SAVING A KING.
Clif reached the gangway ladder just as Juanita Windom stepped down to
the deck, accompanied by another girl of her own age.
When she espied the young cadet she blushed slightly, and held out her
hand, with a winning smile.
“This is indeed a pleasure, Miss Windom,” he said, with even more
earnestness than the remark warranted.
“To me, Mr. Faraday,” the fair young girl replied, laughingly. “I have
been longing for the time when I could return your visit of--of--when
was it, Elna?”
“Such a long, long time ago,” responded her companion, mischievously.
“It was day before yesterday.”
“Only day before yesterday,” laughed Juanita Windom, with a shy glance
at Cliff, who looked extremely self-conscious under the battery of such
eyes. “Why, it seems months since you called at the house. And the
dreadful adventure you had at the upper plaza when that horrid driver
tried to rob you, and throw you down the cliff. It was in the papers
yesterday. You must tell me all about it, Mr. Faraday.”
“I will be delighted----”
“Haw!”
The little group turned at the sound. The Englishman, monocle screwed
tightly in his eye, was making a profound bow to Juanita.
“Haw! delighted, Miss Windom. Delighted to see you on board, don’t
ye know. Beautiful--aw!--day; lovely weather, lovely girls, and
you--aw!--the fairest of them all.”
“Haw!”
The exclamation did not come from the Briton, and he looked at Clif,
finding that youth apparently engaged in the innocent occupation of
arranging the strap of his cap.
Juanita and her friend repressed their laughter with difficulty.
“Haw! it must have been an echo, don’t ye know. Fawncy hearing one’s
own voice when you didn’t speak. Deuced good joke, eh?”
And the Englishman burst into a hearty laugh. But there was something
in it that did not ring true to Clif.
By skillful maneuvering Clif succeeded in bringing Juanita’s friend
and J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate together, then he boldly walked off with
the fair beauty of Lisbon.
“There is a splendid view of the river from the other side of the deck,
Miss Windom,” he said, leading the way past the mainmast. “I fancied
you did not care to remain with that gentleman,” he added, frankly,
when they were alone. “And, anyway, I wished to tell you all about my
adventure of the day before yesterday.”
“And I am eager to hear it,” replied the girl. She continued gravely:
“As for Mr. Cate, I do not like him. There is something about the man
that repels me. He is a business acquaintance of father, and I met him
while he was dining at our home.”
“A business acquaintance,” smiled Clif. “One would never connect
business with--aw!--J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate, don’t ye know.”
Juanita laughed.
“It is not what you would call business exactly,” she replied. “Father
is interested in pearls. It is a hobby and he has spent a long time and
a great deal of money in collecting them. He has one of the largest
collections in the world, I believe. This Mr. Cate is trying to
complete a certain necklace, and he came all the way from London to
see if father has one of the required size. He has, but I do not think
he will part with it.”
“So that is the story of Mr. Cate, eh?” said Clif. “Well, we’ll talk on
a more pleasant subject.”
“Tell me about your adventure with----”
She was interrupted by a commotion at the gangway. A splendidly
equipped barge, glittering with brass and polished wood, dashed
alongside, and an officer fairly covered with gold lace ascended to the
deck.
He was met by the executive officer and conducted to the cabin. A few
minutes later he reappeared and was rowed ashore.
Then orderlies ran here and there, officers hurried below, and a
general air of excitement prevailed.
“Something is in the wind,” said Clif. “That officer brought an
important message. Ah! there goes the boatswain’s mate to pass a call.”
A sturdy old sailor, with the insignia of a petty officer upon his
sleeve, rolled to the vicinity of the mainmast and gave a long, shrill
whistle, adding in a deep, salty voice that had been trained in many a
gale:
“A-a-all hands-s-s, dress ship! And st-stand by to man yards. Look
lively!”
Like wildfire the word went along the deck:
“The king is coming on board!”
“I believe that is right,” Clif said to Juanita. “They are certainly
excited enough. Well, I must leave you for a little while. Duty calls
me up on one of those yards. Please do not go away until I see you
again.”
“I am afraid I must,” the girl replied. “I promised to lunch with
father in the city. I’ll stay a moment to see the king, though. By the
way, Mr. Faraday, father would be pleased to have you call at the house
this evening if you come ashore.”
“And you?” asked the lad, softly.
“What a question!” murmured Juanita, her eyes falling under his ardent
gaze. “Why, I--I--that is--my father’s wish is law, you know. I must
coincide with what he says.”
“No, that is not enough,” persisted Clif.
“Well, if you insist,” laughed the girl, “I’ll say----”
“Haw! here you are, my dear Miss Windom. Ha! ha! you quite escaped us.
Deuced cruel of you, don’t ye know.”
