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 jumble¹ of English and Portuguese².  
The crowd suddenly swayed, and a man in civilian³ clothing—a suit with a loud check pattern—was seen to savagely⁴ force his way to the ladder leading to the after deck.
 
A score of hands clutched at him, but he eluded⁵ them and gained the top. As he paused for a second, bareheaded, disheveled, breathing heavily, a cry came from the frantic⁶ mob below.
 
“It’s the Englishman!”
 
“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 flinched⁷. 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 suite⁸.
 
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 fugitive⁹.
 
The Tagus in the immediate¹⁰ vicinity of the practice ship was thronged¹¹ with vessels¹³ of all classes, attracted to the spot by the royal visit, and it was observed at once that the assassin’s chances for escape, if he was an expert swimmer, were good.
 
There was commotion¹⁴ on board the neighboring craft, and many false alarms, but no certain sign of the Englishman’s presence.
 
When the excited crowd on the Monongahela turned inboard again, they found a group of officers and cadets surrounding Clif, who was calmly standing¹⁵ in the center while the surgeon fastened a temporary bandage round a bleeding cut in his right arm.
 
The king had been hurried to the cabin by his suite and Captain Brookes. A moment later he emerged and joined the group surrounding Clif.
 
“I want to see the brave American boy who saved my life,” he insisted. “It was he who foiled that assassin and he shall have my heartfelt thanks.”
 
“But, your majesty¹⁶,” implored¹⁷ one of his military staff, in Portuguese, “there may be other wretches¹⁸ on board. They may make another attempt on you.”
 
“Then keep every one at a distance,” was the retort. “Act rather than talk. It is strange you and your comrades did not prevent that man from making his attempt. What has been done to capture him?”
 
“Word was sent ashore¹⁹ at once, sire. A launch is even now on the way with instructions to the chief of police and the general in charge of the district. The assassin will be in prison before dark.”
 
“See that he is!” exclaimed the king, imperiously.
 
Turning to Clif he extended both his hands and added in excellent English:
 
“My brave lad, I thank you. I deplore²⁰ the wound you have received in my service.”
 
“It is nothing, sir,” replied Clif, simply.
 
“A king’s life nothing?” smiled his majesty. “Ah, that is a democratic princi............