His satisfaction would have been complete had the Rangoon been forced to retreat before the violence of wind and waves.
Each delay filled him with hope, for it became more and more probable that Fogg would be obliged to remain some days at Hong Kong; and now the heavens themselves became his allies, with the gusts and squalls.
It mattered not that they made him sea-sick--he made no account of this inconvenience; and, whilst his body was writhing under their effects, his spirit bounded with hopeful exultation.
Passepartout was enraged beyond expression by the unpropitious weather.
Everything had gone so well till now! Earth and sea had seemed to be at his master's service; steamers and railways obeyed him; wind and steam united to speed his journey.

Had the hour of adversity come?
Passepartout was as much excited as if the twenty thousand pounds were to come from his own pocket.

The storm exasperated him, the gale made him furious, and he longed to lash the obstinate sea into obedience.
Poor fellow! Fix carefully concealed from him his own satisfaction, for, had he betrayed it, Passepartout could scarcely have restrained himself from personal violence.
Passepartout remained on deck as long as the tempest lasted, being unable to remain quiet below, and taking it into his head to aid the progress of the ship by lending a hand with the crew.

He overwhelmed the captain, officers, and sailors, who could not help laughing at his impatience, with all sorts of questions.

He wanted to know exactly how long the storm was going to last; whereupon he was referred to the barometer, which seemed to have no intention of rising.