The Red Sea and Indian Ocean Favor Phileas Fogg's Plans

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, brigadiers, £2,400, and generals of divisions, £4,000. 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.

The distance between Suez and Aden is exactly 1,310 miles. The company’s regulations allow its steamers 138 hours to make the crossing. Thanks to the engineer’s strenuous efforts, the “Mongolia” was traveling so fast that she seemed likely to arrive well within that time. Most of the passengers from Brindisi were bound for India. Some were going to Bombay, while others were going to Calcutta by way of Bombay. This was the shortest route to Calcutta, now that a railway crossed the Indian peninsula. Among the passengers were several officials and military officers of various ranks. The officers either served in the regular British forces or commanded Sepoy troops. They had received high salaries ever since the central government took over the powers of the East India Company. Sub-lieutenants received £280, brigadiers £2,400, and generals of divisions £4,000. The military men, several wealthy young Englishmen on their travels, and the purser’s hospitality helped the time pass quickly aboard the “Mongolia.” The finest food was served at the cabin tables for breakfast, lunch, dinner, and supper at eight o’clock. The ladies took care to change their outfits twice a day. When the sea was calm, the hours flew by 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.

But the Red Sea is unpredictable and often rough, like most long, narrow gulfs. When the wind blew from the African or Asian coast, the long-hulled “Mongolia” rolled violently. Then the ladies quickly disappeared below deck. The pianos fell silent, and the singing and dancing suddenly stopped. Yet the sturdy ship pushed straight on toward the straits of Bab-el-Mandeb, slowed by neither wind nor waves. What was Phileas Fogg doing all this time? One might expect him to watch anxiously as the wind shifted and the waves raged. He might be expected to watch for anything that could slow the “Mongolia” and interrupt his journey. But if he thought about these possibilities, he showed no outward sign of it.

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.

He remained the same unflappable member of the Reform Club, whom nothing could surprise and who was as steady as the ship’s chronometers. He was seldom curious enough even to go on deck. He passed through the memorable scenes of the Red Sea with cold indifference. He had no interest in identifying the historic towns and villages along its shores, with their picturesque outlines against the sky. Nor did he show any fear of the dangers of the Arabic Gulf. The old historians always spoke of the gulf with horror. Ancient sailors never ventured onto it without first making generous sacrifices to win the gods’ favor. How did this eccentric man pass his time on the “Mongolia”? He ate four hearty meals every day, no matter how persistently the steamer rolled and pitched. He also played whist tirelessly, having found partners who were as enthusiastic about the game as he was. They were a tax collector on his 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. With Mr. Fogg, they played whist for hours, absorbed in the game and silent.

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.

Passepartout had also escaped seasickness and faithfully ate his meals in the forward cabin. He rather enjoyed the voyage. He was well fed and comfortably housed, and he took a great interest in the scenes they passed. He also comforted himself with the mistaken belief that his master’s whim would end at Bombay. The day after leaving Suez, he was pleased to find the helpful man on deck. He had walked and chatted with him on the docks.

“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?”

He approached the person with his friendliest smile. “If I’m not mistaken,” he said, “you’re the gentleman who kindly offered to guide me at Suez?”

“Ah! I quite recognise you. You are the servant of the strange Englishman—”

“Ah! I recognize you now. You’re the strange Englishman’s servant...”

“Just so, monsieur—”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Fix.”

“Fix.”

“Monsieur Fix,” resumed Passepartout, “I’m charmed to find you on board. Where are you bound?”

“Monsieur Fix,” Passepartout continued, “I’m delighted to find you on board. Where are you headed?”

“Like you, to Bombay.”

“Like you, I'm going to Bombay.”

“That’s capital! Have you made this trip before?”

“That’s great! Have you made this trip before?”

“Several times. I am one of the agents of the Peninsular Company.”

“Several times. I am an agent of the Peninsular Company.”

“Then you know India?”

“So you know India?”

“Why yes,” replied Fix, who spoke cautiously.

“Why, yes,” Fix replied cautiously.

“A curious place, this India?”

