# Works of Jules Verne/Round the World in Eighty Days/Chapter 25

CHAPTER XXV IN WHICH A SLIGHT GLIMPSE OF SAN FRANCISCO IS HAD—A POLITICAL MEETING
It was seven o'clock in the morning when Phileas Fogg, Aouda and Passepartout set foot on the American continent, if this name can be given to the floating wharf on which they landed. These wharves, rising and falling with the tide, facilitate the loading and unloading of vessels. Clippers of all sizes were moored there, steamers of all nationalities, and those steamboats with several decks, which ply on the Sacramento and its tributaries. There were accumulated also the products of a commerce which extends to Mexico, Peru, Chili, Brazil, Europe, Asia and all the islands of the Pacific Ocean.
Passepartout, in his joy at finally touching American soil, thought in landing he would execute a perilous leap in his ​finest style. But when he fell upon the wharf, the planks of which were worm-eaten, he almost fell through. Quite put out by the manner in which he had "set foot" on the new continent, the good fellow uttered a terrible cry, which sent flying an innumerable flock of cormorants and pelicans, the customary inhabitants of the movable wharves.
Mr. Fogg, as soon as he landed, ascertained the hour at which the first train left for New York. It was at six o'clock in the evening. He had, then, an entire day to spend in the California capital. He ordered a carriage for Aouda and himself. Passepartout mounted the box, and the vehicle, at three dollars for the trip, turned towards the International Hotel.
From the elevated position that he occupied, Passepartout observed with curiosity the great American city, the broad streets, low, evenly-ranged houses, the Anglo-Saxon Gothic churches and temples, the immense docks, the palatial warehouses, some of wood and some of brick; the numerous vehicles in the streets, omnibuses and horse-cars, and on the crowded sidewalks not only American and Europeans, but also Chinese and Indians-the component parts of a population of more than two hundred thousand inhabitants.
Passepartout was quite surprised at all he saw. He was not in the city of 1849, in the city of bandits, incendiaries, and assassins, running after the native gold, an immense concourse of all the outlaws, who gambled with gold dust, a revolver in one hand and a knife in the other. This "good time" had passed away. San Francisco presented the aspect of a large commercial city. The high tower of the City Hall overlooked all these streets and avenues, crossing each other at right angles, between which were spread out verdant squares, then a Chinese quarter, which seemed to have been imported from the Celestial Empire in a toy-box. No more sombreros, or red shirts after the fashion of the miners, or Indians with feathers, but silk hats and black clothes worn by a large number of gentlemen of absorbing activity. Certain streets, among others Montgomery street, the Regent street of London, the Boulevard des Italiens of Paris, the Broadway of New York, the State street of Chicago were lined with splendid stores, in whose windows were displayed the products of the entire world.
​When Passepartout arrived at the International Hotel, it seemed to him that he had not left England. The ground floor of the hotel was occupied by an immense bar, a sort of sideboard opened gratis to every passer-by. Dried beef, oyster soup, biscuit, and cheese were dealt out without the customer having to take out his purse. He only paid for his drink—ale, porter, or sherry, if he fancied refreshment. That appeared "very American" to Passepartout. The hotel restaurant was comfortable. Mr. Fogg and Aouda took seats at a table and were abundantly served in very small dishes by negroes of darkest hue.
After breakfast, Phileas Fogg, accompanied by Aouda, left the hotel to go to the office of the English consul to have his passport vised there. On the pavement, he found his servant, who asked him if it would not be prudent, before starting on the Pacific railroad, to buy a few dozen Enfield rifles or Colt's revolvers. Passepartout had heard so much talk of the Sioux and Pawnees stopping trains like ordinary Spanish brigands. Mr. Fogg replied that it was a useless precaution, but he left him free to act as he thought best. Then he went to the office of the consul.
Phileas Fogg had not gone two hundred steps, when, "by the greatest accident," he met Fix, who manifested very great surprise! How! Mr. Fogg and he had taken together the voyage across the Pacific, and they had not met on board the vessel! At all events, Fix could only be honored by seeing again the gentleman to whom he owed so much; and his business calling him to Europe, he would be delighted to continue his journey in such agreeable company.
Mr. Fogg replied that the honor would be his, and Fix—who made it a point not to lose sight of him—asked his permission to visit with him this curious city of San Francisco, which was granted.
Aouda, Phileas Fogg, and Fix sauntered through the streets. They soon found themselves in Montgomery street, where the crowd of people was enormous. On the sidewalks, in the middle of the street, on the horse-car rails, notwithstanding the incessant passage of the coaches and omnibuses, on the steps of the stores, in the windows of all the houses, and even up to the roofs, there was an innumerable crowd. Men with placards circulated among the ​groups. Banners and steamers floated in the wind. There were shouts in every direction.
"Hurrah for Camerfield!"
"Hurrah for Mandiboy!"
It was a political meeting. At least so Fix thought, and he communicated his ideas to Mr. Fogg, adding, "We will perhaps do well, sir, not to mingle in this crowd. Only hard blows will be got here."
"In fact," replied Phileas Fogg, "blows, if they are political, are not less blows."
Fix could not help smiling at this remark, and in order to see, without being caught in the crowd, Aouda, Phileas Fogg and he secured a place upon the upper landing of a flight of steps reaching to the top of a terrace, situated in the upper end of Montgomery street. Before them, on the other side of the street, between the wharf of a coal merchant and the warehouse of a petroleum dealer, there was a large platform in the open air, towards which the various currents of the crowd seemed to be tending.
