The relief party led by Captain Mayo reached the battery at sunset, and after a good supper, fell to sound sleep, during which time, the engineers repaired the parapet. It was a beautiful starlight night. The time for the chirping of the tropical insects had come, and they were awakening vigorously to their summer concerts. All night long the mortars, like geyser springs of fire, kept up their rhythmic flow of iron and flame. The great star-map of the heavens seemed scratched over with parabolas of red fire, the streaks of which were watched with delight by the soldiers, and with tremor by the beleagured people in the city. At daylight the boatswain’s silver whistle called the men to rise, and the day’s work soon after breakfast began in earnest. The sailors manned their guns, firing so steadily that between seven and eight o’clock it was necessary to let the iron tubes cool. At 7 A. M. another army battery, of four twenty-fours and two eight-inch Paixhans being finished, joined in the roar. Their fire was rapid, but the dense growth of chapparal hid their objective points from view making good aim impossible, so that the damage done was not strikingly evident. The castle garrison had now gained the exact range of the naval battery, and thirteen-inch shell from the castle began to fall all around and close to the sandbags throwing up loose showers of soil. One dropped within the battery but upon exploding, hurt no one. The round shot from the city forts were continually grazing the parapets, and it was while Midshipman T. D. Shubrick was levelling his gun and pointing it at a tower in one of the forts, that a round shot entered the embrasure instantly killing him. During the two days, four sailors were killed, mostly by solid shot in the head or chest; while five officers and five men were wounded, mostly by chapparal splinters of yucca, or cactus thorns and spurs, and fragments of sandbags.