Around the World in 80 Days, Jules Verne [easy novels to read TXT] 📗
- Author: Jules Verne
- Performer: 014036711X
Book online «Around the World in 80 Days, Jules Verne [easy novels to read TXT] 📗». Author Jules Verne
From Calcutta to Hong Kong, by steamer …………. 13 “
From Hong Kong to Yokohama (Japan), by steamer ….. 6 “
From Yokohama to San Francisco, by steamer ……… 22 “
From San Francisco to New York, by rail …………. 7 “
From New York to London, by steamer and rail …….. 9 “
–-
Total …………………………………….. 80 days.”
“Yes, in eighty days!” exclaimed Stuart, who in his excitement
made a false deal. “But that doesn’t take into account bad weather,
contrary winds, shipwrecks, railway accidents, and so on.”
“All included,” returned Phileas Fogg, continuing to play
despite the discussion.
“But suppose the Hindoos or Indians pull up the rails,”
replied Stuart; “suppose they stop the trains, pillage
the luggage-vans, and scalp the passengers!”
“All included,” calmly retorted Fogg; adding, as he threw down the cards,
“Two trumps.”
Stuart, whose turn it was to deal, gathered them up, and went on:
“You are right, theoretically, Mr. Fogg, but practically—”
“Practically also, Mr. Stuart.”
“I’d like to see you do it in eighty days.”
“It depends on you. Shall we go?”
“Heaven preserve me! But I would wager four thousand pounds
that such a journey, made under these conditions, is impossible.”
“Quite possible, on the contrary,” returned Mr. Fogg.
“Well, make it, then!”
“The journey round the world in eighty days?”
“Yes.”
“I should like nothing better.”
“When?”
“At once. Only I warn you that I shall do it at your expense.”
“It’s absurd!” cried Stuart, who was beginning to be annoyed at
the persistency of his friend. “Come, let’s go on with the game.”
“Deal over again, then,” said Phileas Fogg. “There’s a false deal.”
Stuart took up the pack with a feverish hand; then suddenly
put them down again.
“Well, Mr. Fogg,” said he, “it shall be so: I will wager
the four thousand on it.”
“Calm yourself, my dear Stuart,” said Fallentin. “It’s only a joke.”
“When I say I’ll wager,” returned Stuart, “I mean it.” “All right,”
said Mr. Fogg; and, turning to the others, he continued:
“I have a deposit of twenty thousand at Baring’s which
I will willingly risk upon it.”
“Twenty thousand pounds!” cried Sullivan. “Twenty thousand pounds,
which you would lose by a single accidental delay!”
“The unforeseen does not exist,” quietly replied Phileas Fogg.
“But, Mr. Fogg, eighty days are only the estimate of the least possible
time in which the journey can be made.”
“A well-used minimum suffices for everything.”
“But, in order not to exceed it, you must jump mathematically
from the trains upon the steamers, and from the steamers upon
the trains again.”
“I will jump—mathematically.”
“You are joking.”
“A true Englishman doesn’t joke when he is talking about so
serious a thing as a wager,” replied Phileas Fogg, solemnly.
“I will bet twenty thousand pounds against anyone who wishes
that I will make the tour of the world in eighty days or less;
in nineteen hundred and twenty hours, or a hundred and fifteen
thousand two hundred minutes. Do you accept?”
“We accept,” replied Messrs. Stuart, Fallentin, Sullivan,
Flanagan, and Ralph, after consulting each other.
“Good,” said Mr. Fogg. “The train leaves for Dover at a
quarter before nine. I will take it.”
“This very evening?” asked Stuart.
“This very evening,” returned Phileas Fogg. He took out and
consulted a pocket almanac, and added, “As today is Wednesday,
the 2nd of October, I shall be due in London in this very room of
the Reform Club, on Saturday, the 21st of December, at a quarter
before nine p.m.; or else the twenty thousand pounds,
now deposited in my name at Baring’s, will belong to you,
in fact and in right, gentlemen. Here is a cheque for the amount.”
A memorandum of the wager was at once drawn up and signed by
the six parties, during which Phileas Fogg preserved a stoical
composure. He certainly did not bet to win, and had only staked
the twenty thousand pounds, half of his fortune, because he
foresaw that he might have to expend the other half to carry out
this difficult, not to say unattainable, project. As for his
antagonists, they seemed much agitated; not so much by the value
of their stake, as because they had some scruples about betting
under conditions so difficult to their friend.
The clock struck seven, and the party offered to suspend the
game so that Mr. Fogg might make his preparations for departure.
“I am quite ready now,” was his tranquil response. “Diamonds are trumps:
be so good as to play, gentlemen.”
IN WHICH PHILEAS FOGG ASTOUNDS PASSEPARTOUT, HIS SERVANT
Having won twenty guineas at whist, and taken leave of his friends,
Phileas Fogg, at twenty-five minutes past seven, left the Reform Club.
Passepartout, who had conscientiously studied the programme of his duties,
was more than surprised to see his master guilty of the inexactness
of appearing at this unaccustomed hour; for, according to rule,
he was not due in Saville Row until precisely midnight.
Mr. Fogg repaired to his bedroom, and called out, “Passepartout!”
Passepartout did not reply. It could not be he who was called;
it was not the right hour.
“Passepartout!” repeated Mr. Fogg, without raising his voice.
Passepartout made his appearance.
“I’ve called you twice,” observed his master.
“But it is not midnight,” responded the other, showing his watch.
“I know it; I don’t blame you. We start for Dover and Calais
in ten minutes.”
