But if, like the Romans of old, they had allowed the tropical atmosphere of material luxury to relax the fibres of their once sturdy nature and weaken the arms which had once enclosed the world in their embrace, then his mission would fail, however eloquently he might urge it. A desolation infinitely greater than that which overwhelmed Rome or Byzantium would fall upon Anglo-Saxondom, and its name would be the only monument of its vanished glory.

But the Vega brought something more to Alan and Alexis than the despatches and orders of the Council. This was a letter from Isma to Alan, filled with the tenderest expressions of delight at the triumphs which he and his “companion in arms” had already achieved, and of brave and hopeful confidence in them, despite the terrible dangers that they were going forth to confront.

The letter concluded with the significant sentence—“When you come back in triumph, as I know you will, there will not be one heart in Aeria that will not beat more gladly for your sakes, not one hand that will not be stretched out to greet you either in friendship or in love. Remember this against the day of battle, and in the day of peace you shall see how true my words are.”

Although the letter made no mention of Alma, save as one of the intimate friends who sent their “loving greetings” to the two men who were going to lead the navy of Aeria to what might be the first battle of a war that would be the most colossal and unsparing struggle ever waged on earth, Alan was able to read enough between the lines to give him hope.

He knew enough of Alma’s proud and sensitive nature to fully understand why no word had come directly from her to him, and also to recognise that the task of winning her back from her estrangement would be no light one. Indeed, of the two tasks which lay before him, the conquest of the world and the reconquest of Alma’s heart, he looked with less misgiving upon the former than he did upon the latter. Still he by no means despaired, and what he had said to Alexis was justified in his mind by the belief that in Isma he had the most eloquent of advocates always at Alma’s side, pleading his cause even better than he could do it himself, at anyrate for the present.

As for Alexis, his lover’s eyes and more sanguine temperament found in the letter ample justification for the re-naming of the Vindaya, and if he forgot to return the precious sheet of paper to Alan after he had read its contents, it was because he honestly felt that he had the better right to it, and his companion in love and war apparently recognised this, for he carefully refrained from asking him for it. Thus well comforted with new-born hope, and impatiently longing to begin the momentous work in hand, whether it was to be war or diplomacy, they awaited the arrival of the promised fleet from Aeria, which was expected to alight on the surface of Kerguelen about noon on the day after the arrival of the Vega.

A few minutes before twelve o’clock on the 19th of May one of the look-out vessels floating five thousand feet above the clouds which overhung Desolation Land telephoned, “Fleet from Aeria in sight,” and half an hour after the receipt of the anxiously-expected news at headquarters the fifty air-ships were grouped round the power-station at the head of Christmas Harbour, renewing the motive power which had been expended on the voyage from Aeria.

When this operation was completed the fleet was equipped for a voyage of thirty thousand miles if necessary. As every vessel was completely furnished with all stores and munitions of war, no further preparations had been made, and Alan was able to give the signal for the flotilla to take the air in little more than an hour after its arrival at Kerguelen.

It was divided into two divisions of twenty-five ships each, one led by the Ithuriel and the other by the Isma, and these rose into the air, formed in two straight lines each about a quarter of a mile long. The two flagships flew one on either flank, and slightly ahead and above the main body. This formation enabled any signals made from either of them to be instantly seen by every ship in the fleet.

The distance to be traversed was five thousand eight hundred geographical miles, and the voyage was performed at a speed of four hundred miles an hour without incident.