Next morning, Passe-partout, very tired and very hungry, began to think that he ought to eat something, and the sooner the better. He still had his watch, which he could sell, but he would rather die of hunger than do that; so now or never, he must make use of his powerful, if not melodious, voice, with which nature had endowed him. He knew several French and English songs, and resolved to make the attempt. The Japanese were no doubt fond of music, since they were always beating cymbals, tomtoms, and drums, and they would no doubt appreciate European talent.

But perhaps it was somewhat early to start a concert, and the dilettanti, awakened inopportunely, would not, perhaps, pay him in current coin of the realm. So Passe-partout decided to wait; and meantime it occurred to him that he might as well change his clothes for some more in keeping with his present position, and afterwards he might be able to purchase something to eat.

He immediately set about to carry out the idea, and after a long search he discovered a dealer in old clothes, with whom he made an exchange, and left the shop dressed in a Japanese robe and discoloured turban; but he had some money in his pocket also.

"All right," he thought; "I must only fancy myself at a carnival."

Passe-partout's first care was to enter a quiet-looking tea-house, and then, with a portion of fowl and some rice, he breakfasted like a man who had not yet solved the problem as to where dinner was to come from.

"Now," he thought, after a hearty meal, "I must consider what I am about. All I can do now is to sell this dress for another still more Japanesey. I must think of some means of quitting this Country of the Sun as quickly as possible, and I shall not have a very pleasant recollection of it."

He accordingly went to look at the steamers about to sail to America, for he intended to offer himself as a cook or steward, in exchange for his passage and food. Once at San Francisco he would manage to get on. The important thing was to cross the ocean. He was not the man to think about a thing very long, so he went at once to the docks; but his project, which had appeared so simple in idea, was not so easy to execute. What need was there for a cook or steward on board an American mail-boat? And how could they trust him in his present costume? What reference or recommendation could he offer?

As he was turning these questions over in his mind his gaze fell upon a placard, which a circus clown was carrying through the streets. The notice was in English, and read as follows:

THE HONOURABLE WILLIAM BATULCAR'S TROUPE OF JAPANESE ACROBATS.

POSITIVELY THE LAST REPRESENTATIONS, PRIOR TO THEIR DEPARTURE FOR AMERICA,

OF THE

LONG – NOSES – LONG – NOSES.

Under the Special Patronage of the God Tingou.

GREAT ATTRACTION!

"The United States of America!" exclaimed Passe-partout; "that suits me all round."

He followed the "sandwich-man," and was soon in the Japanese quarter once again. In about a quarter of an hour they stopped before a large hut, adorned with flags, upon which a troupe of jugglers were depicted, without any attempt at perspective.

This was the establishment of the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, a sort of Barnum, a director of a troupe of acrobats and jugglers, who were giving their last representations, prior to their departure to the United States. Passe-partout entered and asked for the proprietor. Mr. Batulcar appeared in person.

"What do you want?" he said to Passe-partout, whom he took for a native.

"Do you need a servant, sir?" asked Passe-partout.

"A servant!" echoed the Barnum, as he stroked his beard; "I have two, obedient and faithful, who have never left me, and serve me for nothing but nourishment; and here they are," he added, as he extended his brawny arms, on which the great veins stood out like whipcord.

"So I can be of no use to you, then?"

"Not the least."

"The devil! It would have been very convenient if I could have sailed with you."

"Ah, yes," said the Honourable Batulcar; "you are just about as much a Japanese as I am a baboon, I guess. What are you dressed up like that for?"

"One is obliged to dress as one can."

"That's a fact. You are a Frenchman, ain't you?"

"Yes; a Parisian."

"Then I suppose you know how to make grimaces?"

"Well," replied Passe-partout, somewhat vexed that his nationality should provoke such a question. "It is true that we Frenchmen do know how to make grimaces, but no better than Americans."

"That's so. Well, if I cannot take you as a servant I can engage you as a clown. You see, my lad, this is how it is: in France they exhibit foreign clowns, and in foreign countries French clowns."

"I see."

"You are pretty strong, I suppose?"

"More particularly when I get up after dinner."

"And you know how to sing?"

"Yes," replied Passe-partout, who at one time had sung in the street concerts.

"But can you sing standing on your head with a top spinning on the sole of your left foot, and a sword balanced on your right foot?"

"Something of that sort," replied Passe-partout, who recalled the acrobatic performances of his youth.

"Well, that is the whole business," replied the Honourable Mr. Batulcar.

And the engagement was ratified there and then.

