This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous¹ venture, on a craft of twenty tons, and at that season of the year. The Chinese seas are usually boisterous², subject to terrible gales⁴ of wind, and especially during the equinoxes; and it was now early November.

It would clearly have been to the master's advantage to carry his passengers to Yokohama, since he was paid a certain sum per day; but he would have been rash to attempt such a voyage, and it was imprudent even to attempt to reach Shanghai. But John Bunsby believed in the `Tankadere', which rode on the waves like a seagull; and perhaps he was not wrong.

Late in the day they passed through the capricious channels of Hong Kong, and the `Tankadere', impelled⁵ by favourable⁶ winds, conducted herself admirably.

`I do not need, pilot,' said Phileas Fogg, when they got into the open sea, `to advise you to use all possible speed.'

`Trust me, your honour. We are carrying all the sail the wind will let us. The poles would add nothing, and are only used when we are going into port.'

`It's your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide⁷ in you.'

Phileas Fogg, with body erect⁸ and legs wide apart, standing⁹ like a sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling¹⁰ waters. The young woman, who was seated aft, was profoundly affected¹¹ as she looked out upon the ocean, darkening now with the twilight¹², on which she had ventured in so frail¹³ a vessel¹⁴. Above her head rustled¹⁵ the white sails, which seemed like great white wings. The boat, carried forward by the wind, seemed to be flying in the air.

Night came. The moon was entering her first quarter, and her insufficient¹⁶ light would soon die out in the mist on the horizon. Clouds were rising from the east, and already overcast¹⁷ a part of the heavens.

The pilot had hung out his lights, which was very necessary in these seas crowded with vessels¹⁸ bound landward; for collisions are not uncommon¹⁹ occurrences, and, at the speed she was going the least shock would shatter the gallant²⁰ little craft.

Fix, seated in the bow, gave himself up to meditation²¹. He kept apart from his fellow-travellers, knowing Mr Fogg's taciturn tastes; besides, he did not quite like to talk to the man whose favours he had accepted. He was thinking, too, of the future. It seemed certain Fogg would not stop at Yokohama, but would at once take the boat for San Francisco; and the vast extent of America would insure him impunity²² and safety. Fogg's plan appeared to him the simplest in the world. Instead of sailing directly from England to the United States, like a common villain²³, he had traversed three quarters of the globe, so as to gain the American continent more surely; and there, after throwing the police off his track, he would quietly enjoy himself with the fortune stolen from the bank. But, once in the United States, what should he, Fix, do? Should he abandon this man? No, a hundred times no! Until he had secured his extradition²⁴, he would not lose sight of him for an hour. It was his duty, and he would fulfil it to the end. At all events, there was one thing to be thankful for; Passepartout was not with his master; and it was above all important, after the confidences Fix had imparted to him, that the servant should never have speech with his master.

Phileas Fogg was also thinking of Passepartout, who had so strangely disappeared. Looking at the matter from every point of view, it did not seem to him impossible that, by some mistake, the man might have embarked²⁵ on the `Carnatic' at the last moment; and this was also Aouda's opinion, who regretted very much the loss of the worthy<sup>26</sup> fellow to whom she owed so much. They might then find him at Yokohama; for if the `Carnatic' was carrying him thither²⁷, it would be easy to ascertain²⁸ if he had been on board.

A brisk breeze arose about ten o'clock; but, though it might have been prudeno take in a reef, the pilot, after carefully examining the heavens, let the craft remain rigged as before. The `Tankadere' bore sail admirably as she drew a great deal of water, and everything was prepared for high speed in case of a gale³.

Mr Fogg and Aouda descended²⁹ into the cabin at midnight, having been already preceded by Fix, who had lain down on one of the cots. The pilot and crew remained on deck all night.

At sunrise the next day, which was November 8th, the boat had made more than one hundred miles.

The log indicated a mean speed of between eight and nine miles. The `Tankadere' still carried all sail, and was accomplishing her greatest capacity of speed. If the wind held as it was, the chances would be in her favour. During the day she kept along the coast, where the currents were favourable; the coast, irregular in profile, and visible sometimes across the clearings, was at most five miles distant. The sea was less boisterous, since the wind came off land - a fortunate circumstance for the boat, which would suffer, owing to its small tonnage, by a heavy surge on the sea.

