What Olivia had not seen, but her sister had, was the small notice the German Embassy put into both the Washington and the New York papers the day she sailed. It said simply that passengers intending to embark on Atlantic voyages were reminded that a state of war existed between Germany and Britain, and her allies. The zone of war included the waters adjacent to the British Isles, and that vessels flying the flag of Great Britain, or her allies, were liable to destruction in those waters, and that travelers in those areas, on British ships, sailed at their own risk. The notice was dated April 22, 1915, Imperial German Embassy, Washington, and sounded quite official.
But it was equally well known that the law of nations dictated that a ship under any flag could not be sunk without warning and removal of its civilian passengers. Under those circumstances, the passengers on the Lusitania knew they were in no danger. Victoria also knew that she could have sailed on the American ship, New York, but it wasn’t nearly as nice a ship, and she liked the idea of sailing on a Cunard ship better. The Lusitania was a much faster ship than the New York, and she had considered the possibility that it could outrun a submarine far better.
At the time, the Lusitania was making one trip a month from Liverpool to New York, and carried no national or even house flags, to keep it safe from the Germans. Even her name and port of registry had been painted out to be completely sure. Watertight doors were kept closed during the entire voyage, and once in the Irish Sea, lifeboats were swung out, and lookouts doubled. Everything was done to protect the ship, and passengers on the Lusitania knew they were about as safe as anyone could be from the Germans. Besides, it was an enormous ship, with four stacks painted red and black, a total often decks, seven above and three below the waterline. And she had proven herself more than reliable in the past eight years. When Victoria boarded her, she was embarking on her 202nd crossing. The Lusitania was no Titanic.
And to be absolutely sure no risks were taken at all, they observed full blackout, all staterooms were to draw their curtains at night, and gentlemen were asked not to smoke on deck. And in Victorian case, nor ladies.
By the first night out, Victoria was completely at ease on the ship, and she was very excited to have seen Lady Mackworth, née Margaret Thomas. Victoria recognized her immediately and knew she was not only an active member of the Women’s Social and Political Union, but a close friend of the Pankhursts. Margaret herself had set fire to a post office, and had spent time in jail, much to her respectable Liberal MP father’s horror.
But she seemed in good form on the ship, after spending time in New York, and Victoria met her the first night out, as they stood on the deck together.
“It’s brave of you to be journeying to Europe now,” she said to Victoria, who explained that she was a young widow going to volunteer in France, to work behind the lines with the Allies. She had been given the names of a few contacts in the Red Cross, and some in the French army.
“We could use you in England too.” She smiled at her, impressed by her spirit, and then Lady Mackworth had gone on to dinner with her father, while Victoria chose to dine alone in her stateroom.
But they talked her into coming out with them the following night. The first-class dining room was extraordinary, two stories high, with columns all around, and an ornate dome above it. There were also a library, smoking lounges, and a huge nursery for children. There were games for them, and as many entertainments for the young people on board as for the adults. And Victoria was surprised to find that, despite the war, everyone seemed to be in good spirits and spoke very little of it.
The men talked of the news certainly every day, particularly when they gathered to smoke, as Victoria and a few other women also did, but they didn’t seem to dwell on it, and no one said anything whatsoever about U-boats.
Victoria had noticed Alfred Vanderbilt on board, but she was careful to avoid him, as he knew her husband. He was roughly the same age as Charles, and she remembered that they knew each other, and Charles had had lunch with him once that winter. And she didn’t want anyone telling Charles where she’d gone, or destroying their story that “Olivia” had gone to California. Although she was traveling as Olivia Henderson, it was quite conceivable that someone who knew either of them might recognize her, and she might not even know them, if they were acquaintances of her sister’s. So she was careful. She did less socializing than usual, and spent considerable time in the library, on deck, or in her cabin.
