Philip Jose Farmer

by The Other Log of Phileas Fogg

  The Parsi said that after her parents had died, she had been forced to marry the rajah.

  (This, of course, was what the rajah and the public believed. She had succeeded in making it look as if she were a victim. If she had been eager to marry him, she would have aroused his suspicions.)

  The Parsi, however, was right in saying that she had fled as soon as the rajah died but had been captured and returned to the capital city. The rajah’s relatives were insistent that she perform the suttee, since they did not wish her to inherit the rajah’s wealth.

  This was probably true, Fogg thought. If Nemo had found out, or even suspected, that she was an Eridanean, he would have saved her from the suttee. She would be too valuable as a source of information for him to allow her to be wasted on the funeral pyre. But it was possible that Nemo no longer had any influence in Bundelcund and was helpless to prevent her—to him—too-early death.

  The Parsi guided the travelers to the temple of Pillaji, where the distressing ceremony was to take place. Thirty minutes later, they were hidden in a dense copse about one hundred and sixty-seven yards from the Brahmin temple. Kiouni made much noise by tearing off branches and eating them, but this could not be helped. The beast was very hungry, and any efforts to stop him might result in his making even more noise. Fortunately, the distance from the crowd, the uproar it was making, and the thick vegetation that surrounded the travelers would keep the Bundelcundians from noticing the sounds the elephant was making.

  Fogg questioned the guide about the layout of the area around the temple, its interior design, and the behavior of the Hindus at such occasions. Verne says that the Parsi was familiar with the temple. But why would a Parsi ever have gone into a Hindu temple, especially one in hostile territory? Perhaps, being intelligent, and hence curious, the Parsi had picked up his knowledge by questioning various Hindus of his village, or travelers, who had worshipped there. The Pillaji temple seems to have been a famous one.

  The party waited in the copse until night fell. Meanwhile, they were still apprehensive about being discovered. Kiouni had not stopped feeding, and now and then children wandered off from the crowd and came close to the hiding place. Once, three ten-year-olds, playing some sort of hide and seek, started toward the copse. They were quite close when the mother of one came after them. Kiouni was stuffing some broken branches into his mouth at that time, so there was no snapping and cracking of wood to attract her. Also, the wind was blowing toward the travelers and helped to carry the noise away from the crowd.

  Even so, they had some anxious moments.

  As the sun set, the noise of the mob began to die. Kiouni had by then stripped half of the trees, but, his belly full, was now dozing. The celebrators were not only worn out; they were sleepy from the effects of liquid opium mixed with hemp. This use of such drugs and some other features of Verne’s description of them indicate that the Bundelcundians did not belong to a conventional sect of Hinduism. The Bundelcundians were, after all, devotees of Kali and undoubtedly considered unorthodox even by other branches of this particular worship. There were elements of a pre-Hindu religion in the Bundelcundian religion, probably adopted from the original inhabitants, the small dark peoples who now survived only in the mountain jungles.

  Fogg’s record validates Verne’s description, so we can accept it as true that these Kalians did indeed use opium and other drugs.

  After dark, the Parsi stole out to observe the situation at close range. He found that all the mob were lying in a stupor, children included. The unfortunate exceptions were the priests and the guards, alert within the temple. Fogg, hearing this, was unperturbed. They would wait on the chance that the people in the temple might go to sleep later.

  At midnight, it became apparent that the guards intended to stay up all night. Fogg gave an order, and the travelers went out into a night which lacked a moon, since it was covered by heavy clouds. They stopped at the rear wall of the temple and began chipping away with their pocketknives. Fortunately, after one brick had been removed, the others came out without much labor. Once, they had to retreat into the woods because the guards were disturbed by a cry. This caused Sir Francis and the Parsi to argue that they should give up their rescue attempt. Whatever had caused the cry, the guards would now be even more vigilant. And daylight would soon come.

  Fogg replied that he wished to stay until all hope was gone. Something might happen to their advantage.

