The “Tankadere” Captain Risks Losing a 200 Pound Reward

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

The 800-mile voyage was dangerous in a 20-ton vessel, especially at that time of year. The Chinese seas are usually rough and prone to terrible windstorms, especially around the equinoxes. It was now early November.

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

Taking his passengers to Yokohama would clearly have benefited the captain, since he was paid a set amount per day. But attempting such a voyage would have been reckless, and even trying to reach Shanghai was unwise. Still, John Bunsby had faith in the “Tankadere,” which rode the waves like a seagull. And perhaps he was right.

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

Late in the day, they passed through the unpredictable channels of Hong Kong. With favorable winds, the “Tankadere” sailed admirably.

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

When they reached the open sea, Phileas Fogg said, “Pilot, I don’t need to tell you to go as fast as possible.”

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

“Trust me, sir. We are using all the sail the wind will allow. The poles would add nothing. They are only used when we are going into port.”

“It’s your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you.”

“That’s your job, not mine, pilot, and I trust you.”

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

Phileas Fogg stood upright with his legs apart, like a sailor, and watched the rising waters without losing his balance. The young woman sat at the back of the boat, deeply moved as she looked out at the ocean. It was growing dark in the twilight, and she had ventured onto it in such a fragile boat. Above her head, the white sails rustled like great white wings. Driven forward by the wind, the boat seemed to be flying through the air.

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

Night came. The moon was entering its first quarter, and its faint light would soon fade into the mist on the horizon. Clouds were rising in the east and had already covered part of the sky.

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

The pilot had put out his lights, which were essential in these waters crowded with ships heading for land. Collisions were not uncommon, and at her speed, even a slight impact would shatter the brave little craft.

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

Fix sat in the bow, lost in thought. He kept away from his fellow travelers, knowing that Mr. Fogg preferred not to talk. Besides, he felt uncomfortable talking to a man who had done him favors. He was also thinking about the future. It seemed certain that Fogg would not stop in Yokohama, but would immediately take the boat to San Francisco. Once there, the vast extent of America would ensure that he was safe from punishment. Fogg’s plan seemed perfectly simple to Fix. Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like an ordinary criminal, Fogg had traveled three quarters of the way around the world. That way, he could reach the American continent more surely. There, after throwing the police off his trail, he would quietly enjoy the fortune stolen from the bank. But what should Fix do once they were in the United States? Should he give up on this man? No, a hundred times no! Until he had secured Fogg’s extradition, he would not let him out of his sight for an hour. It was his duty, and he would carry it through to the end. At least there was one thing to be thankful for: Passepartout was not with his master. After what Fix had confided to the servant, it was especially important that Passepartout never speak to Fogg.

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

Phileas Fogg was also thinking about Passepartout, who had disappeared so strangely. After considering every possibility, he thought Passepartout might have boarded the “Carnatic” at the last moment by mistake. Aouda thought so too. She was very sorry to have lost the good man to whom she owed so much. They might find him in Yokohama. If the “Carnatic” was taking him there, it would be easy to find out whether he had been aboard.

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

A brisk breeze picked up around ten o’clock. Though it might have been wise to shorten the sails, the pilot carefully studied the sky and left them as they were. The “Tankadere” handled her sails admirably because she sat deep in the water. Everything was ready for high speed if a gale arose.

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

Mr. Fogg and Aouda went down to the cabin at midnight. Fix had already gone down and lay on one of the cots. The pilot and crew stayed on deck all night.

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

By sunrise the next day, November 8, the boat had traveled more than a hundred miles. The log showed an average speed of between eight and nine miles per hour. The “Tankadere” still had all her sails up and was moving at her top speed. If the wind held steady, the odds would be in her favor. During the day, she stayed close to the coast, where the currents were favorable. The uneven coastline was no more than five miles away and was sometimes visible through gaps in the landscape. The sea was calmer because the wind was blowing from the land. This was fortunate, since the small boat would have suffered in heavy seas.

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

Around noon, the breeze eased a little and began blowing from the southwest. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within two hours because the wind picked up again.

