The Ordeal of the _Lusitania_
_Oh, have you ever seen a foundered horse,
His great heart broken by a task too great
For his endurance, but unbroken yet
His spirit--striving to complete his course,
Failing at last, eyes glazed and nostril wide,
And have not ached with pity? Pity now
A brave ship shattered by a coward blow
That once had spurned the waters in her pride._
N. N. F. CORBETT.
With the subsequent progress in infamy of Germany’s submarine campaign
it was natural that the sensibilities of the civilised world, so
shocked by the ruthless sinking of the _Lusitania_, should have become
somewhat dulled. But it is clear, in retrospect, that this tragic
event marked an epoch in the slow gathering of the non-combatant
world’s condemnation. Upon the general events preceding the loss of
this world-famous vessel, this is not, perhaps, the place to dwell. It
will be remembered however, that from February 18th, 1915, the German
Government announced that it proposed to consider the waters round
Great Britain and Ireland and the entire English Channel as what
they described as a “War Zone,” stating that they would “endeavour to
destroy every merchant ship found in this area of war, without its
always being possible to avert the peril that thus threatens persons
and cargoes.”
[Illustration: THE “MAURETANIA” AS A HOSPITAL SHIP, OFF NAPLES HARBOUR
(The “Mauretania” was a sister ship of the “Lusitania”)]
To this the British Government issued a reply on the following March
1st, that the German announcement was in fact a claim to torpedo at
sight, regardless of the safety both of the crew or passengers, any
merchant vessel under any flag. The British Government proceeded to
remind Germany and the world, that by all the accepted traditions of
the sea, and under the terms of international law, it was the duty of
an enemy vessel to bring a captured ship to a Prize Court, where all
the circumstances of the case could be impartially investigated, and
where neutrals might recover their cargoes. The sinking of prizes was
therefore, as the British Government pointed out, always a questionable
proceeding, and could only be justified in exceptional circumstances,
and after full provision had been made for crews and passengers. The
legal responsibility of verifying the status of any vessel always
rested with the attacking ship, while the obligations of humanity
required adequate provision to be made for the safety of all crews and
passengers of merchant vessels, whether enemy or neutral.
It is now both common and tragic knowledge that these protests, as
well as all the canons, so long established, of sea chivalry, were
entirely ignored by the German Government, and it was on May 7th, 1915,
that this became finally and startlingly clear to every intelligent
observer in the civilised world. That the German Government possessed
any special spite towards the _Lusitania_ may not perhaps have been the
case, but, as we have seen, it was by means of the _Lusitania_ and her
sister ship the _Mauretania_ that the “blue ribbon” of the Atlantic, in
the matter of speed, had been wrested from German hands.
[Illustration: “PHRYGIA” SINKING A SUBMARINE]
Built in 1907 for the Cunard Company by Messrs. John Brown & Co., of
Clyde Bank, she had been constructed under Admiralty Survey, and in
accordance with Admiralty requirements, and was classed 100 A1. at
Lloyds. Built throughout of steel, she had a cellular double bottom,
with a floor at every frame, the depth of this on the centre line being
60 inches, and 72 inches where it supported the turbine machinery.
This double bottom extended up the ship’s side to a height of eight
feet above the keel. All her decks were steel plated throughout, and
the transverse strength of the ship was largely dependent on the 12
transverse water-tight bulkheads which had been purposely strengthened
and stiffened to enable her to stand the necessary pressure in the
event of accident. Inside her hull was a second “skin,” running the
whole length of her vital parts, so that she was virtually a ship
within a ship.
Her length all over was 785 feet. She was 88 feet in breadth, and
nearly 60 feet in depth, with a gross tonnage of over 30,000 tons,
and a load draft of 36 feet. Including the hold she had nine decks,
with accommodation for 523 first class, 295 second class, and 1,300
third class passengers, together with a crew of about 800. She had
turbine engines of 63,220 horse power, four for ahead and two for
astern motion, and her speed in 1914 was from 24½ to 25 knots. Her
four great funnels rose to a height of 154 feet above the keel, and
the diameter of each being not less than 24 feet. Her masts were 210
feet high, while the navigating bridge stood 110 feet above the keel.
At a moderate estimate, the cost of running her to New York and back,
including wages, victualling and fuel, was in 1914 about £30,000, and
she was operated, under the terms of the agreement with the Admiralty,
by a crew of which at least three-quarters had to be British subjects.
