U-20 continued north, well off the eastern coast of England, following a course that would take it over the top of Scotland, then south along Scotland’s west coast. From there Schwieger would make his way farther south to Ireland and sail down Ireland’s west coast, then turn left to enter the Celtic and Irish Seas between Ireland and England and proceed to his destination, Liverpool Bay. This route was far longer, certainly, than traveling through the English Channel but also much safer.
The boat moved through 4-foot swells, against winds that now came from the northeast. Schwieger’s lookouts watched for other ships, but in such gray and dreary conditions it was hard to spot the plumes of smoke exhausted by steamers.
Visibility remained poor throughout the day, and in late afternoon again worsened, until Schwieger once more found himself enclosed in fog. By this time, U-20 was crossing the sea-lanes off Edinburgh, Scotland, that funneled into the Firth of Forth. On a sunny day, with so many ships coming and going, the possibility of finding a target in these waters would have been high; but now, in the fog, attack was impossible and the risk of collision great. At four o’clock he ordered the boat to submerge and descend again to cruising depth.
That night the skies cleared, and stars arced from horizon to horizon. U-20 surfaced and Schwieger set a course toward Fair Isle, in the Shetland Islands, astride the imaginary line that divided the North Sea and the North Atlantic.
Two days out, and no longer able to communicate with his superiors, Schwieger was now wholly on his own.
LUSITANIA
RENDEZVOUS
ONCE OUTSIDE NEW YORK HARBOR, THE LUSITANIA accelerated, but Captain Turner did not yet order its cruising speed. He first had a rendezvous to make, after the ship exited American territorial waters, and it was pointless to waste the coal necessary to reach top speed when he soon would have to bring the ship to a complete stop.
The ship’s decks grew markedly cooler, subject now to the winds of the open Atlantic and the breeze generated by the ship’s own forward motion. Some passengers still lingered at the rails to watch the coastline recede, but most went inside to settle into their accommodations and unpack their belongings. Older children roamed the decks, making friends and testing out various means of recreation, including, yes, shuffleboard on the top deck. Younger children—at least those in first and second class—met the stewardesses who would tend to them during the voyage and occupy them while their parents dined in their respective dining rooms.
Theodate Pope, the architect-spiritualist, and her companion, Edwin Friend, went to the ship’s first-class reading and writing room, part of which was reserved for women, but which also served as the ship’s library, to which men also had access. It was a large but comfortable place that spanned the width of A Deck, the ship’s topmost level, and was fitted with writing desks and chairs. Its walls were covered with pale silk in soft gray and cream. Silk curtains in a pinkish hue called Rose du Barry hung at its windows. The carpet was a soft rose. Men had exclusive use of a separate similarly sized chamber farther back on A Deck, called the Smoking Room, paneled in walnut.
Theodate found a copy of that morning’s Sun, a New York newspaper, and began to read.