The old fishermen gave us the blankets from their bunks, started a fire and made us tea; it was a wretched vessel, slippery with fish scales and the filth of fishermen, and no man or woman could wish finer accommodations. The steamer Flying Fish took us to Queenstown, where the rest of this tale is well-known and would only serve to depress the reader, and the book’s author.
Suffice to say, of the key figures involved in the mystery, only Miss Vance, George Kessler (minus his briefcase) and myself survived. The psychic Miss Pope also came through, and Dr. Houghton; so did Captain Turner, who on the rescue ship Blue Bell was bitterly chastised by a mother who had lost her child.
I suppose I would sound like Elbert Hubbard if I were to point out that a disaster brings out the best and the worst in us. The millionaire and the theatrical producer died bravely, helping the helpless; so did the noble doctor’s wife who had sought to raise money for hospitals. The Bard of East Aurora and his bride apparently went down to their cabin to die together, whether to make room for others in lifeboats, or to glorify themselves, who can say? Miss Vance, the heroine of the piece, was rescued in the midst of aiding others.
And the villain died, as he’d lived, a villain.
“It is what we think, and what we do,” Hubbard once said, “that makes us what we are.”
Perhaps, by that sweet fool’s yardstick, all I am is a survivor. . but we need survivors, don’t we? Who else would tell the tale?
A Tip of the Captain’s Hat
As in the previous novels in what others have called my “disaster mystery” series, I have in this book combined the factual with the fanciful. Unlike the first of these books, The Titanic Murders (1999), the mystery herein relates directly to the disaster itself, tied as it is to the political and historical context of the tragedy, and its causes. Nonetheless, some liberties have been taken, though precious few; and what may seem to some readers mistakes may be a reflection of the sometimes contradictory source material.
Before discussing the sources of my research, I would like to share a few historical afterthoughts that I did not feel appropriate to the body of the book.
Contrary to popular belief, the sinking of the Lusitania did not lead to America’s participation in World War One. Of the approximately 1,200 men, women and children lost in the sinking, only 124 were Americans-not enough to go to war over, but plenty to turn sentiment in the U.S. against the German side, undoubtedly paving the way for this country’s entry into the conflict.
Numerous theories have been posited as to the nature of the second-and far more damaging-explosion that followed the undoubted single torpedo that hit the ship, courtesy of the German submarine U-20. Among these are munitions (specifically gun cotton) blowing up, the boilers exploding, coal dust combustion, a second torpedo or even a British sub sinking the ship, to prime the war pump for Winston Churchill. This novel proposes yet another possibility, based upon the factual presence of German saboteurs on the Lusitania.
Captain Bill Turner, incidentally, suffered through several Lusitania investigations but still was given a new command-he lost that ship to torpedoes, as well, and wound up sailing a desk. Whether he was a scapegoat or just an idiot remains a point of conjecture, and-like the reason for that second explosion-a subject much discussed in the reference sources I used.
The cast of characters in what I intend as a traditional, closed-environment mystery-somewhat in the Agatha Christie manner-consists primarily of real people. (Only Philomina Vance is fictional, and she takes the place of a real detective aboard the ship, one William Pierpoint of Scotland Yard.) The background material about all of these characters is as accurate as possible, though in some instances, with minor figures-Staff Captain J.C. Anderson, for example, or Master-at-Arms Williams-precious little is known.
Warning telegrams were in fact sent to Frohman, Vanderbilt and a number of other prominent passengers. Although in reality they were not murdered, the three German stowaways existed, as did Neil (sometimes “Neal”) Leach, who several authorities believe had been in league with these probable saboteurs and other German agents.
Charles Williamson, of course, was not in real life their murderer-since these murders happened only in my imagination-but he was indeed involved in the suspicious “suicide” of Alfred Vanderbilt’s mistress, and did seem to have blackmailed the millionaire with art investment as a front. Williamson seemed, then, fair game to be this novel’s villain. The incident of a passenger with a gun trying to force the launching of a lifeboat, only to be crushed by it, did happen-sources vary as to the identity of that passenger.
I have again used a real-life writer of detective fiction as my protagonist. Unlike Jacques Futrelle (The Titanic Murders), Leslie Charteris (The Hindenburg Murders), and Edgar Rice Burroughs (The Pearl Harbor Murders), S.S. Van Dine was not a favorite author of mine. I did read his Philo Vance novels as a young man-when I was devouring any mystery that wasn’t nailed down-and was fascinated by the pseudo-reality of his memoir technique, including his use of footnotes to achieve verisimilitude; the style of this novel has, in that regard at least, been an attempt to present a pastiche of his work. I reread one Vance novel in preparation for this novel-The Benson Murder Case-and, while the writing itself seemed highly competent, could not remember encountering a more irritating or less appealing detective character than Philo Vance.
Van Dine has always fascinated me, however, because of his rise and fall-that he was a spectacularly popular mystery writer who, within ten years of his prime, was largely forgotten. The eccentric egotist behind the pseudonym, Willard Huntington Wright is the subject of Alias S.S. Van Dine (1992) by John Loughery, a compulsively readable biography that I wholeheartedly recommend. Loughery’s portrait of Wright was the chief influence on my portrayal of S.S. Van Dine, although I turned to numerous references in the mystery field as well, including Encyclopedia of Mystery and Detection (1976) by my friends Otto Penzler and the late Chris Steinbrunner, and Twentieth-Century Crime and Mystery Writers-Second Edition (1985) by John M. Reilly. Wright was not on the final voyage of the Lusitania, but he did sail three months prior, bringing his artist brother, Stanton, safely home; this real-life connection to the Lucy inspired his use in this novel.
My two longtime research associates came through for me in a big way-the sinking of the Lusitania made for a particularly challenging and exhausting research job. George Hagenauer read every book on the subject he could find, and pointed me to the best and most pertinent material; in addition, he spent hours on the phone and in person with me, discussing which real people on the voyage would make interesting characters, probing the historical issues and ramifications, and generally “spitballing” the plot. George in particular helped examine the complicated figure of Elbert Hubbard, a man who was a household name in his day and is largely forgotten now (not unlike S.S. Van Dine). He also helped develop the backstory of Pinkerton agent Philomina Vance. I always thank George for his work, but this time I really couldn’t have done the job without him-he dug into ancient newspapers and magazines, and prepared files on a dozen Lusitania passengers, and prepped me beautifully for this voyage.
Lynn Myers-a real-life Pinkerton agent himself, if not as attractive a one as the fictional Miss Vance-did an incredible job for me, too, finding articles and books, and in particular leading me to (and locating a copy of) the single most important source-“Lusitania”: The Cunard Turbine-driven Quadruple-screw Atlantic Liner, a 1986 reprint of a 1907 Cunard volume that features deck plans, photos and detailed descriptions of everything on the ship. Introduced and expanded upon by Mark D. Warren, this book was an indispensable tool, as most books on the Lusitania-unlike those on the Titanic-tend to focus less on the ship and the voyage and more on the sinking and the politics.