Charles Frohman, the theater magnate, was aboard too, he seemed to have brought along a coterie of friends with him, and he was considerably older. He was on his way to London to see James Barrie’s new play, The Rosy Rapture, which Frohman wanted to bring to Broadway. Charles Klein, the playwright, spent a considerable amount of time talking to him, and had even brought his new play to work on. But although Victoria would have enjoyed meeting them, she kept to herself for much of the voyage, and even declined when she was invited to the captain’s dinner. Captain Turner had seen her on deck and thought her stunningly attractive.
Actually, she felt surprisingly free on the ship, and after her year with Charles, it was a great relief to be alone now. The only one she missed terribly was her twin sister. She thought about Olivia constantly, and prayed that she hadn’t given up their secret, but Victoria trusted her completely. And like her twin she felt the same agony over being apart now. It was almost haunting.
The weather was pleasant during the entire trip, they met no storms, and by the end of the week, everyone was looking forward to arriving. On Friday, Victoria had packed her bags in the morning, and was pleased to run into Lady Mackworth again at noon. She gave Victoria her address in Newport, and urged her to call her. Victoria was going to be traveling to Dover from Liverpool, and from there by ferry to Calais, and after that she had to make contact with the people whose names she had, and begin moving slowly toward the trenches.
Victoria had lunch alone that day, and it was unseasonably warm as they entered the Celtic Sea and the stewards opened every possible porthole in the dining room, and many of the first-class cabins. By the end of lunch, people were going to their cabins to get changed. Land had been sighted, and they were a mere dozen miles offshore, just south of the lighthouse at Old Kinsale, Ireland. There was an atmosphere of celebration and excitement. They’d made it.
Victoria went out on deck after lunch, and she was standing at the rail, looking out to sea as they headed toward Liverpool when a thin white trail raced just under the sea to starboard. She happened to look down at it as she listened to the animated strains of the “Blue Danube,” and wondered if it was a fish of some kind coming at them. She was wearing a red dress Olivia had bought her ages before, and she had left her hat downstairs, as the sun shone down on her, and suddenly the entire ship jarred, and she was flung against the rail as a column of water shot up all the way to the bridge deck, and the whole bow lifted right out of the water. It was the most extraordinary thing she’d ever seen, and she stared at it as she clung to the rail, wondering vaguely if she’d be thrown overboard, but she wasn’t. She was wearing high heels and she felt unsteady on her feet as the bow of the vast ship settled down into the sea again as a blinding cloud of steam shot up, and they headed straight toward the lighthouse in the distance.
But within minutes as people exclaimed about what they saw, the ship began listing severely to starboard. Victoria’s cabin was on B deck, and all she could think of was getting back to it for her life vest and her money. But there were huge crowds of people everywhere suddenly, and as soon as she started downstairs the ship began listing even more severely to starboard. It was extremely difficult to walk now.
“We’ve been hit! …” she heard someone say. “Torpedo!” An alarm sounded somewhere and the noise was deafening, and beyond it she could still hear music, and all she could think of suddenly was Susan on the Titanic.
“Not now,” she said to herself, as she hurried downstairs, fighting to keep her balance as she fell against the walls of the ship repeatedly. It was slowly turning sideways. But she reached her cabin in time to grab her life vest, her wallet, and her passport. She took nothing else. She had brought no jewels with her, and she had nothing of value, except her passport, and the funds she’d brought to sustain her.
She struggled to put her life vest on, as she left her cabin again and rushed upstairs, and in the distance she could hear people screaming. There were people panicking all around her, and when she reached the stairs, she almost collided with Alfred Vanderbilt, carrying his jewel case.
“Are you all right?” he asked, perfectly calm. She wasn’t sure if he recognized her or not. As usual, he was smiling and courteous. He seemed completely unruffled and he had his manservant with him.
“I think so,” she said in answer to his question. “What’s happening?” She hadn’t even had time to panic. It was all so confusing. But as she spoke to him, they both heard the sound of another explosion far below them.