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

Mr. Fogg and Aouda were happily unaffected by the rough sea and ate with a good appetite. Fix was invited to join them and accepted, though he secretly resented it. He disliked traveling at Mr. Fogg’s expense and eating his food. Still, he had to eat, and so he ate.

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

After the meal, he took Mr. Fogg aside and said, “Sir.” The word “sir” burned his lips. He had to control himself to keep from grabbing this “gentleman” by the collar. “Sir, you have been very kind to give me a place on this boat. But although I can't afford to spend money as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share.”

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

“Let's not talk about that, sir,” replied Mr. Fogg.

“But, if I insist—”

“But if I insist...”

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

“No, sir,” Mr. Fogg repeated in a tone that allowed no reply. “This is part of my general expenses.”

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

As Fix bowed, he felt choked up. He went to the front and settled himself there, without saying another word for the rest of the day.

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

Meanwhile, they were making excellent progress, and John Bunsby was very hopeful. He assured Mr. Fogg several times that they would reach Shanghai in time. Mr. Fogg replied that he was counting on it. The crew worked hard, inspired by the reward they could earn. Every rope was tightened, and every sail was vigorously hoisted. The helmsman could not be blamed for a single lurch. They worked as desperately as if they were competing in a Royal yacht regatta.

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

By evening, the log showed that they had traveled 220 miles from Hong Kong. Mr. Fogg could hope to reach Yokohama without having to record a delay in his journal. If he did, the many mishaps he had suffered since leaving London would not seriously affect his journey.

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

The “Tankadere” entered the Straits of Fo-Kien in the early hours of the night and crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The straits separate the island of Formosa from the Chinese coast. The sea was very rough there, with eddies formed by opposing currents. Choppy waves disrupted the ship’s course, and it became very difficult to stand on deck.

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

At daybreak, the wind began to blow hard again, and the sky seemed to promise a gale. The barometer signaled a rapid change in the weather, its mercury rising and falling unpredictably. Long swells in the sea to the southeast also indicated a storm. The evening before, the sun had set in a red mist, amid the glowing sparks of the ocean.

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

John Bunsby studied the threatening sky for a long time, muttering indistinctly to himself. At last, he said quietly to Mr. Fogg, “Shall I speak frankly, sir?”

“Of course.”

“Of course.”

“Well, we are going to have a squall.”

“Well, we're going to have a sudden storm.”

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

“Is the wind blowing north or south?” Mr. Fogg asked quietly.

“South. Look! a typhoon is coming up.”

“South. Look! A typhoon is approaching.”

“Glad it’s a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward.”

“I’m glad the typhoon is coming from the south, because it will carry us forward.”

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

“Oh, if that’s how you see it,” said John Bunsby, “I have nothing more to say.” John Bunsby’s suspicions were confirmed. According to a famous meteorologist, earlier in the year the typhoon would have passed like a glowing cascade of electric flame. But at the winter equinox, there was reason to fear that the typhoon would strike them with great violence.

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

The pilot took precautions in advance. He reduced all the sails and removed the pole masts. Everyone went forward to the bow. They raised a single triangular sail made of strong canvas as a storm jib, to catch the wind from behind. Then they waited.

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

John Bunsby had asked his passengers to go below deck. But being confined in such a cramped space, with little air and the boat bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Mr. Fogg, Fix, and Aouda all refused to leave the deck.

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

The storm of rain and wind hit them around eight o’clock. With only a small sail raised, the “Tankadere” was lifted like a feather by the wind. The force of the wind was almost impossible to describe. Even four times the speed of a locomotive at full steam would be too low an estimate of the boat’s speed.

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

The boat raced northward all day, carried along by monstrous waves. Fortunately, it kept pace with them. Twenty times, the mountains of water rising behind the boat seemed about to swallow it. But the pilot’s skill saved it. The passengers were often drenched by spray, but they took it calmly. No doubt Fix cursed the spray. But Aouda kept her eyes fixed on her protector, amazed by his composure. She proved worthy of him and bravely weathered the storm. As for Phileas Fogg, he acted as if the typhoon were part of his plan.

