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CHAPTER XXVI
Showing how Mr. Fogg and Party journeyed in the Pacific Express.
"From ocean to ocean," as the Americans say, and this sentence is the usual expression to intimate the crossing of the continent by the Pacific Railway. That line is really divided into two, viz. the Central Pacific, between San Francisco and Ogden; and the Union Pacific, between Ogden and Omaha. There are five trunk-lines from Omaha to New York.
New York and San Francisco are thus united by a continuous iron road more than three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six miles in length; between the Pacific and Omaha the railroad traverses a country still inhabited by Indians and wild beasts, and a vast extent of territory which the Mormons began to colonise in 1845, when they were driven out from Illinois.
Formerly, under the most favourable circumstances, the journey from New York to San Francisco occupied six months, now it is accomplished in seven days.
It was in 1862 that, notwithstanding the opposition of Confederate members of Congress, who desired a more southerly route, the railroad track was planned between the forty-first and the forty-second parallels of latitude. President Lincoln himself fixed the termination of the new line at Omaha, in Nebraska. The work was immediately begun and continued with characteristic American energy, which is neither red-tapeish nor bureaucratic. The rapidity of the work did not affect its completeness; they laid a mile and a half of line across the prairie every day; an engine, carrying the rails to be used next day, ran on the line only just laid, and advanced as quickly as they were fixed.
The Pacific railroad has several branches in the States of Iowa, Kansas, Colorado, and Oregon. When it leaves Omaha the line runs along the left bank of the river Platte, as far as the mouth of the northern branch, follows the south branch, crosses the Laramine territory and the Wahsatch Mountains to Salt Lake City (the Mormon capital), plunges into the Tuilla Valley across the desert, Mounts Cedar and Humboldt, the Humboldt river and the Sierra Nevada, and then descends by Sacramento to the Pacific; the gradient all the way, even over the Rocky Mountains, not exceeding a hundred and twelve feet to the mile.
Such was the line along which Phileas Fogg hoped to be carried to New York in seven days in time to reach the Steamer to Liverpool on the 11th.
The car in which our travellers were seated was a sort of long omnibus, with four wheels at each end, without compartments; rows of seats were placed at each side, a passage running between them from end to end of this carriage, and practically of the train, for every carriage was closely connected with the next. There were drawing-room cars, smoking-cars, and restaurants. The only thing wanting was the theatre-car, but no doubt that will some day be supplied. Vendors of books and papers, eatables, drinkables, and tobacco, continually passed through the train.
The train started from Oakland Station at six p.m. It was already dark, and snow was threatening; the pace did not exceed twenty miles an hour, including stoppages. There was not much conversation amongst the passengers, and most of them soon went to sleep. Passe-partout was next to the detective, but did not address him, for after what had happened there could be no sympathy between them. Fix had not altered, but Passe-partout was extremely reserved, and on the least suspicion would have strangled his former friend.
In about an hour snow began to fall, but not sufficiently thick to hinder the progress of the train. Nothing could be seen from the windows but an immense white sheet, against which the steam of the engine looked gray.
At eight o'clock the steward entered and said that bed-time had come. The backs of the seats were thrown down, bedsteads were pulled out, and berths improvised in a few moments. By this ingenious system each passenger was provided with a bed, and protected by curtains from prying eyes. The sheets were clean, the pillows soft. There was nothing to do but to go to bed and sleep, which everybody did as if they were on board ship, while the train rushed on across the State of California.
The territory between San Francisco and Sacramento is not very hilly, and the railroad runs in a north-easterly direction along the American river which falls into the Bay of San Pablo. The hundred and twenty miles' distance between these cities was accomplished in six hours, and as it was midnight when they passed through Sacramento, the travellers could see nothing of the city.
Leaving Sacramento and passing Junction, Rochin, Auburn, and Colfax, the railroad passes through the Sierra Nevada range, and the train reached Cisco at seven o'clock. An hour afterwards the sleeping-car was retransformed to an ordinary carriage, and the passengers were enabled to look out upon the magnificent scenery of this mountainous country. The track followed all the caprices of the mountains, at times suspended over a precipice, boldly rounding angles, penetrating narrow gorges which had apparently no outlet. The engine, with fire gleaming from the grate and black smoke issuing from its funnel, the warning-bell ringing, the "cow-catcher" extending like a spur, mingled its whistlings and snortings with the roar of torrents and waterfalls, and twining its black smoke around the stems of the pine-trees. There are few tunnels or bridges on this portion of the route, for the line winds round the sides of the mountains and does not penetrate them.