She was provided with boat accommodation for 2,605 persons, the number
of persons on board during her last voyage being 1,959. She carried 48
lifeboats, 22 of which were ordinary boats hanging from davits, with
a total carrying capacity of 1,323. The remaining 26 were collapsible
boats, with a total carrying capacity of 1,282. In addition, the ship
was provided with 2,325 life jackets and 35 lifebuoys, all of these
being conveniently distributed on board.
[Illustration: THE “ALAUNIA” AS AN EMERGENCY HOSPITAL SHIP]
Now at the beginning of the war it had been a very difficult question
for the directors of the Cunard Company to decide as to whether the
transatlantic traffic, under the new and unprecedented conditions,
would be sufficient to justify the continued running of two such large
and costly vessels as the _Lusitania_ and the _Mauretania_. It was
decided, however, after much consideration, that the _Lusitania_
could be run once a month, providing that her boiler power was reduced
by one-fourth. The consequent saving in coal and labour of this would,
the Directors considered, enable them to run the vessel without loss,
although with no hopes of making a profit. Six of the _Lusitania’s_
boilers were accordingly closed, and the ship began to run in these
conditions in November, 1914, the effect of the closing of the six
boilers being to reduce her maximum speed to 21 knots. It is to be
noted, however, that this reduction still left the _Lusitania_ very
considerably faster than any other transatlantic steamer.
Nor had she lacked in exciting experiences before the fatal 1st of
May, 1915, on which she left New York for the last time. On the very
day that war was declared in 1914, she had started from New York
for Liverpool, under the command of Captain Daniel Dow, one of the
best-known and most respected figures in the Cunard Company’s service,
who retired after 43 years’ service in 1919. Within a few hours of
leaving New York, an enemy warship was sighted on the horizon, and
observed to change her course immediately, with the presumed object of
intercepting the _Lusitania_. Without a moment’s hesitation, Captain
Dow set his course for a fog bank to the south, where he was soon lost
to sight by the enemy. As soon as he was out of view, Captain Dow swung
the _Lusitania_ round again and steamed northwards at his highest
speed. Having thus out-manoeuvred the hostile commander, he resumed
his eastward course again, navigating his great ship by night without
lights, and safely reaching Liverpool.
Again in February, 1915, while Captain Dow was still in command of her,
the _Lusitania_, on an eastward voyage, received a wireless message to
the effect that enemy submarines were cruising in the Irish Sea. He
received instructions to fly a neutral flag--a perfectly legitimate
ruse--and having on board some 400 Americans, together with the United
States mails, he decided to hoist the American flag. Having done so,
he crossed the Irish Sea at full speed, without stopping to take up
a pilot; steered straight for the Mersey, and once more brought his
vessel home in safety. Soon after this, Captain Dow, upon whom the
strain of responsibility had been very great, was retained ashore by
the Directors for a brief and much needed rest, and Captain W. T.
Turner, one of the Cunard Company’s most trusted commanders took his
place, with an assistant captain, Captain Anderson, also on board.
[Illustration: THE “LUSITANIA” PASSING THE OLD HEAD OF KINSALE, WITHIN
A FEW MILES OF THE SPOT WHERE SHE WAS TORPEDOED]
That an attempt was to be made upon the _Lusitania_ had for some days
been current rumour in New York, and on Saturday, May 1st, 1915, her
advertised sailing date, the following advertisement appeared in the
New York Times, New York Tribune, New York Sun, New York Herald, and
the New York World. “Travellers,” it stated, “intending to embark on
the Atlantic voyage are reminded that a state of war exists between
Germany and her Allies, and Great Britain and her Allies, that the
zone of war includes the waters adjacent to the British Isles, that in
accordance with formal notice given by the Imperial German Government,
vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or of any of her Allies, are
liable to destruction in those waters, that travellers travelling in
the war zone in ships of Great Britain or her Allies do so at their own
risk. April 22nd, 1915, The Imperial German Embassy, Washington, D.C.”
