In which a slight glimpse is
had of San Francisco
It was seven in the morning
when Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Passepartout
set foot upon the American continent,
if this name can be given to
the floating quay upon which
they disembarked. These quays,
rising and falling with the tide,
thus facilitate the loading and
unloading of vessels. Alongside
them were clippers of all sizes,
steamers of all nationalities,
and the steamboats, with several
decks rising one above the other,
which ply on the Sacramento and
its tributaries. There were also
heaped up the products of a commerce
which extends to Mexico, Chili,
Peru, Brazil, Europe, Asia, and
all the Pacific islands.
Passepartout,
in his joy on reaching at last
the American
continent, thought he would manifest
it by executing a perilous vault
in fine style; but, tumbling
upon some worm-eaten planks,
he fell through them. Put out
of countenance by the manner
in which he thus "set foot" upon
the New World, he uttered a loud
cry, which so frightened the
innumerable cormorants and pelicans
that are always perched upon
these movable quays, that they
flew noisily away.
Mr. Fogg, on reaching shore,
proceeded to find out at what
hour the first train left for
New York, and learned that this
was at six o'clock p.m.; he had,
therefore, an entire day to spend
in the Californian capital. Taking
a carriage at a charge of three
dollars, he and Aouda entered
it, while Passepartout mounted
the box beside the driver, and
they set out for the International
Hotel.
From his exalted position Passepartout
observed with much curiosity
the wide streets, the low, evenly
ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon
Gothic churches, the great docks,
the palatial wooden and brick
warehouses, the numerous conveyances,
omnibuses, horse-cars, and upon
the side-walks, not only Americans
and Europeans, but Chinese and
Indians. Passepartout was surprised
at all he saw. San Francisco
was no longer the legendary city
of 1849--a city of banditti,
assassins, and incendiaries,
who had flocked hither in crowds
in pursuit of plunder; a paradise
of outlaws, where they gambled
with gold-dust, a revolver in
one hand and a bowie-knife in
the other: it was now a great
commercial emporium.
The lofty tower of its City
Hall overlooked the whole panorama
of the streets and avenues, which
cut each other at right-angles,
and in the midst of which appeared
pleasant, verdant squares, while
beyond appeared the Chinese quarter,
seemingly imported from the Celestial
Empire in a toy-box. Sombreros
and red shirts and plumed Indians
were rarely to be seen; but there
were silk hats and black coats
everywhere worn by a multitude
of nervously active, gentlemanly-looking
men. Some of the streets-- especially
Montgomery Street, which is to
San Francisco what Regent Street
is to London, the Boulevard des
Italiens to Paris, and Broadway
to New York-- were lined with
splendid and spacious stores,
which exposed in their windows
the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the
International Hotel, it did not
seem to him as if he had left
England at all.
The ground
floor of the hotel was occupied
by a large bar,
a sort of restaurant freely open
to all passers-by, who might
partake of dried beef, oyster
soup, biscuits, and cheese, without
taking out their purses. Payment
was made only for the ale, porter,
or sherry which was drunk. This
seemed "very American" to Passepartout.
The hotel refreshment-rooms were
comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and
Aouda, installing themselves
at a table, were abundantly served
on diminutive plates by negroes
of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg,
accompanied by Aouda, started
for the English consulate to
have his passport visaed. As
he was going out, he met Passepartout,
who asked him if it would not
be well, before taking the train,
to purchase some dozens of Enfield
rifles and Colt's revolvers.
He had been listening to stories
of attacks upon the trains by
the Sioux and Pawnees. Mr. Fogg
thought it a useless precaution,
but told him to do as he thought
best, and went on to the consulate.
He had not
proceeded two hundred steps,
however, when, "by the
greatest chance in the world," he
met Fix. The detective seemed
wholly taken by surprise. What!
Had Mr. Fogg and himself crossed
the Pacific together, and not
met on the steamer! At least
Fix felt honoured to behold once
more the gentleman to whom he
owed so much, and, as his business
recalled him to Europe, he should
be delighted to continue the
journey in such pleasant company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honour
would be his; and the detective--
who was determined not to lose
sight of him--begged permission
to accompany them in their walk
about San Francisco--a request
which Mr. Fogg readily granted.
They soon found themselves
in Montgomery Street, where a
great crowd was collected; the
side-walks, street, horsecar
rails, the shop-doors, the windows
of the houses, and even the roofs,
were full of people. Men were
going about carrying large posters,
and flags and streamers were
floating in the wind; while loud
cries were heard on every hand.
"Hurrah for
Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for
Mandiboy!"
It was a political
meeting; at least so Fix conjectured,
who said to Mr. Fogg, "Perhaps
we had better not mingle with
the crowd. There may be danger
in it."
"Yes," returned Mr. Fogg; "and
blows, even if they are political
are still blows."
Fix smiled at this remark;
and, in order to be able to see
without being jostled about,
the party took up a position
on the top of a flight of steps
situated at the upper end of
Montgomery Street. Opposite them,
on the other side of the street,
between a coal wharf and a petroleum
warehouse, a large platform had
been erected in the open air,
towards which the current of
the crowd seemed to be directed.
For what purpose was this meeting?
What was the occasion of this
excited assemblage? Phileas Fogg
could not imagine. Was it to
nominate some high official--a
governor or member of Congress?
