If, then—for there were still ifs—if the sea did not get too rough, nor the wind shift to the east, nor any accident happen to the machinery, it was possible for the Henrietta to cross the Atlantic in nine days. But it was not improbable that, when he reached Liverpool, Mr. Fogg would have to answer some awkward questions about the Henrietta, as well as about the bank business.
For the first few days everything went well, and the Henrietta steamed and sailed like a transatlantic liner.
Passe-partout was charmed. This last exploit of his master delighted him above everything; he was the life and soul of the crew, and his good spirits were infectious. He had forgotten the past vexation, and only looked forward to the future. He kept his eye warily upon Fix, but scarcely spoke, for the old intimacy no longer existed between them.
It must be confessed that Fix did not understand what was going on. The seizure of the Henrietta, the bribery of the crew, and Fogg's seamanlike qualities perfectly astounded him; he did not know what to think; for a gentleman who had begun by stealing fifty-five thousand pounds might end by stealing a vessel, and Fix not unnaturally came to the conclusion that the Henrietta would not reach Liverpool at all, but proceed to some port where Mr. Fogg, turned pirate, would be in safety. The detective was sorry he had gone into the business.
All this time Captain Speedy continued to grumble and swear in his cabin, and Passe-partout, who took him his meals, was obliged to be very circumspect. Mr. Fogg did not seem to care whether there was a captain on board or not.
On the 13th they passed the Banks of Newfoundland. This was a dangerous part of the coast, particularly in winter, when fogs and gales are frequent. On this occasion the barometer had been falling all the preceding day, and during the night the cold became more intense, and the wind chopped to the south-east.
This was unfortunate. Mr. Fogg furled his sails and put on full-steam; nevertheless the speed fell off, as the vessel pitched heavily. The wind rose, and the position of the Henrietta became precarious.
Passe-partout's face darkened as the sky, and for two days he was in mortal terror. But Mr. Fogg was a bold sailor, and kept the ship head to sea without even reducing the steam. The Henrietta rushed through the waves and deluged her decks. Sometimes the screw was clear out of the water, but still they kept on.
Although the wind did not increase to a tempest, it held to the south-east, so the sails were rendered useless, and a great aid to the screw was thus lost.
The 16th of December was the seventy-fifth day since Fogg's departure from London, and half the voyage across the Atlantic had been accomplished, and the worst was over. In the summer, success would have been assured, but in winter the weather had them at its mercy. Passe-partout said nothing, but consoled himself with the reflection that the steam would not fail them, and he hoped on.