Original subtitles

You can tell that by the peace pipes they're smoking.

Further down the line, they're not so friendly.

Is the entire American population in the way of this train?

These American trains, quite impossible.

Yes, sir. I go, master.

She'll never take the weight of this train. We better go back.

What's all the fuss here, boys?

Can't you fellows run a railroad without stopping every five minutes?

That bridge won't hardly hold a locomotive.

Why, hang me for a sheep-stealing son of a tarantula...

if you ain't a pack of yellow-bellied milksops.

- Am I right, scout? - Yes, sir, you're right.

- No, I ain't chancing it, fellows. - Here, take a snort of this 40-rod.

Back up your old teakettle there, and shoot her over at 30 miles an hour.

Let her roll!

That's the spirit, partner. Bear down on that throttle.

Now that's what I call a proper rate of speed.

I'll be a rattlesnake's uncle.

Thought you'd run away, you yellow-bellied lime juicer.

- Hit a man with an iron bar, will you? - Spades are trumps, I believe.

"Spades are trumps, I believe." My dear Algernon, really.

- Be so good as to play. - "Be so good as to play."

Gracious. Why don't you play a man's game?

Poker, red dog, euchre.

Want me to learn you how, Algie boy?

Or should I learn you how to fight fair?

Would you pardon me?

Sir, you are an insolent bully and I demand satisfaction at once.

Mind moving into the other car, please? It'll only be a minute or so.

Now, don't miss, boys, you can damage the woodwork.

The company's liable to take it out of my salary.

- Ready, or do you want to holler uncle? - I'm ready.

We will count to six together, turn, and fire at will.

- Now? - Now.

One, two, three, four...

five, six.

Take this.

Redskins!

Thanks, partner. You may be a foreigner, but you're true-blue.

Are you all right?

I'm all right, but look what they've done to my coat.

The train is running away.

They must have got the engineer and fireman.

What do you suggest?

Fort Kearney's just ahead. That's where the cavalry is.

- But we'll pass right through at this rate. - Somebody's got to stop the train.

One of us must get to Fort Kearney.

I'll try.

Poor Passepartout. Not a trace of him.

Everyone else seems to be accounted for.

There's no sign of your valet.

I'm afraid he's fallen into the hands of the Sioux.

It was a deliberate sacrifice to save the rest of us.

- What will they do to him? - The Sioux are pretty merciless.

You've heard about their tortures.

Colonel, we must send a rescue party at once.

Excuse me, mister.

I know it sounds kind of heartless...

but we can't hold the train.

That's a minor consideration. A man's life is at stake.

Any of you want to volunteer for a raid against the Sioux?

- I will, sir! - I will!

It's too warm.

Don't be blue, folks. Everything is gonna be all right.

There'll be a local through here tomorrow. That'll fetch you into Omaha the day after.

Yes, and lose 24 hours.

If we miss our steamship in New York, how will we get to Liverpool on time?

I'm darned if I understand you city folks. Always rushing.

Always thinking about the future.

No wonder you have stomach trouble.

It's all my fault, sir.

You should have caught the train and let those Indians cook me.

Then everyone would've been happy.

Balderdash.

What I always say is, it's an ill wind that blows no good.

Ease off the halyards.

Steady, man.

Look, the train. The train broke down. Stop the wind, master.

Contain yourself, Passepartout.

Everything's under control.

Those homemade American trains.

Goodbye.

Well-played, Dennis.

You have a natural aptitude for the game.

Perfected by four years of practice at Oxford.

I did nothing else. Cost my poor old governor over Pound12,000.

Worth every penny of it.

Hello, Sir Wilmette. Haven't seen you in donkey's years.

- Are you staying at the club? - No.

- You have a house in town, no doubt? - No.

- Then you live in the country, do you? - No.

- Anywhere near London? - No.

Hard luck.

Good day.

Here we are, gentlemen.

From the British Consulate, New York.

Things are looking up.

"Phileas Fogg and party presented their passports..."

"at 2:30 Greenwich time this afternoon."

- What time did that steamship sail? - Wait, I have a schedule here.

Here we are. "City of Paris..." No, that's yesterday's.

Wait a minute. "Cunarder, China. New York, Liverpool."

- Sailed today, 9:00 a.m. - He's missed it by five hours.

Not another eastbound vessel for three days.

I don't wish to crow, gentlemen, but I feel the crisp crackle of Pound20,000.

Let's crack that bottle of champagne we've been saving.

Right you are. But first, what about a bet or two on the side...

before this information leaks out?

- We better get over to Lloyd's. - Come on.

Listen.

They opened the telegram while I was there.

Fogg missed the China. He can't possibly make it now.

- Are you sure? - Positive.

Then I'll chance another couple of quid.

You take care of things while I slip round the corner.

Wait a minute.

Put down an extra fiver for me.

No, gentlemen, not a bit of activity all day.

There are just no odds on Mr. Fogg.

How can that be? We could barely get in here last Thursday.

