For months at a time during the past few years, a little ship may have been seen floating around a particular spot just off the coast of Donegal. Barges lay in her vicinity, barges laden with incredible tangles of pipes and cables. Boats pulled around from barge to ship, and fussy little launches came from the coast, remained an hour or two, and then departed. Occasionally a grim, grey destroyer glided up, moored for a time, and then steamed away. But the little ship remained, and strangers in those parts wondered what she was doing there. That little ship was the salvage vessel _Racer_, engaged in the greatest treasure-hunt of modern times. Never before has there been such a treasure-hunt, for it was a national treasure-hunt, carried out on behalf of the British people by the British Navy, and backed by the whole power of the nation. When the White Star liner _Laurentic_ left the shores of England in January, 1917, she carried in her strong-room gold and silver ingots to the value of about £5,000,000 to settle some of Great Britain’s bills for the munitions that were pouring out of the factories in the United States. The Treasury was naturally anxious for the specie to reach its destination as quickly as possible, for that £5,000,000 was destined for the pay envelopes of thousands of American factory hands. Many a time the _Laurentic_ had made the passage with saloons brilliantly lighted and crowded with wealthy passengers, but never before had she borne so much wealth as on this occasion. The advent of war led to her conversion into an armed liner, and those aboard were now fighting for the freedom of the seas and civilization. Northward she steamed through the Irish Sea and at last began to breast the open Atlantic and point westward to New York. Malin Head, on the north coast of Ireland, loomed up and began to drop astern, and just when it seemed that all would be well came the blow that sent her to her doom. A violent explosion shook her, made her lurch and shiver, and many gallant fellows, watchful at their posts, were instantly killed; many more were trapped and drowned by the rush of water into the ship. The survivors sprang to their emergency posts, while the wireless operator sent out a call for help. The captain realized that the _Laurentic’s_ days were numbered. Nothing could save her. The water poured through the rent in her side. More and more she heeled as the water gained. For a moment her bows lifted clear of the sea, then she disappeared in a swirl of foam, and the waves were strewn with wreckage and bobbing heads. When the tragedy was over, and the roll called, it was found that, of 475 officers and men aboard, 354 had gone to their last long rest.