Chapter: The circumstances under which this telegraphic dispatch about Phileas
Fogg was sent were as follows:

The steamer Mongolia, belonging to the Peninsular and Oriental Company,
built of iron, of two thousand eight hundred tons burden, and five
hundred horse-power, was due at eleven o'clock a.m. on Wednesday, the
9th of October, at Suez.  The Mongolia plied regularly between Brindisi
and Bombay via the Suez Canal, and was one of the fastest steamers
belonging to the company, always making more than ten knots an hour
between Brindisi and Suez, and nine and a half between Suez and Bombay.

Two men were promenading up and down the wharves, among the crowd of
natives and strangers who were sojourning at this once straggling
village--now, thanks to the enterprise of M. Lesseps, a fast-growing
town.  One was the British consul at Suez, who, despite the prophecies
of the English Government, and the unfavourable predictions of
Stephenson, was in the habit of seeing, from his office window, English
ships daily passing to and fro on the great canal, by which the old
roundabout route from England to India by the Cape of Good Hope was
abridged by at least a half.  The other was a small, slight-built
personage, with a nervous, intelligent face, and bright eyes peering
out from under eyebrows which he was incessantly twitching.  He was
just now manifesting unmistakable signs of impatience, nervously pacing
up and down, and unable to stand still for a moment.  This was Fix, one
of the detectives who had been dispatched from England in search of the
bank robber; it was his task to narrowly watch every passenger who
arrived at Suez, and to follow up all who seemed to be suspicious
characters, or bore a resemblance to the description of the criminal,
which he had received two days before from the police headquarters at
London.  The detective was evidently inspired by the hope of obtaining
the splendid reward which would be the prize of success, and awaited
with a feverish impatience, easy to understand, the arrival of the
steamer Mongolia.

"So you say, consul," asked he for the twentieth time, "that this
steamer is never behind time?"

"No, Mr. Fix," replied the consul.  "She was bespoken yesterday at Port
Said, and the rest of the way is of no account to such a craft.  I
repeat that the Mongolia has been in advance of the time required by
the company's regulations, and gained the prize awarded for excess of
speed."

"Does she come directly from Brindisi?"

"Directly from Brindisi; she takes on the Indian mails there, and she
left there Saturday at five p.m.  Have patience, Mr. Fix; she will not
be late.  But really, I don't see how, from the description you have,
you will be able to recognise your man, even if he is on board the
Mongolia."

"A man rather feels the presence of these fellows, consul, than
recognises them.  You must have a scent for them, and a scent is like a
sixth sense which combines hearing, seeing, and smelling.  I've
arrested more than one of these gentlemen in my time, and, if my thief
is on board, I'll answer for it; he'll not slip through my fingers."

"I hope so, Mr. Fix, for it was a heavy robbery."

"A magnificent robbery, consul; fifty-five thousand pounds!  We don't
often have such windfalls.  Burglars are getting to be so contemptible
nowadays!  A fellow gets hung for a handful of shillings!"

"Mr. Fix," said the consul, "I like your way of talking, and hope
you'll succeed; but I fear you will find it far from easy.  Don't you
see, the description which you have there has a singular resemblance to
an honest man?"

"Consul," remarked the detective, dogmatically, "great robbers always
resemble honest folks.  Fellows who have rascally faces have only one
course to take, and that is to remain honest; otherwise they would be
arrested off-hand.  The artistic thing is, to unmask honest
countenances; it's no light task, I admit, but a real art."

Mr. Fix evidently was not wanting in a tinge of self-conceit.

Little by little the scene on the quay became more animated; sailors of
various nations, merchants, ship-brokers, porters, fellahs, bustled to
and fro as if the steamer were immediately expected.  The weather was
clear, and slightly chilly.  The minarets of the town loomed above the
houses in the pale rays of the sun.  A jetty pier, some two thousand
yards along, extended into the roadstead.  A number of fishing-smacks
and coasting boats, some retaining the fantastic fashion of ancient
galleys, were discernible on the Red Sea.

