But, in addition, there is one other point to be considered in thinking of what was done in past wars, and so examining if similar things could be done in the future. Would the bombardment of open, or feebly defended, coast towns be permitted? Would that old “harassing” side of war, without any other end beyond that of harassing, be considered justifiable now? There is a certain _general_ and no longer _local_ public opinion to be considered nowadays, and much that was done when the nineteenth century was young will be very possibly looked on as barbarous and unnecessary when another century dawns. Lastly, the means of local defence have also largely increased. It is common to see, as at Havana, how frequently forts and batteries were fully silenced by the fire from the fleet, whose guns were certainly not of great power. But coast batteries are now more scientifically and powerfully built, and mount guns quite as formidable, if not more so, than battleships can carry. Ranges are greater, and the accuracy of fire enormously improved, and ground mines and active torpedoes can make situations, whence fleets could formerly best act, too dangerous now to be occupied at all. Quick-firing and machine guns, repeating rifles, and what not, will render boat operations practically impossible, except at night. Such landings as those at Aboukir Bay, etc., should be now out of the question. It may safely be surmised that the class of operations referred to in this chapter will be less easy of execution in the future than when Guadaloupe was taken. But one thing is clearly apparent in watching the story of this combination of military and naval war. It was only as England began to feel her strength, and, by increasing her squadrons, to have the power of showing it, that she really began to grow to greatness. At first the wars were local and somewhat restricted on shore, as were the actions of the fleets. But the desire to get at France and Spain on both sides, or all along their coast lines, led, instinctively almost, to the capture of Gibraltar, the gateway to the Mediterranean, and next to seize Minorca, as she did later Malta, and then Cyprus, as a base of operations for her naval strength. Such harbours or bases are needful always for rest, refitting, reprovisioning, and, _now_, recoaling. No such fortified place is by itself a menace; it is only the basis of that active menace, the sea-going fleet of battleships. Neither Malta nor Biserta would in the least affect the destinies of the world unless behind the shelter of their defensive works was a sea-going fleet capable of offensive action. The defence of the fortress is purely passive; the defence power of the fleet is, like that of cavalry, either active or nothing. This in the last century was the use of Minorca.