“So did I, madam, and I am excessively disappointed. The ‘Carnatic’, its repairs being completed, left Hong Kong twelve hours before the stated time, without any notice being given; and we must now wait a week for another steamer.” As he said “a week” Fix felt his heart leap for joy. Fogg detained at Hong Kong for a week! There would be time for the warrant to arrive, and fortune at last favoured the representative of the law. His horror may be imagined when he heard Mr. Fogg say, in his placid voice, “But there are other vessels besides the ‘Carnatic,’ it seems to me, in the harbour of Hong Kong.” And, offering his arm to Aouda, he directed his steps toward the docks in search of some craft about to start. Fix, stupefied, followed; it seemed as if he were attached to Mr. Fogg by an invisible thread. Chance, however, appeared really to have abandoned the man it had hitherto served so well. For three hours Phileas Fogg wandered about the docks, with the determination, if necessary, to charter a vessel to carry him to Yokohama; but he could only find vessels which were loading or unloading, and which could not therefore set sail. Fix began to hope again. But Mr. Fogg, far from being discouraged, was continuing his search, resolved not to stop if he had to resort to Macao, when he was accosted by a sailor on one of the wharves. “Is your honour looking for a boat?” “Have you a boat ready to sail?” “Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat—No. 43—the best in the harbour.” “Does she go fast?” “Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?” “Yes.” “Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?” “No; for a voyage.” “A voyage?” “Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?” The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, “Is your honour joking?” “No. I have missed the ‘Carnatic,’ and I must get to Yokohama by the 14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco.” “I am sorry,” said the sailor; “but it is impossible.” “I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time.” “Are you in earnest?” “Very much so.” The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea, evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense. Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, “You would not be afraid, would you, madam?” “Not with you, Mr. Fogg,” was her answer. The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands. “Well, pilot?” said Mr. Fogg. “Well, your honour,” replied he, “I could not risk myself, my men, or my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong.” “Only sixteen hundred,” said Mr. Fogg. “It’s the same thing.” Fix breathed more freely. “But,” added the pilot, “it might be arranged another way.”