As he passed among the busy crowd, Fix, according to habit, scrutinised
the passers-by with a keen, rapid glance.

It was now half-past ten.

"The steamer doesn't come!" he exclaimed, as the port clock struck.

"She can't be far off now," returned his companion.

"How long will she stop at Suez?"

"Four hours; long enough to get in her coal.  It is thirteen hundred
and ten miles from Suez to Aden, at the other end of the Red Sea, and
she has to take in a fresh coal supply."

"And does she go from Suez directly to Bombay?"

"Without putting in anywhere."

"Good!" said Fix.  "If the robber is on board he will no doubt get off
at Suez, so as to reach the Dutch or French colonies in Asia by some
other route.  He ought to know that he would not be safe an hour in
India, which is English soil."

"Unless," objected the consul, "he is exceptionally shrewd.  An English
criminal, you know, is always better concealed in London than anywhere
else."

This observation furnished the detective food for thought, and
meanwhile the consul went away to his office.  Fix, left alone, was
more impatient than ever, having a presentiment that the robber was on
board the Mongolia.  If he had indeed left London intending to reach
the New World, he would naturally take the route via India, which was
less watched and more difficult to watch than that of the Atlantic.
But Fix's reflections were soon interrupted by a succession of sharp
whistles, which announced the arrival of the Mongolia.  The porters and
fellahs rushed down the quay, and a dozen boats pushed off from the
shore to go and meet the steamer.  Soon her gigantic hull appeared
passing along between the banks, and eleven o'clock struck as she
anchored in the road.  She brought an unusual number of passengers,
some of whom remained on deck to scan the picturesque panorama of the
town, while the greater part disembarked in the boats, and landed on
the quay.

Fix took up a position, and carefully examined each face and figure
which made its appearance.  Presently one of the passengers, after
vigorously pushing his way through the importunate crowd of porters,
came up to him and politely asked if he could point out the English
consulate, at the same time showing a passport which he wished to have
visaed.  Fix instinctively took the passport, and with a rapid glance
read the description of its bearer.  An involuntary motion of surprise
nearly escaped him, for the description in the passport was identical
with that of the bank robber which he had received from Scotland Yard.

"Is this your passport?" asked he.

"No, it's my master's."

"And your master is--"

"He stayed on board."

"But he must go to the consul's in person, so as to establish his
identity."

"Oh, is that necessary?"

"Quite indispensable."

"And where is the consulate?"

"There, on the corner of the square," said Fix, pointing to a house two
hundred steps off.

"I'll go and fetch my master, who won't be much pleased, however, to be
disturbed."

The passenger bowed to Fix, and returned to the steamer.




The detective passed down the quay, and rapidly made his way to the
consul's office, where he was at once admitted to the presence of that
official.

"Consul," said he, without preamble, "I have strong reasons for
believing that my man is a passenger on the Mongolia." And he narrated
what had just passed concerning the passport.

"Well, Mr. Fix," replied the consul, "I shall not be sorry to see the
rascal's face; but perhaps he won't come here--that is, if he is the
person you suppose him to be.  A robber doesn't quite like to leave
traces of his flight behind him; and, besides, he is not obliged to
have his passport countersigned."

"If he is as shrewd as I think he is, consul, he will come."

"To have his passport visaed?"

"Yes.  Passports are only good for annoying honest folks, and aiding in
the flight of rogues.  I assure you it will be quite the thing for him
to do; but I hope you will not visa the passport."

"Why not?  If the passport is genuine I have no right to refuse."

"Still, I must keep this man here until I can get a warrant to arrest
him from London."

"Ah, that's your look-out.  But I cannot--"

The consul did not finish his sentence, for as he spoke a knock was
heard at the door, and two strangers entered, one of whom was the
servant whom Fix had met on the quay.  The other, who was his master,
held out his passport with the request that the consul would do him the
favour to visa it.  The consul took the document and carefully read it,
whilst Fix observed, or rather devoured, the stranger with his eyes
from a corner of the room.

