportune.  The clothing of both Mr. Fogg and
Fix was in rags, as if they had themselves been actively engaged in the
contest between Camerfield and Mandiboy.  An hour after, they were once
more suitably attired, and with Aouda returned to the International
Hotel.

Passepartout was waiting for his master, armed with half a dozen
six-barrelled revolvers.  When he perceived Fix, he knit his brows; but
Aouda having, in a few words, told him of their adventure, his
countenance resumed its placid expression.  Fix evidently was no longer
an enemy, but an ally; he was faithfully keeping his word.

Dinner over, the coach which was to convey the passengers and their
luggage to the station drew up to the door.  As he was getting in, Mr.
Fogg said to Fix, "You have not seen this Colonel Proctor again?"

"No."

"I will come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It would not be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be
treated in that way, without retaliating."

The detective smiled, but did not reply.  It was clear that Mr. Fogg
was one of those Englishmen who, while they do not tolerate duelling at
home, fight abroad when their honour is attacked.

At a quarter before six the travellers reached the station, and found
the train ready to depart.  As he was about to enter it, Mr. Fogg
called a porter, and said to him: "My friend, was there not some
trouble to-day in San Francisco?"

"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.

"But I thought there was a great deal of disturbance in the streets."

"It was only a meeting assembled for an election."

"The election of a general-in-chief, no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.

"No, sir; of a justice of the peace."

Phileas Fogg got into the train, which started off at full speed.




"From ocean to ocean"--so say the Americans; and these four words
compose the general designation of the "great trunk line" which crosses
the entire width of the United States.  The Pacific Railroad is,
however, really divided into two distinct lines: the Central Pacific,
between San Francisco and Ogden, and the Union Pacific, between Ogden
and Omaha.  Five main lines connect Omaha with New York.

New York and San Francisco are thus united by an uninterrupted metal
ribbon, which measures no less than three thousand seven hundred and
eighty-six miles.  Between Omaha and the Pacific the railway crosses a
territory which is still infested by Indians and wild beasts, and a
large tract which the Mormons, after they were driven from Illinois in
1845, began to colonise.

The journey from New York to San Francisco consumed, formerly, under
the most favourable conditions, at least six months.  It is now
accomplished in seven days.

It was in 1862 that, in spite of the Southern Members of Congress, who
wished a more southerly route, it was decided to lay the road between
the forty-first and forty-second parallels.  President Lincoln himself
fixed the end of the line at Omaha, in Nebraska.  The work was at once
commenced, and pursued with true American energy; nor did the rapidity
with which it went on injuriously affect its good execution.  The road
grew, on the prairies, a mile and a half a day.  A locomotive, running
on the rails laid down the evening before, brought the rails to be laid
on the morrow, and advanced upon them as fast as they were put in
position.

The Pacific Railroad is joined by several branches in Iowa, Kansas,
Colorado, and Oregon.  On leaving Omaha, it passes along the left bank
of the Platte River as far as the junction of its northern branch,
follows its southern branch, crosses the Laramie territory and the
Wahsatch Mountains, turns the Great Salt Lake, and reaches Salt Lake
City, the Mormon capital, plunges into the Tuilla Valley, across the
American Desert, Cedar and Humboldt Mountains, the Sierra Nevada, and
descends, via Sacramento, to the Pacific--its grade, even on the Rocky
Mountains, never exceeding one hundred and twelve feet to the mile.

Such was the road to be traversed in seven days, which would enable
Phileas Fogg--at least, so he hoped--to take the Atlantic steamer at
New York on the 11th for Liverpool.

The car which he occupied was a sort of long omnibus on eight wheels,
and with no compartments in the interior.  It was supplied with two
rows of seats, perpendicular to the direction of the train on either
side of an aisle which conducted to the front and rear platforms.
These platforms were found throughout the train, and the passengers
were able to pass from one end of the train to the other.  It was
supplied with saloon cars, balcony cars, restaurants, and smoking-cars;
theatre cars alone were wanting, and they will have these some day.

Book and news dealers, sellers of edibles, drinkables, and cigars, who
seemed to have plenty of customers, were continually circulating in the
aisles.

The train left Oakland station at six o'clock.  It was already night,
cold and cheerless, the heavens being overcast with clouds which seemed
to threaten snow.  The train did not proceed rapidly; counting the
stoppages, it did not run more than twenty miles an hour, which was a
sufficient speed, however, to enable it to reach Omaha within its
designated time.

There was but little conversation in the car, and soon many of the
passengers were overcome with sleep.  Passepartout found himself beside
the detective; but he did not talk to him.  After recent events, their
relations with each other had grown somewhat cold; there could no
longer be mutual sympathy or intimacy between them.  Fix's manner had
not changed; but Passepartout was very reserved, and ready to strangle
his former friend on the slightest provocation.