It is safe to say, however, that but small attention was paid to this
notice, very few people contemplating that such a diabolical threat
as was implied in this notice would be seriously carried out by any
civilised Christian Power. On the 1st May, therefore, the vessel sailed
in fine weather, and with a calm sea. The voyage till May 7th was
marked by no untoward event. As the danger zone was approached, Captain
Turner took all the necessary precautions. All the lifeboats under
davits were swung out; all bulkhead doors, except such as were required
to be kept open in order to work the ship, were closed, the portholes
being also closed; the look-outs on the ship were doubled--two men
being sent to the crow’s nest, and two to the eyes of the ship; two
officers were always on the bridge, and a quartermaster was stationed
on either side with instructions to look out for submarines.
Up to 8 o’clock on the morning of May 7th the vessel’s speed had been
maintained at 21 knots, but at 8 o’clock this was somewhat reduced,
the object being to ensure that the _Lusitania_ should arrive outside
the bar at the mouth of the Mersey at such an hour on the morning of
the 8th as would enable her to make immediate use of the tide, thus
avoiding loitering in a vicinity where Captain Turner had reason to
suppose enemy submarines might be watching for him. Soon after this
reduction of speed the weather became thick, and the fog into which she
had run necessitated a further reduction to 15 knots. Just before 12
o’clock, however, the fog lifted, and the vessel’s speed was increased
again to 18 knots--a speed that was maintained until she was struck by
the enemy torpedo.
[Illustration: THE “WHITE WAKE” THAT STRETCHED TO THE BEACHES OF
GALLIPOLI]
At the same time orders were sent to the engine-room to keep the
steam-pressure as high as possible, so that in case of emergency the
_Lusitania_ might be able to put on all possible speed, should this be
ordered from the bridge. Land was now in sight, about two points abaft
the beam, and Captain Turner took this to be Brow Head. Owing to the
recent fog, however, he was not able to identify it with sufficient
certainty to enable him to fix the _Lusitania_ upon the chart. He,
therefore, kept her upon her course, which was S.87.E and parallel with
the land, until twenty minutes to one, when, in order to make a better
landing, he altered the course to N.67.E.
This brought him nearer to the Irish Coast, and he shortly afterwards
sighted the old Head of Kinsale. Having identified this, at twenty
minutes to two, he altered his course back to S.87.E. and, having
steadied her on that course, began ten minutes later to have a four
point bearing taken, and this was being carried out when the ship was
torpedoed.
This occurred at a quarter past two, when the _Lusitania_ was steaming
some ten miles off the Old Head of Kinsale, the atmosphere having then
cleared and the sea being smooth. A seaman, Leslie N. Morton, seems
to have been the first person on board actually to have seen the wake
of the torpedo, and he reported it at once to the Second Officer,
who in turn reported it to Captain Turner, then on the port side of
the lower bridge. Captain Turner looking to starboard saw a streak
of foam travelling towards the ship, and immediately afterwards the
_Lusitania_ was struck full on the starboard side, between the third
and fourth funnels, the explosion breaking to splinters one of the
lifeboats. Almost simultaneously a second torpedo also struck her
on the starboard side, the two having been fired apparently from a
distance of from two to five hundred yards. No warning of any kind had
been given. Immediately on being struck the _Lusitania_ listed heavily
to starboard, and in less than twenty minutes she had sunk in deep
water, carrying to their graves no less than 1,198 men, women and
children.
[Illustration: TORPEDOING OF THE “THRACIA”]
Perhaps the most lucid, and, since he was an American, the most
impartial account of the occurrence was that afterwards given by Mr.
James Brooks of Bridgeport, Connecticut, one of the saloon passengers.
Mr. Brooks, who was making the voyage to England for business purposes,
had, in common with most of the other American passengers, read the
warning notice issued by the German Embassy, to which we have already
referred. Like most of his fellow-countrymen, however, he had decided
to ignore it. “No one in America,” he said, “ever dreamed that the
Germans would dare to carry out their terrible threat to destroy such a
magnificent vessel, and with it hundreds of the lives of innocent men,
women and children.... A good many passengers were still at lunch when,
on Friday afternoon, the attack came in reality. I had just finished a
run on deck and had reached the Marconi Deck, when I glanced out over
the water. It was perfectly smooth. My eyes alighted on a white streak
making its way with lightning-like rapidity towards the ship. I was
so high in that position above the surface of the water that I could
make out the outline of a torpedo. It appeared to be about twelve feet
long, and came along possibly three feet below the surface, its sides
white with bubbles of foam. I watched its passage, fascinated, until
it passed out of sight behind the bridge, and in another moment came
the explosion. The ship, recoiling under the force of the blow, was
jarred and lifted, as if it had struck an immovable object. A column
of water shot up to the bridge deck, carrying with it a lot of debris,
and, despite the fact that I must have been twenty yards from the
spot at which the torpedo struck, I was knocked off my feet. Before I
could recover myself, the iron forepart of the ship was enveloped in
a blinding cloud of steam, due, not, I think, to the explosion of a
second torpedo, as some thought, but to the fact that the two forehold
boilers had been jammed close together and ‘jack-knifed’ upwards. This
I was told by a stoker afterwards.