The Englishman sauntered up, twirling his monocle in an affected
manner. Turning to Clif, he added:
“What’s the row, dear boy? Are you going to bombard the blooming town?”
“No,” shortly replied Faraday. “The king is coming on board.”
The effect of this commonplace announcement upon the Englishman was
remarkable.
He started as if struck; his face became ashen in color, and he
appeared to breathe with difficulty.
“What is the matter?” asked Clif, startled. “Are you ill?”
“No--no, a little attack, that’s all, don’t ye know,” replied Cate,
recovering himself with an effort. Another moment and he had regained
his usual composure.
“Haw! bah Jove, Richard is himself again,” he drawled, carefully
adjusting his eyeglass. “So his royal highness is coming aboard? I’ll
be glad to--aw--meet him, don’t ye know.”
“And so will he be glad to meet you--not,” replied the cadet, the last
word _sotto voce_.
With a low bow and a smile to Juanita, he hurried away to his station.
The two girls strolled to the other side of the quarter-deck as if
unconscious of the Englishman’s presence.
Once alone, the latter’s face again took on that hunted expression
noticed by Clif. He leaned against one of the broadside guns and stared
absently through the port.
“It is fate,” he muttered; “grim fate. It is ordered and must be done.
It’s a pity, too. The other chance was so good. Just think of it;
strings of them, and each worth a fortune. And the girl, too. If I had
the opportunity and that cub of a boy was out of the way--but what’s
the use of dreaming? Duty first, then pleasure. Yes, pleasure, if”--he
laughed mirthlessly--“if I live to enjoy it.”
A shrill piping of the boatswain’s whistle interrupted his soliloquy,
and he turned to see a rainbow of gay bunting flaunt bravely from a
line stretched over the three mast trucks.
Some one near him pointed in the direction of the shore, and exclaimed
that the king was putting off in the royal barge.
There was a rush for the side, but J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate remained
in his former position, the expression upon his face becoming more and
more pronounced.
In the meantime Clif had joined the other cadets in the work of
preparing the ship for the royal visitor.
Being a plebe, Clif’s duty did not carry him above the deck, but he
found plenty to do elsewhere.
Shortly after he left Juanita the crew were called to quarters. Each
cadet hurried to his station at one of the guns and stood at attention
with military precision.
A moment later the saluting battery opened fire and thundered forth the
national salute of twenty-one guns.
The sulphurous vapor from the last discharge had barely lifted above
the hammock netting when the cannon in the fort ashore began.
The distant booming of artillery, the smoke enshrouding the old
practice ship, the scores of bright flags fluttering from the masts,
and the silent groups of uniformed men and cadets lined up on each side
of the snowy decks formed an inspiriting scene--one to tarry long in
the memory.
Clif with Joy, Trolley and Nanny were stationed at the after starboard
broadside gun.
From where he stood Faraday could see the visitors grouped on the port
side of the deck. He managed to catch a fleeting gleam from Juanita’s
sparkling eyes, then his gaze wandered to a figure clad in the loudest
of loud English checks.
It was J. Chesire-Cheshire Cate.
The doughty Briton had dropped his eyeglass and was staring eagerly
toward the gangway. To Clif, who was not more than fifteen feet away,
his face seemed absolutely transfigured.
He no longer wore the vacuous, simpering expression, but into his
face had crept an air of desperate determination so intense that Clif
marveled at the sight.
“I say, Trolley,” he whispered to the Japanese youth, who stood next to
him, “just look at that blooming Englishman.”
“He sick?”
“No, but he seems greatly excited. That fellow is a mystery to me. I
thought at first he was an empty-headed dude, but, by George, I believe
he is playing a part.”
“What for?” queried Joy, who had overheard him.
“I don’t know,” replied Clif, “but I’ll keep my eyes on him just the
same.”
Joy winked at Trolley.
“It’s a case of jealousy,” he said. “Clif doesn’t like the way he is
hanging around Miss Windom.”
Faraday laughed easily.
“If you knew her you would see the ridiculousness of your remark,” he
retorted. “She----”
“Silence there,” sharply called out the gun captain. “Attention!”
There was a rattle of drums, a blare of bugles, then a stout,
dark-featured man with a heavy, curled mustache and a full sweeping
beard stepped down from the gangway.
The side was manned by a number of officers who raised their caps in a
salute as the visitor passed them.
It was Dom Carlos the First, King of Portugal.
He was accompanied by a gayly uniformed suite composed of naval and
military officers, but he, himself, was attired in simple civilian
clothes.
Captain Brookes, at the head of his staff, advanced to meet the royal
visitor. Bowing profoundly he uttered a few words of welcome and led
the way toward the cabin.
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----”
He stepped back aghast.
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.
It was Clif!
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!