CHAPTER IVThe Ordeal of theLusitania

Oh, have you ever seen a foundered horse,His great heart broken by a task too greatFor his endurance, but unbroken yetHis spirit—striving to complete his course,Failing at last, eyes glazed and nostril wide,And have not ached with pity? Pity nowA brave ship shattered by a coward blowThat once had spurned the waters in her pride.N. N. F. Corbett.

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.

Withthe 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 theLusitania, 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 andIreland 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.”

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 theattacking 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 theLusitaniamay not perhaps have been the case, but, as we have seen, it was by means of theLusitaniaand her sister ship theMauretaniathat the “blue ribbon” of the Atlantic, in the matter of speed, had been wrested from German hands.

“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, and72 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 abovethe 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.

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 theLusitaniaand theMauretania. It was decided, however, after much consideration,that theLusitaniacould 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 theLusitania’sboilers 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 theLusitaniavery 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 theLusitania.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 theLusitaniaround 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, theLusitania, 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, oneof the Cunard Company’s most trusted commanders took his place, with an assistant captain, Captain Anderson, also on board.

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 theLusitaniahad 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 wasimplied 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 theLusitaniashould 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 enemysubmarines 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.

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 theLusitaniamight 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 theLusitaniaupon 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 twentyminutes 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 theLusitaniawas 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 theLusitaniawas 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 theLusitanialisted 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.

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 towardsthe 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.

Officers, nurses and R.A.M.C. orderlies of H.M.H.S. “Aquitania”

“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 ofKinsale. 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. TheLusitaniawas 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 themcould 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.

The sun-cure

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 themmomentarily 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 toit. 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—thePeel 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 sitwith 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 boatIndian Princehad by that time arrived from Queenstown. ThePeel 12was 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.”

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 theLusitania. This boy, for he was only 18, had been stationedas 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 shipwas 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 theLusitaniasank. 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.

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, theBluebell, 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 withabout 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 theFlying 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 theFlying 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 theLusitaniawent 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 afterwardscame 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.

The “Aquitania’s” stage

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 wasobeyed 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.”

Welcoming the first contingent of returning American troops, New York, December, 1918

The “Mauretania” arriving at New York, December, 1918

Was theLusitaniawell 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 theLusitaniaentered 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 onthe event.” In fact, throughout the whole civilised world the sinking of theLusitaniawith merciless disregard for the lives of those on board, was condemned as an act of wholesale murder which, as theNew York Americanadded “violates all laws of common humanity.”

“Valeria” sinking a Submarine

In defiance of the judgment of civilisation, this dastardly act was hailed in Germany as a proud triumph. TheKolnische Volkszeitungof May 10th, 1915, stated “The sinking of theLusitaniais 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 theCologne 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 theNeue Freie Presseof the same date it was remarked, “We rejoice over this new success of the German Navy.” The Cityof 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.

In view of the fate of so many hospital ships, boat drill was regularly carried out on the great Cunarders

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