"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."

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

"Quite well, and I too. I eat like a famished ogre; it's the sea air.

"But I never see your master on deck."

"Never; he hasn't the least curiosity."

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

"Faith, Monsieur Fix, I assure you I know nothing about it,
nor would I give 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.

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.

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.

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 Somanlis,
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.

"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.

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.

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.




Chapter X

IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF
WITH THE LOSS OF HIS SHOES


Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its
base in the north and its apex in the south, which is called India,
embraces fourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread


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