  Passepartout, watching from the branches of a tree, had a sudden inspiration. Without a word to the others, he got down off the tree and slipped off. His act was motivated only by humanity. He had no idea at that time that the woman was a fellow Eridanean.

  At dawn, Aouda Jejeebhoy was brought out of the temple. The crowd recovered from its stupor, and the voices and the music became as loud as before. Aouda struggled until she was held over burning hemp and opium and forced to breathe. Sir Francis, greatly moved by this pitiful scene, grabbed Fog g’s hand and found in it an open knife. But Fogg did not rush into the crowd brandishing the knife in a vain effort to save her. Verne says that, at this point, Fogg and the other two men mingled in the rear ranks of the crowd and followed it to the pyre. This is obviously not true, since they would have been noticed at once and set upon. In actuality, they remained at some distance and took care to hide behind bushes.

  Verne fails to say what Fogg thought of Passepartout’s unauthorized disappearance. Fogg records that he had assumed that the Frenchman was still up in the tree posted as their lookout.

  The three men saw the now senseless woman placed beside the corpse. They saw the oil-soaked wood of the pyre being ignited with a torch. Fogg seems to have lost his self-control. He was about to dash through the crowd when Sir Francis and the Parsi grabbed him. Despite their efforts, he broke free and was about to launch himself again when something unexpected and terrifying happened. The whole crowd, screaming with terror, threw itself on its face and cowered.

  The dead rajah had sat up, gotten to his feet, lifted Aouda in his arms, and was now coming down from the pyre. Smoke flowered about him as if he were a devil carrying a poor lost soul through the fires of Hell. He walked through the prostrate mob straight to the party in the rear, all of whom had come out from their concealment.

  The reanimated rajah, as everybody knows, was Passepartout. In the darkness, while the crowd slept, he had stripped the corpse, buried it under sticks of wood, put on its clothes, and then lain down in the posture and place of the dead man. In fact, the dead rajah was directly below.

  A few moments later, Kiouni, aroused from his sleep, bearing five on his back now, was tearing along as if he fully understood the necessity for a speedy departure. Cries and gunshots sounded behind him, and a bullet pierced Mr. Fogg’s hat. The fire had by then exposed the naked body of the rajah. The worshippers of Kali at once understood not only that they had been duped but in what manner. Inasmuch as they had no elephants or horses at hand, they were soon hopelessly outdistanced.

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  Passepartout was delighted with his exploit. Sir Francis shook his hand. Fogg said, “Well done,” though he must have thought that the valet, who was, after all, under his command, should have consulted him before acting. He was, however, eminently pragmatic. And it was the Eridanean custom to act independently if the situation required.

  Sir Francis told Fogg that the woman would never be safe in India again. The fanatics of Kali would track her down and strangle her.

  At Allahabad, the young woman waited in a room in the railroad station while Passepartout purchased suitable clothes for her. Though Verne does not say so, he must have bought clothes for himself, too. When he entered Allahabad, he was still wearing the garments he had taken from the rajah. His own had been burned in the pyre.

  On the train to Benares, Aouda fully recovered. She was astonished, of course, since she had expected to awaken in the Parsi Heaven. Fogg made no mention at this time of their Eridanean connections. He pretended to her to be what the world though
t him, an overly eccentric English gentleman. He did offer to take her with him as far as Hong Kong. There, it seemed, she had a Parsi cousin who was a rich merchant.

  At Benares, Sir Francis, who had to rejoin his brigade, bade them a fond farewell. He said that he would never forget their adventure, and neither Fogg nor Passepartout enlightened him on the one that he had missed.

  On the twenty-fifth of October, exactly on schedule, the party arrived at Calcutta. The two days gained on the trip from London to Bombay had been lost during the journey across India. Verne says that it is to be supposed that Fogg did not regret the loss. He spoke more truly than he knew.

  As they left the railway station, a policeman politely asked the two men to follow him. Aouda accompanied them to the police station. There they were held for trial, which would begin at 8:30 that morning. They were not told why they were detained, which seems strange since British law required that they be so informed. Aouda said that it was because of their interference with the suttee. Fogg replied that that was highly improbable. Who would dare complain to the authorities? Whatever happened, he would not desert Aouda. He would go with her to Hong Kong.