“Torpedoes,” he said pleasantly, “lots of them. You’d best get up on deck quickly.” He urged her forward and she went ahead of him, and then lost sight of him. They had already swung the lifeboats out in their davits, but as the ship listed ever more heavily to the starboard side, the boats on the port side were useless. They dangled above the ship at a crazy angle, and those on the starboard side were dipping rapidly toward the water. The Lusitania looked like a child’s toy, about to turn entirely on its side in the bathtub. But this was no toy, and they were just far enough out to sea for a real disaster. Victoria glanced toward the shore, suddenly wondering if she could swim it. They could see the shore from where they stood, and the people of Queenstown could see the bow of the Lusitania go down sharply, as the stern rose in the air. And the screaming on the ship sounded almost like seagulls.
And as the ship began to slide down, the many portholes that had been opened nullified the watertight doors, and took in the rushing water.
Victoria was watching the scene of utter chaos around her, her high heels cast aside by then, her stocking feet on the deck as soot and smoke enveloped them, and she suddenly had trouble breathing. She wasn’t sure if it was smoke or panic, but the nose of the ship was well down, and she had to fight to keep her balance. People were literally falling into the sea as the radio antenna fell, nearly killing several people. People were leaping off the ship, and then shouting for help, children were crying and mothers were frantically trying to get them into lifeboats. And then she saw Alfred Vanderbilt again, helping children into the boats. She saw him take his own life vest off and give it to a little girl, and as she watched him she pushed her wallet deep into her dress, secured by her life vest.
And as Victoria watched the lifeboats lowered, she saw the first two overturn and heard people screaming, just as one of the giant funnels fell and engulfed a woman. It was like a scene from hell, as a little girl slid right past her legs on the deck and into the ocean. Victoria screamed, reaching for her, but it was too late, and the child tumbled down and drowned as Victoria watched her.
“Oh my God … oh my God …” she said, turning away from the horror of it as the blonde curls bobbed for only an instant and then the child lay facedown in the sea beneath her, and a voice behind Victoria told her to get into a lifeboat. Oddly enough, it sounded like her sister, but she never knew who it was, and there was a terrible roaring sound as she headed toward them. It had only been five minutes since they’d been hit, but the ship was going down rapidly, as Victoria reached the lifeboats. For a moment it looked as though there wouldn’t be room for her. There were only two boats left and there seemed to be children all around them.
“Take them, not me,” she shouted at the young officer helping them into the lifeboat, swinging crazily.
“Can you swim?” he called out, and she nodded and he called back to her again. “Grab a deck chair, we’ll be down in a minute,” he said, and with that, took off without her, and she followed his advice and grabbed a chair and literally slid off the ship as it went down only an instant later, and she suddenly found herself in a sea of bobbing mattresses, bits of wood, statues, deck chairs, and bodies. It was a hideous conglomeration of things that were literally shooting up from the ship as it hit the bottom, with a series of dull, terrifying explosions, and she screamed as two corpses bumped into her. Everywhere she looked were people screaming, dying, crying, children floating past her, women calling out, and she watched a woman drown as she clutched her dead baby. It was beyond unimaginable, and she went down beneath the surface more than once, but she always seemed to come up again to see one more horror, until finally her deck chair floated next to another one with a little boy in a blue velvet suit lying on it. He looked like a perfect little prince, sleeping there, except that he was dead, and so was his mother. It was the worst thing Victoria had ever seen or dreamt of. She kept closing her eyes and wanting the nightmare to end, but it wouldn’t. And she couldn’t believe it when she finally saw Captain Turner clinging to a chair, and Lady Mackworth, nearby, clinging to another. And in the distance there were a ship’s officer and an old woman sitting on a grand piano.
But all around them people screamed, and everywhere they were drowning. Victoria couldn’t bear it anymore after a while, it was just too horrible, her legs were cold, she couldn’t breathe from the shock of it all, and people all around her were dying. She held on to her deck chair as long as she could and then, finally, mercifully, she slipped under the water.