by Jules Verne
Chapter X
IN WHICH PASSEPARTOUT IS ONLY TOO GLAD TO GET OFF WITH THE LOSS OF HISSHOES
Everybody knows that the great reversed triangle of land, with its basein the north and its apex in the south, which is called India, embracesfourteen hundred thousand square miles, upon which is spread unequallya population of one hundred and eighty millions of souls. The BritishCrown exercises a real and despotic dominion over the larger portion ofthis vast country, and has a governor-general stationed at Calcutta,governors at Madras, Bombay, and in Bengal, and a lieutenant-governorat Agra.
But British India, properly so called, only embraces seven hundredthousand square miles, and a population of from one hundred to onehundred and ten millions of inhabitants. A considerable portion ofIndia is still free from British authority; and there are certainferocious rajahs in the interior who are absolutely independent. Thecelebrated East India Company was all-powerful from 1756, when theEnglish first gained a foothold on the spot where now stands the cityof Madras, down to the time of the great Sepoy insurrection. Itgradually annexed province after province, purchasing them of thenative chiefs, whom it seldom paid, and appointed the governor-generaland his subordinates, civil and military. But the East India Companyhas now passed away, leaving the British possessions in India directlyunder the control of the Crown. The aspect of the country, as well asthe manners and distinctions of race, is daily changing.
Formerly one was obliged to travel in India by the old cumbrous methodsof going on foot or on horseback, in palanquins or unwieldy coaches;now fast steamboats ply on the Indus and the Ganges, and a greatrailway, with branch lines joining the main line at many points on itsroute, traverses the peninsula from Bombay to Calcutta in three days.This railway does not run in a direct line across India. The distancebetween Bombay and Calcutta, as the bird flies, is only from onethousand to eleven hundred miles; but the deflections of the roadincrease this distance by more than a third.
The general route of the Great Indian Peninsula Railway is as follows:Leaving Bombay, it passes through Salcette, crossing to the continentopposite Tannah, goes over the chain of the Western Ghauts, runs thencenorth-east as far as Burhampoor, skirts the nearly independentterritory of Bundelcund, ascends to Allahabad, turns thence eastwardly,meeting the Ganges at Benares, then departs from the river a little,and, descending south-eastward by Burdivan and the French town ofChandernagor, has its terminus at Calcutta.
The passengers of the Mongolia went ashore at half-past four p.m.; atexactly eight the train would start for Calcutta.
Mr. Fogg, after bidding good-bye to his whist partners, left thesteamer, gave his servant several errands to do, urged it upon him tobe at the station promptly at eight, and, with his regular step, whichbeat to the second, like an astronomical clock, directed his steps tothe passport office. As for the wonders of Bombay--its famous cityhall, its splendid library, its forts and docks, its bazaars, mosques,synagogues, its Armenian churches, and the noble pagoda on MalabarHill, with its two polygonal towers--he cared not a straw to see them.He would not deign to examine even the masterpieces of Elephanta, orthe mysterious hypogea, concealed south-east from the docks, or thosefine remains of Buddhist architecture, the Kanherian grottoes of theisland of Salcette.
Having transacted his business at the passport office, Phileas Foggrepaired quietly to the railway station, where he ordered dinner.Among the dishes served up to him, the landlord especially recommendeda certain giblet of "native rabbit," on which he prided himself.
Mr. Fogg accordingly tasted the dish, but, despite its spiced sauce,found it far from palatable. He rang for the landlord, and, on hisappearance, said, fixing his clear eyes upon him, "Is this rabbit, sir?"
"Yes, my lord," the rogue boldly replied, "rabbit from the jungles."
"And this rabbit did not mew when he was killed?"
"Mew, my lord! What, a rabbit mew! I swear to you--"
"Be so good, landlord, as not to swear, but remember this: cats wereformerly considered, in India, as sacred animals. That was a goodtime."
"For the cats, my lord?"
"Perhaps for the travellers as well!"