[Illustration: OFFICERS, NURSES AND R.A.M.C. ORDERLIES OF H.M.H.S.
“AQUITANIA”]
[Illustration: “HOMEWARD BOUND”]
“We had been in sight of land for some time, and the head of the ship,
which had already begun to settle, was turned towards the Old Head
of Kinsale. We must have been from twelve to fifteen miles from
land at the time the ship was struck. All the boats on the ship had
been swung out the day previous, and the work of launching them was
at once commenced. The attempt in the case of the first boat was a
tragic failure. The women and children were taken first and the boat
was practically filled with them, there being only a few men. The boat
was lowered until within its own length of the water, when the forward
tackle jammed, and the whole of its occupants, with the exception of
three, were thrown into the water. The _Lusitania_ was then on an even
keel. On the decks of the doomed vessel absolute coolness prevailed.
There was no rushing about, and nothing remotely resembling panic. In
just a few isolated cases there were signs of hysteria on the part of
the women, but that was all.
“Meanwhile the ship had taken a decided list, and was sinking rapidly
by the head. The efforts made to lower the boats had apparently not met
with much success. Those on the port side had swung inboard and could
not be used, while the collapsible boats which were lashed beneath
them could not be got at. The ladies were standing quite coolly,
waiting on board to enter the boats when they could be released by the
men from the davits. The davits by this time were themselves touching
the water, the ship having sunk so low that the bridge deck was only
four feet or so from the surface of the sea. Losing no time, the men
passed the women rapidly into the boats, and places had been found by
now for all the people about the midships section. I stepped into one
of the lifeboats and attempted to assist in getting it clear. I saw
the list was so great that the davits pinched the gear, rendering it
improbable that they could be got away when the ship went down, so I
stepped on to the gunwale and dived into the water. I had no lifebelt
and am not a good swimmer, but I decided to take the risk. I had been
wetted right through when the explosion occurred, and I believe that
had I gone in dry I should have swallowed so much water that I should
not have lasted long.
[Illustration: THE SUN-CURE]
[Illustration: THE “FRANCONIA” PASSING THROUGH THE SUEZ CANAL]
“I swam as hard as I could away from the vessel, and noticed with
feelings of apprehension the menacing bulk of the huge funnels as they
loomed up over my head. I expected them momentarily to fall on me
and crush me as I swam, but at last I judged myself to be clear, and I
turned round and trod the water in order to watch the great hull heel
over. The monster took a sudden plunge, and, noting the crowd still on
her decks and the heavily laden boats filling with helpless women and
children glued to her side, I sickened with horror at the sight. The
liner’s stern rose high out of the water; there was a thunderous roar
as of the collapse of a great building during a fire, and then she
disappeared, dragging hundreds of fellow-creatures into the vortex.
Many never rose again to the surface, but the sea rapidly grew black
with the figures of struggling men, women, and children. The wireless
installation came over with a crash into the sea. It struck my uplifted
arm as it fell, and I felt it pass over my body as it sank, almost
dragging me under.
“The rush of water over the steamer’s decks swept away a collapsible
boat, and I swam towards it. Another man reached it shortly after, and
after we were rescued I found him to be Mr. James Lauriat, jun., of
Boston. Two seamen also managed to swim to the boat and to climb on
to it. One had a knife, and the other asked me for mine, and together
they set about cutting away the canvas cover of the boat. When they
had finished, I climbed inside, and the three of them followed me. We
started to rescue the unfortunate people in the water, or at least
those of them who were still living. We quickly had about 30 of them in
the little craft. Around us in the water were scores of boats. There
were no oars in our boats. We managed to raise the sides of the boat as
they should be raised when the boat is in use, and we collected five
oars from the mass of floating timber in the water. Then we started
to row towards the lighthouse, which we could see in the distance.
