and miles away from home, as it had been in South Africa. This was
home itself. There was no right or wrong here, nothing for politicians
to wrangle about for party purposes. Here, in a little corner of little
England, two mighty hosts were at death-grips day and night, the one
fighting for all that is dearest and most sacred to the heart of man;
and the other to save itself from what could be nothing less than
irretrievable disaster.

CHAPTER XXX

MR PARMENTER SAYS

Happily for the defenders of Britain the fleet of aerial submarines,
from which so much had been expected for offensive purposes during the
proposed "triumphal march" on London, soon became of little or no use in
the field.

The reason was this: As, day after day and week after week, that awful
struggle continued, it became absolutely necessary for the Allies to
obtain men and material to make good the fearful losses which the valour
and devotion of what was now a whole nation in arms had inflicted upon
them, and so all but four were despatched to guard the route between
Dover and Calais--eight under the water and eight in the air--and so
make it possible for the transports to cross. Of course, this meant that
thousands of fresh men and hundreds of horses and guns could be poured
into Kent every day; but it also meant that the greater portion of the
defenders' most terrible foes were rendered harmless--and this was not
the least of the good work that the _Ithuriel_ had done.

Of course, that famous "sea-devil," as the invaders called her, was
mostly on the spot or thereabouts, and every now and then a crowded
transport would lurch over and go down, or a silent, flameless shot
would rise up out of some unknown part of the waters and a shell would
burst with a firmament-shaking concussion close to one of the
airships--after which the airship would burst with a still more
frightful shock and distribute herself in very small fragments through
the shuddering atmosphere; but this only happened every other day or so,
for Erskine and his lieutenant knew a good deal better than to run too
many risks, at least just now.

So, for twelve weeks of bitter, bloody and unsparing strife the grim,
unceasing struggle for the possession of the Capital of the World went
on, and when the eighteenth of March dawned, the outposts of the Allies
were still twelve to fourteen miles from the banks of the Thames. How
desperate had been that greatest of all defences since