The breeze subsided³⁰ a little towards noon, and set in from the south-west. The pilot put up his poles, but took them down again within two hours, as the wind freshened up anew.

Mr Fogg and Aouda, happily unaffected by the roughness of the sea, ate with good appetite, Fix being invited to share their repast, which he accepted with secret chagrin³¹. To travel at this man's expense and live upon his provisions was not palatable³² to him. Still, he was obliged to eat, and so he ate.

When the meal was over, he took Mr Fogg apart, and said, `Sir,' - this `sir' scorched³³ his lips, and he had to control himself to avoid collaring this `gentleman' - `sir, you have been very kind to give me a passage on this boat. But, though my means will not admit of my expending³⁴ them as freely as you, I must ask to pay my share--'

`Let us not speak of that, sir,' replied Mr Fogg.

`But, if I insist--'

`No, sir,' repeated Mr Fogg, in a tone which did not admit of a reply. `This enters into my general expenses.'

Fix, as he bowed, had a stifled³⁵ feeling, and going forward, where he ensconced himself, did not open his mouth for the rest of the day.

Meanwhile they were progressing famously, and John Bunsby was in high hope. He several times assured Mr Fogg that they would reach Shanghai in time; to which that gentleman responded that he counted upon it. The crew set to work in good earnest, inspired by the reward to be gained. There was not a sheet which was not tightened³⁶, not a sail which was not vigorously hoisted³⁷; not a lurch³⁸ could be charged to the man at the helm. They worked as desperately³⁹ as if they were contesting in a Royal Yacht regatta.

By evening, the log showed that two hundred and twenty miles had been accomplished⁴⁰ from Hong Kong, and Mr Fogg might hope that he would be able to reach Yokohama without recording⁴¹ any delay in his journal; in which case, the only misadventure which had overtaken him since he left London would not seriously affect his journey.

The `Tankadere' entered the Straits of Fo-Kien, which separate the island of Formosa from the Chinese coast, in the small hours of the night, and crossed the Tropic of Cancer. The sea was very rough in the straits, full of eddies⁴² formed by the counter currents, and the chopping waves broke her course, whilst it became very difficult to stand on deck.

At daybreak the wind began to blow hard again, and the heavens seemed to predict a gale. The barometer⁴³ announced a speedy change, the mercury rising and falling capriciously; the sea also, in the south-east, raised long surges which indicated a tempest. The sun had set the evening before in a red mist, in the midst of the phosphorescent scintillations of the ocean.

John Bunsby long examined the threatening aspect of the heavens, muttering indistinctly between his teeth. At last he said in a low voice to Mr Fogg. `Shall I speak out to your honour?'

`Of course.'

`Well, we are going to have a squall.'

`Is the wind north or south?' asked Mr Fogg quietly.

`South. Look! a typhoon is coming up.'

`Glad it's a typhoon from the south, for it will carry us forward.'

`Oh, if you take it that way,' said John Bunsby, `I've nothing more to say.' John Bunsby's suspicions were confirmed. At a less advanced season of the year the typhoon, according to a famous meteorologist, would have passed away like a luminous⁴⁴ cascade⁴⁵ of electric flame; but in the winter equinox, it was to be feared that it would burst upon them with great violence.

The pilot took his precautions in advance. He reefed all sail, the pole-masts were dispensed⁴⁶ with; all hands went forward to the bows. A single triangular⁴⁷ sail, of strong canvas, was hoisted as a storm-jib, so as to hold the wind from behind. Then they waited.

John Bunsby had requested his passengers to go below; but this imprisonment⁴⁸ in so narrow a space, with little air, and the boat bouncing in the gale, was far from pleasant. Neither Mr Fogg, Fix, nor Aouda consented to leave the deck.

The storm of rain and wind descended upon them towards eight o'clock. With but its bit of sail, the `Tankadere' was lifted like a feather by a wind, an idea of whose violence can scarcely be given. To compare her speed to four times that of a locomotive going on full steam would be below the truth.

