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.
The Tagus in the immediate vicinity of the practice ship was thronged with vessels 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 commotion 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 standing in the center while the surgeon fastened a temporary bandage round a bleeding cut in his right arm.