"You are Mr. Phileas Fogg?" said the consul, after reading the passport.

"I am."

"And this man is your servant?"

"He is: a Frenchman, named Passepartout."

"You are from London?"

"Yes."

"And you are going--"

"To Bombay."

"Very good, sir.  You know that a visa is useless, and that no passport
is required?"

"I know it, sir," replied Phileas Fogg; "but I wish to prove, by your
visa, that I came by Suez."

"Very well, sir."

The consul proceeded to sign and date the passport, after which he
added his official seal.  Mr. Fogg paid the customary fee, coldly
bowed, and went out, followed by his servant.

"Well?" queried the detective.

"Well, he looks and acts like a perfectly honest man," replied the
consul.

"Possibly; but that is not the question.  Do you think, consul, that
this phlegmatic gentleman resembles, feature by feature, the robber
whose description I have received?"

"I concede that; but then, you know, all descriptions--"

"I'll make certain of it," interrupted Fix.  "The servant seems to me
less mysterious than the master; besides, he's a Frenchman, and can't
help talking.  Excuse me for a little while, consul."

Fix started off in search of Passepartout.

Meanwhile Mr. Fogg, after leaving the consulate, repaired to the quay,
gave some orders to Passepartout, went off to the    Mongolia in a
boat, and descended to his cabin.  He took up his note-book, which
contained the following memoranda:

"Left London, Wednesday, October 2nd, at 8.45 p.m.  "Reached Paris,
Thursday, October 3rd, at 7.20 a.m.  "Left Paris, Thursday, at 8.40
a.m.  "Reached Turin by Mont Cenis, Friday, October 4th, at 6.35 a.m.
"Left Turin, Friday, at 7.20 a.m.  "Arrived at Brindisi, Saturday,
October 5th, at 4 p.m.  "Sailed on the Mongolia, Saturday, at 5 p.m.
"Reached Suez, Wednesday, October 9th, at 11 a.m.  "Total of hours
spent, 158+; or, in days, six days and a half."

These dates were inscribed in an itinerary divided into columns,
indicating the month, the day of the month, and the day for the
stipulated and actual arrivals at each principal point Paris, Brindisi,
Suez, Bombay, Calcutta, Singapore, Hong Kong, Yokohama, San Francisco,
New York, and London--from the 2nd of October to the 21st of December;
and giving a space for setting down the gain made or the loss suffered
on arrival at each locality.  This methodical record thus contained an
account of everything needed, and Mr. Fogg always knew whether he was
behind-hand or in advance of his time.  On this Friday, October 9th, he
noted his arrival at Suez, and observed that he had as yet neither
gained nor lost.  He sat down quietly to breakfast in his cabin, never
once thinking of inspecting the town, being one of those Englishmen who
are wont to see foreign countries through the eyes of their domestics.




Fix soon rejoined Passepartout, who was lounging and looking about on
the quay, as if he did not feel that he, at least, was obliged not to
see anything.

"Well, my friend," said the detective, coming up with him, "is your
passport visaed?"

"Ah, it's you, is it, monsieur?" responded Passepartout.  "Thanks, yes,
the passport is all right."

"And you are looking about you?"

"Yes; but we travel so fast that I seem to be journeying in a dream.
So this is Suez?"

"Yes."

"In Egypt?"

"Certainly, in Egypt."

"And in Africa?"

"In Africa."

"In Africa!" repeated Passepartout.  "Just think, monsieur, I had no
idea that we should go farther than Paris; and all that I saw of Paris
was between twenty minutes past seven and twenty minutes before nine in
the morning, between the Northern and the Lyons stations, through the
windows of a car, and in a driving rain!  How I regret not having seen
once more Pere la Chaise and the circus in the Champs Elysees!"

"You are in a great hurry, then?"

