than ten rows of low trees, acacias, and the like, five rows on each side of the comparatively narrow roadway, which is blocked at the lower end by a massive monument to the liberators of 1640.  Thus the insurgents could not see their adversaries even when they ventured out of their sheltered position in the Rocio; and the artillery fire from the Rotunda did much more damage to the hotels that flanked the narrow neck of the Avenida than to the Royalist forces.  On the other hand, it would have been comparatively easy for the Royalists, with a little resolution, to have crept up the Avenida under cover of the trees, and driven the insurgents from their position.  Fortunately for the revolt, there was a total lack of leadership on the Royalist side, excusable only on the ground that the officers could not rely on their men.

While things were at a deadlock on the Avenida, critical events were happening on the Tagus.  On all three ships, the officers knew that the men were only awaiting a signal to mutiny; but the signal did not come.  At this juncture, and while it seemed that the Republican cause was lost, a piece of heroic bluff on the part of a single officer saved the situation.  Lieutenant Tito de Moraes put off in a small boat from the naval barracks at Alcantara, rowed to the San Raphael, boarded it, and calmly took possession of it in the name of the Republic!  He gave the officers a written guaranty that they had yielded to superior force, and then sent them off under arrest to the naval barracks.  He now asked for orders from the Revolutionary Committee; and early in the afternoon the San Raphael weighed anchor and moved down the river in the direction of the Necessidades Palace.  In doing so she had to pass the most powerful ship of the squadron, the Dom Carlos:  would she get past in safety?  Yes; the Dom Carlos made no sign.  The officers were almost all Royalists, but they knew they could do nothing with the crew.  As a matter of fact when the crew ultimately mutinied, the captain and a lieutenant were severely wounded; but I can find no evidence for the picturesque legend of a group of officers making a last heroic stand on the quarter-deck, and ruthlessly mowed down by the insurgents’ fire.  It is certain, at any rate, that no lives were lost.

In the Palace, on its bluff above the river, King Manuel was practically alone.  No minister, no general, was at his side.  It is said, on what seems to be good authority, that when he saw the San Raphael moving down-stream under the Republican colors, he telephoned to the Prime Minister, Teixeira de Sousa, to ask whether there was not a British destroyer in the river that could be got to sink the mutinous vessel.  Even if this scheme had been otherwise feasible, it would have demanded an effort of which the minister was no longer capable.  At about two in the afternoon the San Raphael, cruising slowly up and down, opened fire upon the Palace, and