No one knew how often that knell had pealed before. It could not have been heard, amid the deafening noise of the waves, any more than the report of a single cannon could have been distinguished in the thunder of a million others. The sound struck to the hearts of all present. “Oh!” said Miss Joe, “that ship! that ship! It is the very ship I spied—I know it is—I know it is! And, oh! it may be the ship of Hugh!” Again the minute gun boomed over the sea. “Oh, Heaven, how I pity them! What can be the nature of their danger? The storm has almost ceased; if they could live through that terrific tempest, surely they can save themselves now. What can be the danger to which they are exposed now?” asked Alice. “The ship, tossed about so in the horrible storm, must a’ sprung a leak. Oh, if it should be Hugh’s ship!” replied Miss Joe. Again the minute gun wailed across the waters. “And, oh!” exclaimed Alice, wringing her hands, “if there is one thing worse than imminent danger or death to one’s own, it is to be in perfect safety and to hear, near by, the cry of others in extremity, and to be unable to give them aid!” Once more the minute gun wailed across the waters. It seemed the voice of a last appeal. “My God, I can scarcely stand this!” exclaimed Alice, shuddering, cowering, stopping her ears, while Miss Joe walked about, groaning, groaning, groaning! But once more the minute gun wailed across the waters. It seemed the voice of a last reproach. The two women and the old negro could do absolutely nothing to help the dying ship. They felt their own safety as a shame, and covered their heads to shut out the sound of death. They need not have done so. The minute gun wailed no more across the waters. The voice was silenced for ever! “Oh, my God! my God! she is gone down! she is gone down!” screamed Miss Joe, wrought up to an agony of terror and grief beyond all self-control. The dread silence that followed was more insufferable than the terrific storm in its utmost fury had been—than the awful voice of the minute gun, in its vain appeal, had been! It was long after midnight now. Miss Joe, unable longer to bear the awful pause of fate, went and pulled open the door and looked out. The wind had lulled, the rain had ceased, the waves had gone down, the storm was nearly over. Yet in the deep darkness she could only guess the wild ruin that had been wrought around. The sky hung over the waters black as a pall, yet by the phosphoric light of the sea that still moved and sparkled she discovered a dark object, like the hulk of a huge vessel, disappear under the waves. And, hush! What sound is that, low and distinct, in the deep silence of the awful night? The sound of approaching footsteps and voices hurrying on, and now very near. “Light another candle, for God’s sake! some people are coming. God send it may be Hugh and his men! Light another candle, quick! and thrust it into a lantern!” exclaimed Miss Joe, hastening into the house.