"I am not, but my master is.  By the way, I must buy some shoes and
shirts.  We came away without trunks, only with a carpet-bag."

"I will show you an excellent shop for getting what you want."

"Really, monsieur, you are very kind."

And they walked off together, Passepartout chatting volubly as they
went along.

"Above all," said he; "don't let me lose the steamer."

"You have plenty of time; it's only twelve o'clock."

Passepartout pulled out his big watch.  "Twelve!" he exclaimed; "why,
it's only eight minutes before ten."

"Your watch is slow."

"My watch?  A family watch, monsieur, which has come down from my
great-grandfather!  It doesn't vary five minutes in the year.  It's a
perfect chronometer, look you."

"I see how it is," said Fix.  "You have kept London time, which is two
hours behind that of Suez.  You ought to regulate your watch at noon in
each country."

"I regulate my watch?  Never!"

"Well, then, it will not agree with the sun."

"So much the worse for the sun, monsieur.  The sun will be wrong, then!"

And the worthy fellow returned the watch to its fob with a defiant
gesture.  After a few minutes silence, Fix resumed: "You left London
hastily, then?"

"I rather think so!  Last Friday at eight o'clock in the evening,
Monsieur Fogg came home from his club, and three-quarters of an hour
afterwards we were off."

"But where is your master going?"

"Always straight ahead.  He is going round the world."

"Round the world?" cried Fix.

"Yes, and in eighty days!  He says it is on a wager; but, between us, I
don't believe a word of it.  That wouldn't be common sense.  There's
something else in the wind."

"Ah!  Mr. Fogg is a character, is he?"

"I should say he was."

"Is he rich?"

"No doubt, for he is carrying an enormous sum in brand new banknotes
with him.  And he doesn't spare the money on the way, either: he has
offered a large reward to the engineer of the Mongolia if he gets us to
Bombay well in advance of time."

"And you have known your master a long time?"

"Why, no; I entered his service the very day we left London."

The effect of these replies upon the already suspicious and excited
detective may be imagined.  The hasty departure from London soon after
the robbery; the large sum carried by Mr. Fogg; his eagerness to reach
distant countries; the pretext of an eccentric and foolhardy bet--all
confirmed Fix in his theory.  He continued to pump poor Passepartout,
and learned that he really knew little or nothing of his master, who
lived a solitary existence in London, was said to be rich, though no
one knew whence came his riches, and was mysterious and impenetrable in
his affairs and habits.  Fix felt sure that Phileas Fogg would not land
at Suez, but was really going on to Bombay.

"Is Bombay far from here?" asked Passepartout.

"Pretty far.  It is a ten days' voyage by sea."

"And in what country is Bombay?"

"India."

"In Asia?"

"Certainly."

"The deuce!  I was going to tell you there's one thing that worries
me--my burner!"

"What burner?"

"My gas-burner, which I forgot to turn off, and which is at this moment
burning at my expense.  I have calculated, monsieur, that I lose two
shillings every four and twenty hours, exactly sixpence more than I
earn; and you will understand that the longer our journey--"

Did Fix pay any attention to Passepartout's trouble about the gas?  It
is not probable.  He was not listening, but was cogitating a project.
Passepartout and he had now reached the shop, where Fix left his
companion to make his purchases, after recommending him not to miss the
steamer, and hurried back to the consulate.  Now that he was fully
convinced, Fix had quite recovered his equanimity.

"Consul," said he, "I have no longer any doubt.  I have spotted my man.
He passes himself off as an odd stick who is going round the world in
eighty days."

"Then he's a sharp fellow," returned the consul, "and counts on
returning to London after putting the police of the two countries off
his track."

"We'll see about that," replied Fix.

"But are you not mistaken?"

"I am not mistaken."

"Why was this robber so anxious to prove, by the visa, that he had
passed through Suez?"

"Why?  I have no idea; but listen to me."

He reported in a few words the most important parts of his conversation
with Passepartout.

