The last few days of the voyage were rough. A strong wind from the northwest kept blowing, slowing the Rangoon down. Huge waves rolled toward the ship, making it pitch and toss so badly that the passengers were becoming increasingly miserable.
On November 3, the weather became even worse.
A violent storm struck the ship. The crew had to reduce the sails, and even the rigging shook and whistled under the force of the wind. The Rangoon could barely move forward.
The captain calculated that they would reach Hong Kong at least twenty hours late—and possibly even later if the storm continued.
Phileas Fogg stood on deck, calmly watching the furious sea.
Aouda looked at him in amazement.
“Mr. Fogg, aren’t you worried?”
“Why should I be?”
“We may be twenty hours late. If we miss the Yokohama steamer, your entire plan could fail.”
Fogg continued looking at the sea.
“We shall see.”
He showed no anger or anxiety. It was almost as if he had expected the storm and had already included it in his calculations.
Aouda could hardly believe how calm he remained.
Fix, however, was delighted by the storm.
Every hour of delay increased his hope that Fogg would be forced to remain in Hong Kong for several days.
“If only this storm would last a little longer,” Fix thought.
The violent waves made him terribly seasick, but he did not care. His body suffered, but his mind was full of hope.
Passepartout was completely different.
“This is terrible!” he cried.
“Everything had been going so well! The trains, the ships, the wind—everything seemed to help us!”
He stared angrily at the sea.
“And now this!”
He was almost as excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were coming out of his own pocket.
The storm made him furious. He wanted to fight the wind and somehow force the sea to obey them.
Fix carefully hid his satisfaction. If Passepartout had discovered how pleased he was, he might have attacked him.
Passepartout spent the entire storm on deck because he could not stand sitting below.
He even decided to help the crew.
“How long will this storm last?” he asked one sailor.
“I don’t know.”
He hurried over to the officers.
“What does the captain think?”
“Ask the barometer.”
Passepartout rushed to look at it.
“The thing isn’t moving!”
He shook the barometer.
Nothing happened.
He shook it again.
Still nothing.
“You stubborn little machine!” he shouted.
Neither his shaking nor his curses could persuade the barometer to rise.
On November 4, the sea finally began to calm down.
The storm weakened, and the wind shifted toward the south. It was once again favorable.
Passepartout immediately became cheerful.
“That’s better!”
The crew opened some of the sails, and the Rangoon increased its speed.
But the lost time could not be recovered.
Land was not sighted until five o’clock on the morning of November 6.
They were supposed to arrive on November 5.
Fogg was now twenty-four hours behind schedule, and it seemed certain that he would miss the steamer to Yokohama.
At six o’clock, a pilot came aboard and took his place on the bridge.
Passepartout desperately wanted to ask whether the Yokohama steamer had already left.
But he was afraid to hear the answer.
He still wanted to keep the last little bit of hope alive.
He finally told Fix about his worry.
Fix tried to comfort him.
“Don’t worry. Mr. Fogg can simply take the next steamer.”
Passepartout immediately became angry.
“The next steamer? Do you know how long we might have to wait?”
Fogg himself had no such hesitation.
He walked up to the pilot.
“Do you know when a steamer will leave Hong Kong for Yokohama?”
“Tomorrow morning, at high tide.”
Fogg showed no surprise.
Passepartout, who had overheard the answer, was overjoyed.
Fix, on the other hand, was furious.
“What is the name of the steamer?” Fogg asked.
“The Carnatic.”
“Wasn’t she supposed to leave yesterday?”
“Yes, sir. But one of her boilers needed repairs, so her departure was delayed until tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Fogg calmly returned to the saloon.
Passepartout grabbed the pilot’s hand and shook it enthusiastically.
“You’re the finest fellow in the world!”
The pilot had no idea why his simple answers had earned him such enthusiastic praise.
He returned to the bridge and guided the Rangoon through the crowded harbor, weaving among junks, small boats, and fishing vessels.
At one o’clock, the Rangoon reached the quay.
The passengers began going ashore.
Once again, luck had helped Phileas Fogg.
If the Carnatic had not needed repairs, it would have left Hong Kong on November 6. Fogg and the other passengers would then have had to wait an entire week for the next steamer.
Fogg was still twenty-four hours behind schedule, but the delay was no longer dangerous.
The steamer from Yokohama to San Francisco was scheduled to connect directly with the Carnatic. It could not leave Yokohama until the Carnatic arrived.
So even if Fogg reached Yokohama twenty-four hours late, he would probably be able to make up that time during the twenty-two-day voyage across the Pacific.
Thirty-five days after leaving London, Fogg was only twenty-four hours behind schedule.
The Carnatic was due to leave Hong Kong at five the next morning.
That gave Fogg sixteen hours to complete one important task: finding a safe home for Aouda.
As soon as they landed, Fogg arranged a palanquin for her.
They went to the Club Hotel.
Fogg rented a room for Aouda and made sure she had everything she needed.
Then he turned to Passepartout.
“Stay here until I return.”
“Yes, Monsieur.”
“Do not leave Madame Aouda alone.”
“Of course.”
Fogg then went to find Aouda’s cousin, Jeejeeh.
He went to the Exchange, where he expected that such a wealthy and well-known Parsee merchant would be easy to find.
He approached a broker.
“Do you know a merchant named Jeejeeh?”
“Yes. But he left China two years ago.”
“Where is he now?”
“He retired from business after making a huge fortune. I believe he lives somewhere in Europe.”
“Where in Europe?”
“Holland, I think. He did most of his business with Dutch merchants.”
Fogg thanked him and immediately returned to the hotel.
He asked to speak with Aouda privately.
“Madam, I have found out where your cousin is.”
Aouda looked hopeful.
“Where is he?”
“He is no longer in Hong Kong. He appears to be living in Holland.”
Aouda said nothing.
She slowly raised a hand to her forehead and thought for a few moments.
Then she spoke softly.
“What should I do, Mr. Fogg?”
“It is very simple.”
“What?”
“You should continue on to Europe.”
“But I cannot impose upon you.”
“You are not imposing upon me.”
He paused.
“And your presence will not interfere with my journey in the slightest.”
Then he called out:
“Passepartout!”
“Yes, Monsieur?”
“Go to the Carnatic and reserve three cabins.”
Passepartout’s face lit up.
He was very fond of Aouda, and he was delighted that she would continue the journey with them.
“With pleasure, Monsieur!”
He hurried away to carry out his master’s order.