At length Passe-partout had found something to do. He was engaged to make one of a celebrated Japanese troupe. This was not a high position, but in eight days he would be on his way to San Francisco.

The performance was advertised to commence at three o'clock, and although Passe-partout had not rehearsed the "business," he was obliged to form one of the human pyramid composed of the "Long-Noses of the God Tingou." This was the great attraction, and was to close the performance.

The house was crowded before three o'clock by people of all races, ages, and sexes. The musicians took up their positions, and performed vigorously on their noisy instruments.

The performance was very much the same as all acrobatic displays; but it must be stated that the Japanese are the cleverest acrobats in the world. One of them, with a fan and a few bits of paper, did the butterfly and flower trick; another traced in the air with the smoke of his pipe a compliment to the audience; another juggled with some lighted candles which he extinguished successively as they passed his mouth, and which he relit one after the other without for a moment ceasing his sleight-of-hand performances; another produced a series of spinning-tops which, in his hands, played all kinds of pranks as they whirled round – they ran along the stems of pipes, on the edges of swords, upon wires, and even on hairs stretched across the stage; they spun round crystal goblets, crossed bamboo ladders, ran into all the comers of the stage, and made strange music, combining various tones, as they revolved. The jugglers threw them up in the air, knocked them from one to the other like shuttlecocks, put them into their pockets and took them out again, and all the time they never ceased to spin.

But after all the principal attraction was the performance of the "Long-Noses," which has never been seen in Europe.

These "Long-Noses" were the select company under the immediate patronage of the god Tingou. Dressed in a costume of the Middle Ages, each individual wore a pair of wings; but they were specially distinguished by the inordinate length of their noses and the uses they made of them. These noses were simply bamboos from five to ten feet long, some straight, some curved, some ribbed, and some with warts painted on them. On these noses, which were firmly fixed on their natural ones, they performed their acrobatic feats. A dozen of these artists lay upon their backs, while their comrades, dressed to represent lightning-conductors, leaped from one to the other of their friends' noses, performing the most skilful somersaults.

The whole was to conclude with the "Pyramid," as had been announced, in which fifty "Long-Noses" were to represent the "Car of Juggernaut." But instead of forming the pyramid on each other's shoulders, these artistes mounted on each others noses. Now one of them, who used to act as the base of the car, had left the troupe, and as only strength and adroitness were necessary for the position, Passe-partout had been selected to fill it on this occasion.

That worthy fellow felt very melancholy when he had donned his costume, adorned with parti-coloured wings, and had fixed his six-foot nose to his face; but, at any rate, the nose would procure him something to eat, and he made up his mind to do what he had to do.

He went on the stage and joined his colleagues; they all lay down on their backs, and then another party placed themselves on the long noses of the first, another tier of performers climbed up on them, then a third and a fourth; and upon the noses a human monument was raised almost to the flies.

Then the applause rose loud and long. The orchestra played a deafening tune, when suddenly the pyramid shook, one of the noses at the base fell out, and the whole pyramid collapsed like a house of cards!

It was all owing to Passe-partout. Clearing himself from the scramble, and leaping over the footlights, without the aid of his wings, he scaled the gallery, and fell at the feet of one of the spectators, crying out, as he did so, "Oh my master, my master!"

"You!"

"Yes, it is I."

"Well then, under those circumstances you had better go on board the steamer."

So Mr. Fogg, Aouda, who accompanied him, and Passe-partout hastened out of the theatre. At the door they met the Honourable Mr. Batulcar, who was furious, and demanded damages for the breaking of the "Pyramid." Mr. Fogg quickly appeased him by handing him a roll of notes.

At half-past six, the appointed hour for the sailing of the vessel, Mr. Fogg, Mrs. Aouda, and Passe-partout, who still wore his wings and long nose, stepped upon the deck of the American mail-steamer.

CHAPTER XXIV

In which the Pacific Ocean is crossed.

The reader will easily guess what happened at Shanghai. The signals made by the Tankadere were perceived by the mail-steamer, and soon afterwards, Phileas Fogg having paid the price agreed upon, as well as a bonus of five hundred and fifty pounds, he and his party were soon on board the steamer.

They reached Yokohama on the 14th, and Phileas Fogg, leaving Fix to his own devices, went on board the Carnatic, where he heard, to Aouda's great delight, and probably to his own though he did not betray it, that a Frenchman named Passe-partout had arrived in her the day before.

Mr. Fogg, who was obliged to leave for San Francisco that very evening, immediately set about searching for his servant. To no purpose was it that he inquired at the Consulate or walked about the streets, and he gave up the search. Was it by chance or presentiment that he visited Mr. Batulcar's entertainment? He would not certainly have recognised his servant in his eccentric dress, but Passe-partout had spied his master out. He could not restrain a movement of the nose, and so the collapse had occurred.