After which Mr. Fogg quietly continued his dinner. Fix had gone onshore shortly after Mr. Fogg, and his first destination was theheadquarters of the Bombay police. He made himself known as a Londondetective, told his business at Bombay, and the position of affairsrelative to the supposed robber, and nervously asked if a warrant hadarrived from London. It had not reached the office; indeed, there hadnot yet been time for it to arrive. Fix was sorely disappointed, andtried to obtain an order of arrest from the director of the Bombaypolice. This the director refused, as the matter concerned the Londonoffice, which alone could legally deliver the warrant. Fix did notinsist, and was fain to resign himself to await the arrival of theimportant document; but he was determined not to lose sight of themysterious rogue as long as he stayed in Bombay. He did not doubt fora moment, any more than Passepartout, that Phileas Fogg would remainthere, at least until it was time for the warrant to arrive.
Passepartout, however, had no sooner heard his master's orders onleaving the Mongolia than he saw at once that they were to leave Bombayas they had done Suez and Paris, and that the journey would be extendedat least as far as Calcutta, and perhaps beyond that place. He beganto ask himself if this bet that Mr. Fogg talked about was not really ingood earnest, and whether his fate was not in truth forcing him,despite his love of repose, around the world in eighty days!
Having purchased the usual quota of shirts and shoes, he took aleisurely promenade about the streets, where crowds of people of manynationalities--Europeans, Persians with pointed caps, Banyas with roundturbans, Sindes with square bonnets, Parsees with black mitres, andlong-robed Armenians--were collected. It happened to be the day of aParsee festival. These descendants of the sect of Zoroaster--the mostthrifty, civilised, intelligent, and austere of the East Indians, amongwhom are counted the richest native merchants of Bombay--werecelebrating a sort of religious carnival, with processions and shows,in the midst of which Indian dancing-girls, clothed in rose-colouredgauze, looped up with gold and silver, danced airily, but with perfectmodesty, to the sound of viols and the clanging of tambourines. It isneedless to say that Passepartout watched these curious ceremonies withstaring eyes and gaping mouth, and that his countenance was that of thegreenest booby imaginable.
Unhappily for his master, as well as himself, his curiosity drew himunconsciously farther off than he intended to go. At last, having seenthe Parsee carnival wind away in the distance, he was turning his stepstowards the station, when he happened to espy the splendid pagoda onMalabar Hill, and was seized with an irresistible desire to see itsinterior. He was quite ignorant that it is forbidden to Christians toenter certain Indian temples, and that even the faithful must not go inwithout first leaving their shoes outside the door. It may be saidhere that the wise policy of the British Government severely punishes adisregard of the practices of the native religions.
Passepartout, however, thinking no harm, went in like a simple tourist,and was soon lost in admiration of the splendid Brahmin ornamentationwhich everywhere met his eyes, when of a sudden he found himselfsprawling on the sacred flagging. He looked up to behold three enragedpriests, who forthwith fell upon him; tore off his shoes, and began tobeat him with loud, savage exclamations. The agile Frenchman was soonupon his feet again, and lost no time in knocking down two of hislong-gowned adversaries with his fists and a vigorous application ofhis toes; then, rushing out of the pagoda as fast as his legs couldcarry him, he soon escaped the third priest by mingling with the crowdin the streets.
At five minutes before eight, Passepartout, hatless, shoeless, andhaving in the squabble lost his package of shirts and shoes, rushedbreathlessly into the station.
Fix, who had followed Mr. Fogg to the station, and saw that he wasreally going to leave Bombay, was there, upon the platform. He hadresolved to follow the supposed robber to Calcutta, and
farther, ifnecessary. Passepartout did not observe the detective, who stood in anobscure corner; but Fix heard him relate his adventures in a few wordsto Mr. Fogg.
"I hope that this will not happen again," said Phileas Fogg coldly, ashe got into the train. Poor Passepartout, quite crestfallen, followedhis master without a word. Fix was on the point of entering anothercarriage, when an idea struck him which induced him to alter his plan.
"No, I'll stay," muttered he. "An offence has been committed on Indiansoil. I've got my man."
Just then the locomotive gave a sharp screech, and the train passed outinto the darkness of the night.
