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.
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.
The “Aquitania’s” stage