“There comes the other shell!” cried Ben, but the men did not quit their toil to gaze this time. Each seaman worked as if life and death depended on his single exertions. Spike alone watched the course of the missile. On it came, booming and hurtling through the air, tossing high the jets, at each leap it made from the surface, striking the water for its last bound, seemingly in a line with the shell that had just preceded it. From that spot it made its final leap. Every hand in the brig was stayed and every eye was raised as the rushing tempest was heard advancing. The mass went muttering directly between the masts of the Swash. It had scarcely seemed to go by when the fierce flash of fire and the sharp explosion followed. Happily for those in the brig, the projectile force given by the gun carried the fragments from them, as in the other instance it had brought them forward; else would few have escaped mutilation, or death, among their crew. The flashing of fire so near the barrels of powder that still remained on their deck, caused the frantic efforts to be renewed, and barrel after barrel was tumbled overboard, amid the shouts that were now raised to animate the people to their duty. “Luff, Mr. Mulford—luff you may, sir,” cried Spike. No answer was given. “D’ye hear there, Mr. Mulford?—it is luff you may, sir.” “Mr. Mulford is not aft, sir,” called out the man at the helm—“but luff it is, sir.” “Mr. Mulford not aft! Where’s the mate, man? Tell him he is wanted.” No Mulford was to be found! A call passed round the decks, was sent below, and echoed through the entire brig, but no sign or tidings could be had of the handsome mate. At that exciting moment the sloop-of-war seemed to cease her firing, and appeared to be securing her guns. [_To be continued._ * * * * * LOVE UNREQUITED. BY ALICE G. LEE. A sister’s quiet love Stirs my heart for thee, Ask me for none other, For it paineth me. SCHILLER’S BALLADS. I can but listen to thy words in sorrow— Words that are poured from a full, bursting heart. Thou couldst not thus the form of passion borrow; I know thou dost not act a studied part. For even now thine eyes, so true and earnest, Are seeking mine with such a pleading look; And as that searching gaze on me thou turnest, I know that falsehood thou couldst never brook.