Snow began to fall an hour after they started, a fine snow, however,
which happily could not obstruct the train; nothing could be seen from
the windows but a vast, white sheet, against which the smoke of the
locomotive had a greyish aspect.

At eight o'clock a steward entered the car and announced that the time
for going to bed had arrived; and in a few minutes the car was
transformed into a dormitory.  The backs of the seats were thrown back,
bedsteads carefully packed were rolled out by an ingenious system,
berths were suddenly improvised, and each traveller had soon at his
disposition a comfortable bed, protected from curious eyes by thick
curtains.  The sheets were clean and the pillows soft.  It only
remained to go to bed and sleep which everybody did--while the train
sped on across the State of California.

The country between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly.
The Central Pacific, taking Sacramento for its starting-point, extends
eastward to meet the road from Omaha.  The line from San Francisco to
Sacramento runs in a north-easterly direction, along the American
River, which empties into San Pablo Bay.  The one hundred and twenty
miles between these cities were accomplished in six hours, and towards
midnight, while fast asleep, the travellers passed through Sacramento;
so that they saw nothing of that important place, the seat of the State
government, with its fine quays, its broad streets, its noble hotels,
squares, and churches.

The train, on leaving Sacramento, and passing the junction, Roclin,
Auburn, and Colfax, entered the range of the Sierra Nevada.  'Cisco was
reached at seven in the morning; and an hour later the dormitory was
transformed into an ordinary car, and the travellers could observe the
picturesque beauties of the mountain region through which they were
steaming.  The railway track wound in and out among the passes, now
approaching the mountain-sides, now suspended over precipices, avoiding
abrupt angles by bold curves, plunging into narrow defiles, which
seemed to have no outlet.  The locomotive, its great funnel emitting a
weird light, with its sharp bell, and its cow-catcher extended like a
spur, mingled its shrieks and bellowings with the noise of torrents and
cascades, and twined its smoke among the branches of the gigantic pines.

There were few or no bridges or tunnels on the route.  The railway
turned around the sides of the mountains, and did not attempt to
violate nature by taking the shortest cut from one point to another.

The train entered the State of Nevada through the Carson Valley about
nine o'clock, going always northeasterly; and at midday reached Reno,
where there was a delay of twenty minutes for breakfast.

From this point the road, running along Humboldt River, passed
northward for several miles by its banks; then it turned eastward, and
kept by the river until it reached the Humboldt Range, nearly at the
extreme eastern limit of Nevada.

Having breakfasted, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their places in
the car, and observed the varied landscape which unfolded itself as
they passed along the vast prairies, the mountains lining the horizon,
and the creeks, with their frothy, foaming streams.  Sometimes a great
herd of buffaloes, massing together in the distance, seemed like a
moveable dam.  These innumerable multitudes of ruminating beasts often
form an insurmountable obstacle to the passage of the trains; thousands
of them have been seen passing over the track for hours together, in
compact ranks.  The locomotive is then forced to stop and wait till the
road is once more clear.

This happened, indeed, to the train in which Mr. Fogg was travelling.
About twelve o'clock a troop of ten or twelve thousand head of buffalo
encumbered the track.  The locomotive, slackening its speed, tried to
clear the way with its cow-catcher; but the mass of animals was too
great.  The buffaloes marched along with a tranquil gait, uttering now
and then deafening bellowings.  There was no use of interrupting them,
for, having taken a particular direction, nothing can moderate and
change their course; it is a torrent of living flesh which no dam could
contain.

The travellers gazed on this curious spectacle from the platforms; but
Phileas Fogg, who had the most reason of all to be in a hurry, remained
in his seat, and waited philosophically until it should please the
buffaloes to get out of the way.

Passepartout was furious at the delay they occasioned, and longed to
discharge his arsenal of revolvers upon them.

"What a country!" cried he.  "Mere cattle stop the trains, and go by in
a procession, just as if they were not impeding travel!  Parbleu!  I
should like to know if Mr. Fogg foresaw this mishap in his programme!
And here's an engineer who doesn't dare to run the locomotive into this
herd of beasts!"

The engineer did not try to overcome the obstacle, and he was wise.  He
would have crushed the first buffaloes, no doubt, with the cow-catcher;
but the locomotive, however powerful, would soon have been checked, the
train would inevitably have been thrown off the track, and would then
have been helpless.

The best course was to wait patiently, and regain the lost time by
greater speed when the obstacle was removed.  The procession of
buffaloes lasted three full hours, and it was night before the track
was clear.  The last ranks of the herd were now passing over the rails,
while the first had already disappeared below the southern horizon.

It was eight o'clock when the train passed through the defiles of the
Humboldt Range, and half-past nine when it penetrated Utah, the region
of the Great Salt Lake, the singular colony of the Mormons.

