Darrin spent most of his time inspecting the canvas patches. Between times he anxiously watched the relief ship. He could see, by glass, when she was four miles away, that her davits were swung out and her boat-crews in place.
"All depends on how we hold together for the next half or three-quarters of an hour," he told Captain Senby.
There were still some two hundred patients who would have to be moved on stretchers. These were brought to the upper deck until the stretchers all but blocked passage.
What a cheer went up from those at the rail as the steamship, an Italian craft, lay to and began to lower her boats! The small boats from the hospital ship, the "Grigsby" and the mine-sweepers had already gone forward to meet her. As fast as they could move in to either side gangway these boats discharged their temporary passengers, then quickly returned to the "Gloucester."
For an hour all the small boats plied back and forth, the rescuers using all their nerve and muscle power in their efforts at speed.
Shivering, for he was drenched up to the waist, Dave stood by, receiving the reports of the leadsmen in the two compartments. The best work of the canvas patches had been done. They were slowly yielding to the fearful pressure of the water without and it was impossible to rig additional, fresh patches over them. The water was rising, inch by inch, in both compartments.
"How long do you think we can keep afloat?" asked Captain Senby, miserably.
"Your judgment will be as good as mine, sir," Dave answered. "It is impossible to name the number of moments we can hope to keep above water, but we both know it cannot be for long."
At last the decks were cleared of litters. There were no more to be brought out. The last boats had taken away many besides the stretcher patients.
"Give us ten minutes more," said Darrin, as he watched the boats discharging at the Italian steamer, and returning, "and we shall all be safe."