About nine o'clock the train entered the State of Nevada by the Carson Valley, still proceeding in a north-easterly direction. At midday the train quitted Reno, where it had stopped twenty minutes for luncheon.
After lunch the passengers took their places in the car again, and admired the scenery. Sometimes great troops of buffaloes were massed like an immense moveable dam on the horizon. These immense troops frequently oppose an impassable barrier to the trains, for they cross the track in close array in thousands and thousands, occupying several hours in their passage. On these occasions the train is brought to a standstill and obliged to wait till the track is clear.
In fact, an incident of this kind happened on this occasion. About three o'clock in the afternoon a troop of ten or twelve thousand beasts blocked the line. The engineer slackened speed and tried to proceed slowly, but he could not pass the mass of buffaloes.
The passengers could see the buffaloes defiling quietly across the track, and now and then bellowing loudly. They were larger than European bulls, the head and shoulders being covered with a long mane, beneath which rises a hump; the legs and tails are short. No one would ever think of attempting to turn them aside. When once they have taken a certain direction, they cannot be forced to swerve from it. They compose a torrent of living flesh which no dam can withstand.
The passengers gazed on this curious spectacle, but the man most interested of all in the speedy progress of the train, Phileas Fogg, remained calmly in his place to wait till the buffaloes had passed by. Passe-partout was furious at the delay which the animals caused, and wished to discharge his armoury of revolvers at them.
"What a country this is!" he exclaimed. "Fancy a whole train being stopped by a herd of cattle, which do not hurry themselves in the least, as if they were not hindering us; I should like to know whether Mr. Fogg anticipated this delay. And here we have an engine-driver who is afraid to run his train against a few cows."
The engine-driver certainly did not attempt to do so, and he was quite right. No doubt he might have killed two or three of the first buffaloes he came in contact with; but the engine would soon have been thrown off the line, and progress would have been hopeless.
The best thing to do, then, was to wait patiently, and trust to make up time when the buffaloes had passed; but the procession of animals lasted for fully three hours, and it was night before the track was clear. The head of the column had ere this disappeared below the southern horizon.
It was eight o'clock when the train had traversed the defiles of the Humboldt range, and half-past nine when it entered Utah, the region of the great Salt Lake and the curious Mormon territory.
CHAPTER XXVII
Showing how Passe-partout went through a Course of Mormon History, at the rate of Twenty Miles an Hour.
During the night of the 5-6th December, the train kept in a south-easterly direction for about fifty miles, and then went up in a north-east course towards Salt Lake.
About nine o'clock in the morning, Passe-partout went out upon the platform to get a breath of fresh air. The weather was cold and the sky was dull, but there was no snow falling then. The sun in the mist looked like an enormous disc of gold, and Passe-partout was calculating what it would be worth in English money, when he was disturbed by the appearance of a very curious personage.
This individual, who had got into the train at Elko, was tall and of dark complexion, had a black moustache, wore black stockings, and black hat and clothes, except his necktie, which was white, and his gloves, which were dog-skin. He looked like a minister. He went the whole length of the train, and fastened a small notice-bill on the door of every car. Passe-partout read one of these "posters," and learnt that the Honourable Elder William Hitch, Mormon Missionary, would take advantage of the occasion to deliver a lecture upon Mormonism, in car No. 117, at eleven o'clock in the fore-noon till twelve noon, and invited all those who wished to learn something about the "Latter-day Saints" to attend the lecture.
"Faith, I'll go," muttered Passe-partout, who knew nothing about Mormonism, except the plurality of wives.
The news spread rapidly amongst the passengers, and about thirty out of the hundred travellers were attracted to car No. 117. Passe-partout took a front seat. Neither his master nor Fix troubled themselves about the matter.