Yes, it's very mysterious.

You never know from minute to minute.

I have just received some rather disquieting information about Mr. Fogg.

You know Mr. Carmichael, the General Manager of Lloyd's.

- This is Inspector Hunter of Scotland Yard. - How do you do?

This will be very painful to hear, gentlemen.

We've just received confirmation of something we've suspected for some time.

The man who robbed the Bank of England, and your fellow clubman Phileas Fogg...

are one and the same.

- Of all the ridiculous nonsense! - You don't really believe that.

Have you any grounds for making this charge?

We have, sir. Some very striking facts.

Coupled with behavior that points to his guilt.

- I don't believe it. - Nor do I.

You've heard that Mr. Fogg didn't sail on the Cunard steamship China.

- What of it? - Read them that message, Mr. Carmichael.

"At 6:00 a.m. today, our New York office reports..."

"that trading ship Henrietta departed New York..."

"with a cargo of cotton, linseed oil, and lumber."

"Her three passengers were Mr. Phileas Fogg and party."

And the Henrietta's destination is Caracas, Venezuela.

We have no extradition treaty with Venezuela.

In other words, Mr. Fogg has bolted.

A member of the Reform Club... My mind rejects the whole idea.

There must be some explanation for all this.

Perhaps, but the only man who can make it...

is on the high seas at this moment, bound for Central America.

Begging your pardon, sir, we're way off course for Venezuela.

- Have you assumed command of this ship? - No, sir.

Captain, don't overlook the rest of our bargain.

By all means. Go below and tell the engineer I want full steam.

- Full steam? - Full steam. As much as she'll take.

You're burning her up too fast. You'll never make it.

Just steer the ship, Captain. Don't speculate.

What's happening? Why are we slowing down?

Well, that's it. They just put the last teaspoon of coal in the old scow.

It's all finished, Mr. Fogg.

Still got a little breeze left, but I don't think it'll get you there in time.

Only three more days to go.

I still can't believe that Fogg robbed the Bank of England.

No British gentleman, having done so...

would have the effrontery to set foot in this club.

Capt. Speedy, I will be direct with you.

How much will you accept for this vessel, cash in hand?

- Why, this is exceptional... - Pounds 5,000?

Pounds 5,000? This deck is made of Burmese teak.

Please dispense with the poetry. Passepartout, get the bag.

Yes, sir.

Will that be sufficient?

- She's yours! - Done.

Now, as the new owner, I wish to issue my first command.

Pile everything that will burn into the stoke hole.

The cargo first, of course, that linseed oil.

Then the upper decks, masts, tables, chairs, windows...

ladders, everything, including the lifeboats.

- Is that clear? - The lifeboats?

Lifeboats. You heard what the man said. Is that clear?

Come on. Keep moving.

No, not her.

Not Henrietta!

Not her. No!

- The gauges are falling fast. - There's nothing more to burn.

How are we faring?

The pressure won't last more than an hour.

- One hour? - That's right.

Engine room.

- Land ho! - Land ho!

That was a close one. I never exactly made a voyage like this before...

- but I can't deny it, we got here. - Thanks to you and your men.

After I put you ashore, where do you want me to dock?

Anywhere you wish. I don't need her anymore, she's yours.

Thanks for the ship, what's left of it.

But you could rebuild...

You rebuild her. I have more pressing matters.

Thank you very much.

My friends, the end of our journey is near.

Eight hours and 42 minutes of the allotted time remain.

Our train arrives in London at 6:02 p.m., ensuring ample time to proceed...

to the Reform Club and settle the wager.

- Phileas Fogg! Stop that man! - Don't delay, master. Come on.

- What the devil is this? - Are you Phileas Fogg?

Of course I am. Are you insane?

- Then I arrest you in the Queen's name. - Arrest? On what charge?

Of purloining Pounds 55,000 from the Bank of England...

on the third of July.

- It's not true. - Silence.

You thought you were clever, Mr. Phileas Fogg.

Thought you could outwit me, didn't you?

Hold him.

It's not true, sir.

I can't understand it. The most shocking mistake.

It's never happened in my career.

It would seem that I owe you an apology.

The most terrible thing has happened.

The real culprit was apprehended in Brighton.

I am no longer suspect?

No, not in the least, but I would like to tell you...

I've never had any personal animosity for you.

On the contrary, you've always been a perfect gentleman and most generous.

It's almost a pity that you're not the real robber.

You're so daring.

Now that you have successfully thwarted me...

and placed in my path the only obstacle...

which I could not make provision for...

I feel I can tell you I have never really enjoyed your company very much.

And furthermore, you play an abominable game of whist. Good day, sir.

The wager is lost. Come.

What a gloomy place.

So melancholy, so joyless.

I'm sorry, Mr. Fogg. I didn't mean to criticize your taste.

No, you're right. It is depressing.

- Passepartout. - Yes, sir?

Look at the clocks.

Get in touch with Mr. McMonnies and have them put in order.

