"Yes, your honour; a pilot-boat-No. 43-the best in the harbour."
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"Does she go fast?"
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"Between eight and nine knots the hour. Will you look at her?"
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"Your honour will be satisfied with her. Is it for a sea excursion?"
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"No; for a voyage."
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"Yes, will you agree to take me to Yokohama?"
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The sailor leaned on the railing, opened his eyes wide, and said, "Is your honour joking?"
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"No. I have missed the Carnatic, and I must get to Yokohama by the 14th at the latest, to take the boat for San Francisco."
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"I am sorry," said the sailor; "but it is impossible."
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"I offer you a hundred pounds per day, and an additional reward of two hundred pounds if I reach Yokohama in time."
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"Are you in earnest?"
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"Very much so."
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The pilot walked away a little distance, and gazed out to sea, evidently struggling between the anxiety to gain a large sum and the fear of venturing so far. Fix was in mortal suspense.
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Mr. Fogg turned to Aouda and asked her, "You would not be afraid, would you, madam?"
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"Not with you, Mr. Fogg," was her answer.
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The pilot now returned, shuffling his hat in his hands.
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"Well, pilot?" said Mr. Fogg.
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"Well, your honour," replied he, "I could not risk myself, my men, or my little boat of scarcely twenty tons on so long a voyage at this time of year. Besides, we could not reach Yokohama in time, for it is sixteen hundred and sixty miles from Hong Kong."
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"Only sixteen hundred," said Mr. Fogg.
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"It's the same thing."
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Fix breathed more freely.
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"But," added the pilot, "it might be arranged another way."
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Fix ceased to breathe at all.
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