Chapter 9
A train was due to leave San Francisco for New York at 6:00 in the evening. Fogg and Aouda ate lunch and then went to the consulate for a visa. On the way there, they met Detective Fix.
“I didn’t know that we all crossed the Pacific on the General Grant,” Fix lied, “By the way, I have to return to England on business. I hope to have the pleasure of your company for the rest of the trip.”
“My pleasure,” answered Phileas Fogg, who still didn’t have the faintest idea that Fix was detective. The three of them walked towards Montgomery Street, where a huge crowd had gathered.
“Hurrah for Camerfield!” cried some voices.
“Hurrah for Mandiboy!” cried others.
It was a political rally.
“We should leave,” warned Fix, “Englishmen should stay out of American politics.”
“Hurrah for Camerfield!” cried some voices.
“Hurrah for Mandiboy!” cried others.
It was a political rally.
“We should leave,” warned Fix, “Englishmen should stay out of American politics.”
It was too late for Phileas Fogg to escape. He and Fix were surrounded on one side by the voters favouring Camerfield and on the other by those favouring Mandiboy. While Fogg was trying to protect Aouda, a tall, broad- shouldered man with a red beard and a flushed face raised his clenched fist. Fogg would have received a terrible blow had not Fix stepped in between him and his attacker. The blow crushed the detective’s silk hat and knocked him to the ground. “Yankee!” shouted Phileas Fogg to the American. “Englishman!” screamed the ruffian, “We shall meet again. What’s your name?”
“Phileas Fogg. What’s yours?”
“Colonel Stamp Proctor.”
Having finally escaped the crowds, Fogg and Fix went to a tailor to have their rumpled clothes ironed. Then they met Passepartout for dinner. Aouda told him about their adventure, and he noted to himself that Fix had indeed behaved like a friend rather than a troublemaker.
After dinner, Phileas Fogg and his party hired a carriage to take them to the railroad station. The train for New York was boarding.
“I must come back to America someday to even the score with Colonel Proctor,” said Fogg, “An Englishman has to defend his honour.”
Fogg later asked the conductor why the crowd on Montgomery Street had been so noisy and angry.
“It was a political meeting, sir. There is going to be an election.”
“It must be an election for an army general,” said Fogg.
“Oh, no, sir! It is for a justice of the peace!”
There are 3,768 miles separating San Francisco from New York. In 1872 , the year of Phileas Fogg’s trip, it took a train seven days to cover that distance. If Fogg could reach New York by December 11, he could catch the Atlantic Ocean steamer for Liverpool, England.
The first delay on the railroad came when a herd of buffaloes began to cross the tracks. The herd numbered in the thousands, and the buffaloes moved very slowly. Phileas Fogg, as always, took the delay in stride. Passepartout was furious, however. He wanted to shoot the animals, but he knew that such action would only kill a small number of them and that their bodies would block the track further.
There was nothing to do but wait.
“What a country!” shouted Passepartout, “Animals should not be allowed to stop trains! Why not just run the buffalo down?”
In fact, the force of the engine against the buffalo could easily derail the train, thus causing an even worse delay.
It took three hours for all the buffaloes to cross the tracks. The train could not move on until nightfall. At 8:00 it arrived at Salt Lake City in the state of Utah.
Salt Lake City was a centre of the Mormon religion. Mormon leaders often gave lectures aboard railroad trains to seek new followers. Passepartout, who had heard that Mormons were permitted to have more than one wife, decided to attend a lecture by a certain Elder Hitch.
Most of the audience quickly lost interest in the lecture, and soon Passepartout found himself alone in the car with the Mormon. Elder Hitch shouted, “We Mormons will never bow to force and pressure! We have been driven out of many parts of the United States, but we will continue to practise our religion! Will you join us, brother?”
“No!” snapped Passepartout, walking swiftly back to Phileas Fogg’s car. By this time, the train’s whistle was announcing that they were ready to leave the Mormon town and continue their journey east.
As the train was about to pull out of the Salt Lake City station, a man ran breathlessly onto the platform. He dashed along the track and jumped aboard the moving train. When he recovered his breath, he declared that he had run away after a quarrel with his wife.
“But how many other wives do you have?” asked Passepartout.
“I have only one wife,” the man replied, “and that is quite enough!”