- Right away, this morning. - No, it's Sunday today. Tomorrow.

Make up the spare bedroom for the princess.

Light a fire and see to her comforts.

Certainly, sir.

Madam, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to spend the rest of the day alone.

- Passepartout. - Yes, sir?

Turn out the gas in your room.

You needn't bother, Passepartout. I'll take this up to him.

He won't eat, Madame. He is feeling very low.

Poor man.

You know, his whole fortune, all that he risked...

everything is lost.

- What will become of you? - I can take care of myself.

After all, I have a dozen professions...

fireman, acrobat, traveling companion.

You must eat something, Mr. Fogg.

- No, thank you. - Please.

You're angry with me, and justly.

Good heavens. Why should I be angry with you?

You might have won your wager but for me.

You saved my life at the risk of your own...

generously, impulsively.

I repaid you by delaying you, involving you needlessly.

On the contrary, I owe you an apology for bringing you to England, penniless.

You must not concern yourself with me.

Anything that has overtaken me is a direct result of my own folly.

I refuse to deceive myself, and I don't like self-pity.

Possibly things aren't as desperate as they seem.

To be candid, at the moment they're not particularly promising.

- Surely your friends could aid you. - I have no friends.

- Nor relatives? - Not a soul.

Then I truly feel for you.

I know how tragic solitude can be...

when one has nobody with whom to share his grief.

In my country, Mr. Fogg, it is said that misfortune...

if shared with another sympathetic spirit, can be borne with resignation.

Do you wish at once a kinswoman and a friend?

I'm not sure that I interpret you correctly.

Will you have me for your wife?

Aouda, my darling.

Yes, sir? Yes, master?

I want you to go to Rev. Samuel Wilson...

of Marylebone Parish at once.

- Right away, sir. - Arrange for a wedding.

- One wedding, sir. When? - Tomorrow.

Will that be all right, my dear?

- Yes, tomorrow. - Ol , sir!

Curtail the jubilation, please. Bring the Reverend Wilson with you.

Yes, sir.

- Yes? - A wedding. Come with me.

- No, I don't think so. - Quickly. It's an emergency.

- I'll get my hat. - Quickly.

Saturday.

It's Saturday.

And so many clocks. Couldn't there be just one?

Anything you suggest, my dear.

How dare you bolt into a room in this fashion?

Where's your training? And remove your hat.

It's not Sunday, it's Saturday.

- We have 10 minutes left. - What are you jabbering about?

It's Saturday! Look for yourself.

Fiddlesticks. The printers must have made an error.

- You have made error. - We will review your impudence later.

Allow me to disillusion you.

I have kept a detailed record of every single phase of our entire trip.

We went around the world in 80 days, this is the 81...

It's Saturday.

We went eastward around the world, always moving towards the sun.

Great heavens. We've crossed the International Date Line.

We've gained an entire day. This is the eightieth day.

We have 10 minutes and 50 seconds left to get to the club.

You wait here, my dear. Come, man, don't dawdle.

Cabby, Reform Club.

- Who? - Reform Club.

Mind you, it's none of my business...

but do you think you'll get into the Reform Club dressed like that?

Drive on, man.

- What's the matter? What happened? - I'm sorry, sir. It's the hiccups.

I'm taken very bad. I can't do a thing with them, sir.

- Blimey. - Confound the man.

It's all right. I drive.

- What's the matter with the beast? - It's no good, sir. He can't do it.

He'd love to, but he can't.

He don't take orders from nobody but me.

- Come on, please. - It's no good. He can't do it.

No, he won't do it.

The devil never sleeps, brethren. Even now as we stand here...

he is hurrying some poor soul to his doom...

tempting him down the path of iniquity.

And now, I shall take up the collection.

Excuse me.

Sir, would you like to contribute something to our cause?

I don't think I have anything. Wait. There's something.

- A fiver? - Please, I'm in a hurry. It's a wager.

A wager? Did you hear that, brethren?

Our poor, benighted sinner is the very sort I've been telling you about.

Don't do it, sir. Don't give in to the Prince of Darkness.

- I haven't the faintest intention of giving... - Have courage, my boy, to say no.

Turn to Hymn 579, everyone, and lift up your voices...

to save our poorly beset brother.

Good heavens. Why wait any longer?

- He's lost the wager... - Of course he has, 20 times over...

once he missed his transatlantic connection.

Steady on, chaps. Play the game. Remember, we're all British gentlemen.

- There's still 14 seconds to go. - The man's not superhuman.

What do you expect him to do? Pop down the chimney like Santa Claus?

I haven't the least idea. I only know that Fogg is the most punctual man alive.

Gentlemen, here I am.

I trust that I've not kept you waiting.

Hello, Fogg.

Great Caesar's ghost!

A woman in the club!

My dear, I must ask you to leave these precincts at once.

- No woman has ever set foot in the club. - Why not?

Because that could spell the end of the British Empire.

This is the end.