The boat scudded⁴⁹ thus northward⁵⁰ during the whole day, borne on by monstrous⁵¹ waves, preserving always, fortunately, a speed equal to theirs. Twenty times she seemed almost to be submerged by these mountains of water which rose behind her; but the adroit⁵² management of the pilot saved her. The passengers were often bathed in spray, but they submitted to it philosophically⁵³. Fix cursed it, no doubt; but Aouda, with her eyes fastened upon her protector, whose coolness amazed her, showed her-self worthy of h~, and bravely weathered the storm. As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed just as if the typhoon were a part of his programme.

Up to this time the `Tankadere' had always held her course to the north; but towards evening the wind, veering<sup>54</sup> three quarters, bore down from the north-west. The boat, now lying in the trough of the waves, shook and rolled terribly; the sea struck her with fearful violence. At night the tempest increased in violence. John Bunsby saw the approach of darkness and the rising of the storm with dark misgivings<sup>55</sup>. He thought awhile, and then asked his crew if it was not time to slacken speed. After a consultation<sup>56</sup> he approached Mr Fogg, and said, `I think your honour, that we should do well to make for one of the ports on the coast.'

`I think so too.'

`Ah!' said the pilot. `But which one?'

`I know of but one,' returned Mr Fogg tranquilly⁵⁸.

`And that is--

`Shanghai.'

The pilot, at first, did not seem to comprehend; he could scarcely realize so much determination and tenacity⁵⁹. Then he cried, `Well - yes! Your honour is right. To Shanghai!'

So the `Tankadere' kept steadily⁶⁰ on her northward track.

The night was really terrible; it would be a miracle if the craft did not founder⁶¹. Twice it would have been all over with her if the crew had not been constantly on the watch. Aouda was exhausted⁶², but did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr Fogg rushed to protect her from the violence of the waves.

Day reappeared. The tempest still raged with undiminished fury; but the wind now returned to the south-east. It was a favourable change, and the `Tankadere' again bounded forward on this mountainous sea, though the waves crossed each other, and imparted shocks and counter-shocks which would have crushed a craft less solidly built. From time to time the coast was visible through the broken mist, but no vessel was in sight. The `Tankadere' was alone upon the sea.

There were some signs of a calm at noon, and these became more distinct as the sun descended toward the horizon. The tempest had been as brief as terrific. The passengers, thoroughly⁶³ exhausted, could now eat a little, and take some repose⁶⁴.

The night was comparatively quiet. Some of the sails were again hoisted, and the speed of the boat was very good. The next morning at dawn they espied⁶⁵ the coast, and John Bunsby was able to assert that they were not one hundred miles from Shanghai. A hundred miles, and only one day to traverse them!

That very evening Mr Fogg was due at Shanghai, if he did not wish to miss the steamer to Yokohama. Had there been no storm, during which several hours were lost, they would be at this moment within thirty miles of their destination.

The wind grew decidedly calmer, and happily the sea fell with it. All sails were now hoisted, and at noon the `Tankadere' was within forty-five miles of Shanghai. There remained yet six hours in which to accomplish that distance. All on board feared that it could not be done, and every one - Phileas Fogg, no doubt, excepted - felt his heart beat with impatience<sup>66</sup>. The boat must keep up an average of nine miles an hour, and the wind was becoming calmer every moment! It was a capricious breeze, coming from the coast, and after it passed the sea became smooth. Still, the `Tankadere' was so light, and her fine sails caught the fickle⁶⁷ zephyrs⁶⁸ so well, that, with the aid of the current, John Bunsby found himself at six o'clock not more than ten miles from the mouth of Shanghai river. Shanghai itself is situated⁶⁹ at least twelve miles up the stream. At seven they were still three miles from Shanghai. The pilot swore an angry oath; the reward of two hundred pounds was evidently on the point of escaping him. He looked at Mr Fogg. Mr Fogg was perfectly⁷⁰ tranquil⁵⁷; and yet his whole fortune was at this moment at stake.

At this moment, also, a long black funnel⁷¹, crowned with wreaths of smoke, appeared on the edge of the waters. It was the American steamer, leaving for Yokohama at the appointed time.

`Confound her!' cried John Bunsby, pushing back the rudder with a desperate jerk.

