The vessel wearing the emblem of the Red Cross had not yet reached the spot at which the sweepers had turned.
Over the sea came a sullen, significant roar. The "Gloucester" shivered from stem to stern. A wail of anguish went up in concert from the soldiers on board the hospital ship who were worst wounded.
It had come so suddenly that, for an instant, Dave Darrin was dazed.
"That wasn't a torpedo!" he cried, hoarsely, a second or two later.
"She hit a mine, sir," reported Lieutenant Fernald. "It wasn't the fault of the sweepers, either, for they hadn't time to get that far. But it's awful—awful! There'll be hundreds of the poor fellows drowned!"
Dave quickly recovered his presence of mind. As the "Gloucester" shut off speed Darrin turned and dashed at full speed to the aid of the stricken craft.
Even as the race of rescue began Darrin sent to the radio operator this message to send broadcast through the air:
"S. O. S.! Hospital ship 'Gloucester' has struck mine and must founder soon. Rush at best speed to give aid. S. O. S.!"
In the message Darrin included also the exact position of the stricken vessel.
Two launches were swung outward on the davits. Darrin sprang down to the deck to personally select the men to man the launches. Into the launches were thrown several rolls of heavy canvas and rolls of cordage, as well as such tools as might be needed.
