Читать книгу Вокруг света за 80 дней / Around the World in Eighty Days - Жюль Верн, Жуль Верн - Страница 12

There were many officers, government officials, and opium and indigo merchants among the passengers. They all went to the eastern coast. Passepartout rode in the same carriage with his master, and a third passenger occupied a seat[57] opposite to them. This was Sir Francis Cromarty[58], one of Mr. Fogg’s whist partners on the Mongolia. He wanted to join his corps at Benares[59]. Sir Francis was a tall, fair man of fifty. He made India his home. He was almost familiar with the customs, history and character of India and its people. But Phileas Fogg did not inquire into these subjects.

Sir Francis Cromarty observed the oddity of his companion. Phileas Fogg did not conceal from Sir Francis his plan, nor all the circumstances. The general saw in the wager a useless eccentricity and a lack of common sense.

Passepartout did not realise that he was actually crossing India in a railway train. The travelers crossed the country of the goddess Kali[60]. Not far off rose Ellora[61], with its graceful pagodas, and the famous Aurungabad[62].

At half-past twelve the train stopped at Burhampoor[63] where Passepartout was able to purchase some Indian slippers, ornamented with false pearls.

At eight o’clock the train stopped in the midst of a glade – fifteen miles beyond Rothal, where there were several bungalows, and workmen’s cabins. The conductor shouted,

“Passengers will get out here!”

Phileas Fogg looked at Sir Francis Cromarty for an explanation; but the general did not tell what that meant. Passepartout rushed out and speedily returned. He cried,

“Monsieur, no more railway!”

“What do you mean?” asked Sir Francis.

“I mean to say that the train isn’t going on.”

The general stepped out, while Phileas Fogg calmly followed him. They proceeded together to the conductor.

“Where are we?” asked Sir Francis.

“At the hamlet of Kholby[64].”

“Do we stop here?”

“Certainly. The railway isn’t finished.”

“What! not finished?”

“No. There’s still fifty miles from here to Allahabad, where the line begins again.”

“But the papers announced the railway.”

“So what, officer? The papers were mistaken.”

“Yet you sell tickets from Bombay to Calcutta,” retorted Sir Francis.

“No doubt[65],” replied the conductor; “but the passengers know that they must provide means of transportation for themselves from Kholby to Allahabad.”

Sir Francis was furious. Passepartout did not dare to look at his master.

“Sir Francis,” said Mr. Fogg quietly, “we will, if you please, look about for some means of conveyance to Allahabad.”

“Mr. Fogg, what a delay!”

“No, Sir Francis; it’s nothing.”

“What! You knew that the way…”

“Not at all; but I know that some obstacle or other will sooner or later arise on my route. Nothing, therefore, is lost. I have two days to sacrifice. A steamer leaves Calcutta for Hong Kong at noon, on the 25th. This is the 22nd, and we shall reach Calcutta in time.”

Many travelers were aware of this interruption, and they began to engage wagons, carriages, palanquins, ponies, and so on. Mr. Fogg and Sir Francis Cromarty did not find anything.

“I shall walk,” said Phileas Fogg.

Passepartout said,

“Monsieur, I think I found something.”

“What?”

“An elephant! An elephant that belongs to an Indian who lives a hundred steps from here.”

“Let’s go and see the elephant,” replied Mr. Fogg.

They soon reached a small hut. An Indian came out of the hut. His elephant was half domesticated. Kiouni[66]-this was the name of the beast-could travel rapidly for a long time. Mr. Fogg resolved to hire him. But elephants are not cheap in India. When Mr. Fogg proposed to the Indian to hire Kiouni, he refused. Mr. Fogg persisted. Ten pounds an hour for the loan of the beast to Allahabad? Refused. Twenty pounds? Refused also. Forty pounds? Still refused.

Phileas Fogg then proposed to purchase the animal, and at first offered a thousand pounds for him. The Indian still refused. His small, sharp eyes were glistening with avarice. Mr. Fogg offered first twelve hundred, then fifteen hundred, eighteen hundred, two thousand pounds. At two thousand pounds the Indian yielded.

“What a price, good heavens!” cried Passepartout, “for an elephant.”

It only remained now to find a guide, which was easy. A young Parsee, with an intelligent face, offered his services, which Mr. Fogg accepted. The Parsee, a good elephant driver, covered the elephant’s back with a saddle-cloth, and attached to each of his flanks some uncomfortable howdahs. Phileas Fogg paid the Indian with some banknotes which he extracted from the famous carpet-bag.

They purchased provisions at Kholby. The Parsee perched himself on the elephant’s neck, and at nine o’clock they left the village. The animal marched through the dense forest of palms.