`Signal her!' said Phileas Fogg quietly.

A small brass⁷² cannon⁷³ stood on the forward deck of the `Tankadere', for making signals in the fogs. It was loaded to the muzzle<sup>74</sup>; but just as the pilot was about to apply a red-hot coal to the touchhole, Mr Fogg said, `Hoist your flag!'

The flag was run up at halfmast, and, this being the signal of distress⁷⁵, it was hoped that the American steamer, perceiving it, would change her course a little, so as to succour the pilot-boat.

`Fire!' said Mr Fogg. And the booming of the little cannon resounded⁷⁶ in the air.

在一条二十吨重的小船上航行八百海里，特别是又在这种季节，这简直是一次冒险的远征。在中国沿海一带，经常会碰上坏天气，尤其是在春分和秋分的时候，会碰上剧烈的海风。目前还是十一月上旬。

事情很明显，船主如果直接送福克先生他们去横滨，当然就能赚更多的钱，因为福克先生已经按照每天一百英镑支付了船租。但是，在这种情况下接受那样的航行任务，就要担很大的风险。照现在这样到上海去，这如果不算是鲁莽行动，至少也算是敢于冒险。然而约翰·班斯比对于自己的唐卡德尔号是很有信心的。它在海浪里飞驰，活象一只海鸥。船主这样做，也许并没有错。

就在当天傍晚时分，唐卡德尔号渡过了香港附近水流湍急的海面，开足马力，充分利用后面送来的东南凤，顺风飞驰。它的航行情况非常令人满意。

“船主，快，越快越好！”当小船进入大海时，斐利亚·福克先生说，“这一点您用不着我多交代了。”

“先生，您放心吧，交给我好了，”约翰，班斯比回答说，“我们已经把所有能利用的帆面都用上了，那些顶帆就是加上去，也不能再增加速度。它们只会增加船的负担，从而减低航行速度。”

“这是你的业务，我是外行，我完全信赖你，船主。”

斐利亚·福克象水手一样两腿分开笔直地站在甲板上，目不转睛地注视着汹涌的波涛，船尾上坐着艾娥达夫人，她在这一条身轻如叶的小船上，漫不经心地凝视着暮色苍茫中的辽阔海洋，若有所思。片片的白帆在艾娥达夫人的头顶上空迎风招展，就象是巨大的白色翅膀带着她在海面上飞翔。小船被海风吹起象是在天空里前进。

天黑了。半圆形的月亮正在徐徐下降。淡淡的月光马上就要消失在天边的迷雾里。乌云从东方卷来，已经掩盖了大片的秋夜晴空。

船主点上了夜航信号灯，在靠近海岸的这一带海面上船只来往十分频繁，点信号灯是一种不可缺少的安全措施。船只互撞的事件在这一带并不稀罕，唐卡德尔号开得这样快，只要稍微和别的船碰一下，就会撞得粉碎。

费克斯正在船头上沉思。他知道福克生性不好聊天，所以自己就躲得远点儿。再说跟这个请他白坐船的人攀谈，他也觉得讨厌。他现在也要考虑一下以后怎么办。费克斯看得很清楚，福克先生是不会待在横滨的。他一定会马上乘上开往旧金山的邮船，逃往美洲大陆。美洲大陆那么大，他当然更有把握能够逍遥法外了。在费克斯看来，斐利亚·福克的打算是再简单不过的了。

这个福克和那种最普通的坏蛋一样，他本来可以从英国搭船直接去美国，但是他却兜了这么大一个圈子，走遍了大半个地球。他的目的无非是想安全到达美洲大陆。等到英国警察厅被他蒙混过去之后，他就可以在美洲安静地坐着享用他从银行里偷来的那一笔款子了。可是一旦到了美国，费克斯又该怎么办呢？放弃了这个贼吗？不能，万万不能！他要寸步不离地跟着他，一直到办好引渡的手续为止。这是他的天职，他一定要坚持到底。何况现在已经有了一个有利条件：路路通已经不在他主人身边了。特别是因为费克斯已向路路通公开了自己的秘密，这就很有必要叫他们主仆二人永远不再见面。

