IN WHICH THE MASTER OF THE "TANKADERE" RUNS GREAT RISK OF LOSING A REWARD OF TWO HUNDRED POUNDS This voyage of eight hundred miles was a perilous venture on a craft of twenty tons, and at that season of the year.

The Chinese seas are usually boisterous, subject to terrible gales 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, impelled by favourable 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." "Its your trade, not mine, pilot, and I confide in you." Phileas Fogg, with body erect and legs wide apart, standing like a sailor, gazed without staggering at the swelling waters.