At noon the next day, a man mounted the bridge to ascertain the
vessel's position. It might be thought that this was Captain Speedy.
Not the least in the world. It was Phileas Fogg, Esquire.
As for Captain Speedy, he was shut up in his cabin under lock and key,
and was uttering loud cries, which signified an anger at once pardonable
and excessive.

What had happened was very simple. Phileas Fogg wished
to go to Liverpool, but the captain would not carry him there.
Then Phileas Fogg had taken passage for Bordeaux, and, during
the thirty hours he had been on board, had so shrewdly managed
with his banknotes that the sailors and stokers, who were only
an occasional crew, and were not on the best terms with the captain,
went over to him in a body. This was why Phileas Fogg was in command
instead of Captain Speedy; why the captain was a prisoner in his cabin;
and why, in short, the Henrietta was directing her course towards Liverpool.
It was very clear, to see Mr. Fogg manage the craft, that he had been a sailor.

How the adventure ended will be seen anon. Aouda was anxious, though she
said nothing. As for Passepartout, he thought Mr. Fogg's manoeuvre
simply glorious. The captain had said "between eleven and twelve knots,"
and the Henrietta confirmed his prediction.

If, then--for there were "ifs" still--the sea did not become
too boisterous, if the wind did not veer round to the east,
if no accident happened to the boat or its machinery, the Henrietta
might cross the three thousand miles from New York to Liverpool
in the nine days, between the 12th and the 21st of December.
It is true that, once arrived, the affair on board the Henrietta,
added to that of the Bank of England, might create more difficulties
for Mr. Fogg than he imagined or could desire.

During the first days, they went along smoothly enough. The sea was
not very unpropitious, the wind seemed stationary in the north-east,
the sails were hoisted, and the Henrietta ploughed across the waves
like a real trans-Atlantic steamer.

Passepartout was delighted. His master's last exploit, the consequences
of which he ignored, enchanted him. Never had the crew seen so jolly
and dexterous a fellow. He formed warm friendships with the sailors,
and amazed them with his acrobatic feats. He thought they managed
the vessel like gentlemen, and that the stokers fired up like heroes.
His loquacious good-humour infected everyone. He had forgotten the past,
its vexations and delays. He only thought of the end, so nearly accomplished;
and sometimes he boiled over with impatience, as if heated by the furnaces
of the Henrietta. Often, also, the worthy fellow revolved around Fix,
looking at him with a keen, distrustful eye; but he did not speak to him,
for their old intimacy no longer existed.

Fix, it must be confessed, understood nothing of what was going on.
The conquest of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, Fogg managing
the boat like a skilled seaman, amazed and confused him. He did not know
what to think. For, after all, a man who began by stealing fifty-five thousand
pounds might end by stealing a vessel; and Fix was not unnaturally inclined
to conclude that the Henrietta under Fogg's command, was not going to Liverpool
at all, but to some part of the world where the robber, turned into a pirate,
would quietly put himself in safety. The conjecture was at least a plausible
one, and the detective began to seriously regret that he had embarked
on the affair.

As for Captain Speedy, he continued to howl and growl in his cabin;
and Passepartout, whose duty it was to carry him his meals,
courageous as he was, took the greatest precautions. Mr. Fogg
did not seem even to know that there was a captain on board.

On the 13th they passed the edge of the Banks of Newfoundland,
a dangerous locality; during the winter, especially, there are
frequent fogs and heavy gales of wind. Ever since the evening
before the barometer, suddenly falling, had indicated an approaching
change in the atmosphere; and during the night the temperature varied,
the cold became sharper, and the wind veered to the south-east.

This was a misfortune. Mr. Fogg, in order not to deviate from his course,
furled his sails and increased the force of the steam; but the vessel's speed
slackened, owing to the state of the sea, the long waves of which broke against
the stern. She pitched violently, and this retarded her progress.
The breeze little by little swelled into a tempest, and it was to be feared
that the Henrietta might not be able to maintain herself upright on the waves.

Passepartout's visage darkened with the skies, and for two days the poor
fellow experienced constant fright. But Phileas Fogg was a bold mariner,
and knew how to maintain headway against the sea; and he kept on his course,
without even decreasing his steam. The Henrietta, when she could not rise
upon the waves, crossed them, swamping her deck, but passing safely.
Sometinies the screw rose out of the water, beating its protruding end,
when a mountain of water raised the stern above the waves; but the craft
always kept straight ahead.

The wind, however, did not grow as boisterous as might have been feared;
it was not one of those tempests which burst, and rush on with a speed
of ninety miles an hour. It continued fresh, but, unhappily, it remained
obstinately in the south-east, rendering the sails useless.

The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Phileas Fogg's
departure from London, and the Henrietta had not yet been seriously delayed.
Half of the voyage was almost accomplished, and the worst localities
had been passed. In summer, success would have been well-nigh certain.
In winter, they were at the mercy of the bad season. Passepartout
said nothing; but he cherished hope in secret, and comforted himself


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