“India is an unusual place, isn’t it?”

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

“Oh, very interesting. Mosques, minarets, temples, fakirs, pagodas, tigers, snakes, elephants! I hope you have plenty of 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.”

“I hope so, Monsieur Fix. You see, a sensible man should not spend his life jumping from a steamship to a train and back again. And all while pretending to travel around the world in eighty days! No, you can be sure all this jumping about will stop at Bombay.”

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

“And is Mr. Fogg doing well?” Fix asked in the most natural tone imaginable.

“Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre; it’s the sea air.”

“Very well, and so am I. I eat like a starving ogre. It’s the sea air.”

“But I never see your master on deck.”

“But I never see your master on deck.”

“Never; he hasn’t the least curiosity.”

“Never. He isn’t curious at all.”

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

“Do you know, Mr. Passepartout, that this supposed eighty-day trip may hide a secret errand? Perhaps it is a diplomatic mission?”

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

“Honestly, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it. I wouldn't pay 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.

After this meeting, Passepartout and Fix got into the habit of chatting. Fix made a point of gaining the good man’s trust. He often offered Passepartout a glass of whiskey or pale ale in the steamer’s bar. Passepartout always accepted eagerly and graciously, thinking Fix was the best of 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.

Meanwhile, the “Mongolia” was moving rapidly onward. On the 13th, they sighted Mocha, surrounded by ruined walls with date palms growing on them. Beyond the town, they could see vast coffee fields on the mountains. Passepartout was delighted to see this famous place. With its circular walls and ruined fort, he thought it looked like an enormous coffee cup and saucer. The following night, they passed through the Strait of Bab-el-Mandeb, which means “The Bridge of Tears” in Arabic. The next day, they stopped at Steamer Point, northwest of Aden harbour, to take on coal. Supplying steamships with coal so far from the mines is a serious matter. It costs the Peninsular Company about eight hundred thousand pounds a year. In these distant seas, coal costs 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.

The “Mongolia” still had 1,650 miles to travel before reaching Bombay. She had to stay at Steamer Point for four hours to take on coal. But the delay had been expected, so it did not affect Phileas Fogg’s schedule. Besides, the “Mongolia” had arrived at Aden on the evening of the 14th, fifteen hours ahead of schedule. She had been due on the morning of the 15th.

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.

Mr. Fogg and his servant went ashore at Aden to have the passport stamped again. Fix followed them without being seen. Once the visa was obtained, Mr. Fogg returned on board and resumed his usual routine. Meanwhile, Passepartout wandered around as usual among Aden's 25,000 inhabitants. They included Somalis, Banyans, Parsees, Jews, Arabs, and Europeans. He gazed in wonder at the fortifications that made Aden the Gibraltar of the Indian Ocean. He also marveled at the vast cisterns, where English engineers were still working, two thousand years after Solomon's engineers.

“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.

“Very curious, very curious,” Passepartout said to himself as he returned to the steamer. “I can see that travel is certainly worthwhile if a man wants to see something new.” At six p.m. the “Mongolia” slowly left the anchorage and was soon back on the Indian Ocean. The steamer had 168 hours to reach Bombay. The sea was favorable, the wind was from the northwest, and all the sails helped the engine. The steamer rolled very little. The ladies appeared on deck again in fresh outfits, and the singing and dancing resumed. The voyage was going very well, and Passepartout was delighted that chance had given him such a pleasant companion in the delightful Fix. On Sunday, October 20th, around noon, they caught sight of the Indian coast. Two hours later, the pilot came aboard. A range of hills stood against the sky on the horizon. Soon the rows of palms that adorn Bombay came clearly into view. The steamer entered the sheltered waters formed by the islands in the bay. At half past four, the “Mongolia” docked 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.

Phileas Fogg was finishing the thirty-third rubber of the voyage. He and his partner made a bold move and won all thirteen tricks, ending their 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.

The “Mongolia” was due in Bombay on the 22nd, but arrived on the 20th. Phileas Fogg had gained two days since leaving London. He calmly recorded the gain in the gains column of his itinerary.