All this Passe-partout learnt from Mrs. Aouda, who also told him how they had come from Hong Kong with a certain Mr. Fix.

Passe-partout did not even wink at the name of Fix, for he thought the moment had not yet come to tell his master what had passed; so in his recital of his own adventures, he merely said that he had been overtaken by opium.

Mr. Fogg listened coldly to his excuses, and then lent him money sufficient to obtain proper clothes. In about an hour he had got rid of his nose and wings, and was once more himself again.

The steamer in which they were crossing was called the General Grant, and belonged to the Pacific Mail Company. She was a paddle-steamer of two thousand five hundred tons, had three masts, and at twelve knots an hour would not take more than twenty-one days to cross the ocean; so Phileas Fogg was justified in thinking that he would reach San Francisco on the 2nd of December, New York on the 11th, and London on the 20th, so gaining several hours on the fatal 21st.

Nothing of any consequence occurred on the voyage. The Pacific fully bore out its name, and was as calm as Mr. Fogg himself. Mrs. Aouda felt more and more attached to this taciturn man by even stronger ties than gratitude. She was more deeply impressed than she was aware of, and almost unconsciously gave herself up to emotion, which, however, did not appear to have any effect upon Mr. Fogg. Besides, she took the greatest interest in his projects – anything that threatened to interfere with his plans disquieted her extremely. She frequently consulted with Passe-partout, and he, guessing how deeply she was interested, praised his master all day long. He calmed her apprehensions, insisted that the most difficult part of the journey had been accomplished, that they would be soon in civilised countries, and the railway to New York and the transatlantic steamer to Liverpool would bring them home within their time.

Nine days after leaving Yokohama, Mr. Fogg had traversed just exactly one half of the globe. On the 23rd of November this General Grant passed the 180th meridian, the antipodes of London. Of the eighty days he had had, he had, it is true, spent fifty-two, and only twenty-eight remained; but it must be remarked that if he had only gone halfway, according to the difference of meridians, he had really accomplished two-thirds of his journey. He had been obliged to make long detours; but had he followed the 50th parallel, which is that of London, the distance would only have been twelve thousand miles, whereas by the caprices of locomotion he had actually been obliged to travel twenty-six thousand miles, of which he had now finished seventeen thousand five hundred. But now it was all plain sailing, and Fix was not there to interfere with him.

It also happened on that day that Passe-partout made a great discovery. It may be remembered that he had insisted on keeping London time with his famous family watch, and despised all other timekeepers on the journey. Now on this day, although he had not touched it, his watch agreed exactly with the ship's chronometer. His triumph was complete, and he almost wished Fix had been there that he might crow over him.

"What a lot of falsehoods the fellow told me about the meridians, the sun, and the moon. Nice sort of time we should keep if we listened to such as he. I was quite sure that the sun would regulate itself by my watch one of these days."

Passe-partout did not know that if his watch had been divided into the twenty-four hours like Italian clocks, the hands would now show that it was nine o'clock in the evening instead of nine o'clock in the morning – that is to say, the one-and-twentieth hour after midnight, which is the difference between London time and that at the 180th meridian. But this Passe-partout would not have acknowledged even if he understood it, and, in any case, if the detective had been on board. Passe-partout would have argued with him on any subject.

Now, where was Fix at that moment?

Fix was actually on board the General Grant.

In fact, when he reached Yokohama, the detective immediately went to the English Consulate, where he found the warrant which had come by the Carnatic, on which steamer they thought he himself had arrived. His disappointment may be guessed, for the warrant was now useless, and an act of extradition would be difficult to cause Fogg to be arrested.

"Well," he thought, when his first anger had evaporated, "if the warrant is no use here it will be in England. The fellow is returning to his native land, thinking he has put the police off the scent. I will follow him; but I hope to goodness some of this money will be left. He must already have spent more than five thousand pounds; however, the bank can afford it."

So he made up his mind to proceed on the General Grant, and was actually on board when Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda arrived. He was surprised to recognise Passe-partout in such a dress, but he quickly went down-stairs to avoid explanation, and hoped, thanks to the number of passengers, that he would remain unperceived by his enemy. But that very day he came face to face with Passe-partout.

Passe-partout, without a word, caught him by the throat, and greatly to the delight of the bystanders, who immediately made bets on the result, he proved the superiority of the French system of boxing over the English.

Passe-partout was much refreshed by this exercise. Fix rose in a very dishevelled condition, and asked his adversary "whether he had quite finished?"