  Passepartout, wiping the perspiration from his forehead, cried, “But the steamer leaves at noon!”

  “We shall be on board at noon,” Fogg said.

  At the stipulated time, the three were brought into the courtroom. Here they discovered the nature of the charges brought against them. It was not the affair at the temple of Pillaji which had caused their arrest. It was that at the temple of Malabar Hill in Bombay.

  Fix, whom we last saw in Bombay, had traveled with the three priests to Calcutta. Because Fogg and party were delayed in the rescue of Aouda, Fix and party had beaten them to Calcutta. There they had complained to the British authorities of Passepartout’s desecration of the temple. Fix, who had paid their passage, had also promised them that they would collect a large sum in damages. On seeing Fogg and party arrive, he had gotten a policeman to detain them.

  Sitting inconspicuously in the crowd in a corner, Fix observed the trial. He was delighted at the sentence. Passepartout was fined three-hundred pounds and given fifteen days in jail. Since Fogg, as master, was responsible for his servant, he was sentenced to seven days in jail and fined one hundred and fifty pounds.

  Fix knew that there was now time for the warrant to arrive. And while Fogg was on his way back to England as Fix’s prisoner, many things could—and would—happen to Fogg.

  Mr. Fogg, however, claimed his right to bail. Fix became cold at this point but warmed up when he heard that bail would cost each prisoner a thousand pounds. Then he became cold again when Fogg paid the amount from his carpetbag.

  Passepartout insisted that the shoes left behind in the temple be returned to him. They were, whereon he complained that they not only had cost a thousand pounds apiece, they pinched his feet.

  Fix, hoping that Fogg would never leave two thousand pounds behind him, shadowed him. To his consternation, he saw the party board a small boat and head for the steamer Rangoon. There was nothing he could do except follow them to Hong Kong. So far, he thought, he had certainly failed to “f x” them. He did succeed in getting onto the Rangoon without being seen by the Frenchman. But first he left orders that the warrant, when it arrived, should be forwarded to Hong Kong.

  Fix stayed in his cabin as much as possible. While there, he considered the addition to the party. Where had she come from? Who was she? Was she an Eridanean? The latter seemed more probable, since Fix could not conceive of the coldly inhuman, or inhumanly cold, Fogg taking a mistress.

  Suffering from cabin-fever, and convinced that Passepartout might give him more information, Fix left his quarters. This was on the thirtieth of October; the next day, the Rangoon would stop briefly at Singapore.

  Fix located the Frenchman, who was promenading on the first-class forward deck. Pretending to be surprised at finding him aboard, Fix greeted him. He explained to Passepartout that unexpected business at Hong Kong was responsible for his being on the ship. He had not been on deck before because seasickness had kept him in bed. He expressed astonishment on hearing from the Frenchman that a young lady was now with Mr. Fogg—though in a separate cabin, of course. Passepartout told the story of the rescue, their flight, their trial, and the bail. The woman, Fix discovered, was to be left at Hong Kong with a relative.

  Fix, hearing this, thought that perhaps she was not an enemy after all. Disappointed, he gave up his plan to get Fogg arrested at Hong Kong on a morals charge. Fogg’s behavior toward Aouda was, according to Passepartout, irreproachable.

  Fix invited Passepartout to have a drink of gin on him. Perhaps this time the Frenchman would drink enough to unlock the door of his discretion.

  Later, Passepartout, having sent Fix reeling home to his cabin, reported to Fogg. This fellow, Fix, was undoubtedly trailing them. Whether he was just a detective or a Capellean remained to be seen.

  Not much happened at Singapore, according to Verne. While the Rangoon coaled up, Fogg and Aouda took a long drive through the city and the surrounding country. Fix shadowed them so skillfully that they did not observe him. Passepartout, however, had shadowed Fix for a while, saw whom he was following, and went off to carry out some errands. At eleven o’clock, a half an hour ahead of time, the ship left the English-founded colony.