At the time the liner was torpedoed there was absolutely no ship of
any kind in sight, with the exception of a trawler--the _Peel 12_, of
Glasgow; she was close inshore under the lighthouse, and, owing to
the lightness of the wind, she was of no use so far as the rescue of
persons actually in the sea was concerned. She came along as fast as
she could, however, and was able to pick up about one hundred and ten
persons from lifeboats and life-rafts. Her limited capacity was pushed
to the utmost, and I even had to sit with one leg hanging over
the sides because there was no room to put it on the inside. We took
in tow a lifeboat and a raft, which were also filled to the gunwale,
and when the occupants were able to be taken out they were cast off.
The auxiliary boat _Indian Prince_ had by that time arrived from
Queenstown. The _Peel 12_ was the first boat on the scene, and she was
followed by a tramp Greek steamer, which came up from the west, and was
able to pick up several lifeboats which had got away.”
[Illustration: AMERICAN TROOPS NEVER FORGOT THE “LUSITANIA”]
Such was the experience of Mr. Brooks, and in his moving narrative we
can not only divine something of a tragedy beyond the scope of any
human pen, but gather also an impression of heroism, of unquestioning
devotion to duty, at which every member of the Cunard Company may well
thrill with pride.
Particularly noticeable perhaps, was the conduct and sound judgment of
the young sailor, Leslie N. Morton, to whom we have already referred,
and he was especially commended by Lord Mersey, the Commissioner in
charge of the formal investigation afterwards held into the loss of
the _Lusitania_. This boy, for he was only 18, had been stationed
as extra look-out on the forecastle head, starboard side, during the
fatal watch; and it was, as we have said, he who was the first to
perceive the approach of the torpedo. This began, as he described it,
with a “big burst of foam about 500 yards away.” This was followed by
a “thin streak of foam, making for the ship at a rapid speed, followed
by another going parallel with the first one, and a little behind it.”
Having immediately reported this through a megaphone to the bridge,
Morton made for the forecastle to go down below to call his brother
who was asleep, and on the way there he saw what he took to be the
conning-tower of a submarine just submerging.
Having called his brother, he went along the starboard side of the
main deck and up on to the starboard side of the bridge deck, where he
found the starboard boats useless owing to the vessel’s heavy list.
He then went to his own boat No. 13, and assisted in filling it with
passengers. Giving up his own seat, he then went to No. 11 boat, and
assisted in filling that one also; and it was in this one that he
eventually took his place. Unfortunately, owing it appears to the
unskillful action of some of the passengers, this lifeboat was unable
to push away from the ship, and it was eventually sunk. Morton then
swam for it and succeeded in reaching an empty collapsible boat, into
which he climbed, succeeding with the help of another young sailor,
Joseph Parry, in ripping off the cover and rescuing from the water some
50 people. He then made for a fishing kedge about five miles away,
and having reached it transferred his passengers to it, and returned
for some more, subsequently rescuing about 30 people from a sinking
lifeboat--the little collapsible boat being subsequently rescued by a
mine-sweeper. These two boys were thus instrumental in saving nearly
100 lives; and in recognition of their bravery they were awarded
decorations by the Board of Trade, Morton receiving the Silver Medal
for Gallantry, and Parry the Bronze Medal for Gallantry.
Equally heroic was the conduct of the First Officer, Mr. Arthur
Rowland Jones, who was in the luncheon saloon when the torpedo struck
the vessel. He immediately went to his boat station on the starboard
side and began to fill his boat with passengers--a matter of extreme
difficulty, owing to the ever increasing angle which the ship was
presenting to the sea, which caused the boat to swing away from the
tilted surface of the deck. After great efforts, however, he succeeded
in getting about 80 passengers aboard before she was lowered into
the water, entered her himself when the boat deck was level with the
surface of the sea, and only some 15 seconds before the _Lusitania_
sank. It was fortunate for the passengers that he succeeded in doing
so, since it was only by his skill and coolness, combined with that of
two or three members of the crew who had also clambered on board, that
the little lifeboat was able to survive the suction and disturbance
caused by the disappearing liner.
