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Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter 17. SHOWING WHAT HAPPENED ON THE VOYAGE FROM SINGAPORE TO HONG KONG
After the interview, detective and Passepartout often met on deck. Fix stayed reserved and did not press for facts about Mr. Fogg.
He caught a glimpse of that mysterious gentleman once or twice.
But Mr. Fogg usually stayed in the cabin, where he kept Aouda company, or, by his usual habit, played whist.
Passepartout began very seriously to wonder what strange chance kept Fix still on the route that his master was following.
It was worth thinking why this friendly calm man had first been met at Suez and then again on board the Mongolia.
He had got off at Bombay, which he had said was his destination.
Now he showed up so unexpectedly on the Rangoon and seemed to be following Mr. Fogg step by step.
What did Fix want? What was his aim in following Mr. Fogg so closely?
Passepartout was ready to bet his Indian shoes, which he carefully kept.
He thought Fix would leave Hong Kong with them at the same time, probably on the same steamer.
Passepartout might have thought for a long time without finding the real aim which the detective had in view.
He never could have imagined that Phileas Fogg was being followed as a robber around the world.
But, as it's human nature to try to solve every mystery, Passepartout suddenly found an explanation of Fix's movements, which was in truth not unreasonable.
He thought Fix could only be an agent of Mr. Fogg's friends at the Reform Club.
He was sent to follow him and to make sure he really went round the world as agreed.
"It's clear!" said the worthy servant to himself, proud of his cleverness.
"He's a spy sent to keep us in view!"
"That isn't quite right, either, to be spying on Mr."
"Fogg, who's such an honourable man!"
"Ah, gentlemen of the Reform, this will cost you dear!"
Passepartout, happy with his discovery, decided to say nothing to his master.
So he wouldn't justly offend him by this distrust of his friends.
But he decided to tease Fix, when he had the chance, with mysterious remarks, which, however, wouldn't show his real suspicions.
During the afternoon of Wednesday, 30th October, the Rangoon entered the Strait of Malacca, which separates the peninsula of that name from Sumatra.
The mountainous and rocky islets hid the beauties of this noble island from the view of the travellers.
The Rangoon anchored at Singapore the next day at four a.m. to take on coal, having gained half a day.
Phileas Fogg noted this gain in his journal, and then, with Aouda, who showed a wish for a walk on shore, got off.
Fix, who watched Mr. Fogg's every movement, followed them carefully, without being seen.
Passepartout, laughing inside at Fix's moves, went about his usual errands.
The island of Singapore isn't grand in look, for there are no mountains, yet its appearance isn't without attractions.
It's a park cut by pleasant roads and avenues.
A handsome carriage, drawn by a pair of New Holland horses, took Phileas Fogg and Aouda among rows of palms.
Clove trees stood there too, their cloves form the heart of a half-open flower.
Pepper plants took the place of prickly hedges of European fields.
Sago bushes and large ferns changed this tropical land's look, while nutmeg trees filled the air with a sweet smell.
Agile and grinning bands of monkeys jumped about in the trees, and tigers weren't missing in the jungles.
After a drive of two hours through the country, Aouda and Mr. Fogg returned to the town.
The town was a large group of heavy-looking, irregular houses surrounded by lovely gardens rich in tropical fruits and plants.
At ten o'clock they got back on board, closely followed by the detective who had kept them always in sight.
Passepartout had been buying several dozen mangoes.
The fruit was as large as good apples, dark brown outside and bright red inside.
Their white flesh melted in the mouth, giving lovers of fine food a delicious feeling.
Passepartout was waiting for them on deck.
He was very glad to offer some mangoes to Aouda, who thanked him very nicely for them.
At eleven o'clock the Rangoon left Singapore harbour.
In a few hours the high mountains of Malacca, with their forests and their fine furred tigers, were lost to view.
Singapore is about thirteen hundred miles from the island of Hong Kong, which is a small English colony near the Chinese coast.
Phileas Fogg hoped to do the journey in six days.
He wanted to be in time for the steamer leaving on the 6th of November for Yokohama, the main Japanese port.