At the hour named the elder William Hitch got up, and in a somewhat irritable manner, as if he had been already contradicted, cried out:
"I tell you that Joe Smith is a martyr, and his brother Hiram is another, and the way the Government is persecuting Brigham Young will make him a martyr also. Now who dares say anything to the contrary?"
No one ventured to contradict him, and his vehemence certainly contrasted strangely with his calm features. But no doubt his anger was kindled by the indignities to which the Mormons had been actually exposed. The United States Government had certainly had a great deal of trouble to bring these fanatics to reason. It was now master of Utah, after having imprisoned Brigham Young on the charges of rebellion and polygamy. Since that time the followers of the prophet had redoubled their efforts, and, if not by deeds, by words resisted the authority of the United States Government. Elder W. Hitch, as we have seen, was endeavouring to gain converts in the railroad-cars.
Then he went on to recite passionately the history of Mormonism from patriarchal times. How in Israel a Mormon prophet of the tribe of Joseph published the annals of the new religion, and left them to his son Morom; and how, many centuries later, a translation of this wonderful book was made by Joseph Smith, junior, a Vermont farmer, who revealed himself as a prophet in 1823, when the angel appeared to him and gave him the sacred roll of the book.
About this time several of the audience left the car, but the lecturer continued to relate how Smith, junior, his father and brothers, and a few disciples founded the religion of the Latter-day Saints, which can count its converts not only in America, but in Scandinavia, England, and Germany. Also how a colony was established in Ohio, where a temple was erected at a cost of two hundred thousand dollars, and a town built at Kirkland. How Smith became an opulent banker, and received a papyrus scroll written by Abraham and several celebrated Egyptians.
The narrative being very tiresome, the greater part of the audience decamped, but the lecturer nevertheless continued his tale respecting Joe Smith, his bankruptcy, his tarring and feathering, his reappearance at Independence, Missouri, as the head of a flourishing community of about three thousand disciples, his pursuit, and settlement in the Far West.
By this time Passe-partout and ten others were all that remained of the audience, who were informed that after much persecution Smith reappeared in Illinois and founded the beautiful city of Nauvoo, on the Mississippi, of which he became chief magistrate; how he became a candidate for the Presidency of the United States; how he was drawn into an ambuscade at Carthage, imprisoned, and assassinated by a band of masked murderers.
Passe-partout was now absolutely the only listener, and the lecturer looking him steadily in the face recalled to his memory the actions of the pious Brigham Young, and showed him how the colony of Mormon had flourished.
"And this is why the jealousy of Congress is roused against us. Shall we yield to force? Never! Driven from State to State we shall yet find an independent soil on which to rest and erect our tents. And you," he continued to Passe-partout, "and you, my brother, will not you pitch your tent beneath the shadow of our flag?"
"No," replied Passe-partout firmly, as he walked away, leaving the Mormon elder by himself.
While the lecturer had been holding forth the train had been progressing rapidly, and had reached the north-west extremity of Salt Lake. From that point the passengers could see this immense inland sea – the Dead Sea, as it is sometimes called, and into which an American Jordan flows. It is even now a splendid sheet of water, but time and the falling-in of the banks have in some degree reduced its ancient size.
Salt Lake is seventy miles long and thirty-five wide, and is more than three miles above the level of the sea. Though quite different from Lake Asphaltites, it contains salt in large quantities. The specific gravity of the water is one thousand one hundred and seventy; the same distilled is one thousand. No fish can live in it; and though brought down by the Jordan, Weber, and other rivers, soon perish; but it is not true that its density is so great that no men can swim in it.
The surrounding country is well cultivated, for the Mormons are great farmers, and various flowers, etc., would have been observed later. Just then the ground was sprinkled with snow.
The train got to Ogden at two o'clock, and did not start again until six; so Mr. Fogg and party had time to visit the City of the Saints by the branch-line to Ogden. They passed a couple of hours in that very American town, built, like all cities in the Union, with the "melancholy sadness of right angles," as Victor Hugo said. In America, where everything is supposed to be done on the square, though the people do not reach that level, cities, houses, and follies are all done "squarely."
