THE SINKING OF THE LUSITANIA
The mistress of the seas--Plotting in New York--The _Lusitania's_
escape in February, 1915--The advertised warning--The plot--May 7,
1915--Diplomatic correspondence--Gustave Stahl--The results.
In the eyes of the German Admiralty the _Lusitania_ was the symbol
of British supremacy on the seas. There were larger ships flying the
Prussian flag, but one of them lay in her German harbor, the other
at her Little-German pier in Hoboken, while the _Lusitania_ swept
gracefully over the Western Ocean as she regally saw fit, leaving only
a thin trail of smoke for the sluggish undersea enemy to follow. Time
and again during the early months of war the plotters in Berlin had
attempted her destruction, and every time she had slipped away--until
the last, when the plot was developed on American soil.
[Illustration: _Copyright, International Film Service_
The _Lusitania_ leaving the Hudson River on her last voyage]
Her destruction would carry home to Germany news of heartening
influence out of all proportion to the mere sinking of a large single
tonnage. The German visible navy had, with the exception of scattering
excursions into the North Sea, and the swiftly quenched efforts of the
South Atlantic fleet, been of negligible--and irksome--consequence.
To sink the mistress of the British merchant fleet would be to inform
all the world that Britain was incapable of protecting her cargo and
passenger vessels, to puncture the comfortable British boast of the
moment that business was being performed "as usual," and to gratify
the blood-letting instincts of the Junkers. So von Tirpitz, with his
colleagues, undertook to sink the _Lusitania_, and to warn neutrals to
travel in their own ships or stay ashore.
Early in December, 1914, the German agents who met nightly at the
Deutscher Verein in Central Park South speculated on ways and means of
bringing down this attractive quarry. Communication between Berlin and
New York at that time was as facile as a telephone conversation from
the Battery to Harlem. There were new 110-kilowatt transmitters in
the German-owned Sayville wireless station, imported through Holland
and installed under the expert supervision of Captain Boy-Ed, and
memoranda issued in Berlin to the naval attaché were frequently the
subject of guarded conversation in the German Club within a few hours
after they had left the Wilhelmstrasse. Occasionally the conspirators
found it more tactful to drive through the Park in a limousine during
the evening, to discuss the project. Spies had made several trips to
Liverpool and back again aboard the ship, under false passports, and
Paul Koenig's waterfront henchmen supplied all necessary information
of the guard maintained at the piers. All this was passed up to the
clearing-house of executives, and their plans began to take shape.
Boy-Ed possessed a copy of the secret British Admiralty code, which
explained his frequent trips to Sayville. He knew--and Tirpitz's staff
therefore knew--the position of any British vessel at sea which had
occasion to utter any message into the air. But before he conceived a
use for this code other than as a source of information, he decided to
try out a code of his own.
He arranged with Berlin a word-system whose theory was popular with
Germany throughout the earlier years of her secret war communication:
under the guise of apparently harmless expressions of friendship, or
grief, or simple business, were transmitted quite definite and specific
secret meanings. A message addressed by wireless from the _Lusitania_
to a friend in England which read for example "Eager to see you. Much
love" would scarcely arouse suspicion, especially as there was no
word in it which might suggest military information. Yet in February,
1915, a message of that type was despatched from the eastward-bound
_Lusitania_ to a British station; it was intercepted and interpreted
by a German submarine commander in the "zone" nearby, who presently
popped up in the ship's wake and fired a torpedo. His information was
better than his aim. The _Lusitania_ dodged the steel shark, and fled
to safety, her wireless informing the British naval world meanwhile of
the presence of the U-boat.
The plotters had to reckon with her unequalled speed. The _Lusitania_
and her sister ship, the _Mauretania_, had each rather prided herself
in the past on reducing the other's fresh, bright passage-record from
Queenstown to New York--a record of four days and a few hours! The
submarine of 1915 knew no such speed, and it was necessary, if the
liner was to be torpedoed, to select out of the vastness of the ocean
one little radius in which the submarine might lie in wait for a
pot-shot. But just how?
Spies had reported that it was customary as the _Lusitania_ neared the
Irish coast on her homeward voyage for her captain to query the British
Admiralty for instructions as to where her convoy might be expected.
They reported that under certain conditions German agents might be
placed on board. And they reported that the wireless operator was
susceptible to bribery. Those three facts formed the nucleus of the
final plan.
