Read the chapter
Around the World in Eighty Days
Chapter 25. 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 landing where they got off.
These quays, rising and falling with the tide, thus facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels.
Alongside them were clippers of all sizes and steamers of all nationalities.
The steamboats, with several decks rising one above another, 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, joyful at finally reaching the American continent, wanted to show it by doing a dangerous jump in good style.
But he fell on some planks eaten by worms and broke through them.
Put out of countenance by the manner in which he thus "set foot" upon the New World, he uttered a loud cry.
The cry so frightened the innumerable cormorants and pelicans 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.
He learned that it was at six o'clock p.m. so he had 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, and the great docks.
He saw large wooden and brick warehouses, many vehicles like omnibuses and horse-cars, and on the sidewalks Americans, Europeans, Chinese, and Indians.
Passepartout was surprised at all he saw.
San Francisco was no longer the legendary city of 1849.
Then it had been a city of banditti, assassins, and incendiaries who had flocked hither in crowds in pursuit of plunder, a paradise of outlaws.
There 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.
In the midst of them appeared pleasant, verdant squares, and 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.
Many streets were lined with splendid and spacious stores.
Montgomery Street is to San Francisco as Regent Street is to London, Boulevard des Italiens to Paris, and Broadway to New York.
These stores displayed in their windows the products of the entire world.
When Passepartout reached the International Hotel, it didn't 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.
They 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 dining rooms were comfortable, and Mr. Fogg and Aouda sat at a table served on small plates by negroes.
After breakfast, Mr. Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, started for the English consulate to have his passport visaed.
He met Passepartout as he was going out.
Passepartout asked if, before taking the train, they should buy 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 hadn't 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.
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.
The detective, determined not to lose sight of him, begged permission to accompany them on their walk about San Francisco.
Mr. Fogg readily granted the request.
They soon found themselves in Montgomery Street, where a great crowd had gathered.
The sidewalks, street, horsecar rails, shop doors, windows, 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're political, are still blows."
Fix smiled at this remark, and his smile showed quiet approval without any words.
To see without being jostled, the party stood on the top of the steps at the upper end of Montgomery Street.
Opposite them, between a coal wharf and a petroleum warehouse, a large platform had been erected on the street opposite.
The current of the crowd seemed to be directed towards that platform.
For what purpose was this meeting?
What was the occasion of this excited assemblage?
Phileas Fogg couldn't imagine, Was it to nominate some high official, a governor or member of Congress?
It wasn't 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's evidently a meeting," said Fix.
"And its object must be an exciting one. I shouldn't 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 on Mr. Fogg's arm, watched the noisy scene in surprise, while Fix asked a man beside him what caused it
Before the man could reply, a fresh trouble arose and cheers and excited shouts were heard.
The poles of the banners were used as 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 whirled through the air, and Mr. Fogg thought he heard revolvers crack in the noise.
The crowd came to the stairway and poured over the lower step.
One of the parties had evidently been repulsed, but the mere lookers-on couldn't 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 shouldn't receive any injury, at least until they got back to London.
Fogg shouldn't receive any injury, at least until they got back to London.
"If there's 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, for a loud hubbub rose on the terrace behind the steps where they stood, with wild 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.
He tried to defend himself with the natural weapons at the ends of every Englishman's arms, but in vain.
A big brawny fellow with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders seemed to be the chief of the band.
He raised his clenched fist to strike Mr. Fogg.
He'd have given a crushing blow, hadn't 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'll meet again!"
"When you please."
"What's 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 wasn't seriously hurt, only shaken and with torn clothes.
His travelling overcoat was torn in two unequal parts, and his trousers, like Indians', were loose and hard 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.
Both Mr. Fogg's and Fix's clothes were in rags, as if they had fought 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 saw Fix he knit his brows, but after Aouda briefly told him of their adventure his face became calm.
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 haven't seen this Colonel Proctor again?"
"No."
"I'll come back to America to find him," said Phileas Fogg calmly.
"It wouldn't be right for an Englishman to permit himself to be treated in that way, without retaliating."
The detective smiled, but didn't reply.
Mr. Fogg was clearly an Englishman who did not allow duels at home but fought abroad when his honour was 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.