U-Boat Victims

IS it and wonder that the British mercantile marine has vowed a solemn vow to have no dealings with German seamen for a period of years after the present war ends, in the face of such outrages as these two stories disclose.  Only the plain facts (as reported in May of the present year) are here given, and they are officially proved.

 A British passenger steamer, carrying seventy-seven passengers and a crew of 217, had been torpedoed without warning, and had at once taken a list to starboard. She was 140 miles from land, the time being 11 o'clock at night.

Boats were lowered as quickly as possible, passengers and crew abandoning ship, while the Germans launched a second torpedo at the vessel. The submarine then came to the surface, wished the boats' companies goodnight, and disappeared in the darkness.

 One of the lifeboats had been considerably damaged before getting clear, and every wave washed over the boat's company

Their sufferings were deplorable. About two hours after leaving the ship a passenger succumbed to exposure. Then lady died, but her daughter continued to support the dead body, thinking her mother was still alive. An hour later the daughter herself passed away. A coloured sailor now succumbed; then a fireman, sitting on a thwart, allowed his head to sink into the water and was drowned.

A male passenger was now seen to be dead, and a lady who was his friend became hysterical, so they pretended he had fainted and kept his body in the boat. Fifteen minutes afterwards a fireman lurched overboard and was drowned.

 But by this time help was at hand, and the boat was picked up at 9 o'clock next morning. The survivors from another British steamer, torpedoed without warning 320 miles from land, went through even more terrible experiences. They were adrift in a boat containing thirty-one people, including two women and a baby four months old.

The steamer was sunk on a Monday, and during that night the boat lost touch with the others. They lay-to, keeping head on to the enormous seas that were running. By Wednesday the chief officer had gone mad, and he died during the day. That night the storekeeper went mad and had to be lashed down; he died at noon on Thursday.

On Friday the weather moderated. Agonies of thirst were being endured, and during that day a seaman expired. On Saturday a fireman was found dead in the bottom of the boat. They drifted with sail down through the night of Saturday, there being no stars to steer by. On Sunday a cattleman jumped overboard, his companions being too weak to rescue him. The last tot of water was served out, a mouthful apiece, after which they tried to collect a little moisture from occasional showers.

They sighted land at 3 p.m. on Monday, but the weather prevented them from attempting to put in until Tuesday morning, when they were too weak to make the shore. However, a couple of fishing boats came to their assistance and towed them in.

 The linen-keeper died as he was being lifted ashore; two seamen, who had gone mad, had to be dragged from the boat, which they refused to leave. A trimmer died of gangrene a fortnight later in hospital, where the baby also succumbed, after surviving all the horrors of that terrible journey.