How heavy the hand of war has fallen upon neutrals may be judged from a comparison of sea casualties. Italy lost twenty-one steamers with a gross tonnage of 70,000 in the period before the reader, while Norway, a neutral, lost fifty steamers having an aggregate tonnage of 96,000, more than 25 per cent larger. Total allied shipping losses numbered 481 steamships having a tonnage of 1,621,000, and fifty-seven sailing vessels, with a tonnage of 47,000. One hundred and forty-six neutral craft were sunk, whose tonnage reached 293,375, while sailing vessels to the number of forty-two, with a tonnage of 24,001, were lost. Germany's methods cost innocent bystanders among the nations almost one-fifth of the damage done to her foes' commercial fleets.
Inclusive of trawlers, 980 merchant craft had been sunk by the end of February, of which 726 were vessels of good size. It was destruction upon a scale never seen before, an economic pressure that made former wars seem mere tournaments. And Germany's most desperate attempts failed to accomplish her end—the halting of allied commerce. Although it was mathematically certain that a percentage of the ships sailing every day would be torpedoed, the world's trade went on in the usual channels.
There was a brighter side to the situation. "After more than a year of war," says a British admiralty statement, "the steam shipping of Great Britain increased eighty-eight vessels and 344,000 tons. France at the end of 1915 was only short nine steamers and 12,500 tons of the previous year's total. Italy and Russia both show an increase in tonnage.
"It is therefore clear that the shortage of tonnage is due not to the action of submarines, but to the great requirements of the military and naval forces. The latest published statement of these show that they are demanding 3,100 vessels."
Another turn was given to the controversy over sea laws during the first quarter of 1916 by the arming of many British and a considerable proportion of Italian passenger vessels. Earlier in the war a few British ships came into New York harbor with guns aboard, but they were forced to abandon the plan because of American protests. The second attempt was different and so were the circumstances. Germany had shown a disregard for the helplessness of passenger craft that did not permit of forcible objection to the adoption of defensive methods by such vessels. The Italians, in particular, displayed a resolute spirit. Diplomatic hints had no weight at Rome and one after another the Italian liners came into New York with trim three-inch pieces fore and aft. They had a most suggestive look and were manned by crews trained in the navy. Not since the days of open piracy had armed merchant ships been seen in American waters. Their presence recalled the time when every ship that sailed was prepared to fight or run as necessity might dictate.
Germany flatly refused to consider merchantmen with guns aboard as anything but warships, and gave notice that she would sink them without warning. Once more the relations of Germany and the United States reached a point that bordered on an open break. Although this never quite happened, the United States temporizing and the kaiser's agents granting just enough to prevent a rupture, the situation was exceedingly delicate. American contentions ultimately were met by the promise that armed craft would not be attacked unless they made an offensive move. This left things as they had been before. There was no world court to decide what an offensive move meant, nor to enforce a decision.
The White Star line announced in the closing week of February, 1916, that passenger service between the United States and England would be discontinued until further notice. This meant that all of the company's ships had been requisitioned for the carrying of munitions. It betokened a more intensive preparation for the prosecution of the war by England and her Allies. It also pointed to the swelling tide of supplies flowing from America.
France was to sustain the supreme affliction of the war at sea on February 26, 1916. La Provence was sunk that day. She had sailed from Marseilles with 3,500 soldiers and a crew of 500 men, bound for Saloniki. A torpedo sent her to the bottom, along with 3,300 of those on board, representing the greatest tragedy of the sea in history. The attack took place in the Mediterranean and the big liner plunged beneath the waves in less than fifteen minutes after she had been struck.
Few vessels enjoyed such fame as the La Provence. Built in 1905, she broke the transatlantic record on her first trip across, defeating the new Deutschland of the Hamburg-American line in a spectacular dash that brought her from Havre to New York hours ahead of the best previous record. With a registry of 19,000 tons and engines generating 30,000 horsepower she was a ship of exceptional grace. Not until the Lusitania came into service did the La Provence surrender her distinction of being the fastest vessel afloat, and strangely enough both she and the Lusitania were to fall victims of German submarines.
When the torpedo that cost so many lives exploded within the hull of the La Provence, killing a good part of the engineroom crew, it was seen that only a few of her large company could escape. Lifeboats, rafts, and the makeshift straws to safety that could be seized upon in emergency accommodated a bare 700 and odd men. The troops gathered on the upper decks and sang the "Marseillaise" as the great hull settled in the water. Officers embraced their men, some indulged in a last whiff of tobacco, others prayed for the folks at home. Commandant Vesco stood on the bridge and directed the launching of the few boats that got away. Then, as the vessel came even with the waves, he tossed his cap overboard and cried: "Adieu, my boys." As one man they answered: