Philip Jose Farmer (8 page)

“Your watch is slow,” Fix said.

Passepartout exclaimed with disbelief. His watch, he said, did not vary five minutes in a year. It was an heirloom, it had originally belonged to his great-grandfather. And it was true that 
he was proud of the chronometer as a perfect timepiece. But he also dangled it before Fix to get a reaction which had nothing to do with watches per se. It was necessary to know if the Capellean, if he were one, suspected that a distorter was concealed therein. Fix, however, seemed interested only in Passepartout’s lack of knowledge about time zones. He informed him that his watch was still keeping London time. This was two hours behind Suez time. He should regulate his watch at high noon whenever he passed into a different zone.

Passepartout acted as if this suggestion bordered on sacrilege.

“I regulate my watch? Never!”

Fix patiently, if in a nervous manner, said, “Then it won’t agree with the sun.”

Passepartout’s reply was typically Gallic.

“So much the worse for the sun. The sun will be wrong!”

Fix was silenced for a few moments by this vehemence and disregard for natural laws. When he recovered, he said, “You left London suddenly?”

“I believe so! Last Friday at eight o’clock in the evening, Mr. Fogg came home from his club. Three-quarters of an hour later, we were off!”

“But where is your master going?”

“Always straight ahead. He’s going around the world!”

Fix was startled by this. Or, at least, he seemed to be. Perhaps his superiors had not notified him as yet of the wager.

“Around the world?”

Passepartout then told Fix that the trip must take no more than eighty days. As for him, he did not believe the reason given 
for this unexpected departure from the “snail’s shell.” There must be another reason for this madness.

This may have convinced Fix that the Frenchman was only an innocent fellow-traveler. If so, he could learn much by being friendly with this fellow.

Whatever Passepartout’s role, he was certainly telling the truth about Fogg’s intention of going eastward.

“Bombay, is it far from here?” Passepartout said.

“Rather far. It’s ten days by sea.”

“And in what country is Bombay?”

“India.”

“In Asia?”

This ignorance may be excused in a peasant or an illiterate worker in the factory. But would a man whose name means “Goes Everywhere,” and who has been everywhere, be so lacking in such elementary geographical knowledge? Hardly. Passepartout was merely continuing to act the role allotted to him. To reinforce this image, he told Fix of the gaslight he had forgotten to turn off. His master was charging him for this, justly, it must be admitted, which meant that he was losing six-pence a day more than he earned.

Fix did not care about the man’s troubles. After saying good-bye to the valet, he sent off a telegram for a warrant of arrest. He then packed a small bag and boarded the 
Mongolia
 a few minutes before it left the dock. He also, we may be sure, sent a coded telegram to his superiors in London. He would receive their reply in the telegraph office in Bombay.

 8 
 

The 
Mongolia
 was scheduled to traverse one thousand three hundred and ten miles in one hundred and thirty-eight hours. Fogg ate his four meals a day, breakfast, lunch, dinner, and supper. During this leg of the trip, he did not stroll on the decks, but he did not entirely confine himself to his cabin. If he had one passion, aside from a desire for regularity, it was for whist. This game, the precursor of bridge, was then the rage of England. He found three equally intense lovers of the cards and spent most of his time with them at the table. These were a tax collector on his way to Goa, a priest, and a brigadier-general in Her Majesty’s service at Benares. All were not only excellent players but untalkative, which pleased Fogg. He may have joined them originally to determine if one of them had any message for him from Stuart. But no, all were what they appeared to be, and whist was the only thing in which they were interested.

Passepartout had informed Fogg that Fix was aboard. Fix, he said, claimed to be an agent for the P & O and was going 
to Bombay on business. This could be true. But what was his business? Assassinating the two, arranging for their abduction, or what? Neither were aware yet that Fogg was wanted by the law. Fogg was still puzzling over the clipping given him by the beggar woman. He would have to find some means to clarify this, but at the moment he did not know how. He could have sent a message to Stuart at Suez or Aden, where the ship also stopped en route to Bombay. It was certain, however, that Fix would find out to whom Fogg had cabled, and this would not be allowed to happen.

Fogg had a quiet talk with his valet. He quoted the newspaper article from memory. Passepartout suddenly perceived the likeness between Mr. Fogg and the description of the thief. Why Fogg, for whom the unforeseen did not exist, had not seen this before is inexplicable. The only answer is that it was unthinkable to him that anybody could associate him with anything dishonest. Though he was an Eridanean, he was also an English gentleman. Yet it was he who had pointed out to his Reform Club whist partners that the robber was no robber but a gentleman.

“What a coincidence!” Passepartout said. “Who would have thought of such a thing occurring? And especially at this time?”

Fogg was suddenly cured of his blindness. Now that he could perceive the facts un-shrouded by his egotism, he saw exactly what had happened. But Passepartout still thought that it was only an unlucky chance.

“No,” Fogg said, “far from it. This has been brought about by you-know-whom. One of them was made up to look like me and sent out to steal the money. If we had not left so abruptly, I would now be in jail. Stuart saw what was going on, though I cannot understand why he did not warn me sooner.”

“Perhaps he only began to think about it after the subject was brought up at the Reform,” Passepartout said. “He had no time to get a message to us at our house. In any event, it would have aroused the curiosity of you-know-whom if a message had been delivered to you. So he chose the beggar woman, who may or may not be one of us. But then why did he himself not deliver the clipping when he said good-bye to us at the station?”

