At daybreak of the fourth day out they were in the track of Charleston craft and quite near to a string of islands. There was plenty of water between the two outer islands. The passage was, indeed, a popular channel for both steam and sailing vessels.
The Kennebunk's tender was half way through this gut when suddenly, and without warning, it seemed as though the bow of the craft hit squarely upon a rock.
She stopped with an awful shock, seemed to rebound, and then the forward part rose on a wave that shot it into the air. The explosion that followed was muffled; but the sea about the doomed craft fairly boiled.
"We're sinking! All hands on deck!" shouted the warrant officer.
The boatswain's mate piped his shrillest. Those below swarmed upon the already settling deck. It was plain at once that the steamer had but a few moments to live.
"A mine!" declared Ensign MacMasters. "That is what did it! That Hun mine-sower has been this way!"
The men and boys went to quarters coolly. They had been drilling every day on the steamer just as though they were aboard the Kennebunk.
There was both a liferaft and a tight yawl aboard. These were got over into the comparatively quiet sea, water and an emergency ration-cask put aboard each, and Mr. MacMasters brought his instruments and papers, taking his place in the stern of the boat. The latter had a small engine, and there was a hawser with which she might tow the raft.
Meanwhile the wireless operator had been calling for help. He got a reply from a land station, but none from any sister naval ship. However, they were so near land that it did not seem that this mattered.
"Let her go, boy!" shouted the ensign to the operator. "Come on! She's going down."