斐利亚·福克也并非没想过他那个莫名其妙地就失了踪的仆人。他考虑了各方面的情况之后，觉得这个倒霉的小伙子很可能由于误会，在卡尔纳蒂克号快要开的时候跑上船去了。艾娥达夫人也是这样想的。她很感激这个曾救过她的生命的忠仆，他的失踪使艾娥达夫人非常难过。也很有可能到了横滨就会找到他的。至于他是不是搭上了卡尔纳蒂克号，将来也很容易打听出来。

夜里，快到十点钟的时候，风势渐渐加强了。为了谨慎起见，也许该把船帆收小一些。但是，船主仔细看了看天气形势之后，决定依旧张着大帆前进。再说唐卡德尔号上的大帆也非常得力，船的吃水量也很深，一切都有充足的
b@海岸的海面比较适合小船航行。唐卡德尔号的左舷距离海岸至多不过五海里，有时通过云雾的间隙，还可以看见参差不齐的海岸侧影。即使风从大陆上吹来，海面仍然相当平静，这对于唐卡德尔号是一个有利的条件，因为吨位很小的船只特别害怕大浪。大浪会减低船的航行速度，用一句航海术语来说，会“煞船”。

快到中午的时候，风力稍减，它是从东南吹来的。船主叫人加上顶帆，可是过了两小时，他又叫人卸下了，因为风势又大起来了。

福克先生和艾娥达夫人非常高兴，他们已经不再晕船了，于是就把带来的罐头、饼干拿出来，饱餐一顿。费克斯也被请来同吃，他接受了，因为他很清楚人的肚子也和船一样需要装满东西才能走路。可是这件事真使他恼火！既白坐了这个人雇的船，又分吃了他买的食物，他觉得这太不光彩了！不过，他还是吃了，虽然他吃得很仓促，但总是吃了。

吃完饭以后，他觉得应该把福克先生请到一边说几句话。于是他对福克先生说：

“先生……”

费克斯说出“先生”这两个字的时候，连嘴唇都觉得不舒服。他竭力压制着自己，以免感情冲动会一把抓住这个小偷“先生”的领子！然后他接着说：

“先生，承您这样慷慨大方，您让我坐您雇的船，不过，虽然我的经济条件不能允许我象您这样大方，但我自己应付的这一部分船费……”

“先生，我们不谈这个。”福克先生说。

“不，我要付，我一定要付……”

“不用，先生，”福克先生用不容争辩的口吻说，“这是在我的预算总费用中的一项正常开支。”

费克斯不争辩了，他憋着一肚子气，独自一个人跑上船头，就地往甲板上一躺。这一整天他再也没说过一句话。

唐卡德尔号这时正在迅速前进。约翰·班斯比觉得成功在望。他好几次对福克先生说：一定会按时到达上海。福克只简单地答道：但愿如此。

唐卡德尔号所以能走得这样好，首先是由于船上所有的海员工作都非常积极。福克先生许下的奖金对这些能干的水手也起了很大的鼓舞作用。所以没有一根帆索不是绑得紧绷绷的，拉得笔直的！没有一张篷帆不是被吹得鼓鼓的，方向没有一点偏差，掌舵的人没有一点可责备的地方！即使参加皇家游艇俱乐部的赛船大会，他们的工作也不可能比现在做得更认真了。

傍晚，船主检查了测程器之后，知道了唐卡德尔号自从离开香港已经走了二百二十海里。现在斐利亚·福克先生有希望在他到达横滨的时候，看到自己的计划一点也没有耽搁。这样看来，他从伦敦出发以来第一次碰到的意外，大概会毫无损失地平安度过了。

夜里，在天快要亮之前的那几个小时，唐卡德尔号越过了北回归线直接开进了界于中国台湾大岛和中国大陆海岸之间的福建海峡。海峡中的水流非常急湍，到处都是逆流造成的漩涡。唐卡德尔号走得非常吃力，急促的海浪阻碍旨它的前进。如今在甲板上，很难再站稳脚步。

海风随着日出更增加了威力。大海的上空显示出大风将至的迹象。同时，晴雨表也预告着气候即将发生变化。一整天晴雨表都很不稳定，水银柱急剧地上升下降。回首眺望，东南海上已经卷起滚滚的巨浪。巨浪预示着：暴风雨就要来到！

