A German Submarine awash. Photo, Central News.
Of course, the German submarines could not completely blockade the coasts of the British Isles, nor could they take into port the ships which they stopped and searched. In the latter case they might be justified in sinking the ships, but they would be guilty of crime if they did not save the crews and passengers. A submarine cannot possibly take off the crews of merchant vessels, for it has no accommodation for them. Von Tirpitz's plan was piracy, and nothing else. In order to find an excuse, the Germans declared that all the wheat and flour coming into Germany from abroad belonged to the Government. The British now seized the cargoes of ships thus laden, because they were the property of an enemy Government. Then the Germans began to call heaven and earth to witness that Great Britain was trying to starve German women and children. Horrible pictures were painted of innocent people perishing of hunger. A German newspaper put the enemy's view in a nutshell when it said, "England wants to employ every means to shorten the war. The number of lives that would be lost if she could starve Germany is nothing to her. . . . Whether we wish it or not, we must seek to destroy England's life-nerve—namely, her merchant shipping." How she attempted to do this we shall read in the next chapter.
CHAPTER XI.
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.