"For the present, yes."

"Then let me speak to you."

"But – "

"It is all in your master's interest."

Passe-partout seemed conquered by the detective's coolness, and followed Fix to the fore part of the ship.

"You have given me a licking," said the detective. "So far, so good. I expected it; but just now you must listen to me. Hitherto I have been playing against Mr. Fogg. I am now in his favour."

"Oh, then you believe him honest at last?"

"By no means. I think he is a thief. Be quiet, hear me out. So long as Mr. Fogg was on British territory, I did all I could to detain him till the warrant for his arrest arrived. It was I who put the Bombay priests on your track. I hocussed you at Hong Kong. I separated you from your master, and caused him to lose the Yokohama steamer."

Passe-partout clenched his fists as he listened.

"But now," continued Fix, "Mr. Fogg appears likely to return to England. All right, I will follow him. But in future I will do as much to keep his way clear, as I have done to prevent his progress. I have changed my game, and have done so for my own interest; your interest is the same as mine, for it will be only in England that you will ever find out whether your master is honest or not."

Passe-partout listened attentively, and felt that Fix meant what he said.

"Are we friends?" asked Fix.

"Friends, no; allies, yes; but only to a certain point, for at the least sign of treason, I will twist your neck."

"That's a bargain," said the detective calmly.

Eleven days afterwards, viz. on the 3rd of December, the GeneralGrant entered the Golden Gate of San Francisco.

Mr. Fogg had neither gained nor lost a day.

CHAPTER XXV

A Glimpse of San Francisco. A Political Meeting.

At seven o'clock in the morning, Mr. Fogg and his companions landed in America, or rather upon the floating pier at which the steamers load and unload. There they mingled with ships and steamers of all nationalities, and steam ferry-boats with two or three decks which performed the service on the Sacramento and its affluents.

Passe-partout was so delighted to reach America, that he thought it necessary to execute one of his most active leaps. But when he landed upon the quay, he found the planks worm-eaten, and he went through them. His cry of alarm frightened all the birds which perched upon these floating quays.

Mr. Fogg's first care was to ascertain when the next train left for New York. It started at six o'clock, so they had a whole day before them. Then hiring a carriage, they drove to the International Hotel. From his position on the box of the vehicle, Passe-partout observed with great curiosity the wide streets, the rows of lofty houses, the churches and other places of worship built in the Anglo-Saxon gothic style, immense docks, palatial warehouses, innumerable cabs, omnibuses, and tramway-cars; while Americans, Europeans, Chinese, and Indians occupied the pathways. San Francisco surprised Passe-partout. It was no longer the habitation of bandits, incendiaries, and assassins, who gambled for gold-dust, a revolver in one hand and a knife in the other. This "good time" had passed. The city was now the hive of commerce. The tower of the city-hall overlooked the labyrinth of streets and avenues, which crossed each other at right angles, amongst which verdant squares extended; and the Chinese quarter looked like an importation from the Celestial Empire in a toy-puzzle. Sombreros, red shirts, and Indian head-dresses had given way to silk hats and black coats, and some of the principal streets were lined with splendid shops, offering the products of the whole world for sale.

When Passe-partout reached the International Hotel, he could scarcely recognise that he was not in England. The ground-floor of this immense building was occupied by a bar, at which free lunch of cold meat, oyster soup, biscuits and cheese, was always to be had; wine or beer had to be paid for. The restaurant was comfortable. Mr. Fogg and Mrs. Aouda sat down to a table, and were waited on by the blackest of negroes.

After breakfast, Phileas Fogg, accompanied by Mrs. Aouda, went to the English Consul to have his passport viséd. On the pavement he met his servant, who wanted to know whether he should not purchase some revolvers and rifles. Passe-partout had heard of Sioux and Pawnees, who are in the habit of stopping the trains. His master replied that the precaution was needless, but permitted him to do what he pleased in the matter, and pursued his way to the Consulate.

He had not gone very far when, of course by the merest chance, he met Fix. The detective appeared very much astonished. Was it possible that he and Mr. Fogg had crossed in the same steamer, and never met? Fix professed himself honoured at meeting the gentleman to whom he owed so much. Business called him to Europe, and he would be proud to travel in such agreeable company.

Mr. Fogg replied that the honour would be his, and thereupon Fix, who had made up his mind not to lose sight of the other, requested permission to accompany Mr. Fogg in his walks about the city, which was granted.

So the three travellers soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, and on the outskirts of a great crowd. People were everywhere looking on and shouting, going about carrying large printed bills; flags, and streamers were waving, and everyone was calling out "Hurrah for Camerfield!" or "Hurrah for Maudiboy!"