"In short," said the consul, "appearances are wholly against this man.
And what are you going to do?"

"Send a dispatch to London for a warrant of arrest to be dispatched
instantly to Bombay, take passage on board the Mongolia, follow my
rogue to India, and there, on English ground, arrest him politely, with
my warrant in my hand, and my hand on his shoulder."

Having uttered these words with a cool, careless air, the detective
took leave of the consul, and repaired to the telegraph office, whence
he sent the dispatch which we have seen to the London police office.  A
quarter of an hour later found Fix, with a small bag in his hand,
proceeding on board the Mongolia; and, ere many moments longer, the
noble steamer rode out at full steam upon the waters of the Red Sea.




The distance between Suez and Aden is precisely thirteen hundred and
ten miles, and the regulations of the company allow the steamers one
hundred and thirty-eight hours in which to traverse it.  The Mongolia,
thanks to the vigorous exertions of the engineer, seemed likely, so
rapid was her speed, to reach her destination considerably within that
time.  The greater part of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for
India some for Bombay, others for Calcutta by way of Bombay, the
nearest route thither, now that a railway crosses the Indian peninsula.
Among the passengers was a number of officials and military officers of
various grades, the latter being either attached to the regular British
forces or commanding the Sepoy troops, and receiving high salaries ever
since the central government has assumed the powers of the East India
Company: for the sub-lieutenants get 280 pounds, brigadiers, 2,400
pounds, and generals of divisions, 4,000 pounds.  What with the
military men, a number of rich young Englishmen on their travels, and
the hospitable efforts of the purser, the time passed quickly on the
Mongolia.  The best of fare was spread upon the cabin tables at
breakfast, lunch, dinner, and the eight o'clock supper, and the ladies
scrupulously changed their toilets twice a day; and the hours were
whirled away, when the sea was tranquil, with music, dancing, and games.

But the Red Sea is full of caprice, and often boisterous, like most
long and narrow gulfs.  When the wind came from the African or Asian
coast the Mongolia, with her long hull, rolled fearfully.  Then the
ladies speedily disappeared below; the pianos were silent; singing and
dancing suddenly ceased.  Yet the good ship ploughed straight on,
unretarded by wind or wave, towards the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb.  What
was Phileas Fogg doing all this time?  It might be thought that, in his
anxiety, he would be constantly watching the changes of the wind, the
disorderly raging of the billows--every chance, in short, which might
force the Mongolia to slacken her speed, and thus interrupt his
journey.  But, if he thought of these possibilities, he did not betray
the fact by any outward sign.

Always the same impassible member of the Reform Club, whom no incident
could surprise, as unvarying as the ship's chronometers, and seldom
having the curiosity even to go upon the deck, he passed through the
memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference; did not care to
recognise the historic towns and villages which, along its borders,
raised their picturesque outlines against the sky; and betrayed no fear
of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf, which the old historians always
spoke of with horror, and upon which the ancient navigators never
ventured without propitiating the gods by ample sacrifices.  How did
this eccentric personage pass his time on the Mongolia?  He made his
four hearty meals every day, regardless of the most persistent rolling
and pitching on the part of the steamer; and he played whist
indefatigably, for he had found partners as enthusiastic in the game as
himself.  A tax-collector, on the way to his post at Goa; the Rev.
Decimus Smith, returning to his parish at Bombay; and a
brigadier-general of the English army, who was about to rejoin his
brigade at Benares, made up the party, and, with Mr. Fogg, played whist
by the hour together in absorbing silence.

As for Passepartout, he, too, had escaped sea-sickness, and took his
meals conscientiously in the forward cabin.  He rather enjoyed the
voyage, for he was well fed and well lodged, took a great interest in
the scenes through which they were passing, and consoled himself with
the delusion that his master's whim would end at Bombay.  He was
pleased, on the day after leaving Suez, to find on deck the obliging
person with whom he had walked and chatted on the quays.