The Rangoon carried many passengers, many left at Singapore, including Indians, Ceylonese, Chinese, Malays and Portuguese, mostly second-class travellers.
The weather, which had been fine, changed with the last quarter of the moon.
The sea rolled heavily, and the wind at times rose near storm, but blew from the south-west and helped the steamer's progress.
The captain put up his sails whenever possible.
Under the double action of steam and sail, the vessel made fast progress along the coasts of Anam and Cochin China.
Because of the poor design of the Rangoon, special care became necessary in bad weather.
The loss of time this caused nearly drove Passepartout out of his senses.
But it didn't seem to touch his master at all.
Passepartout blamed the captain, the engineer, and the crew, and sent all who were part of the ship to the land where the pepper grows.
Maybe the thought of the gas, which was being mercilessly burned at his cost in Saville Row, had something to do with his strong impatience.
"You're in a great hurry, then," said Fix to him one day, "to reach Hong Kong?"
"A very great hurry!"
"Mr. Fogg, I suppose, is anxious to catch the steamer for Yokohama?"
"Terribly anxious."
"You believe in this journey around the world, then?"
"Absolutely. Don't you, Mr. Fix?"
"I? I don't believe a word of it."
"You're a sly dog!" said Passepartout, winking at him.
This expression rather disturbed Fix, without his knowing why.
Had the Frenchman guessed his real purpose?
He didn't know what to think.
But how could Passepartout have found out that he was a detective?
Yet, in saying what he did, the man clearly meant more than he said.
Passepartout went even further the next day, he couldn't keep silent.
"Mr. Fix," he said, in a teasing tone, "shall we be so unlucky as to lose you when we get to Hong Kong?"
"Why," answered Fix, a little embarrassed, "I don't know, perhaps, "
"Ah, if you'd only go on with us!"
"An agent of the Peninsular Company, you know, can't stop on the way!"
"You were only going to Bombay, and here you're in China."
"America isn't far off, and from America to Europe is only a step."
Fix looked closely at his companion, whose face was as calm as possible, and laughed with him.
But Passepartout kept teasing him by asking if he earned much by his present job.
"Yes, and no," answered Fix, "there's good and bad luck in such things. But you must understand that I don't travel at my own cost."
"Oh, I'm quite sure of that!" cried Passepartout, laughing loudly.
Fix, fairly puzzled, went down to his cabin and gave himself up to thought.
He was clearly suspected, Somehow the Frenchman had found out that he was a detective.
But had he told his master?
What part was he playing in all this, was he an accomplice or not?
Was the game, then, up? Fix spent several hours turning these things over in his mind.
Sometimes he thought that all was lost.
Then he told himself that Fogg didn't know of his presence and still couldn't decide which course was best.
Still, he kept his calm mind, and at last decided to speak plainly with Passepartout.
If he could not arrest Fogg at Hong Kong and Fogg planned to leave last English land, Fix would tell Passepartout everything.
Either the servant was the helper of his master, in that case the master knew of his work, and he'd fail.
Or else the servant knew nothing about the robbery, and then his interest would be to leave the robber.
Such was the situation between Fix and Passepartout.
Meanwhile Phileas Fogg moved about above them in the most calm and careless way.
He was going in his regular way around the world, not caring about the smaller stars which moved around him.
Yet there was near by what the astronomers would call a disturbing star, which might have made a movement in this gentleman's heart.
But no, the charms of Aouda failed to act, to Passepartout's great surprise.
The troubles, if they existed, would have been harder to calculate than those of Uranus which led to the discovery of Neptune.
It was every day a growing wonder to Passepartout, who read in Aouda's eyes the depth of her thanks to his master.
Phileas Fogg, though brave and polite, must be, he thought, quite without feeling.
If the journey had started any feeling in him, there was no sign of it, while poor Passepartout lived in daydreams.
One day he was leaning on the railing of the engine room and watching the engine.
Then a sudden roll of the steamer threw the screw out of the water.
The steam came hissing out of the valves, and this made Passepartout angry.
"The valves aren't full enough!" he cried.
"We aren't going. Oh, these English! If this was an American craft, we might blow up, perhaps, but at least we'd go faster!"