Why this meeting? What was the occasion of its being held? Phileas Fogg did not know at all. Was it for the nomination of some high military or civil official, a State Governor, or a member of Congress? It might readily be supposed so, seeing the great excitement that was agitating the city.
At this moment there was quite a movement in the crowd. Every hand was thrown in the air. Some, tightly closed, seemed to rise and fall rapidly in the midst of the cries—an energetic manner, no doubt, of casting a vote. The crowd fell back. The banners wavered, disappeared for an instant, and reappeared in tatters. The surging of the crowd extended to the steps, whilst every head moved up and down on the surface like a sea suddenly agitated by a squall.
The number of black hats diminished perceptibly, and the most of them seemed to have lost their normal height.
"It is evidently a meeting," said Fix; "and the question which has excited it must be a stirring one. I would not be astonished if they were still discussing the Alabama affair, although it has been settled."
"Perhaps," simply replied Mr. Fogg.
"In any event," replied Fix, "two champions are in each ​other's presence, the Hon. Mr. Camerfield and the Hon. Mr. Mandiboy."
Aouda, leaning on Phileas Fogg's arm, looked with surprise at this noisy scene, and Fix was going to ask one of his neighbors the reason of this popular effervescence, when a more violent movement broke out. The hurrahs, interspersed with insults, redoubled. The staffs of the banners were transformed into offensive arms. Instead of hands, there were fists everywhere. From the top of carriages and omnibuses blocked in their course, formidable blows were exchanged. Everything was made use of as projectiles. Boots and shoes described extended curves in the air, and it seemed even as if some revolvers mingled their national sounds with the loud cries of the crowd.
The crowd approached the flight of stairs, and swept over onto the lower steps. One of the parties had evidently been repulsed without disinterested spectators knowing whether the advantage was with Mandiboy or Camerfield.
"I believe that it is prudent for us to retire," said Fix, who did not want his man to get hurt or mixed up in a bad business. "If this is an English question, and we are recognized, we will be treated roughly in this mixed crowd."
"An English citizen———" replied Phileas Fogg.
But the gentleman could not finish his sentence. Behind him, on the terrace above the stairs, there were frightful yells. They cried, "Hip! hip! hurrah for Mandiboy!" It was a party of voters coming to the rescue, flanking the Camerfield party.
Mr. Fogg, Aouda, and Fix found themselves between two fires. It was too late to escape. This torrent of men, armed with loaded canes and bludgeons, was irresistible. Phileas Fogg and Fix, in protecting the young woman, were very roughly treated. Mr. Fogg, not less phlegmatic than usual, tried to defend himself with the natural weapons placed at the end of the arms of every Englishman, but in vain. A large rough fellow, with a red beard, flushed face, and broad shoulders, who seemed to be the chief of the band, raised his formidable fist to strike Mr. Fogg, and he would have damaged that gentleman very much, if Fix, throwing himself in the way, had not received the blow in his place. An enormous bump rose at once under the detective's silk hat, transformed into a simple cap.
​"Yankee!" said Mr. Fogg, casting at his adversary a look of deep scorn.
"Englishman!" replied the other. "We will see each other again."
"When you please."
"Your name?"
"Phileas Fogg. And yours?"
"Colonel Stamp Proctor."
Then the crowd passed on, throwing Fix down. He rose with his clothes torn, but without serious hurt. His traveling overcoat was torn in two unequal parts, and his pantaloons resembled those of certain Indians, who, as a fashion, put them on only after first taking out the seat. But to sum up, Aouda had been spared, and Fix alone had been harmed by the fist-blow.
"Thanks," said Mr. Fogg to the detective, as soon as they were out of the crowd.
"No thanks necessary;" replied Fix, "but come with me."
"Where?"
"To a tailor's."
In fact, this visit was opportune. The garments of Phileas Fogg and Fix were in tatters, as if these two gentlemen had fought for Hon. Messrs. Camerfield and Mandiboy.
'A'n hour afterwards they had respectable clothes and hats. Then they returned to the International Hotel.
Passepartout was waiting there for his master, armed with a half-dozen sharp-shooting, six-barreled, breech-loading revolvers. When he perceived Fix in company with Mr. Fogg, his brow darkened. Aouda, however, having told in a few words what had happened, Passepartout became calm again. Fix was evidently no longer an enemy but an ally. He was keeping his word.
Dinner over, a coach drove up to take the passengers and their baggage to the station. As they were getting into the coach Mr. Fogg said to Fix, "Did you see Colonel Proctor again?"
"No," replied Fix.
"I shall return to America to find him again," said Mr. Fogg coldly. "It would not be proper for an English citzen to allow himself to be treated in this way."
​The detective smiled and did not answer him. But it is seen that Mr. Fogg was one of those Englishmen, who, while they do not tolerate dueling at home, will fight abroad, when it is necessary to maintain their honor.
At a quarter before six the travelers reached the station and found the train ready to start. At the moment that Mr. Fogg was going to get into the cars, he called a porter and asked him, "Was there not some disturbance in San Francisco to-day?"
"It was a political meeting, sir," replied the porter.
"But I thought I noticed some excitement in the streets."
"It was simply a meeting for an election."
"The election of a general-in-chief, doubtless?" asked Mr. Fogg.
"No, sir, of a justice of the peace."
Upon this reply, Phileas Fogg jumped aboard the car, and the train started at full speed.
Layout 2