A puzzled grin overspread Passepartout’s round face;
clearly he had not comprehended his master.
“Monsieur is going to leave home?”
“Yes,” returned Phileas Fogg. “We are going round the world.”
Passepartout opened wide his eyes, raised his eyebrows,
held up his hands, and seemed about to collapse,
so overcome was he with stupefied astonishment.
“Round the world!” he murmured.
“In eighty days,” responded Mr. Fogg. “So we haven’t a moment to lose.”
“But the trunks?” gasped Passepartout, unconsciously swaying
his head from right to left.
“We’ll have no trunks; only a carpet-bag, with two shirts
and three pairs of stockings for me, and the same for you.
We’ll buy our clothes on the way. Bring down my mackintosh
and traveling-cloak, and some stout shoes, though we shall
do little walking. Make haste!”
Passepartout tried to reply, but could not. He went out,
mounted to his own room, fell into a chair, and muttered:
“That’s good, that is! And I, who wanted to remain quiet!”
He mechanically set about making the preparations for departure.
Around the world in eighty days! Was his master a fool? No.
Was this a joke, then? They were going to Dover; good!
To Calais; good again! After all, Passepartout, who had
been away from France five years, would not be sorry
to set foot on his native soil again. Perhaps they would
go as far as Paris, and it would do his eyes good to see Paris once more.
But surely a gentleman so chary of his steps would stop there; no doubt—
but, then, it was none the less true that he was going away,
this so domestic person hitherto!
By eight o’clock Passepartout had packed the modest carpet-bag,
containing the wardrobes of his master and himself; then,
still troubled in mind, he carefully shut the door of his room,
and descended to Mr. Fogg.
Mr. Fogg was quite ready. Under his arm might have been observed a red-bound
copy of Bradshaw’s Continental Railway Steam Transit and General Guide,
with its timetables showing the arrival and departure of steamers and railways.
He took the carpet-bag, opened it, and slipped into it a goodly roll of
Bank of England notes, which would pass wherever he might go.
“You have forgotten nothing?” asked he.
“Nothing, monsieur.”
“My mackintosh and cloak?”
“Here they are.”
“Good! Take this carpet-bag,” handing it to Passepartout.
“Take good care of it, for there are twenty thousand pounds in it.”
Passepartout nearly dropped the bag, as if the twenty thousand pounds
were in gold, and weighed him down.
Master and man then descended, the street-door was double-locked,
and at the end of Saville Row they took a cab and drove rapidly
to Charing Cross. The cab stopped before the railway station
at twenty minutes past eight. Passepartout jumped off the box
and followed his master, who, after paying the cabman,
was about to enter the station, when a poor beggar-woman,
with a child in her arms, her naked feet smeared with mud,
her head covered with a wretched bonnet, from which hung a tattered feather,
and her shoulders shrouded in a ragged shawl, approached,
and mournfully asked for alms.
Mr. Fogg took out the twenty guineas he had just won at whist,
and handed them to the beggar, saying, “Here, my good woman.
I’m glad that I met you;” and passed on.
Passepartout had a moist sensation about the eyes;
his master’s action touched his susceptible heart.
Two first-class tickets for Paris having been speedily purchased,
Mr. Fogg was crossing the station to the train, when he perceived
his five friends of the Reform.
“Well, gentlemen,” said he, “I’m off, you see; and, if you
will examine my passport when I get back, you will be able
to judge whether I have accomplished the journey agreed upon.”
“Oh, that would be quite unnecessary, Mr. Fogg,” said Ralph politely.
“We will trust your word, as a gentleman of honour.”
“You do not forget when you are due in London again?” asked Stuart.
“In eighty days; on Saturday, the 21st of December, 1872,
at a quarter before nine p.m. Good-bye, gentlemen.”
Phileas Fogg and his servant seated themselves in a first-class carriage
at twenty minutes before nine; five minutes later the whistle screamed,
and the train slowly glided out of the station.
The night was dark, and a fine, steady rain was falling.
Phileas Fogg, snugly ensconced in his corner, did not open his lips.
Passepartout, not yet recovered from his stupefaction,
clung mechanically to the carpet-bag, with its enormous treasure.
Just as the train was whirling through Sydenham,
Passepartout suddenly uttered a cry of despair.
“What’s the matter?” asked Mr. Fogg.
“Alas! In my hurry—I—I forgot—”
“What?”
“To turn off the gas in my room!”
“Very well, young man,” returned Mr. Fogg, coolly; “it will burn—
at your expense.”
IN WHICH A NEW SPECIES OF FUNDS, UNKNOWN TO THE MONEYED MEN,
APPEARS ON ‘CHANGE
Phileas Fogg rightly suspected that his departure from London
would create a lively sensation at the West End. The news of the
bet spread through the Reform Club, and afforded an exciting topic
of conversation to its members. From the club it soon got into
the papers throughout England. The boasted “tour of the world”
was talked about, disputed, argued with as much warmth as if the
subject were another Alabama claim. Some took sides with Phileas
Fogg, but the large majority shook their heads and declared
against him; it was absurd, impossible, they declared, that the
tour of the world could be made, except theoretically and on paper,
in this minimum of time, and with the existing means of travelling.
The Times, Standard, Morning Post, and Daily News, and twenty other
highly respectable newspapers scouted Mr. Fogg’s project as madness;
the Daily Telegraph alone hesitatingly supported him. People in general
thought him a lunatic, and blamed his Reform Club friends for having
accepted a wager which betrayed the mental aberration of its proposer.
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