Free SOS Lusitania by Kevin Kiely Page B

seen such an amazing place and being up so high in the liner made me feel immense power.
    ‘Captain Kennedy, check the passenger list and the cargo list please, and get the latest weather reports.’ Captain Turner stood tall, like my father. His cap had braid on the peak. He held a hard-covered file marked
The Log of the Lusitania
. I waited, looked around and noticed how, far below us, the people on the pier looked tiny.
    Dad called me over and just as I was about to tell him about the notice in the
Times
, he pointed to VIP written after some names on the list. ‘That means Very Important Person,’ he informed me. ‘Mrs Mabel Mayberry, the wife of SenatorRichard Mayberry, is accompanied by her children, Penelope and John. Rita Jolivet is a Hollywood actress. Sir Hugh Lane is an international art dealer.’ There were many names on the pages.
    ‘The American VIPs are millionaires,’ Dad said, and moved his thumb down the long list. ‘Let’s go and check the cargo.’
    I followed him outside, feeling confused. ‘Dad, there’s a notice in the
New York Times
,’ I finally blurted out. When I told him what the notice said he rushed back into the wheelhouse to tell Captain Turner. At last I could relax. They would read the notice saying that the Germans considered the Atlantic Ocean a war zone. They would know what to do

CHAPTER 17
S ECRET C ARGO
    A s Dad’s first tour of duty began, he told me to follow him. He said nothing while we walked along corridors and descended staircases, through many doors that slammed behind us, until we stood on a steel platform with railings that led down into the centre of the liner where the noise increased. This cargo deck had the widest corridors and doors that creaked open into a vast area, where I couldn’t see the other end since it went on and on out of sight. A crewman approached Dad and they talked for a few moments. Then Dad walked around piled stockades of cargo, shouting out the name of each lot as he checked them off in a notepad: bales of leather, automobile parts, dental goods, crates of books, sewing machines, oil paintings, wool, aluminium, steel and bronze powder.
    He turned a corner and told me to stay behind and not to follow him. ‘Nobody is permitted in here,’ he said, looking at me very sternly. ‘This is top secret.’
    ‘Of course, Dad,’ I said.
    He disappeared for a few minutes, then returned, and we headed out.
    ‘Strictly no smoking, Mister Smith,’ he said to the crewman, who let us out and locked the door after us.
    We soon returned to the passenger corridors with cabins, stairs and signs. After the dark cargo hold the galley seemed very bright with its portholes and lights. We sat at a table and a chef with a floppy white hat served us oxtail soup with bread rolls and butter, followed by fish, chips, and beans. ‘You can have both desserts too, lad, if you can sink them,’ he told me, and winked and tapped his large stomach with a fist.
    ‘Dad, did you and Captain Turner read the
New York Times
warning notice?’ I gulped down water, poured more ketchup on my chips and wiped my mouth.
    ‘The notice in the newspaper was written by Aleister Crowley, but not for the
New York Times,
it was first published in
The Fatherland
, which is a German paper published in New York. Crowley is a spy and propagandist,’ Dad explained. ‘He is a writer willing to write anything for anybody for money.He writes an awful lot of propaganda.’
    ‘Dad, what’s propaganda?’ I asked.
    ‘It’s often lies or half-truths. I told you about it before, remember? It is meant to force people to change their views, especially about the war. It frightens people. So if, for example, a person supports the British in this war, propaganda is used to try to get them to support the Germans instead. This is done by threatening them.’
    ‘Like frightening them off the
Lusitania
?’
    ‘Yes, that sort of thing. If they’re scared to take the ship, then the business stops.