黑夜降临了。海上闪的着迷人的光辉。夕阳已经在啡红色的薄雾里消失。

船主仔细看了半天大海上空这种不利于航行的景象，嘴里一边嘟囔着，也听不清他说些什么。过了一会儿，他走到福克先生眼前低声地说：

“先生，我可以把实际情况都告诉您吗？”

“都告诉我吧。”福克先生回答说。

“那我就说了，我们马上要碰上台风了。”

“是南风还是北风？”福克先生简单地问。

“南风。您瞧，这阵台风就要刮起来了。”

“既是南面来的，就让它刮吧，因为它会帮助我们走得更快。”福克先生回答说。

“如果您不在乎，那我就没什么说的了。”

约翰·班斯比的判断一点没错。据一位有名的气象学家说，在深秋，台风刮起来会象闪电一样倏地一下掠空而过。但是，如果在冬末和春分的时候一刮起来，它那凶猛的威力就会非常可怕了。

船主立即开始作预防的准备。他叫人把船上所有的帆篷都绑紧，把帆架卸下来放到甲板上，连顶帆桅杆也都放下来了。中前帆上的附加尖桅也去掉了。各个舱口都盖得严丝合缝，一滴水也不会从外面流进船舱。舱面上只留下一张厚布三角帆代替船头上的大帆，以便利用背后吹来的大风继续航行。眼前一切就绪，静等台风吹来。

约翰·班斯比请旅客们进舱房去；但是在那样一间几乎连空气也没有的小客舱里，再加上海浪的颠簸，这种禁闭的滋味不舒服极了。因此，不论是福克先生，艾娥达夫人甚至连费克斯都算上，谁也不愿离开甲板。

将近八点钟，暴风骤雨开始向小船袭来。唐卡德尔号仅有的那块小布帆已被暴风吹得象一根飘忽不定的鹅毛。小船在暴风雨的狂啸中经历的惊险情景简直是无法描述。它前进的速度即使说比开足马力的火车头还要快四倍的话，这种形容也还是保守的。

唐卡德尔号一整天都是这样被那凶猛的海浪簇拥着前进，它不由自主地保持着和飞滚而来的波涛同样惊人的速度向北疾驰。排山倒海的巨浪无数次地从后面打上小船的甲板；但是，只要船主老练地转动一下船舵，马上就会转危为安，翻腾的浪花有时象倾盆大雨把船上的旅客粗暴地冲洗一番，但是旅客们却象哲学家似的逆来顺受，丝毫不动声色。

费克斯，毫无疑问，他是会怨天尤人的，但是勇敢的艾娥达这时却正目不转睛地注视着她的旅伴福克。她完全被福克这种非凡的镇静给吸住了。为了要在她的旅伴面前表现得毫无愧色，她慨然承受着暴风雨的折磨。至于斐利亚·福克，这场台风好象早就在他意料之中，毫不惊奇。

直到目前为止唐卡德尔号一直是向北飞驰，但是快到傍晚的时候，正如他们担心的那样，风向整整侧转了二百七十度，南风变成了西北风。小船的侧翼受着海浪的冲击，船身拼命地摇晃，如果不了解这条船的各个部分结合得有多么坚固的话，看到它遭受这样凶猛的海浪冲击，一定会吓得失魂落魄。

暴风雨随着黑夜的降临更加猖狂起来。天黑下来了，天愈黑，航行也就愈加困难。约翰·班斯比感到非常忧虑，他考虑现在是否应该找个港口停一会，这时他便去和他的船员们商量。

商量好之后，约翰·班斯比就走近福克先生，他对福克先生说：

“先生，我想我们最好还是在沿岸找个港口停一会吧。”

“我也这么想。”斐利亚·福克回答说。

“好，”船主说，“可是在哪个港口停呢？”

“我只知道一个港口，”福克先生安静地说。

“是哪个……”

“上海。”

这个回答，使船主一开始老半天弄不清是什么意思，不知道这句话的坚定和顽强的含义，后来他忽然明白了，就大声说：

“好，先生，不错，您说的对。向上海前进！”

