Around the World in Eighty Days. Junior Deluxe Edition

  Chapter 11

  In Which Phileas Fogg Buys a CuriousMeans of Conveyance at a Fabulous Price

  The train had started punctually. Among the passengers were anumber of officers, Government officials, and opium and indigomerchants, whose business called them to the eastern coast.

  Passepartout rode in the same carriage with his master, and athird passenger occupied a seat opposite to them. This wasSir Francis Cromarty, one of Mr. Fogg's whist partners on theMongolia, now on his way to join his corps at Benares.

  Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty, who had greatlydistinguished himself in the last Sepoy revolt. He made India hishome, only paying brief visits to England at rare intervals; andwas almost as familiar as a native with the customs, history andcharacter of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg, who was nottraveling, but only describing a circumference, took no pains toinquire into these subjects. He was a solid body, traversing anorbit around the terrestrial globe, according to the laws ofrational mechanics. He was at this moment calculating in his mindthe number of hours spent since his departure from London, and,had it been in his nature to make a useless demonstration, wouldhave rubbed his hands for satisfaction.

  Sir Francis Cromarty had observed the oddity of his travelingcompanion--although the only opportunity he had for studying himhad been while he was dealing the cards, and between tworubbers--and questioned himself whether a human heart really beatbeneath this cold exterior, and whether Phileas Fogg had anysense of the beauties of nature. The brigadier-general was freeto mentally confess that, of all the eccentric persons he hadever met, none was comparable to this product of the exactsciences.

  Phileas Fogg had not concealed from Sir Francis his design ofgoing round the world, nor the circumstances under which he setout; and the general only saw in the wager a useless eccentricityand a lack of sound common sense. In the way this strangegentleman was going on, he would leave the world without havingdone any good to himself or anybody else.

  An hour after leaving Bombay the train had passed the viaductsand the Island of Salcette, and had traveled into the opencountry. At Callyan they reached the junction of the branch linewhich descends towards southeastern India by Kandallah andPounah; and, passing Pauwell, they entered the defiles of themountains, with their basalt bases, and their summits crownedwith thick and verdant forests. Phileas Fogg and Sir FrancisCromarty exchanged a few words from time to time, and now SirFrancis, reviving the conversation, observed, "Some years ago,Mr. Fogg, you would have met with a delay at this point whichwould probably have lost you your wager."

  "How so, Sir Francis?"

  "Because the railway stopped at the base of these mountains, andthe passengers were obliged to cross in palanquins or on poniesto Kandallah, on the other side."

  "Such a delay would not have spoiled my plans in the least," saidMr. Fogg. "I have constantly foreseen the likelihood ofcertain obstacles."

  "But, Mr. Fogg," pursued Sir Francis, "you run the risk of havingsome difficulty about this worthy fellow's adventure at thepagoda." Passepartout, his feet comfortably wrapped in histraveling blanket, was sound asleep and did not dream thatanybody was talking about him. "The Government is very severeabout that kind of offence. It takes particular care that thereligious customs of the Indians should be respected, and if yourservant were caught--"

  "Very well, Sir Francis," replied Mr. Fogg; "if he had beencaught he would have been condemned and punished,and then would have quietly returned to Europe. I don'tsee how this affair could have delayed his master."

  The conversation fell again. During the night the train left themountains behind, and passed Nassik, and the next day proceededover the flat, well-cultivated country of the Khandeish, with itsstraggling villages, above which rose the minarets of thepagodas. This fertile territory is watered by numerous smallrivers and limpid streams, mostly tributaries of the Godavery.

  Passepartout, on waking and looking out, could not realize thathe was actually crossing India in a railway train. Thelocomotive, guided by an English engineer and fed with Englishcoal, threw out its smoke upon cotton, coffee, nutmeg, clove andpepper plantations, while the steam curled in spirals aroundgroups of palm-trees, in the midst of which were seenpicturesque bungalows, viharis (like abandoned monasteries) andmarvelous temples enriched by the exhaustless ornamentation ofIndian architecture.

