A BATTLE-GROUND OF NATURE: THE 

 ATLANTIC SEABOARD 



By John Oliver La Gorce 



Author of "Roumania and Its Rubicon/' "The Warfare on Our Eastern Coast," etc. 



THE operations of the sea assas- 

 sins of Prussia on our eastern 

 coast, in a futile effort to stay the 

 mighty blow America is beginning to 

 strike against despotism, brings into bold 

 relief that ever-changing stretch of 

 coastline we so proudly call our Atlantic 

 seaboard, which the writer outlined in 

 an article published in the September, 

 191 5, issue of the Geographic. 



As the crow flies, it is some sixteen 

 hundred miles from the out-harbor 

 waters of Eastport, Maine, to the key- 

 guarded shallows of Cards Sound, 

 Florida ; but as the shore stretches south- 

 ward, miles lengthen into leagues, rocky 

 citadels give way to shifting sands, and 

 both yield place to coral reefs. 



He who would follow the foreshore 

 from northern Campobello Island to 

 southern Largo Key has a journey that 

 while taxing his legs would certainly stir 

 his soul, for in doing so he would trav- 

 erse the length of a battle-front in the 

 most ancient, the most far-flung, the most 

 unremitting, uncompromising war ever 

 staged between puissant forces of na- 

 ture — the war between land and water, 

 with the wind as a shifting ally. 



This warfare, harsh in its local results, 

 is yet one that by its analogies has com- 

 fort for suffering humanity in the present 

 hours of stress and crisis, for the final 

 results, however serious the momentary 

 aspects, are beneficial to mankind. 



Before visiting the various sectors of 

 the seaboard battle-front to study the 

 more intimate details of the war between 

 the sea and the soil, let us endeavor to 

 get a bird's-eye view of the great conflict 

 that started long before man appeared 

 upon the face of the earth, and which can 

 only end long after the planet is no longer 

 fit for his habitation. 



Every coast-line on the globe, be it that 

 of a great continent or a tiny island, is a 

 theater of nature's struggle, in which the 



warring forces are marshaled; every 

 rainstorm is a vast squadron of airplanes 

 of the sea, a veritable Neptune's Esca- 

 drille, sweeping the shock troops across 

 the No Man's Land of cliff, beach, and 

 reef, onward to the very heart of the 

 land forces' strongholds, the mountains, 

 where they wheel about and launch a rear 

 attack with swollen torrent, hail, and ice. 

 Each drop of water is indeed a soldier 

 of the sea, doing its small part, as it de- 

 scends with force, in conquering the hill- 

 side, and its drum fire is to be reckoned 

 with, because each inch of rain brings 

 down one hundred and thirteen tons of 

 water upon every acre of terrain upon 

 which it falls. 



THE AIR FLEETS OE THE SEA 



As the tiny soldiers concentrate first in 

 rivulet regiments, then into mountain-tor- 

 rent divisions, and finally into big-river 

 armies, they madly charge the rocks and 

 grind them to dust by attrition and carry 

 the captive sands ever onward to the sea. 



The vast forces of the sea which are 

 sent out in air fleets beggar belief. The 

 rainfall of the United States perhaps 

 averages 30 inches a year. On that basis 

 every acre of ground is attacked by three 

 thousand tons of water. And the water 

 armies, marching back to the sea as 

 rivers, take along a hostage of well-nigh 

 unbelievable proportions, since it has 

 been estimated that they carry some 

 twenty-five billion tons of captive ma- 

 terial with them. 



The prisoners of the Mississippi might 

 be used for an example, because their 

 aggregate volume is greater every year 

 than the total amount of material re- 

 moved from the Panama Canal from the 

 hour de Lesseps turned the first sod to 

 the glorious day Goethals pronounced it 

 a finished undertaking, or approximately 

 506,000,000 tons ! 



It often happens, however, that the 

 seemingly vanquished turn on their cap- 



511 



