Espionage, German -- United States -- Fiction; Germans -- United States -- Fiction; Spy stories
But time was short. Two days later, the great, sleek Lusitania glided
out of New York harbor and started upon the first phase of its journey
across the seas, carrying with it 1,250 passengers, more than a hundred
of whom were Americans, the pride of America's theatrical, editorial
and financial worlds; American aristocracy and American common people,
but all Americans, all equal in their standing in the light of the
Liberty statue, supposedly safe from warring nations, innocents,
traveling toward a deliberate German murder.
Too short a time for Harrison Grant and his men to gain their knowledge
of what was going on in the Hohenzollern Club. Only that morning,
Cavanaugh had reported progress--the assurance that the dictograph
would be in the Hohenzollern Club by the end of the next week. Too
short a time for Dixie Mason to obtain the confidence of Heinric von
Lertz and learn from him the details of the plot against America. Too
short a time! The Lusitania was doomed!
The very moment of her sailing, a furtive-eyed spy had rushed to a
cable office, to send the following cablegram to Europe:
"L.H. Guerz--Amsterdam, Holland.
"Lucy has entered last phase of illness. Doctors say progress until
Thursday normal. After that, difficult to diagnose. Therbold."
Already the message was traveling under the sea, while the spy reported
to Von Lertz, and while another spy in Amsterdam anxiously awaited
its arrival. And when he received it, his code-educated eyes read an
entirely different message from that of a mere announcement of an
illness, a message which thrilled his craven soul with the information:
"Lusitania has sailed. Course until Thursday normal. After that,
unknown."
A hurried ten minutes in which the spy turned to a specially installed
telephone, sent the message to Nauen and thereby to Cuxhaven and to
every other U-boat base of Germany, where waited the scavengers of
the sea, Germany's submarines and their commanders. More, from Nauen
the message flashed to hundreds of men on the Irish coast, apparently
fishermen, who arranged to speed forth as far as possible into the
ocean, and to wait day and night for the sight of the vessel, that they
might spy it to its doom. Expensive--of course! But all battles are
expensive, and Germany was planning the death of women and children
in what it would call one of the greatest "victories of the war."
Were not the medals that would be issued to commemorate the "victory"
already being struck off? And had not even the date been placed thereon
in characteristic German "efficiency?" Germany had named May fifth. And
May fifth they would be distributed. For where was there a chance for
the Lusitania to escape?
[Illustration: This medal, designed to commemorate the sinking of the
Lusitania, was distributed in Germany two days before the vessel was
torpedoed]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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