  Then they came upon vast tracts extending to the horizon, withjungles inhabited by snakes and tigers, which fled at the noiseof the train; succeeded by forests penetrated by the railway, andstill haunted by elephants which, with pensive eyes, gazed at thetrain as it passed. The travelers crossed, beyond Milligaum, thefatal country so often stained with blood by the sectaries of thegoddess Kali. Not far off rose Ellora, with its graceful pagodas,and the famous Aurungabad, capital of the ferocious Aureng-Zeb,now the chief town of one of the detached provinces of thekingdom of the Nizam. It was thereabouts that Feringhea, theThuggee chief, king of the stranglers, held his sway. Theseruffians, united by a secret bond, strangled victims of every agein honor of the goddess Death, without ever shedding blood. Therewas a period when this part of the country could scarcely betraveled over without corpses being found in every direction. TheEnglish Government has succeeded in greatly diminishing thesemurders, though the Thuggees still exist, and pursue the exerciseof their horrible rites.

  At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor wherePassepartout was able to purchase some Indian slippers,ornamented with false pearls, in which, with evident vanity, heproceeded to encase his feet. The travelers made a hastybreakfast and started off for Assurghur, after skirting for alittle the banks of the small river Tapty, which empties into theGulf of Cambray, near Surat.

  Passepartout was now plunged into absorbing reverie. Up to hisarrival at Bombay, he had entertained hopes that their journeywould end there; but, now that they were plainly whirling acrossIndia at full speed, a sudden change had come over the spirit ofhis dreams. His old vagabond nature returned to him. Thefantastic ideas of his youth once more took possession of him. Hecame to regard his master's project as intended in good earnest,believed in the reality of the bet, and therefore in the tour ofthe world and the necessity of making it without fail within thedesignated period. Already he began to worry about possibledelays, and accidents which might happen on the way. Herecognized himself as being personally interested in the wager,and trembled at the thought that he might have been the means oflosing it by his unpardonable folly of the night before. Beingmuch less cool-headed than Mr. Fogg, he was much more restless,counting and recounting the days passed over, utteringmaledictions when the train stopped, and accusing it ofsluggishness, and mentally blaming Mr. Fogg for not having bribedthe engineer. The worthy fellow was ignorant that, while it waspossible by such means to hasten the rate of a steamer, it couldnot be done on the railway.

  The train entered the defiles of the Sutpour Mountains, whichseparate the Khandeish from Bundelcund, towards evening. The nextday Sir Francis Cromarty asked Passepartout what time it was; towhich, on consulting his watch, he replied that it was three inthe morning. This famous timepiece, always regulated on theGreenwich meridian, which was now some seventy-seven degreeswestward, was at least four hours slow. Sir Francis correctedPassepartout's time. But Passepartout made the same remark thathe had done to Fix; and upon the general insisting that the watchshould be regulated in each new meridian, since he was constantlygoing eastward, that is in the face of the sun, and therefore thedays were shorter by four minutes for each degree gone over,Passepartout obstinately refused to alter his watch, which hekept at London time. It was an innocent delusion which could harmno one.

  The train stopped at eight o'clock in the midst of a glade somefifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows,and workmen's cabins. The conductor, passing along thecarriages, shouted, "Passengers will get out here!"

  Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation;but the general did not know why a halt had been called in themidst of this f
orest of dates and acacias.

  Passepartout, not less surprised, rushed out and speedilyreturned, crying: "Monsieur, no more railway!"

  "What do you mean?" asked Sir Francis.

  "I mean to say that the train isn't going on."

  The general at once stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmlyfollowed him, and they proceeded together to the conductor.

  "Where are we?" asked Sir Francis.

  "At the hamlet of Kholby."

  "Do we stop here?"

  "Certainly. The railway isn't finished."

  "What! Not finished?"

  "No. There's still a matter of fifty miles to be laid from hereto Allahabad, where the line begins again."

  "But the papers announced the opening of the railway throughout."

  "What would you have, officer? The papers were mistaken."

  "Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta," retorted SirFrancis, who was growing warm.

  "No doubt," replied the conductor; "but the passengers know thatthey must provide means of transportation for themselves fromKholby to Allahabad."

  Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout would willingly haveknocked the conductor down, and did not dare to look at hismaster.

  "Sir Francis," said Mr. Fogg quietly, "we will, if you please,look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad."

  "Mr. Fogg, this is a delay greatly to your disadvantage."

  "No, Sir Francis; it was foreseen."