"If I am not mistaken," said he, approaching this person, with his most
amiable smile, "you are the gentleman who so kindly volunteered to
guide me at Suez?"

"Ah!  I quite recognise you.  You are the servant of the strange
Englishman--"

"Just so, monsieur--"

"Fix."

"Monsieur Fix," resumed Passepartout, "I'm charmed to find you on
board.  Where are you bound?"

"Like you, to Bombay."

"That's capital!  Have you made this trip before?"

"Several times.  I am one of the agents of the Peninsular Company."

"Then you know India?"

"Why yes," replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.

"A curious place, this India?"

"Oh, very curious.  Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas,
tigers, snakes, elephants!  I hope you will have ample time to see the
sights."

"I hope so, Monsieur Fix.  You see, a man of sound sense ought not to
spend his life jumping from a steamer upon a railway train, and from a
railway train upon a steamer again, pretending to make the tour of the
world in eighty days!  No; all these gymnastics, you may be sure, will
cease at Bombay."

"And Mr. Fogg is getting on well?" asked Fix, in the most natural tone
in the world.

"Quite well, and I too.  I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea air."

"But I never see your master on deck."

"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."

"Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this pretended tour in eighty days
may conceal some secret errand--perhaps a diplomatic mission?"

"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it, nor would I
give half a crown to find out."

After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting
together, the latter making it a point to gain the worthy man's
confidence.  He frequently offered him a glass of whiskey or pale ale
in the steamer bar-room, which Passepartout never failed to accept with
graceful alacrity, mentally pronouncing Fix the best of good fellows.

Meanwhile the Mongolia was pushing forward rapidly; on the 13th, Mocha,
surrounded by its ruined walls whereon date-trees were growing, was
sighted, and on the mountains beyond were espied vast coffee-fields.
Passepartout was ravished to behold this celebrated place, and thought
that, with its circular walls and dismantled fort, it looked like an
immense coffee-cup and saucer. The following night they passed through
the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means in Arabic The Bridge of Tears,
and the next day they put in at Steamer Point, north-west of Aden
harbour, to take in coal.  This matter of fuelling steamers is a
serious one at such distances from the coal-mines; it costs the
Peninsular Company some eight hundred thousand pounds a year.  In these
distant seas, coal is worth three or four pounds sterling a ton.

The Mongolia had still sixteen hundred and fifty miles to traverse
before reaching Bombay, and was obliged to remain four hours at Steamer
Point to coal up.  But this delay, as it was foreseen, did not affect
Phileas Fogg's programme; besides, the Mongolia, instead of reaching
Aden on the morning of the 15th, when she was due, arrived there on the
evening of the 14th, a gain of fifteen hours.

Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport again
visaed; Fix, unobserved, followed them.  The visa procured, Mr. Fogg
returned on board to resume his former habits; while Passepartout,
according to custom, sauntered about among the mixed population of
Somalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans who comprise the
twenty-five thousand inhabitants of Aden.  He gazed with wonder upon
the fortifications which make this place the Gibraltar of the Indian
Ocean, and the vast cisterns where the English engineers were still at
work, two thousand years after the engineers of Solomon.

"Very curious, very curious," said Passepartout to himself, on
returning to the steamer.  "I see that it is by no means useless to
travel, if a man wants to see something new."  At six p.m.  the
Mongolia slowly moved out of the roadstead, and was soon once more on
the Indian Ocean.  She had a hundred and sixty-eight hours in which to
reach Bombay, and the sea was favourable, the wind being in the
north-west, and all sails aiding the engine.  The steamer rolled but
little, the ladies, in fresh toilets, reappeared on deck, and the
singing and dancing were resumed.  The trip was being accomplished most
successfully, and Passepartout was enchanted with the congenial
companion which chance had secured him in the person of the delightful
Fix.  On Sunday, October 20th, towards noon, they came in sight of the
Indian coast: two hours later the pilot came on board.  A range of
hills lay against the sky in the horizon, and soon the rows of palms
which adorn Bombay came distinctly into view.  The steamer entered the
road formed by the islands in the bay, and at half-past four she hauled
up at the quays of Bombay.

