Carter Roy

So from the very beginning, the British Navy had put a target on the Lusitania.

Meanwhile, passengers had no idea about the Lusitania's secret identity.

Though they may have had an inkling they were in danger.

A few weeks before the Lusitania attack, an ad in the New York Times warned that any American sailing on a British ship did so at their own risk.

It was signed Imperial German Embassy, but actually placed by Germans living in New York City.

They'd heard rumblings about possible attacks on ships carrying Americans.

The German immigrants feared being ostracized if their new home went to war with their old one and hoped that if they could dissuade Americans from traveling to Europe, the country would remain neutral.

Only one couple took the warning seriously enough to cancel their tickets.

And other passengers got personal warnings.

Broadway producer Charles Froman and railroad air Alfred Vanderbilt both received mysterious telegrams telling them not to board the Lusitania.

Frohman ignored the message and Vanderbilt wrote his off as a joke.

Both died at sea.

Across the pond, both the King of England and the American ambassador to the UK discussed the hypothetical scenario of a German U-boat attacking a ship carrying Americans.

The ambassador wrote to his son, I almost expect such a thing.

It's suspicious.

Were these conversations all really hypothetical?

Or was it because the ship's attack was being planned?

As the conspiracy theory goes, it was all about plausible deniability.

And allegedly, here's how Room 40 made that happen.

First, they cleared all other ships from the area.