  "What! You knew that the way--"

  "Not at all; but I knew that some obstacle or other would sooneror later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I havetwo days, which I have already gained, to sacrifice. A steamerleaves Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in time."

  There was nothing to say to so confident a response.

  It was but too true that the railway came to a termination atthis point. The papers were like some watches, which have a wayof running too fast, and had been premature in their announcementof the completion of the line. The greater part of the travelerswere aware of this interruption, and, leaving the train, theybegan to engage such vehicles as the village couldprovide--four-wheeled palkigharis, wagons drawn by zebus, carriagesthat looked like perambulating pagodas, palanquins, ponies, and whatnot.

  Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty, after searching the villagefrom end to end, came back without having found anything.

  "I shall go afoot," said Phileas Fogg.

  Passepartout, who had now rejoined his master, made a wrygrimace, as he thought of his magnificent, but too frail Indianshoes. Happily he too had been looking about him, and, after amoment's hesitation, said, "Monsieur, I think I have found ameans of conveyance."

  "What?"

  "An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives buta hundred steps from here."

  "Let's go and see the elephant," replied Mr. Fogg.

  They soon reached a small hut, near which, enclosed within somehigh palings, was the animal in question. An Indian came outof the hut, and, at their request, conducted them withinthe enclosure. The elephant, which its owner had reared,not for a beast of burden, but for warlike purposes, was halfdomesticated. The Indian had begun already, by often irritatinghim, and feeding him every three months on sugar and butter, toimpart to him a ferocity not in his nature, this method beingoften employed by those who train the Indian elephants forbattle. Happily, however, for Mr. Fogg, the animal's instructionin this direction had not gone far, and the elephant stillpreserved his natural gentleness.

  Kiouni--this was the name of the beast--could doubtless travelrapidly for a long time, and, without any other means ofconveyance, Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are farfrom cheap in India, where they are becoming scarce; the males,which alone are suitable for circus shows, are much sought,especially as but few of them are domesticated. When thereforeMr. Fogg proposed to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refusedpoint-blank.

  Mr. Fogg persisted, offering the excessive sum of ten pounds anhour for the loan of the beast to Allahabad. Refused. Twentypounds? Refused also. Forty pounds? Still refused. Passepartoutjumped at each advance; but the Indian declined to be tempted.Yet the offer was an alluring one, for, supposing it took theelephant fifteen hours to reach Allahabad, his owner wouldreceive no less than six hundred pounds sterling.

  Phileas Fogg, without getting in the least flurried, thenproposed to purchase the animal outright, and at first offered athousand pounds for him. The Indian, perhaps thinking he wasgoing to make a great bargain, still refused.

  Sir Francis Cromarty took Mr. Fogg aside, and begged him toreflect before he went any further. Mr. Fogg replied that he wasnot in the habit of acting rashly, that a bet of twenty thousandpounds was at stake, that the elephant was absolutely necessaryto him, and that he would secure him if he had to pay twentytimes his value. Returning to the Indian, whose small, sharpeyes, glistening with avarice, betrayed that with him it was onlya question of how great a price he could obtain. Mr. Fogg offeredfirst twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, twothousand pounds. Passepartout, usually so ruddy, was fairly whitewith suspense.

  At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.

  "What a price, good heavens!" cried Passepartout, "for anelephant!"

  It only remained now to find a guide, which was comparativelyeasy. A young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered hisservices, which Mr. Fogg accepted, promising so generous a rewardas to materially stimulate his zeal. The elephant was led out andequipped. The Parsee, who was an accomplished elephant driver,covered his back with a sort of saddle-cloth, and attached toeach of his flanks some curiously uncomfortable howdahs.

  Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some banknotes which heextracted from the famous carpetbag, a proceeding that seemed todeprive poor Passepartout of his vitals. Then he offered to carrySir Francis to Allahabad, which the brigadier gratefullyaccepted, as one traveler the more would not be likely to fatiguethe gigantic beast. Provisions were purchased at Kholby, and,while Sir Francis and Mr. Fogg took the howdahs on either side,Passepartout got astride the saddle-cloth between them. TheParsee perched himself on the elephant's neck, and at nineo'clock they set out from the village, the animal marching offthrough the dense forest of palms by the shortest cut.