At three o'clock our travellers were walking about the city. They remarked very few churches, but the public buildings were the house of the prophet, the court, the arsenal; houses of blue brick, with porches and verandahs surrounded by gardens, in which were palm-trees and acacias, etc. A stone wall ran round the city. In the principal street was the market-place and several hotels; amongst them Salt Lake House rose up.
There was no crowd in the streets, except near the temple. There was a superabundance of females, which was accounted for by the peculiar tenets of Mormons; but it is a mistake to suppose that all the Mormons are polygamists. They can do as they please; but it may be stated that the females are chiefly anxious to wed, as unmarried women are not admitted to the full privileges of membership. These poor creatures do not appear to be well off or happy. Some perhaps are rich and clothed in European style, but the majority were dressed à la Indienne.
Passe-partout beheld these women with some degree of awe, but above all he pitied the husbands of these wives. It seemed to him to be an awful thing to guide so many wives through all the mazes of life, and to conduct them to the Mormon paradise, with the prospect of meeting the glorious Joe Smith, who no doubt was there a shining light. He felt quite disgusted, and he fancied – perhaps he was mistaken – that some of the young ladies gazed at him alarmingly, and in a manner to compromise his liberty.
Fortunately his sojourn in the City of the Saints was not of long duration. At four o'clock the travellers took their places in the return train. The whistle sounded, but just as the train began to move a cry was heard, "Stop, stop!"
But the train did not stop. The gentleman who uttered these cries was a Mormon too late for the train. He ran till he was out of breath. Fortunately the railroad was quite open, there were no barriers nor gates to pass. He rushed along the line, jumped upon the footboard of the last carriage, and then threw himself panting into the nearest seat. Passe-partout, who had been watching him intently, learnt that he had run away after some domestic quarrel, and when the Mormon had recovered his breath Passe-partout plucked up courage to inquire how many wives the fugitive had left, as, judging from his anxiety to get away, he must have had twenty at least.
"One, sir," replied the Mormon, raising his arms to heaven. "One, sir; and, by thunder, that one was quite enough!"
CHAPTER XXVIII
In which Passe-partout cannot make anyone listen to the Language of Reason.
The train leaving Salt Lake and Ogden Station went on northwards as far as Weber River, about nine hundred miles from San Francisco; from this point it turned to the west across the Wahsatch range. It was in this part of the State that the American engineers had found the greatest difficulty. In this portion of the line also the Government subsidy had been raised to forty-eight thousand dollars a mile, instead of the sixteen thousand dollars a mile on the plains; but the engineers, so it is said, had stolen a march on nature, turned all the difficulties instead of cutting through them, and pierced only one tunnel of fourteen thousand feet in length.
At Salt Lake the line reached its greatest altitude – from that point it took a long curve towards Bitter-creek Valley, and then rose again to the watershed between the valley and the Pacific Creeks were numerous hereabout, and Muddy Creek, Green Creek, and others were successively crossed on culverts. As they approached the end of their journey Passe-partout became more and more impatient, while Fix was very anxious to get on, for he feared delays and accidents, and was more anxious to reach England than even Phileas Fogg.
The train stopped for a short time at Fort Bridger at ten o'clock, and twenty miles farther on entered Wyoming State, formerly Dakota. The next day, the 7th of December, they stopped at Green River. Sleet had fallen during the night, but not sufficient to interfere with the traffic. However, this bad weather annoyed Passe-partout very much, for any great fall of snow would have compromised the success of the journey.
"Any way, it is absurd of my master having undertaken such a journey in winter; he might just as well have waited for fine weather and had a better chance."
But while the honest fellow was worrying himself about the weather, Mrs. Aouda was disquieted for an entirely different reason, as amongst the passengers who had alighted at Green River she recognised Colonel Stamp Proctor, who had insulted Mr. Fogg at the San Francisco meeting. She drew back, as she did not wish to be recognised, but the circumstance affected her deeply.
In fact she had become attached to the man who, notwithstanding his coldness of manner, betrayed every day the interest he took in her. No doubt she herself was not aware of the depth of the sentiment with which he inspired her, which she believed to be gratitude, but was doubtless a deeper feeling. Her heart almost ceased to beat at the moment she recognised Mr. Fogg's enemy. Evidently it was mere chance which had led Colonel Proctor to this particular train, but he and Mr. Fogg must be kept apart at all hazards.
She took an opportunity, when Mr. Fogg was asleep, to tell them whom she had seen.
"That man Proctor on the train!" cried Fix. "Well, you may be quite easy, madam; before he sees Mr. Fogg he has to settle with me. It seems to me that in this matter I have been the most insulted of any."
"And I have a little business with him also, though he is a colonel," added Passe-partout.
"Mr. Fix," replied Mrs. Aouda, "Mr. Fogg would permit nobody to interfere with his quarrel. He has declared that he will come back to America to find out that man who insulted him. If then he sees Colonel Proctor, we cannot prevent a meeting which might have most deplorable results. They must not see each other."
"You are right, madam," replied Fix; "a meeting would spoil everything. Whether victor or not, Mr. Fogg would be delayed, and – "
"And," added Passe-partout, "that would just play into the hands of the Reform Club. In four days we shall be in New York. If during that time my master does not leave his car, the chances are he will not meet the American. At any rate, we must try to prevent a meeting."
The conversation ceased, for Mr. Fogg just then awoke and looked out of window at the snow. Shortly afterwards Passe-partout whispered to the detective, "Would you really fight for him?"
"I would do anything in the world to get him back to Europe alive," replied the detective in a determined tone.
Passe-partout shuddered, but his confidence in his master was unshaken.
And now the question was, how could they detain Mr. Fogg in the car and prevent him meeting the Colonel? It ought not to be a very difficult matter, for Phileas was naturally of a sedentary disposition. However, the detective found a way, for shortly afterwards he said to Mr. Fogg:
"The time passes very slowly."
"Yes," replied Fogg, "but it does pass."
"On board the steamer," continued the detective, "you used to like a game of whist."
"Yes," replied Fogg, "but here I have neither cards nor partners."
"Ah, we can easily purchase cards. As for partners, if madam can take a hand – "
"Certainly," replied the young lady. "I know whist, it is part of an English education."
"And," continued Fix, "I also have some little knowledge of the game, so we can play dummy."
"As you like," said Fogg, delighted to play his favourite game even in the train.
Passe-partout was immediately despatched to the steward, and he quickly returned with two packs of cards, some markers, and a board covered with cloth.
The game commenced, Mrs. Aouda played fairly well, and was complimented by Phileas. As for the detective, he was a first-rate player, and a worthy opponent of Mr. Fogg.
"Now," thought Passe-partout, "we have got him down and he won't move."
At eleven o'clock in the morning the train reached the watershed at Bridger Pass, at an elevation of seven thousand five hundred and twenty-four feet above the level of the sea. After traversing about two hundred miles more, the travellers found themselves in one of those extensive plains which proved so convenient to the laying of the railway.
At half-past twelve the travellers got a glimpse of Fort Halleck, and in a few hours afterwards they had crossed the Rocky Mountains. They were now in hopes that no accident would imperil the journey; the snow had ceased, and the air was frosty. Some large birds, startled by the locomotive, rose up, but no wild beasts appeared; the whole plain was a desert.
After a comfortable breakfast in his own car, Mr. Fogg and his companions resumed their whist. Just then a loud whistling was heard, and the train came to a stop. Passe-partout put his head out, but could see no cause for the stoppage. Mrs. Aouda and Fix were afraid that Mr. Fogg would get up and see what was the matter, but he merely told his servant to ascertain the reason of the delay.
Passe-partout jumped down. He found a number of passengers already on the ground, and amongst them Colonel Proctor.
The train had been stopped by signal. The engine-driver and guard were talking excitedly with the signalman, whom the station-master at Medicine Bow had sent down. The passengers joined in the discussion, and prominent amongst them was Colonel Proctor.
Passe-partout, as he joined the group, heard the signalman say: "You cannot pass. The bridge is unsafe, and will not bear the weight of the train."
The viaduct in question was a suspension-bridge over a rapid about a mile farther on. The signalman said that many of the supports were broken, and that it was impossible to cross; he did not exaggerate the danger, and it may be taken for granted that when an American is prudent there is good reason for not being rash.
