less, but the intrepid Aouda, with her eyes fixed upon her companion, whose coolness she could only admire, showed herself worthy of him, and braved the storm at his side. As for Phileas Fogg, it seemed as if this typhoon formed a part of his programme.
Up to this time the Tankadere had always held her course towards the north; but, toward evening, as might have been feared, the wind, shifting three-quarters, blew from the northwest. The schooner, now having her side to the waves, was terribly shaken. The sea struck her with a violence well calculated to terrify anyone who does not know how solidly every part of a vessel is fastened together.
With nightfall the tempest grew wilder. Seeing darkness come on, and with it the increase of the storm, John Bunsby felt great uneasiness. He asked himself if it would not be time to put in somewhere, and he consulted his crew.
His men consulted, John Bunsby approached Mr. Fogg, and said to him: "I belive, your honor, that we would do well to make one of the ports of the coast."
"I believe so, also," replied Phileas Fogg.
"Ah!" said the pilot, "but which one?"
"I only know one," replied Mr. Fogg quietly.
"And that is——?"
"Shanghai!"
The pilot could not at first comprehend for a few moments what this answer meant; how much obstinacy and tenacity it comprised. Then he cried: "Ah, well, yes! your honor is right. On to Shanghai!"
And the direction of the Tankadere was unwaveringly kept to the north.
It was truly a terrible night! It was a miracle that the little craft did not capsize. Twice she was submerged, and everything would have been carried off the deck, if the fastening of the ropes had given way. Aouda was worn out, but she did not utter a complaint. More than once Mr. Fogg had to rush towards her to protect her from the violence of the waves.
Daylight reappeared. The tempest was still raging with the greatest fury. However, the wind fell again into the southeast. It was a favorable change, and the Tankadere resumed her way on this high sea, whose waves then struck
