RMS Lusitania
Wikimedia Commons · Public Domain

RMS Lusitania

Why it matters

The Lusitania was the fastest thing on the Atlantic when she launched. She took the Blue Riband in 1907 and held it for two years, crossing at an average of 25 knots. She was also a quiet instrument of British naval policy. The Admiralty subsidized her construction on the condition that she could be converted to an armed merchant cruiser in wartime. Whether she was actually carrying war materiel on her final voyage is still debated, and probably always will be.

On the morning of May 7, 1915, the German Embassy published a warning in American newspapers telling passengers that ships flying the British flag in the war zone around the British Isles were "liable to destruction." Most passengers ignored it. That afternoon, Kapitanleutnant Walther Schwieger of U-20 fired a single torpedo into Lusitania's starboard side off the Old Head of Kinsale, Ireland.

One torpedo hit. Then a second, much larger explosion ripped through the ship. The cause of that second blast is the argument that won't die. Coal dust in the nearly empty bunkers. Steam line rupture. Or the 4.2 million rounds of Remington .303 cartridges listed on the cargo manifest. The ship's longitudinal bulkheads, designed to contain flooding, instead created an immediate list to starboard so severe that the lifeboats on the port side couldn't be launched at all.

She sank in 18 minutes. 1,198 people died, including 128 American citizens. Germany called it a legitimate act of war against a vessel carrying contraband. The British called it murder. American public opinion lurched toward intervention. It took two more years, but the Lusitania was one of the weights on the scale that pulled the United States into World War I.

The irony is thick. A ship built with Admiralty money, possibly carrying Admiralty cargo, was sent through a known submarine zone without escort. The cruiser HMS Juno had been recalled from the area the day before. The Admiralty knew U-boats were active in those waters. Nobody warned Captain Turner to zigzag.

What it was like

Lusitania's engine rooms were a cathedral of noise. The four Parsons turbines produced 76,000 shaft horsepower and the vibration was constant, a deep hum that passengers in first class barely noticed but that the engine crew lived inside. The 25 boilers consumed about 1,000 tons of coal per day at full speed, and by 1915 coal rationing meant she was running on reduced boilers. The No. 1 boiler room was shut down entirely, which cut her top speed to around 21 knots.

When the torpedo hit, the engineering spaces flooded fast. The second explosion blew through the lower decks. Steam lines ruptured. Men in the engine and boiler rooms either drowned, were scalded to death by superheated steam, or were killed by the blast itself. The lights went out almost immediately. The ship's electrical dynamos were in the flooded compartments.

On deck, the list made everything worse. Lifeboats on the starboard side swung out over the water and crashed into passengers as they lowered. Port-side boats couldn't clear the deck because of the angle. People slid down the tilting deck into the railings and each other. The whole thing, from torpedo to gone, was 18 minutes. Many passengers never made it topside.

The crew

Trimmer

Moved coal from bunkers to the furnace plates where firemen could shovel it. On Lusitania's last voyage, the nearly empty longitudinal bunkers may have been filled with coal dust, which some researchers believe caused the devastating secondary explosion.

Lookout

The ship had lookouts posted but no binoculars available to them. The periscope of U-20 was spotted less than a minute before the torpedo hit. There was no time to turn. The lookout's warning reached the bridge just as the torpedo struck.

Steward

The 306 stewards and stewardesses were responsible for passengers during the evacuation. Many helped people into life jackets and toward the boat deck. With the severe list and 18-minute sinking time, stewards working in below-deck cabins had almost no chance. Staff casualties were disproportionately high.

Patina notes

Lusitania lies on her starboard side in about 300 feet of water off the Old Head of Kinsale, County Cork, Ireland. Unlike Titanic's deep-ocean preservation, the relatively shallow depth means she's been subjected to tidal currents, marine growth, fishing nets, and decades of salvage attempts.

The hull is heavily collapsed. The superstructure is largely gone. Depth charges dropped by the Royal Navy in the 1950s (reportedly to destroy evidence of munitions) further damaged the wreck.

The bow section is the most recognizable portion. The propellers are partially buried in silt. Visibility at the site is often poor, with strong currents making diving dangerous.

Preservation reality

The wreck is privately owned. American investor Gregg Bemis purchased the salvage rights in 1968 and the wreck itself in 1982. Before his death in 2022, he funded multiple expeditions to settle the munitions debate.

Ireland declared a 50-meter exclusion zone around the wreck, and diving requires a license from the Irish government. There is no museum ship and never will be.

The most significant Lusitania artifacts are at the Lusitania Museum in Kinsale, housed in the Old Courthouse where the inquest was held. The Merseyside Maritime Museum in Liverpool also holds a collection. The debate about what she carried will outlive everyone reading this.

Where to see one

  • • Lusitania Museum & Old Courthouse, Kinsale, Ireland
  • • Merseyside Maritime Museum, Liverpool, England
  • • Old Head of Kinsale Signal Tower, Cork, Ireland

Preservation organizations

  • • Lusitania Museum Kinsale
  • • National Maritime Museum of Ireland

Sources

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