[Illustration: IN THE SPRING OF 1918 THE “MAURETANIA” BROUGHT 33,000
AMERICAN SOLDIERS TO EUROPE]
She did so however, and afterwards transferred some of her passengers
into another empty boat, the two boats then putting back in order to
attempt further rescues. This they succeeded in doing, and the First
Officer again filled his boat up, thereupon pulling off to a little
fishing smack, the _Bluebell_, then about five miles distant. Having
disembarked his passengers, Mr. Jones once more went back to the scene
of the disaster, and after pulling some two and a half miles, fell in
with a broken collapsible boat in a bad condition with about 35
people inside it. Some of these were lying exhausted in the bottom of
the boat and others were injured, so Mr. Jones took them all on board,
afterwards transferring them to a trawler. He then pulled off once more
and saved yet another 10 people, whom he took to the _Flying Fox_, a
Queenstown Tender. By this time it was 8 o’clock in the evening, and
his crew were at the last point of exhaustion, having been working hard
without food and water. There was too, by this time, a large number of
destroyers and patrol boats on the scene, so Mr. Jones and his weary
helpers themselves boarded the _Flying Fox_.
Mention must also be made of the conduct of Alfred Arthur Bestwick,
the Junior Third Officer, who was responsible for the working of five
boats on the port side of the ship, and courageously remained there
endeavouring to launch them under practically impossible conditions,
until the _Lusitania_ went under. He was dragged down with her,
but fortunately came to the surface, and succeeded in reaching a
collapsible boat, into which, with the help of a companion, he dragged
several people from the water. These he transferred to a second and
more navigable empty boat that they afterwards came across; and he
then returned and saved three more people whom he had previously
noticed supporting themselves by means of a bread tank, besides taking
on board several others who were keeping themselves afloat by means of
lifebelts.
All this time on every hand deeds of self-sacrifice, recorded and
unrecorded, were being performed. A typical one was that of one of
the able seamen of the watch, who had been sucked down by the sinking
vessel and coming to the surface again had managed to sustain himself
by means of a floating piece of wood. Clutching this he then found
himself drifting towards a woman struggling unaided in the water,
whereupon he pushed towards her his piece of wood, which could only
support one person, and swam away himself on the chance of finding
some other means of escape. Presently he found a collapsible boat
containing one of the ship’s officers, and a few other persons, but
this unfortunately proved to be extremely unseaworthy. Capsizing again
and again, it was only righted by the determination and skill of this
seaman and his comrades, and on each occasion, alas, lives were lost
until but a few survivors remained to be picked up by another of the
ship’s boats.
[Illustration: THE “AQUITANIA’S” STAGE]
[Illustration: THE “SAXONIA,” CAMOUFLAGED, LEAVING NEW YORK WITH
AMERICAN TROOPS FOR EUROPE]
Such is the story of the greatest maritime crime in history and, now
that the war is over, it is well that it should not be forgotten, with
its record of heroism and self-sacrifice, of competent seamanship and
resourceful initiative, of suffering and death. Lord Mersey’s report on
the disaster, after he had heard a mass of evidence from officers and
men, as well as from surviving passengers, is a document which after
generations will read with pride. It contains not the personal opinion
merely of a former President of the Probate, Divorce and Admiralty
Division of the High Court of Justice, but is a considered judgment
in which Admiral Sir F. S. Inglefield and Lieutenant Commander Hearn,
both officers of the Royal Navy, and Captain D. Davies and Captain
J. Spedding, of the Merchant Service, acting as the four assessors,
concurred. The report contained a short, but consolatory statement of
the competency with which the sudden emergency was confronted when
the ship was attacked. “The Captain was on the bridge at the time his
ship was struck,” Lord Mersey recorded, “and he remained there giving
orders until the ship foundered. His first order was to lower all the
boats to the rail. This order was obeyed as far as it possibly could
be. He then called out ‘Women and children first.’ The order was then
given to hard-a-starboard the helm with a view to heading towards
the land, and orders were telegraphed to the engine-room. The orders
given to the engine-room are difficult to follow and there is obvious
confusion about them. It is not, however, important to consider them,
for the engines were put out of commission almost at once by the inrush
of water and ceased working, and the lights in the engine-room were
blown out. Leith, the Marconi operator, immediately sent out an S.O.S.
signal, and, later on, another message, ‘Come at once, big list, 10
miles south Head Old Kinsale.’ These messages were repeated continually
and were acknowledged. At first, the messages were sent out by the
power supplied from the ship’s dynamo; but in three or four minutes
this power gave out and the messages were sent out by means of the
emergency apparatus in the wireless cabin.”