It was a political meeting, at least Fix thought so; and said to Mr. Fogg that it might perhaps be better not to mingle with the crowd for fear of accidents.

Mr. Fogg agreed, and added "that blows, even though inflicted in a political sense, were nevertheless blows."

Fix smiled, and then in order to be able to see without being hustled, the three travellers mounted a flight of steps at the upper end of the street. Opposite was a large platform towards which the crowd appeared to be moving.

Mr. Fogg could not form any opinion as to what the meeting was about. Perhaps it was the nomination of a governor of a State, or of a member of Congress, which was not unlikely. Just then the excitement of the crowd became greater, fists were raised as if to register a vote by a show of hands. The crowd swayed backwards and forwards, flags were displayed and immediately torn to pieces, hats were smashed, and the greater part of the crowd seemed to have grown suddenly shorter.

"It is evidently a political meeting," said Fix; "perhaps it is about the Alabama Claims, although they are settled by this time."

"Perhaps it is," replied Mr. Fogg.

"At any rate," continued Fix, "here are the candidates. The Honourable Mr. Camerfield and the Honourable Mr. Maudiboy have met."

Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's arm, was regarding the tumult with curiosity, and Fix was about to ask the reason of the disturbance when the uproar increased to a terrific extent. The crowd became more excited, blows were exchanged, boots and shoes were sent whirling through the air, and the spectators thought they could hear the crack of revolvers mingling with the cries of men. The combatants approached the steps on which the party had taken refuge. One of the candidates had evidently been repulsed, but whether Camerfield or Maudiboy had got the best of it, mere spectators could not tell.

"I think we had better retire," said Fix; "if there is any discussion about England, and we were recognised, we might receive some injury."

"An Englishman – " began Mr. Fogg.

But he never finished the sentence, for a tremendous uproar arose on the terrace just behind them, and there were loud shouts for Maudiboy, a party of whose adherents were taking their opponents in the flank.

Our travellers were now between two fires; it was too late to escape; the torrent of men armed with life-preservers and sticks could not be withstood. Phileas Fogg and Fix did all they could to protect their fair companions with the weapons nature had provided, but unsuccessfully. A great ruffian, with a red beard, who appeared to be the chief of the band, was about to strike Mr. Fogg, and would probably have done him serious injury if Fix had not stepped in and received the blow in his stead, thereby getting his hat completely smashed.

"You low Yankee!" exclaimed Mr. Fogg contemptuously.

"You English beast!" replied the other.

"We shall meet again."

"Whenever you please."

"What is your name?"

"Phileas Fogg; and yours?"

"Colonel Stamp Proctor."

And the tide of humanity swept past, overturning Fix, who, however, speedily regained his feet, and though much dishevelled was not seriously hurt. His overcoat was torn in two, and his trousers were more like those worn by the Indians; but fortunately Aouda had escaped, and Fix only showed any traces of the encounter.

"Thank you," said Mr. Fogg to the detective when they were out of the crowd.

"Don't mention it," replied Fix; "let us go on."

"Where to?"

"To a tailor's."

In fact this course had become necessary, for the clothes of both men were torn as badly as if they had taken an active part in the contest, but in an hour they were newly clad and safely back at the hotel again.

There they found Passe-partout waiting and armed with a dozen six-barrelled central-fire revolvers. When he perceived Fix with Mr. Fogg he frowned, but when Mrs. Aouda had told him all that had passed his brow cleared. Fix evidently was no longer an enemy; he was an ally, and was adhering to his agreement.

After dinner they took a carriage and drove to the railway-station. As Mr. Fogg was getting into the cab he said to Fix, "Have you seen that Colonel Proctor since?"

"No," replied Fix.

"I will make a point of coming back to America to find him out," replied Fogg coolly. "It would never do for an Englishman to allow himself to be treated as he treated us."

The detective smiled, but made no reply. It was evident, however, that Mr. Fogg was of that race of Britons who, though they do not permit duelling at home, fight in foreign countries when their honour is in any way attacked.

At a quarter to six the travellers reached the railway-station, and found the train ready. Mr. Fogg called a porter and asked him the reason of the excitement that afternoon.

"It was a meeting, sir," replied the porter.

"I thought there was some great commotion in the streets."

"It was merely an election meeting."

"For a commander-in-chief, no doubt?" suggested Mr. Fogg.

"Oh dear no," replied the man. "It was for a justice of the peace."

On this reply Phileas Fogg entered the train, which started almost immediately.