He seemed about to give up all hope，when he espied，anchored at the Battery，a cable's length off at most，a trading vessel，with a screw，well-shaped，whose funnel，puffing a cloud of smoke，indicated that she was getting ready for departure.
Phileas Fogg hailed a boat，got into it，and soon found himself on board theHenrietta'，iron-hulled，wood-built above.He ascended to the deck，and asked for the captain，who forthwith presented himself.He was a man of fifty，a sort of sea-wolf，with big eyes，a complexion of oxidized copper，red hair and thick neck，and a growling voice.
The captain？asked Mr Fogg.
I am the captain.
I am Phileas Fogg，of London.
And I am Andrew Speedy，of Cardiff.
You are going to put to sea？
In an hour.
You are bound for——
Bordeaux.
And your cargo？
No freight.Going in ballast.
Have you any passengers？
No passengers.Never have passengers.Too much in the way.
Is your vessel a swift one？
Between eleven and twelve knots.The'Henrietta'，well known.
Will you carry me and three other persons to Liverpool？
To Liverpool？Why not to China？
I said Liverpool.
No！
No？
No.I am setting out for Bordeaux，and shall go to Bordeaux.
Money is no object？
None.
The captain spoke in a tone which did not admit of a reply.
But the owners of the'Henrietta'-，resumed Phileas Fogg.
The owners are myself，replied the captain.The vessel belongs to me.