[Illustration: WELCOMING THE FIRST CONTINGENT OF RETURNING AMERICAN
TROOPS, NEW YORK, DECEMBER, 1918]
[Illustration: THE “MAURETANIA” ARRIVING AT NEW YORK, DECEMBER, 1918]
Was the _Lusitania_ well found? Did she comply with the requirements of
the Merchant Shipping Acts? Was she armed? Did she carry war material?
Was the conduct of the Captains, officers and men consistent with
the high traditions of the Merchant Service? To all these questions the
report furnished satisfactory answers. The ship was well provided with
boats, which were in good order at the moment of the explosion, and
“the launching was carried out as well as the short time, the moving
ship, and the serious list would allow.” Lord Mersey added that he
found that the conduct of the masters--for as already stated there were
two--the officers and the crew was satisfactory. “They did their best
in difficult and perilous circumstances, and their best was good.”
And what of Captain Turner, upon whom the chief responsibility for the
safety of the ship and the lives of passengers and crew mainly rested?
He remained upon the bridge until the very last. He went down with the
unhappy vessel and was only rescued by chance after having been in the
water for three long hours. The Wreck Commissioner and the Assessors
examined his every act from the moment when the _Lusitania_ entered the
so-called “war zone” until this devoted officer found himself in the
water confronted with death. In the opinion of Lord Mersey, Captain
Turner “exercised his judgment for the best,” and the report added
that “it was the judgment of a skilled and experienced man.” Captain
Anderson, whose duty it was to assist in the care and navigation of the
ship was, unfortunately, one of the victims of this German crime, but
in Lord Mersey’s own words, “the two captains and the officers were
competent men and they did their duty”--and higher praise than that
there could not be.
“The whole blame for the cruel destruction of life in this catastrophe
must rest solely with those who plotted and with those who committed
the crime.” The disaster was regarded in all civilised countries with
horror. As Mr. Roosevelt said at the time, it represented “not merely
piracy, but piracy on a vaster scale of murder than any old-time
pirate ever practised,” and a Danish paper, in recording this terrible
incident in the war, declared that “whenever in future the Germans
venture to speak of their culture the answer will be ‘It does not
exist: it committed suicide on May 7th, 1915.’” A Norwegian paper
in denouncing the crime remarked that “the whole world looks with
horror and detestation on the event.” In fact, throughout the whole
civilised world the sinking of the _Lusitania_ with merciless disregard
for the lives of those on board, was condemned as an act of wholesale
murder which, as the _New York American_ added “violates all laws of
common humanity.”
[Illustration: “VALERIA” SINKING A SUBMARINE]
In defiance of the judgment of civilisation, this dastardly act was
hailed in Germany as a proud triumph. The _Kolnische Volkszeitung_ of
May 10th, 1915, stated “The sinking of the _Lusitania_ is a success for
our submarines which must be placed beside the greatest achievements
in this naval war.... The sinking of the great British steamer is a
success, the moral significance of which is still greater than the
material success. With joyful pride we contemplate this latest deed of
our Navy, and it will not be the last.” In the _Cologne Gazette_, of
five days later, it was stated that “the news will be received by the
German people with unanimous satisfaction, since it proves to England
and the whole world that Germany is quite in earnest with regard to
her submarine warfare.” In the _Neue Freie Presse_ of the same date it
was remarked, “We rejoice over this new success of the German Navy.”
The City of Magdeburg immediately proposed to honour the officers and
men who had slaughtered so many hundreds of defenceless men, helpless
women, and innocent children and brought the anguish of bereavement on
so many hundreds of homes on both sides of the Atlantic. And to crown
this achievement, which stands in isolation in the annals of the human
race, a medal was struck in Munich commemorating this exploit of the
German Fleet, which was afterwards to be surrendered and, then, to be
scuttled by its own officers in Scapa Flow.
[Illustration: IN VIEW OF THE FATE OF SO MANY HOSPITAL SHIPS, BOAT
DRILL WAS REGULARLY CARRIED OUT ON THE GREAT CUNARDERS]