Clif, after one quick glance at the king, again turned his attention to Cate, the Englishman.
The fellow had stepped back, crouching behind the group of absorbed spectators, but his face was plainly visible.
The expression of implacable hatred upon it sent a flood of light through Clif’s mind, and he involuntarily advanced a pace from the gun.
“Get back there,” came sternly from the petty officer in charge. “What do you mean by----”
There was a sharp cry, a shrill note of warning, then a clamor of excited voices sounded through the ship.
A figure clad in cadet blue was seen to leave the after starboard gun and with one great leap reach the side of Dom Carlos.
At the same moment a man, who had bounded from among the spectators, sprang upon the king.
There was a glitter of steel, then as the threatened monarch staggered back to avoid the blow, a pair of little arms were thrown about the would-be assassin’s body!
The excitement that ensued was intense. There was a rush for the spot by visitors, officers and crew. A chorus of screams from the feminine visitors, a quick word of command, and an excited jumble of English and Portuguese.
The crowd suddenly swayed, and a man in civilian clothing--a suit with a loud check pattern--was seen to savagely force his way to the ladder leading to the after deck.
A score of hands clutched at him, but he eluded them and gained the top. As he paused for a second, bareheaded, disheveled, breathing heavily, a cry came from the frantic mob below.
“Yes, the Englishman!” he flung back, fiercely. “I defy you, slaves of a royal master. I have tried to strike a blow for your liberty, hounds, a blow for the world’s liberty, and have failed. I----”
A bullet whistled past his head, but he never flinched. As the crowd below surged up the ladder eager to tear him limb from limb, he retreated slowly and with magnificent courage to the railing.
As the foremost of his pursuers reached the deck, he sent a curse at them, then turned and sprang over the side into the swiftly moving waters of the Tagus.
“After him! Quick! Five thousand _milreis_ to the man who captures him alive!”
These words, in broken English, came from one of the royal suite.
A rush was made for the side, and eager glances were cast down toward the river. A dozen excited sailors and cadets recklessly leaped into the water and began a search, but nothing was seen of the desperate fugitive.