“Because Flanagan, Fallentin, and Ralph were also there. They seem to be innocents, that is, not you-know-whom, but he did not want to take a chance.”

“But what could a mere clipping tell you?”

“He knew that I would soon see the connection. I should have known it immediately. But my pride prevented it. And though the description does fit me, in general that is, it is vague in particulars.”

“What will we do?”

“Proceed as planned,” Mr. Fogg calmly replied.

“But if you are arrested at Bombay?”

“All taken care of.”

Passepartout did not ask him what his plans were. He would only have received a cold stare and rightly so. If he were to fall into the hands of the enemy, the less he knew the better. Nevertheless, Fogg did tell Passepartout to encourage the drinking in the bar with Fix. Passepartout, who had a strong head for strong liquor, considering he was a Frenchman, was to pretend to have his tongue loosened by the pale ale and whiskey with which Fix was daily plying him. He was to tell Fix nothing except what he would have known if master and valet were exactly what they pretended to be.

Passepartout reported that Fix was continuing the hints he’d made during their first supposedly chance meeting on the 
Mongolia
. These were that Fogg’s trip was a blind for some other mission, possibly diplomatic. Fix also kept urging the Frenchman to adjust his watch to the sun. Fogg told Passepartout to shadow Fix to determine if he was communicating with anybody.

At thirty minutes after four in the afternoon, the two world travelers stepped onto the soil of Bombay. Verne says that Fogg gave his servant some errands to do after telling him he must be at the railroad station at eight that evening. And then, with his clockwork gait, he proceeded to the passport office. He exhibited no curiosity whatever about the architectural wonders of this jewel of India. This was to be expected from his character. But it probably was also due to the fact that he had seen them before and more than once. Verne reports a strange incident in the restaurant of the railroad station. Fogg ordered a giblet of “native rabbit” which the proprietor highly recommended. Tasting it, he rang for the owner. Staring coldly, he said, “Is this rabbit, sir?”

“Yes, my lord. Jungle rabbit.”

“And this rabbit didn’t mew when he was killed?”

The owner protested at length.

Fogg said, “Remember this. Cats were once considered to be sacred in India. That was a good time.”

“For the cats, my lord?”

“Perhaps for the travelers as well.”

By which we know that Fogg was not altogether without a certain dry wit. But by this curious conversation Fogg had determined that the proprietor was an Eridanean and that he 
had seen nothing suspicious to report. There had been no doubt in Fogg’s mind, or in his tongue, that the animal was what it was claimed to be. If the owner had said, “For the rabbits, my lord?” instead of, “For the cats, my lord?” Fogg would have known that the owner had something important to impart.

Fogg’s own final statement signified that he had nothing else to say and that all was well as far as he knew.

This was not the first time this had occurred. When Fogg was a new member of the Reform Club, a waiter had brought a rabbit instead of the beef he always had for dinner. During the course of the conversation—kept subdued because he did not wish the waiter to get fired—Mr. Fogg had received instructions. Stuart had not been able to deliver a message via the cards because of urgent business elsewhere. The same mix-up with rabbits had taken place twice more but at widely separated intervals of time. After all, if rabbit was mistakenly brought to him too often, some Capellean might get suspicious.

It was not too long after the restaurant incident that another and unfortunate incident occurred. Passepartout, though an Eridanean, was also human. He allowed his curiosity to lead him into the splendidly pagan pagoda of Malabar Hill. He was unaware that Christians were forbidden to enter this holy place. Not only the Brahmin but the British law prohibited this desecration. Passepartout was forced to knock down several priests while they were beating him and tearing off his shoes. The latter act was motivated by the injunction against anyone, even the faithful, wearing footgear in the temple. Lacking these, and also lacking the package of shoes and shirts he’d purchased, Passepartout fled. Fix overheard the valet 
explain to his master what had happened.

Fix had been about to follow them on the train, but this changed his mind. Though the warrant from London had not yet arrived, he could see to it that the two were arrested for an offense committed in India. He stayed behind to inform the authorities of the off enders’ identity.

The two got into a carriage with Sir Francis Cromarty, the brigadier-general who had played whist with Fogg on the 
Mongolia
. This looked suspicious, but if Sir Francis was either Capellean or Eridanean, Fogg did not record it. Further events validate that he was what Verne says he was. Sir Francis had observed the eccentricity of his companion and wondered if a human heart did really beat beneath that cold exterior. Also, having learned from Fogg about the bet, he considered their journey to be useless and nonsensical. Of course, he had no way of knowing that Fogg was traveling to save the world, not just to girdle it.

At eight o’clock the next evening, the train stopped some fifteen miles beyond Rothal. The conductor shouted that all passengers should get off, an announcement which amazed the three. Passepartout, sent out to inquire about it, returned alarmed. They had stopped here because the railway ended here. A further inquiry revealed a disturbing situation. No one had bothered to inform them that, contrary to what the London papers said, one could not ride the rails from Kholby to Allahabad.

Sir Francis was angry. Fogg was unperturbed. Very well. All was foreseen. Fogg knew that, sooner or later, some obstacle or other would present itself. Due to the speediness of the trip so far, Fogg had gained two days. At noon on the twenty-fifth, a ship would leave Calcutta for Hong Kong. That was the twenty-
second. They had almost three days to get to Calcutta. That they might have to go on foot for seventy miles or more through jungle and over mountain was not something to worry about—for Fogg.