It was not improbable, so agitated
was the multitude before them.
Just at this moment there was
an unusual stir in the human
mass. All the hands were raised
in the air. Some, tightly closed,
seemed to disappear suddenly
in the midst of the cries--an
energetic way, no doubt, of casting
a vote. The crowd swayed back,
the banners and flags wavered,
disappeared an instant, then
reappeared in tatters. The undulations
of the human surge reached the
steps, while all the heads floundered
on the surface like a sea agitated
by a squall. Many of the black
hats disappeared, and the greater
part of the crowd seemed to have
diminished in height.
"It is evidently a meeting," said
Fix, "and its object must be
an exciting one. I should not
wonder if it were about the Alabama,
despite the fact that that question
is settled."
"Perhaps," replied
Mr. Fogg, simply.
"At least,
there are two champions in
presence of each other, the
Honourable Mr. Camerfield and
the Honourable Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning upon Mr. Fogg's
arm, observed the tumultuous
scene with surprise, while Fix
asked a man near him what the
cause of it all was. Before the
man could reply, a fresh agitation
arose; hurrahs and excited shouts
were heard; the staffs of the
banners began to be used as offensive
weapons; and fists flew about
in every direction. Thumps were
exchanged from the tops of the
carriages and omnibuses which
had been blocked up in the crowd.
Boots and shoes went whirling
through the air, and Mr. Fogg
thought he even heard the crack
of revolvers mingling in the
din, the rout approached the
stairway, and flowed over the
lower step. One of the parties
had evidently been repulsed;
but the mere lookers-on could
not tell whether Mandiboy or
Camerfield had gained the upper
hand.
"It would be prudent for us
to retire," said Fix, who was
anxious that Mr. Fogg should
not receive any injury, at least
until they got back to London. "If
there is any question about England
in all this, and we were recognised,
I fear it would go hard with
us."
"An English subject--" began
Mr. Fogg.
He did not
finish his sentence; for a
terrific hubbub now arose
on the terrace behind the flight
of steps where they stood, and
there were frantic shouts of, "Hurrah
for Mandiboy! Hip, hip, hurrah!"
It was a band of voters coming
to the rescue of their allies,
and taking the Camerfield forces
in flank. Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and
Fix found themselves between
two fires; it was too late to
escape. The torrent of men, armed
with loaded canes and sticks,
was irresistible. Phileas Fogg
and Fix were roughly hustled
in their attempts to protect
their fair companion; the former,
as cool as ever, tried to defend
himself with the weapons which
nature has placed at the end
of every Englishman's arm, but
in vain. A big brawny fellow
with a red beard, flushed face,
and broad shoulders, who seemed
to be the chief of the band,
raised his clenched fist to strike
Mr. Fogg, whom he would have
given a crushing blow, had not
Fix rushed in and received it
in his stead. An enormous bruise
immediately made its appearance
under the detective's silk hat,
which was completely smashed
in.
"Yankee!" exclaimed
Mr. Fogg, darting a contemptuous
look at
the ruffian.
"Englishman!" returned the
other. "We will meet again!"
"When you please."
"What is your
name?"
"Phileas Fogg.
And yours?"
"Colonel Stamp
Proctor."
The human tide now swept by,
after overturning Fix, who speedily
got upon his feet again, though
with tattered clothes. Happily,
he was not seriously hurt. His
travelling overcoat was divided
into two unequal parts, and his
trousers resembled those of certain
Indians, which fit less compactly
than they are easy to put on.
Aouda had escaped unharmed, and
Fix alone bore marks of the fray
in his black and blue bruise.
"Thanks," said
Mr. Fogg to the detective,
as soon as they
were out of the crowd.
"No thanks are necessary," replied.
Fix; "but let us go."
"Where?"
"To a tailor's."
Such a visit was, indeed, opportune.
The clothing of both Mr. Fogg
and Fix was in rags, as if they
had themselves been actively
engaged in the contest between
Camerfield and Mandiboy. An hour
after, they were once more suitably
attired, and with Aouda returned
to the International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting for
his master, armed with half a
dozen six-barrelled revolvers.
When he perceived Fix, he knit
his brows; but Aouda having,
in a few words, told him of their
adventure, his countenance resumed
its placid expression. Fix evidently
was no longer an enemy, but an
ally; he was faithfully keeping
his word.
Dinner over,
the coach which was to convey
the passengers
and their luggage to the station
drew up to the door. As he was
getting in, Mr. Fogg said to
Fix, "You have not seen this
Colonel Proctor again?"
"No."
"I will come back to America
to find him," said Phileas Fogg
calmly. "It would not be right
for an Englishman to permit himself
to be treated in that way, without
retaliating."
The detective smiled, but did
not reply. It was clear that
Mr. Fogg was one of those Englishmen
who, while they do not tolerate
duelling at home, fight abroad
when their honour is attacked.
At a quarter
before six the travellers reached
the station,
and found the train ready to
depart. As he was about to enter
it, Mr. Fogg called a porter,
and said to him: "My friend,
was there not some trouble to-day
in San Francisco?"
"It was a political meeting,
sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought
there was a great deal of disturbance
in
the streets."
"It was only
a meeting assembled for an
election."
"The election of a general-in-chief,
no doubt?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No, sir; of
a justice of the peace."
Phileas Fogg got into the train,
which started off at full speed.
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