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1"Oh, if you take it that way," said John Bunsby, "I've nothing more to say." John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At
2a less advanced season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist, would have passed away like a
3luminous cascade of electric flame; but in the winter equinox it was to be feared that it would burst upon them with
4great violence. The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the pole-masts were dispensed with; all
5hands went forward to the bows. A single triangular sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib, so as to hold
6the wind from behind. Then they waited. John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this imprisonment in
7so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr. Fogg, Fix, nor
8Aouda consented to leave the deck. The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock. With but its
9bit of sail, the "Tankadere" was lifted like a feather by a wind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To
10compare her speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be below the truth. The boat scudded thus
11northward during the whole day, borne on by monstrous waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to theirs.
12Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit
13management of the pilot saved her. The passengers were often bathed in spray, but they submitted to it philosophically.
14Fix cursed it, no doubt; but Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed her, showed herself
15worthy of him, and bravely weathered the storm. As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his
16programme. Up to this time the "Tankadere" had always held her course to the north; but towards evening the wind,
17veering three quarters, bore down from the north-west. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook and rolled
18terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence. At night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the
19approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings. He thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it
20was not time to slacken speed. After a consultation he approached Mr. Fogg, and said, "I think, your honour, that we
21should do well to make for one of the ports on the coast." "I think so too." "Ah!" said the pilot. "But which one?" "I
22know of but one," returned Mr. Fogg tranquilly. "And that is--" "Shanghai." The pilot, at first, did not seem to
23comprehend; he could scarcely realise so much determination and tenacity. Then he cried, "Well--yes! Your honour is
24right. To Shanghai!" So the "Tankadere" kept steadily on her northward track. The night was really terrible; it would be
25a miracle if the craft did not founder. Twice it could have been all over with her if the crew had not been constantly
26on the watch. Aouda was exhausted, but did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg rushed to protect her from the
27violence of the waves. Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but the wind now returned to the
28south-east. It was a favourable change, and the "Tankadere" again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though the
29waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks which would have crushed a craft less solidly built.
30From time to time the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in sight. The "Tankadere" was alone
31upon the sea. There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct as the sun descended toward the
32horizon. The tempest had been as brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly exhausted, could now eat a little, and
33take some repose. The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again hoisted, and the speed of the boat was
34very good. The next morning at dawn they espied the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that they were not one
35hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only one day to traverse them! That very evening Mr. Fogg was due at
36Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had there been no storm, during which several hours were
37lost, they would be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination. The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily
38the sea fell with it. All sails were now hoisted, and at noon the "Tankadere" was within forty-five miles of Shanghai.
39There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish that distance. All on board feared that it could not be done, and
40every one--Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted--felt his heart beat with impatience. The boat must keep up an average of
41nine miles an hour, and the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious breeze, coming from the coast,
42and after it passed the sea became smooth. Still, the "Tankadere" was so light, and her fine sails caught the fickle
43zephyrs so well, that, with the aid of the currents John Bunsby found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles
44from the mouth of Shanghai River. Shanghai itself is situated at least twelve miles up the stream. At seven they were
45still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred pounds was evidently on the
46point of escaping him. He looked at Mr. Fogg. Mr. Fogg was perfectly tranquil; and yet his whole fortune was at this
47moment at stake. At this moment, also, a long black funnel, crowned with wreaths of smoke, appeared on the edge of the
48waters. It was the American steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time. "Confound her!" cried John Bunsby,
49pushing back the rudder with a desperate jerk. "Signal her!" said Phileas Fogg quietly. A small brass cannon stood on
50the forward deck of the "Tankadere," for making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle; but just as the pilot
51was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr. Fogg said, "Hoist your flag!" The flag was run up at half-mast,
52and, this being the signal of distress, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would change her course a
53little, so as to succour the pilot-boat. "Fire!" said Mr. Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon resounded in the
54air.
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