Audacious as they were in their use of American soil as the base for
their plans, the German Embassy had certain obligations to the United
States Government, which they felt must be observed. The unspeakable
falsifying which is sometimes called expediency, sometimes diplomacy,
required that official America must know nothing of the intentions of
which the Embassy itself was fully conversant and approving. Further,
a palliative must be supplied to the American people in advance.
Consequently Count von Bernstorff, under orders from Berlin, inserted
in the _New York Times_ of April 23, 1915, the following advertisement:
NOTICE
Travelers 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 German Imperial Government, vessels
flying the flag of Great Britain or any of her Allies are liable
to destruction in these waters and that travelers sailing in the
war zone on ships of Great Britain or her Allies do so at their
own risk.
IMPERIAL GERMAN EMBASSY.
Washington, D. C., April 22d, 1915.
[Illustration: OCEAN TRAVEL
NOTICE!
TRAVELLERS 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 and
that travellers sailing in the war zone on ships of Great Britain or
her allies do so at their own risk.
IMPERIAL GERMAN EMBASSY
WASHINGTON, D. C., APRIL 22. 1915.
The newspaper advertisement inserted among "ocean travel" advertising
by the Imperial German Embassy prior to the _Lusitania's_ departure on
what proved to be her last voyage]
Germans in New York who knew of the plot dropped hints to their
friends; anonymous warnings were received by several passengers who had
booked their accommodations; Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt received such a
message, signed "Morte." But such whispers were common, the _Lusitania_
had outrun the submarines before and could presumably do it again;
further, most Americans at that moment had some confidence left in
civilization.
The plot was substantially this: when Captain Turner, on the last
day of the voyage, should send his wireless query to the Admiralty,
inquiring for his convoy of destroyers, a wireless reply in the British
code directing his course must be sent to him from Sayville. His query
would be heard and answered by the Admiralty, of course, but the
genuine reply must not reach him.
Berlin assigned two submarines to a point ten miles south by west of
the Old Head of Kinsale, near the entrance to St. George's Channel. She
selected an experienced commander for the especial duty, and with him
went a secret agent to shadow him as he opened his sealed instructions,
and shoot him if he balked. And about the time when the U-boats slipped
out of the Kiel Canal, and threaded their way through the mine-fields
into the North Sea, submerging as they picked up the smoke of British
ships on the western horizon, the _Lusitania_ warped out of her pier in
the Hudson River and set her prow for Sandy Hook, the Grand Banks, and
Ireland.
She carried 1,254 passengers and a crew of eight hundred, a total of
more than 2,000 souls, of whom 1,214 were sailing to their death.
Germany had selected their graves; von Rintelen had two friends aboard
who were detailed to flash lights from the portholes in case the ship
made the submarine rendezvous at night. The _Lusitania_ carried bombs
which Dr. Karl Schimmel placed on board; she carried bombs which
wretched little Klein placed on board; she carried, too, the creature
who was to betray her. Her company was gay enough, and interesting;
besides Mr. Vanderbilt her passenger list included Charles Frohman,
the most important of theatrical managers; Elbert Hubbard, a quaint
and lovable writer-artisan; Charles Klein, a playwright; Justus Miles
Forman, a novelist; and numerous others of more or less celebrity,
among them an actress who lived to reënact her part in the tragedy
for the benefit of herself and a motion picture company. Ruthless as
it was, the _Lusitania_ also carried Lindon W. Bates, Jr., a youth
whose family had befriended von Rintelen. And there were the women and
children.
Meanwhile, Sayville was in readiness, a trained wireless operator
prepared at any moment to hear Captain Turner's inquiry, and to flash
a false reply with a perfect British Admiralty touch. On May 5 Captain
Boy-Ed received word from Berlin that he had been awarded the Iron
Cross. On May 7 the _Lusitania_ spoke: Captain Turner's request for
instructions. Presently the reply came, and was hurried to his cabin.
From his code book he deciphered directions to "proceed to a point ten
miles south of Old Head of Kinsale and thence run into St. George's
Channel, arriving at the Liverpool bar at midnight." He carefully
calculated the distance and his running time on the assumption that he
was protected on every side by the British fleet, and set his course
for the Old Head of Kinsale.
The British Admiralty also received Captain Turner's inquiry, just as
the Sayville operator had snatched it from the air, and despatched
an answer: orders that the _Lusitania_ proceed to a point some 70 or
80 miles south of the Old Head of Kinsale, there to meet her convoy.
_Captain Turner never received that message._ The British Government
knows why the message was not delivered, though the fact has not, at
this date, been made public.
The _Lusitania_ headed northeast all morning. At 1:20 o'clock she ran
the gauntlet of two submarines; a torpedo was released, and found its
target. The ghastly details of what followed have been told so fully,
so vividly, and so appealingly that they need not be repeated here.