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

Until then, the “Tankadere” had kept heading north. But toward evening, the wind shifted three quarters around and blew from the northwest. The boat now lay sideways in the trough of the waves, shaking and rolling terribly. The sea struck her with terrifying force. At night, the storm grew more violent. John Bunsby watched darkness fall and the storm rise with deep misgivings. He thought for a while, then asked his crew if it was time to slow down. After consulting with them, he approached Mr. Fogg and said, “I think, your honour, we would do well to head for one of the ports on the coast.”

“I think so too.”

“I think so too.”

“Ah!” said the pilot. “But which one?”

“Ah!” said the pilot. “But which one?”

“I know of but one,” returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly.

“I know of only one,” Mr. Fogg replied calmly.

“And that is—”

“And that is...”

“Shanghai.”

“Shanghai.”

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

At first, the pilot did not seem to understand. He could hardly believe such determination and persistence. Then he cried, “Well, yes! Your honor is right. To Shanghai!”

So the “Tankadere” kept steadily on her northward track.

So the “Tankadere” continued steadily north.

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

The night was truly terrible. It would be a miracle if the boat did not sink. Twice, the boat could have been lost if the crew had not been constantly on watch. Aouda was exhausted, but she did not complain. More than once, Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from the force of the waves.

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

Daylight returned. The storm still raged with undiminished fury, but the wind had shifted back to the southeast. The change was favorable, and the “Tankadere” again bounded forward across the mountainous sea. But the waves crossed one another, striking the boat from opposing directions. The blows would have crushed a less sturdy vessel. From time to time, the coast appeared through gaps in the mist, but no other vessel was in sight. The “Tankadere” was alone at sea.

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

There were some signs that the storm was calming at noon. These became clearer as the sun sank toward the horizon. The storm had been as brief as it was fierce. The passengers were exhausted, but they could now eat a little and rest.

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

The night was relatively quiet. Some sails were raised again, and the boat made very good speed. At dawn the next morning, they spotted the coast. John Bunsby was able to say that they were less than a hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only one day to cover them! Mr. Fogg had to reach Shanghai that very evening if he did not want to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Without the storm, which had cost them several hours, they would now be within thirty miles of their destination.

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

The wind grew noticeably calmer, and fortunately the sea grew calmer too. All sails were now raised, and at noon the “Tankadere” was within forty-five miles of Shanghai. There were only six hours left to cover that distance. Everyone on board feared they could not make it. Everyone felt their heart race with impatience, except Phileas Fogg, no doubt. The boat had to average nine miles an hour, and the wind was growing calmer every moment! The breeze was unpredictable and came from the coast. After it passed, the sea became smooth. Still, the “Tankadere” was very light, and her fine sails caught the shifting breezes well. With help from the currents, John Bunsby was no more than ten miles from the mouth of Shanghai River at six o’clock. Shanghai itself lies at least twelve miles upstream. At seven they were still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot swore angrily. The two-hundred-pound reward was clearly about to slip away from him. He looked at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly calm, though his entire fortune was at stake at that moment.

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

At that moment, a tall black funnel appeared on the horizon, crowned with wreaths of smoke. It belonged to the American steamship, which was leaving for Yokohama on schedule.

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

“Damn her!” cried John Bunsby, pushing the rudder back with a desperate jerk.

“Signal her!” said Phileas Fogg quietly.

“Signal her!” Phileas Fogg said quietly.

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

A small brass cannon stood on the forward deck of the “Tankadere” to signal in fog. The cannon was loaded to the muzzle. But just as the pilot was about to touch a red-hot coal to the firing hole, Mr. Fogg said, “Raise your flag!”

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

The flag was raised at half-mast as a distress signal. It was hoped that the American steamer would see the flag and change course slightly to help the pilot-boat.

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

“Fire!” said Mr. Fogg. And the boom of the little cannon echoed through the air.