Phileas Fogg was in the act of finishing the thirty-third rubber of the
voyage, and his partner and himself having, by a bold stroke, captured
all thirteen of the tricks, concluded this fine campaign with a
brilliant victory.

The Mongolia was due at Bombay on the 22nd; she arrived on the 20th.
This was a gain to Phileas Fogg of two days since his departure from
London, and he calmly entered the fact in the itinerary, in the column
of gains.




Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its base
in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embraces
fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequally
a population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls.  The British
Crown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion of
this vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,
governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governor
at Agra.

But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundred
thousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to one
hundred and ten millions of inhabitants.  A considerable portion of
India is still free from British authority; and there are certain
ferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent.  The
celebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when the
English first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the city
of Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection.  It
gradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of the
native chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-general
and his subordinates, civil and military.  But the East India Company
has now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directly
under the control of the Crown.  The aspect of the country, as well as
the manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.

Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methods
of going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches;
now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a great
railway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on its
route, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days.
This railway does not run in a direct line across India.  The distance
between Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from one
thousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the road
increase this distance by more than a third.

The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows:
Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continent
opposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thence
north-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independent
territory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,
meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little,
and, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town of
Chandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.

The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; at
exactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.

Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left the
steamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him to
be at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, which
beat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps to
the passport office.  As for the wonders of Bombay--its famous city
hall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,
synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on Malabar
Hill, with its two polygonal towers--he cared not a straw to see them.
He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, or
the mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or those
fine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of the
island of Salcette.

Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Fogg
repaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.
Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommended
a certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.

Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,
found it far from palatable.  He rang for the landlord, and, on his
appearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"

"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."

"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"

"Mew, my lord!  What, a rabbit mew!  I swear to you--"

"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats were
formerly considered, in India, as sacred animals.  That was a good
time."

"For the cats, my lord?"

"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"

After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner.  Fix had gone on
shore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was the
headquarters of the Bombay police.  He made himself known as a London
detective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairs
relative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant had
arrived from London.  It had not reached the office; indeed, there had
not yet been time for it to arrive.  Fix was sorely disappointed, and
tried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombay
police.  This the director refused, as the matter concerned the London
office, which alone could legally deliver the warrant.  Fix did not
insist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of the
important document; but he was determined not to lose sight of the
mysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay.  He did not doubt for
a moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remain
there, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.

Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders on
leaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombay
as they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extended
at least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place.  He began
to ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really in
good earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,
despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!

Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took a
leisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of many
nationalities--Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with round
turbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, and
long-robed Armenians--were collected.  It happened to be the day of a
Parsee festival.  These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster--the most
thrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, among
whom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay--were
celebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows,
in the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-coloured
gauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfect
modesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines.  It is
needless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies with
staring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of the
greenest booby imaginable.

Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew him
unconsciously farther off than he intended to go.  At last, having seen
the Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his steps
towards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda on
Malabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see its
interior.  He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians to
enter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go in
without first leaving their shoes outside the door.  It may be said
here that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes a
disregard of the practices of the native religions.

Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,
and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentation
which everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himself
sprawling on the sacred flagging.  He looked up to behold three enraged
priests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began to
beat him with loud, savage exclamations.  The agile Frenchman was soon
upon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of his
long-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application of
his toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs could
carry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowd
in the streets.

At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, and
having in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushed
breathlessly into the station.

Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he was
really going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform.  He had
resolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and farther, if
necessary.  Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in an
obscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few words
to Mr. Fogg.

"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly, as
he got into the train.  Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followed
his master without a word.  Fix was on the point of entering another
carriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.

"No, I'll stay," muttered he.  "An offence has been committed on Indian
soil.  I've got my man."

Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed out
into the darkness of the night.

 A detective named Mr. Fix waits at the port of the Suez Canal in Egypt as chapter VI begins. He has been dispatched to catch the bank robber , and he is sure that he will be a passenger on the Mongolia, a steamer that has come across the Mediterranean to Suez and will continue on to India. Fix believes the robber might be trying to get to America using the long route, but hopes he will be able to get a warrant for his arrest when they reach India, since India is British territory. The steamer Mongolia arrives in Suez and a servant comes off, attempting to bring his master's passport to the consul. Fix tells him his master must show his face in person, and when Passepartout disappears to fetch Fogg, Fix goes in to the consul's office to tell him that he is fairly certain the bank robber is on board the Mongolia. Fogg comes into the consul's office requesting that his passport be stamped with a visa, since part of the bet was that he would get visas in every place he went to prove that he really did travel around the world. It took Fogg and Passepartout six and a half days to make it across Europe to Suez by rain to Italy and by steamer to Egypt, so they are right on schedule. He keeps a record of the time in a notebook so that he will always know whether he has gained or lost time. Meanwhile, Fix goes to talk to Passepartout, who mentions that his master is in the great hurry and that he did not expect they would actually come this far. Fix notices that Passepartout has kept his watch on London time, and is thus two hours behind local time; however, Passepartout adamantly refuses to change it. He goes on to reveal a little too much information about his master to Fix, telling him that Fogg is going around the world on a bet and that he is rich, carrying around a large sum of money with him. He says Fogg has offered the engineer of the Mongolia a lot of money if he gets them to Bombay, India ahead of time. All of this, to Fix, highly suggests that Fogg is indeed the robber. He tells the consul to send a dispatch to London to get a warrant for Fogg's arrest as soon as they reach Bombay. At first, it seems like the Mongolia will make it to her destination well ahead of time, but the seas become rougher as the wind begins to blow hard. Phileas Fogg, however, does not appear anxious at all. Instead, he calmly eats four large meals a day and plays the card game whist with some other passengers. Passepartout is also greatly enjoying the voyage, and on the second day he is pleased to see that Fix, the man he befriended at the port, is on board as well . They make small talk for a bit, but eventually Fix asks if Passepartout knows of any secret underlying reason why Fogg would embark on such a round-the-world trip. Passepartout denies knowing anything about such a thing. As the days go by Fix makes it a point to talk often to Passepartout to gain his confidence, and Passepartout has no knowledge of Fix's true identity or underlying motivations. The Mongolia arrives in Bombay two full days ahead of schedule. Though Britain occupies much of India, a large population of the subcontinent towards the interior is still free from British rule, and is somewhat ferocious, at that. The center of the country has been changing fast, though, with railroads being built across it. Fogg and Passepartout will take this train across India to Calcutta, where they will catch a steamer ship to Hong Kong. Fix is disappointed that a warrant for Fogg's arrest has not yet arrived from London. He resigns himself not to let Fogg escape his sight. Passepartout spends the few hours before the train leaves wandering the streets of Bombay, determined to see some of the sights before they leave too quickly to take them in. He goes farther than he intends to and encounters a beautiful pagoda on a hill, and does not realize first, that Christians are forbidden to enter, and second, that it is a crime to enter it with shoes on. He goes into the temple to admire it, but soon finds himself assaulted by angry priests. They tear off his shoes and begin to fight him, and he narrowly escapes with enough time to get to the train station. He breathlessly explains to Mr. Fogg what happened, which Fix, standing nearby, overhears. Before this, he was about to get on the train with them. Now, though, after hearing what Passepartout has done, he comes up with another plan to catch them, and chooses to remain in Bombay. Chapter VI introduces the primary antagonist for the very first time. While some stories may not have a physical antagonist--the conflict may be something other than man vs. man--in this case, it is very easy to distinguish Detective Fix as the character most obviously working against Fogg.