 Meanwhile, it turns out that Passepartout is on the Carnatic after all. He had awoken from his opium stupor three hours after Fix left him in the opium den, still extremely disoriented but feeling some sense of duty to board the Carnatic, which he does, just as it is leaving. When he comes to his senses again, he is glad that he did not miss the steamer; however, he soon realizes that Mr. Fogg and Aouda did, since he did not tell them about the earlier departure time. He realizes that this was all part of Detective Fogg's trick to keep Mr. Fogg in Hong Kong. Passepartout is distraught, but has no choice but to continue on to Yokohama. When the steamer reaches Japan, he gets off to explore the area, which has been made extremely European just like in Hong Kong. He moves further into the Japanese quarter of Yokohama, which is extremely different, and encounters all sorts of people here. He starts to get hungry, but has absolutely no money with which to buy food. The following morning, famished, he realizes he needs to find something to eat as soon as possible. He decides to hold a street concert to earn money from Japanese passerby. He trades his very European outfit for old clothes that seem better suited for a wandering artist. The clothing dealer also pays him a few small coins, with which he purchases breakfast at a teahouse. Trying to figure out how he will get on to the United States without being able to pay his passage, he spots a clown wandering with a placard advertising a Japanese acrobatic troupe performing once more before their passage to the U.S. He follows the clown back into the Japanese quarter and asks William Batulcar, the director of the troupe, whether he can be of use. He refuses to take Passepartout as a servant, but agrees to take him as a clown. Immediately they perform for spectators, and this includes a peculiar performance by the Long Noses, who do acrobatic and gymnastic moves with five to seven-foot long bamboo noses affixed to their faces. Since one of the Long Noses recently quit the troupe, Passepartout takes his place, and joins in the formation of a human pyramid while balancing on the noses. Just as the formation is nearly complete, though, Passepartout causes it to totter and fall. He is not concerned with this, though, because he has just found his master, Mr. Fogg, standing in the crowd with Aouda. Overjoyed, Passepartout collapses at Fogg's feat and hurries on to the American steamer with him. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix were indeed able to board the steamer in Shanghai, and when they reached Yokohama, they heard that Passepartout had indeed been on the Carnatic from Hong Kong after all. They went in search for him, and found him with the acrobats. Aouda told Passepartout the whole story about what had happened to them; she has been getting more and more attached to Fogg with each day that passes. Passepartout decides the time has not yet come to divulge to Fogg what he learned about Fix. By this point, Fogg has traversed exactly half of the globe. Even though he is already two-thirds of the way done with his allotted time, however, he can continue in a straight line for the rest of the journey, and expects everything to go much faster and more smoothly. Also in the middle of the ship's journey, Passepartout's watch, still set to London time, matches up perfectly with the real time of day. What he does not realize, though, is that while it is nine in the morning there, it is actually nine in the evening in London. It turns out that Detective Fix is also on board the steamer to San Francisco. He has decided that since Fogg intends to return to England, he will follow and arrest him there, now that he has the warrant. He tries to conceal himself from Passepartout but runs into him anyway. Fix explains that he is now their ally, since he wants Fogg to make it back to England just as much as they do. Even though he still wants to arrest Fogg, their goals are the same, so they can work together now. They make it to San Francisco at last, and have the day to spend in the city before the cross-country train leaves for New York. Passepartout is surprised so see how many different types of people and ethnic groups are represented in the cosmopolitan city. A lot of the city reminds him of England. Fogg sends Passepartout to purchase them some rifles, having heard stories about Native Americans attacking the trains. Fogg runs into Fix, who pretends to be extremely surprised to see him, and expresses his delight that they will be traveling across the country together to Europe, since his business had recalled him there. As they walk down San Francisco's famous Montgomery Street, they run into a political meeting that turns into a fight between supporters of two different candidates for some position, Mr. Camerfield and Mr. Mandiboy. Fix insists that he and Fogg move away, since they do not know how Englishmen would be received in such a situation. Too late, though, they get caught in the fray, trying to protect Aouda who is with them. A man who seems to be chief of the band of fighting voters strikes them, and after exchanging insults, he introduces himself as Colonel Stamp Proctor. They escape the fight unscathed, but their clothes are in tatters, so they head to a tailor to buy new ones. Passepartout is waiting for them with the guns he purchased. As they board the train, Fogg asks the porter about the meeting in the streets; ironically, the porter tells him it was a meeting assembled for the election of a justice of the peace. The train to New York traverses the Pacific Railroad, which is made up of two parts: the Union Pacific and Central Pacific. The journey takes seven days, and spends much time crossing wild territory inhabited by Indians and wild beasts. The train transforms into a dormitory at night so the passengers can sleep. Throughout the beginning of the journey, they encounter much of America's wild natural setting, including picturesque mountains and buffalo crossing the tracks. The buffaloes delay them, but ever stoic, Fogg does not seem perturbed. As chapter 26 ends, they make it to Utah, a state inhabited by the only colony of Mormons.