唐卡德尔号坚定不移地向北航行。

夜黑得实在可怕！这只小船会不出乱子，真可说是一个奇迹。它曾有两次被风浪卷走，甲板上的船具，要不是有绳子绑牢，早就一股脑儿滚下大海了。

艾娥达夫人虽然万分疲劳，但是她一声也不抱怨。福克先生不止一次跑到她跟前，保护她免于受到凶猛的海浪所造成的危险。

东方又发白了。这时，暴风雨更象一匹脱缰的野马，凶狂到了无以复加的程度。幸亏风向又转回东南，这一转变对于航行是有利的。

大海上新起的东南风带着滚滚的波涛，阻击着西北风留下的逆浪。唐卡德尔号就在这狂澜搏斗的海浪中重新走上征途。如果它不是这样坚固的一条小船的话，在这场波涛相互撞击的混战中必然早已被打得粉碎了。

透过浓雾的间隙，从甲板上不时可以看到大陆海岸。但是大海上却连一条船影子也没有，只有唐卡德尔号独自傲然地在海上奔驰。

中午，海空上露出了暴风雨即将过去的景象，随着夕阳西下，这种景象就更加明显了。

这一场暴风雨持续的时间虽然不长，但是却十分凶猛。现在，这些疲惫不堪的旅客可以吃点东西，休息一下了。

夜晚，海上相当平静。船主命令重新装起大帆，并将帆面缩到最小限度。就这样，唐卡德尔号前进的速度已经非常可观了。第二天是11月11日，当太阳出来的时候，约翰·班斯比从海岸的位置看出，小船离上海已不足一百海里了。

不错，一百海里。可是距离预定的时间却只剩下今天了。今天一天必须走完这一百海里！福克先生要想赶上开往横滨的邮船，就必须在今天晚上到达上海。这场暴风雨耽搁了很多时间，不然的话，现在离上海港口至多不过三十多海里了。

风势已大大减弱，但不幸的是推动唐卡德尔号前进的海浪也随着风势的消煞而变得软弱无力。小船上已经张满了布帆；顶帆、附加帆和外前帆都同时挂起来了，而海水却在船前漂浮的杂草和碎木片底下轻轻地泛着泡沫。

中午，唐卡德尔号离上海已不足四十海里了。要在开往横滨的邮船启锚前赶到港口，时间只剩下六个钟头了。唐卡德尔号上的人都非常担心。他们要尽一切可能赶到上海。所有的人——斐利亚·福克当然除外——全都急得心脏直跳。按时间计算，小船必须保持每小时九海里的速度。可是风呢，却越来越小！这是一种很不固定的微风，有一阵没一阵地从大陆上吹来，它掠过了海面，立即飞向不知名的远方，海上波纹也就马上随着消失。

这时唐卡德尔号显得轻盈潇洒，群帆高挂，细密的布篷亲昵地拥抱着轻佻的海风。小船靠着顺流海水的推送前进，到了下午六点钟，约翰·班斯比估计到黄浦江只有十来海里了，因为上海离吴淞口至少还有十二海里。

下午七点钟，唐卡德尔号离上海还有三海里。船主对老天愤懑地骂个不停。毫无疑问这两百英镑的奖金是吹了。他两眼直瞅着福克先生。福克脸上还是毫无表情，尽管他的整个命运也系在这一发千钧的时刻上……

就在这时，只见一个又长又黑的烟囱，冒着滚滚的浓烟，出现在浪花翻腾的河道上。这正是那条准时从上海开出的美国邮船。

“真该死！”约翰·班斯比绝望地把舵盘一推，叫着说。

“发信号！”福克简单地说。

一架小铜炮拉到船头上来了。这座铜炮本来是在大雾里迷失方向时发信号用的。

铜炮里已经装满了火药，船主拿来一块通红的火炭正要去点燃导火线，这时福克先生说：

“下半旗！”

船旗下降到旗杆的中部。这是一种求救的信号。他们希望能被美国邮船看到，这样就有希望使它改变一下航线向唐卡德尔号开来。

“开炮！”福克说。

小铜炮惊人的轰鸣，响彻在大海的上空。

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