They made themselves heard around a world that was already vibrant with
uproar. The first sodden tremor of the ship told Captain Turner that
he had been betrayed. He described later at the Coroner's inquest how
he had received orders supposedly from the Admiralty, and had set out
to obey them. He produced the copy of those orders, but of the genuine
message from the Admiralty he knew nothing. Asked if he had made
special application for a convoy, he said: "No, I left that to them. It
is their business, not mine. I simply had to carry out my orders to go,
and I would do it again."
America was in a turmoil. Germany had presumed too far; she--it is
almost incongruous to call Germany "she"--had believed that her warning
declaration that the waters about the British isles were a war zone
would be respected, or if not respected, would serve as an excuse, and
that the torpedoing would be accepted calmly by America. She was not
prepared for Colonel Roosevelt's burning denunciation of this act of
common piracy, nor for the angry editorial remonstrance of a people
outraged at the loss of one hundred and fourteen American lives. But
Germany recovered her presumptuous poise swiftly, and while ugly
medals were being struck off commemorating the German triumph over
the ship, and while destroyers were still searching British waters
for the bodies of the dead, she sent a note of commiseration and
sympathy to Washington. Three days later--on May 13--the United States
conveyed to Berlin a strong protest against the submarine policy which
had culminated in the sinking of the _Lusitania_. Three days before
Germany replied on May 28, a submarine attacked an American steamer,
the _Nebraska_, and the Imperial government followed up its first reply
with a supplementary note justifying its previous attacks upon the
American vessels _Gulflight_ and _Cushing_. Germany's fat was in the
fire.
A German editor in the United States had the effrontery to announce
that American ships would be sunk as readily as the _Lusitania_.
Secretary Bryan, of the Department of State, at that time a confirmed
pacifist, resigned his post on June 8, thus drawing the sting of a
second and sharper protest which went forward to Germany the next
day. To this the Foreign Office replied on July 8 that American
ships would be safe in the submarine zone under certain conditions,
and the President on July 21 rejected this diplomatic sop as "very
unsatisfactory." Count von Bernstorff finally announced, on September
1, that German submarines would sink no more liners without warning,
and his government ratified his promise a fortnight later. The
promise was at best a quibble, and it in no way restricted undersea
depredations upon commerce and human life. After the _Lusitania_
affair followed the _Leelanaw_, the _Arabic_, and the _Hesperian_
and on February 16, 1916, Germany acknowledged her liability for the
_Lusitania's_ destruction--the day after Secretary Lansing declared the
right of commercial vessels to arm themselves in self-defense, and five
days before the Crown Prince began the ten-months' battle of Verdun.
The published correspondence of the State Department gives in detail
the negotiations regarding maritime relations, a record of Imperial
hypocrisy which indicates clearly the desire and intention of the
Germans to retain their submarine warfare at any cost. There is not
space here to brief the papers, nor any great need, for it was the
_Lusitania_ which dictated the tone and outcome of the correspondence,
and which brought the United States rudely face to face with the cruel
facts of war.
In spite of these facts, Germany employed her agents in desperate,
devious and futile attempts to gloss over the crime. Relatives of those
who had drowned were persuaded by agents (one of them was "a lawyer
named Fowler, now under Federal indictment on another count") to sue
the Cunard Line for damages for having mounted guns on the liner,
thus making her liable to attack. Paul Koenig paid a German, Gustave
Stahl, of Hoboken, to swear to an affidavit that he had seen guns on
the ship; this affidavit was forwarded by Captain Boy-Ed on June 1, to
Washington, and had a wide temporary effect upon public sentiment until
Stahl was convicted of perjury and sentenced to 18 months in Atlanta.
It was Koenig who hid Stahl where neither the police nor the press
could find him after he made his statement, and it was Koenig who, at
the command of the Federal authorities, produced him. It was Rintelen
who dined on the night of the tragedy at the home of one of the
victims; it was Rintelen who received the news with a mild expression
of regret because "he had two good men aboard."
Tactically Germany had attained her objectives; her submarines had
obeyed orders and sunk a liner. Strategically Germany had made a gross
miscalculation; recruiting in England took a pronounced rise, the
Admiralty was shocked into redoubled vigilance, the United States
instead of swallowing the affront complicated the question of the
freedom of the seas beyond all untangling except by force of arms, and
beside the word "Belgium" on the calendar of crime the world wrote the
word "_Lusitania_," as equally typical of the warfare of the Hun.