lor is not the man to take even a hopeless
fight lying down, and so certain gallant but desperate spirits on board
the _England_, which was lying under what was left of the Admiralty
Pier, got permission to dismount six 3-pounders and remount them as a
battery for high-angle fire. The intention, of course, was, as the
originator of the idea put it: "To bring down a few of those flying
devils before they could go inland and do more damage there."

The intention was as good as it was unselfish, for the ingenious officer
in charge of the battery knew as well as his admiral that the fleet was
doomed to destruction in detail--but the first volley that battery fired
was the last.

A few of the shells must have hit a French _Flying Fish_, which was
circling above the centre of the harbour, and disabled the wings and
propellors on one side, for she lurched and wobbled for an instant like
a bird with a broken wing. Then she swooped downwards in a spiral
course, falling ever faster and faster, till she struck the deck of the
_Britain_.

What happened the next instant no one ever knew. Those who survived said
that they heard a crashing roar like the firing of a thousand cannon
together; a blinding sheet of flame overspread the harbour; the water
rose into mountains of foam, ships rocked and crashed against each
other--and then came darkness and oblivion.

When human eyes next looked on Dover Harbour there was not a ship in it
afloat.

Dover, the great stronghold of the south-east, was now as defenceless as
a fishing village, and there was nothing to prevent a constant stream of
transports filled with men and materials of war being poured into it, or
any other port along the eastern Kentish coast. Then would come seizure
of railway stations and rolling stock, rapid landing of men and horses
and guns, and the beginning of the great advance.

On the whole, John Castellan was well satisfied with his work. He
regretted the loss of his consort; but she had not been wasted. The
remains of the British fleets had gone with her to destruction.

Certainly what had been done had brought nearer the time when he, the
real organiser of victory, the man who had made the conquest of England
possible, would be able to claim his double reward--the independence of
Ireland, and the girl whom he intended to make the uncrowned Queen of
Erin.

It was a splendid and, to him, a delicious dream as well; but between
him and its fulfilment, what a c