The film ends.
WHILE MOVING downriver Turner kept his speed slow, as freighters, lighters, tugs, and ferries of all sizes adjusted their own courses to make way. The Hudson here was busy. A 1909 sea chart shows the shore of Manhattan so closely packed with piers as to evoke a piano keyboard. The river was also surprisingly shallow, just deep enough to accept the Lusitania’s nearly 36-foot draft. Turner’s crew had balanced the vessel so well that at the time of departure the draft at the bow, as indicated by markings on the hull, was just 4 inches deeper than at the stern.
The river was lined on both sides with piers and terminals; on the New Jersey flank—the right side as the ship moved down the river—lay the vast track-covered wharves of various railroads, among them the Erie, the Pennsylvania, and the New Jersey Central. On the left was a succession of piers, bearing, in order of descent down the Hudson, names that spoke to the ubiquity of sea travel:
South Pacific Co.
Colonial Line
Albany Line
Clyde Line
Savannah Line
People’s Line
Old Dominion Line
Ben Franklin Line
Fall River Line
Providence Line
Here too were the many ferries that carried goods and people between New Jersey and the city, with terminals at Desbrosses, Chambers, Barclay, Cortland, and Liberty Streets. The ferry to the Statue of Liberty operated from the southernmost tip of Manhattan.
As the Lusitania made its way through the harbor, signs of the war became evident. The ship passed one of Germany’s crack liners, the giant Vaterland, tied to a Hoboken wharf. Over 60 percent larger in gross tonnage than the Lusitania, the Vaterland had once held the Blue Riband, but on the first day of the war the ship had ducked for safety into New York Harbor, to avoid being captured and put to use by the British navy, a very real possibility, as the passengers of the Lusitania soon would discover. The Vaterland and its crew had been effectively interned in New York ever since. At least seventeen other German liners were likewise stranded.
Below the Battery, where the Hudson and East Rivers met to form New York Bay, the waters grew deeper and more spacious. Here Turner encountered familiar landmarks. To the right, Ellis Island and next, of course, Miss Liberty on Bedloe’s Island; on his left, Governors Island with its circular fortress-prison, Castle Williams, followed by Red Hook in Brooklyn and the breakwater of the Erie Basin. In the distance sprawled the Black Tom wharves, a vast munitions depot, which before the war’s end would be destroyed in an apparent act of sabotage. Ever mindful of traffic, Turner maintained a slow speed, especially in the Narrows, which were always clogged with ocean liners and freighters, and perilous in fog. Bells peeled in the haze as random wakes tipped buoys, evoking the sounds of churches on Sunday morning.
Meanwhile, the Lusitania’s purser and stewards conducted their usual inspection to detect stowaways. This being wartime, they did so with extra care and soon had three men in custody. The men appeared to speak only German; one carried a camera.
The discovery was reported to Staff Captain Anderson. He in turn requested the assistance of Pierpoint, the Liverpool detective, and called as well for the ship’s interpreter. They learned little, other than that the three men were indeed German. What the stowaways intended to accomplish was unclear, but later speculation held that they hoped to find and photograph evidence that the ship was armed or carried contraband munitions.
The three were locked below decks in a makeshift brig, pending arrival in Liverpool, at which point they were to be turned over to British authorities. News of the arrests was kept from the passengers.
ALTA PIPER, the daughter of the famous medium, never made it aboard; neither did she refund her ticket. Unable to ignore the night’s voices, but also apparently unable to step forth and just cancel, she chose the path taken by indecisive people throughout history and spent the morning of departure packing and repacking her bags, over and over, letting the clock run out, until at last she heard the distant horn marking the ship’s departure.
U-20
TOWARD FAIR ISLE
AT DAWN, SATURDAY, ABOARD U-20, THERE WAS COFFEE, bread, marmalade, cocoa. The boat’s ventilators issued a monotonous buzz. Schwieger, atop the conning tower, noted that the sea was calm, “here and there rain and fog.” A steamship appeared up ahead but was so obscured by mist and gray that he chose not to attack. Members of the crew took turns smoking on deck, a pastime forbidden within the boat itself.