  When Fix returned to his cabin, he discovered waiting in it a man whom he had met once before. We know this because it is recorded in Fogg’s secret log, though he was not aware of the meeting until much later.

  The man was sitting in a chair, his long well-muscled legs extended straight out, the posterior edges of the heels of his expensive boots on the deck. Though he was about forty years of age, he had the physique of an athlete of twenty-five. His waist was narrow; his chest was broad and deep; his shoulders were wide. His nose was long and straight. His mouth was thin. His chin jutted out. His forehead was high and bulging. His eyes were a pale gray and set so far apart that they could cover one hundred and eighty degrees. He was smoking a long thin cigar the make and aroma of which Fix could not identify. It had a certain salty tang to it.

  “Sit down, Fix,” the intruder said in Capellean. “Do you have anything of interest to report?”

  Fix sat down as if he could not obey the man fast enough. His nervousness became even more manifest as he told what had happened from the day he met the Mongolia at Suez. While he talked, he could not keep from wondering if his guest was one of the Old Ones or an adopted human. Those widespread eyes and the superhuman and chilly intelligence in them! But he dared not ask. In any event, it made no difference. He was under the orders of this person, man or alien. And he was a deadly person. An utter lack of compassion emanated from him in an almost visible aura, if a negative quality could be said to radiate.

  At the end of Fix’s lengthy account, the man straightened up in the chair. “You will continue to follow him, all the way back to London, if need be. And continue to make friends with this Passepartout. He is undoubtedly an Eridanean. That watch which he refuses to adjust to the sun sounds suspicious. It may contain a distorter. One of them is carrying a distorter.”

  This man was the one whom Fogg had called Nemo when he had seen him in the rajah’s palace. Nemo knew that Passepartout was Fogg’s accomplice. He had not seen him during the raid, but the soldiers in the dome had described the Frenchman. That he did not bother to tell Fix this was a mistake due to his arrogance. Fix was only an underling and a not very competent one at that in his opinion. Why should he tell Fix that he knew for certain that Passepartout was Eridanean? He had stated that the Frenchman was Eridanean and that should be enough for Fix.

  That, however, was not enough for Fix. He assumed that the man’s statement was based on suspicions only. As far as he was concerned, Passepartout could be just a human.

  Fix had some questions and some suggestions, but he did not voice them. This man was evidently one who gave orders and did not care to have them question
ed. Fix would be glad when he left.

  “Both Fogg and Passepartout,” the man said, “are aware that you are probably not just a detective. I don’t know why they haven’t killed you or tried to extract data from you. They must know that you may try to eliminate them at any moment and that you can easily do so. Still, they may be waiting to act until their plans develop further. They are iron-nerved, intrepid, and intelligent—for Eridaneans. As I have good reason to know.”

  He puffed on his cigar for a while. Fix wished he would tell him just why he had such good reason to know. He also thought that he had identified at least one of the elements in the odor of the tobacco. Seaweed? But, if so, it was a fine seaweed, for the smoke was certainly pleasant enough, even to a non-smoker.

  The man, as if reading his mind, said, “This is the next to last cigar. Then I go back to the more easily procured.”

  He puffed again and said, “I think I’ll save it for a special occasion. Such as the demise of Fogg, who, by the way, has something familiar about him. Where have I seen him before?”

  Fix sweated even more heavily. If a superior talked too much to an inferior, it could mean that he no longer cared if the underling knew too much. The underling would soon be dead. But what had he done? Where had he failed? He had carried out all orders, and it was not his fault that London had not sent the warrant.

  The man, whose expression had been unrelieved by any sign of emotion, unless coldness is one, now smiled.

  “I can’t tell you what is going on. But I can tell you that never have affairs looked so good for us. There is a very important operation, perhaps the most important in our history, going on right now that will undoubtedly bring an end to our war with the Eridaneans.”

  Fix sat up. “Incredible!”

  “Not if I say so,” the man said,

  “Pardon me, sir. But an end!”

  “Yes, an end.”