THE SINKING OF THE "LUSITANIA."
The Germans were quite right in speaking of our mercantile marine as our "life-nerve." In 1913 we had nearly 39,600 merchant vessels, with a tonnage of more than 14,000,000 tons. You will get some idea of the vastness of our overseas trade when I tell you that the tonnage of ships owned in Liverpool alone exceeds that of the German Empire. On an average about 1,400 merchant vessels enter and leave our ports every week. This means that the submarines which were now going to destroy our "life-nerve" were presented with about two hundred targets a day.
You must not suppose that the Germans waited until 18th February to begin their attacks on our merchant vessels. Early in February the German submarine U21 appeared in the Irish Sea, and proceeded to sink three small ships. On the same day other enemy submarines sank ships in the English Channel, one of them, the Toko Maru, being laden with mutton, stores, and clothing for Belgian refugees. Between "Pirate Day," 18th February, and 11th April, fifty-eight ships were attacked, most of which were sent to the bottom. Neutral as well as British ships were sunk by the submarines, several of them without warning. Sometimes the officers gave ten minutes' grace to allow passengers and crews to take to the boats; but in other cases the ships were sunk at sight, and more than once shells were fired at men in the boats who were trying to rescue their comrades struggling in the water. Frequently fast steamers escaped, and more than one vessel charged down on the attacking submarine. The Thordis, for example, crashed at full speed into the submarine which threatened her off Beachy Head, and sent it to the bottom.
On 1st March Great Britain declared a blockade of Germany. By this time it was apparent that as a means of reducing our food supply or weakening our determination to continue the war, Germany's submarine "blockade" had proved to be a failure. Between 18th February and the middle of August less than one and a half per cent. of our ships were sunk, and we went on our way quite unmoved. Neutral countries, however, saw clearly what Germany's command of the sea would mean to them. The American nation was soon to be roused to the highest pitch of indignation by one of the foulest crimes ever committed.
Already four American ships had been destroyed by the Germans, and several American citizens had been drowned. On 27th March the British steamer Falaba was sunk off the Pembrokeshire coast with a loss of 112 lives, including that of an American. The Germans did not wait until all the boats had been lowered before firing a torpedo into the steamer's side, and then, not content with sending so many helpless people to their doom, they watched them struggling in the icy waters without lifting a hand to help them. It is even said that they mocked and jeered at the drowning men and women. "This is not war; it is murder," said the New York Times. This crime, however, was soon to be outdone.
On May 7, 1915, the Cunard liner Lusitania was steaming a few miles south-west of the old Head of Kinsale, on her homeward voyage to Liverpool. She was one of the largest and finest liners afloat. She was totally unarmed, and she carried passengers and crew to the number of 1,906, many of them being citizens of the United States. Before she left New York her passengers had been warned that the Germans meant to sink her. Nobody, however, dreamed that even Germans could descend to such depths of infamy.
As the Lusitania approached the Irish coast she received a message from the Admiralty warning her that German submarines were in the neighbourhood. She had reduced her speed to eighteen knots, so as not to arrive at the Mersey bar before the tide was high enough to enable her to cross. An artist who was saved thus described what happened:—
"The voyage from New York to London was made in excellent weather. The sun shone all the way, and on the afternoon of the disaster a golden sun lit up a beautifully blue, calm sea. I think I can say that I was one of the four people who really saw the torpedo discharged at the Lusitania. I was in the dining-room about 2.15, and had just finished luncheon. I went out, and leaned against the starboard side of the vessel, just outside the palm lounge. I saw the periscope of a submarine about 200 yards away. Then I noticed a long white streak of foam. It gave me the impression of a frothy fizzing in the water. A lady and two gentlemen came up to me and exclaimed, 'Is that a torpedo?' I felt too sick to answer, and turned away. Almost immediately there was a terrific impact, followed by the explosion. . . ."
Steam and smoke came up between the two last funnels, and almost immediately there was a second report, probably due to the bursting of the main steam pipe. "I at once gave the order," said Captain Turner at the inquest, "to lower the boats down to the rails, and I directed that the women and children should be got into them. The moment the vessel was struck she listed to starboard. I stood on the bridge as she sank, and the Lusitania went down under me. She floated about eighteen minutes after the torpedo struck her." An English passenger thus described the scene as the Lusitania sank:—
"Nearly a score of the boats on the port side were filled with passengers, but it was found impossible to lower them owing to that side of the ship standing so high above the water. I managed to get across to starboard. The ship's deck was then level with the sea. I made for a boat which was just putting off, and, in fact, had one foot on the craft and the other on the ship. Then, owing to something going wrong, the lifeboat jammed, and all the occupants were thrown into the water. It was a terrible moment. The passengers in the boat, including women, screamed with terror, and soon sank. Other boats collapsed or turned over, and hundreds of people, men, women, and children, were struggling helplessly in the water, some clinging to boats which had been upset. I struck out, and managed, after swimming for about fifteen minutes, to come across a boat, into which I was dragged. Hundreds of people were on rafts, and the sea was alive with men and women."
There was no ship of any kind in sight when the Lusitania was torpedoed, except a Peel trawler which was lying inshore. She started at once to the rescue; but the wind was light, and she was slow in arriving. Nevertheless she managed to pick up over a hundred persons from lifeboats or rafts. So crowded was the trawler with rescued people that some had to sit with their legs dangling over the side. Other trawlers and boats from Kinsale came to the rescue, and later on the Indian Prince, a steamer from Queenstown, arrived, and began to pick up survivors. When the death-roll was finally made up, it was discovered that 1,134 persons had been killed by the explosion or drowned. Over a hundred American citizens went down that day.