Passe-partout did not dare to tell his master, but remained, listening with clenched teeth, motionless as a statue.
"That is all very fine," said Colonel Proctor, "but I guess we ain't going to stop here to take root in the snow."
"We have telegraphed to Omaha for a train, Colonel," said the guard; "but it can't reach Medicine Bow in less than six hours."
"Six hours!" exclaimed Passe-partout.
"Yes," replied the guard; "but it will take us that time to reach Medicine Bow on foot."
"Why, it is only a mile from here," said one of the passengers.
"Only a mile, but on the other side of the river."
"And can't we cross in a boat?" asked the Colonel.
"Quite impossible; the creek has swollen with the rains; we shall have to go round ten miles to a ford."
The Colonel vented a choice collection of oaths, condemning the company, the guard, and creation generally; and Passe-partout, who was very angry, felt inclined to join him. Here was a material obstacle which all his master's money would not be able to remove.
The disappointment of the passengers was general, for, without reckoning the delay, they found themselves obliged to walk fifteen miles in the snow. The commotion would have attracted Phileas Fogg's attention had he not been entirely absorbed in his game.
Nevertheless, Passe-partout would have told him of it if the engineer, a true Yankee, named Foster, had not said:
"Perhaps there is a way we can get over after all, gentlemen."
"Over the bridge?" asked a passenger.
"Yes."
"With the train, do you mean?" asked the Colonel.
"With the train."
Passe-partout stopped and listened anxiously for the engineer's explanation.
"But the bridge is almost broken," said the guard.
"Never mind," replied Foster: "I think that by putting on full-steam we may have a chance of getting across."
"The devil!" muttered Passe-partout.
But a certain number of the passengers were attracted by the suggestion; Colonel Proctor was particularly pleased, and thought the plan quite feasible. He related various anecdotes concerning engineers, whom he had known, who crossed over rivers without any bridges at all by merely putting on full-steam, etc. The end of it was that many of the passengers agreed with the engineer.
"The chances are fifty to a hundred about our getting over," said one.
"Sixty!" said another.
"Eighty, ninety!" said a third.
Passe-partout was dumfounded, and although he was very anxious to cross the river, he thought the proposed plan a little too American.
"Besides," he thought, "there is an easier way, which does not seem to have occurred to either of them;" so he said aloud to one of the passengers:
"The engineer's plan seems to me somewhat dangerous; but – "
"Eighty chances!" replied the person addressed, turning away.
"I know that," replied Passe-partout, as he spoke to another; "but an idea – "
"Ideas are no use," replied the American; "the engineer tells us we can cross."
"No doubt," replied Passe-partout; "but perhaps it would be more prudent – "
"What, prudent!" exclaimed Colonel Proctor, who was ready to quarrel with anyone suggesting prudence. "Do you not understand that we are going across at full speed? Do you hear, at full speed?"
"I know, I know," said Passe-partout, whom no one would allow to finish his sentence; "but it would be, if not more prudent, since that word displeases you, at any rate more natural – "
"Who is this, what's this? Who is talking about natural?" cried the passengers on all sides.
Poor Passe-partout did not know which way to turn.
"Are you afraid?" asked Colonel Proctor.
"I afraid?" cried Passe-partout; "you think so, do you? I will show these people when a Frenchman can be as American as themselves."
"All aboard!" cried the guard.
"Yes, all get in," muttered Passe-partout; "but you cannot prevent my thinking that it would be much more natural for us to cross the bridge on foot and let the train follow."
But no one heard this wise reflection, and if so, probably no one would have acknowledged its justice.
The passengers took their places, as did Passe-partout, without saying what had happened. The whist-players were still deep in their game.
The engine-driver whistled and then backed his train for nearly a mile, then whistling again he started forward. The speed increased to a fearful extent, and rushing along at a pace of nearly a hundred miles an hour, seemed hardly to touch the rails at all.
They passed over like a flash of lightning. No one saw anything of the bridge; the train leaped, as it were, from bank to bank, and could not be stopped till it had passed the station for some miles.
Scarcely had the train crossed the bridge when the whole structure fell with a tremendous crash into the rapids beneath!
