knocking the vessel about with fury, and the waves running high. The
Rangoon reefed all her sails, and even the rigging proved too much,
whistling and shaking amid the squall. The steamer was forced to
proceed slowly, and the captain estimated that she would reach Hong
Kong twenty hours behind time, and more if the storm lasted.
Phileas Fogg gazed at the tempestuous sea, which seemed to be
struggling especially to delay him, with his habitual tranquillity. He
never changed countenance for an instant, though a delay of twenty
hours, by making him too late for the Yokohama boat, would almost
inevitably cause the loss of the wager. But this man of nerve
manifested neither impatience nor annoyance; it seemed as if the storm
were a part of his programme, and had been foreseen. Aouda was amazed
to find him as calm as he had been from the first time she saw him.
Fix did not look at the state of things in the same light. The storm
greatly pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete had the
Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable
that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now
the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this
inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects,
his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be
at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and
steam united to speed his journey. Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were
to come from his own pocket. The storm exasperated him, the gale made
him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.
Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction,
for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained
himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being
unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the
progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew. He overwhelmed
the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his
impatience, with all sorts of questions.
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