week, heavy as it still is, the toll of submarine loss is at least kept
in check, and your Navy, now at work with ours--most fitting and
welcome Nemesis!--is helping England to punish and baffle the
"uncivilised race," who, if they had their way, would blacken and defile
for ever the old and glorious record of man upon the sea. You, who store
such things in your enviable memory, will recollect how in the Odyssey,
that kindly race of singers and wrestlers, the Phaeacians, are the
escorts and conveyers of all who need and ask for protection at sea.
They keep the waterways for civilised men, against pirates and
assassins, as your nation and ours mean to keep them in the future. It
is true that a treacherous sea-god, jealous of any interference with his
right to slay and drown at will, smote the gallant ship that bore
Odysseus safely home, on her return, and made a rock of her for ever.
Poseidon may stand for the Kaiser of the story. He is gone, however,
with all his kin! But the humane and civilising tradition of the sea,
which this legend carries back into the dawn of time--it shall be for
the Allies--shall it not?--in this war, to rescue it, once and for ever,
from the criminal violence which would stain the free paths of ocean
with the murder and sudden death of those who have been in all history
the objects of men's compassion and care--the wounded, the helpless, the
woman, and the child.

* * * * *

For the rest, let me gather up a few last threads of this second
instalment of our British story.

Of that vast section of the war concerned with the care and transport of
the wounded, and the health of the Army, it is not my purpose to speak
at length in these Letters. Like everything else it has been steadily