Chapter 1152: A Defeat Unseen in a Century
Chapter 1152: A Defeat Unseen in a Century
Shortly after, the British Mediterranean Fleet, centered around fourteen ships of the line, formed a tight defensive formation. Four battleships guarded the rear while steam-powered vessels split into two divisions to cover the flanks. In this rigid array, they began their journey toward the northeast.
About ten minutes later, Pix spotted wooden debris floating across the surface of the sea.
Those were the remains of HMS Shield, the first ship to lose propulsion.
Frigates moved toward the wreckage, deploying small boats to rescue sailors who had fallen into the water.
Since the location of the French steamships remained unknown, Pix was forced to leave three ships of the line and three frigates behind to protect the rescue operation from potential ambush. The main body of the fleet continued forward.
The amount of debris on the waves only grew. Officers constantly entered the command room to report to Pix. "Commander, the sailors we pulled from the water say HMS Gilt-head and HMS Dorado have been sunk."
"Reporting, sir. It has been confirmed that HMS Silex has gone down..."
"Commander, HMS Serpentine has been destroyed..."
The third-rate ship of the line HMS Thor immediately moved forward, preparing to tow the vessel out of the combat zone. Suddenly, thick black smoke billowed from the western horizon. Three French steam frigates charged toward them at high speed.
The British fast fleet scrambled to detach two ships to relieve the pressure on HMS Thor. These small French vessels certainly couldn't sink a battleship, but they were capable of causing significant damage—a fact that had been verified repeatedly in skirmishes years prior.
The French steamships fanned out. One of them provocatively sped past the starboard side of HMS Thor, firing a few casual rounds as it passed.
The other two lunged straight for the crippled HMS Claymore, delivering two full broadsides from a distance of four hundred meters. When the British steamships finally arrived to intervene, the French ships executed a sharp turn and sped away to the north.
Two British frigates wove through the floating wreckage, clearly enraged, and followed suit with a hard turn to port.
Then, Pix watched through his telescope as one of the pursuing frigates suddenly decelerated. A moment later, its funnel stopped smoking, and it sat motionless on the water next to HMS Claymore.
He closed his eyes in frustration and signaled to the adjutant beside him. "Tell the fast fleet to pull back immediately."
When he had previously heard the officers of the fast fleet reporting that their steamships were breaking down during normal transit, he had assumed they were merely making excuses to deflect blame.
Now, he had witnessed the reality with his own eyes.
At this rate, it was uncertain if they could even save the vessels that had already broken down, while the functioning ships were in constant danger of being picked off by the French.
The British steamships retreated behind the battle line, while several third-rate battleships moved in to surround the stranded vessels and begin securing tow lines.
The entire British fleet remained stalled in place for nearly twenty minutes.
It wasn't until two in the afternoon that they finished searching the previous engagement zone, having salvaged three steamships with snapped propeller shafts.
Inside the command cabin of HMS Victory, a staff officer kept his head low as he spoke to Pix. "Commander, there is still no sign of HMS Cyclone. No sailors witnessed her sinking, either."
Pix clenched his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. After a long silence, he growled, "Order the fleet to return to Gibraltar immediately."
HMS Cyclone was the flagship of the fast fleet. If it had been sunk, that might have been manageable, but it now seemed highly likely that the French had captured it.
Furthermore, Colonel Russell, the fleet commander, was almost certainly on board.
However, Brueys had no intention of letting the British leave so easily.
The Franco-Spanish combined fleet followed them from a distance. French steamships constantly appeared on the British fleet's flanks and rear. Utilizing their superior maneuverability, they would fire several rounds, retreat, circle around, and strike again.
Because they didn't dare send their own steamships out to provide cover, the British Mediterranean Fleet found itself reliving the nightmare Lord Hood had suffered years ago.
The massive battleships could only huddle in a dense defensive formation, being slowly "skinned" by the smaller French vessels. After two days, every ship in the fleet bore the scars of battle.
Finally, at noon on the third day, a tow line on the British cruiser HMS Pennant snagged and knotted, forcing the ship to stop for repairs.
Seven French warships immediately swarmed it. In less than ten minutes, they sent it to the bottom of the sea.
Even the battleship that had been towing HMS Pennant lost its mizzen sail in the process.
A week later, the British Mediterranean Fleet finally sighted the fortress of Gibraltar perched atop its mountain. Pix felt no sense of relief. Instead, his hands trembled uncontrollably.
The latest damage report submitted by his staff indicated that during this "Return to the Mediterranean" operation, they had lost twelve steamships. Nine of those were cruisers; their larger hulls had placed too much stress on the propeller shafts during turns, leading to more mechanical failures than the frigates had suffered.
Additionally, three third-rate ships—HMS Thor, HMS Minotaur, and HMS Orion—had been heavily damaged. Every other ship in the fleet had sustained some form of injury.
And the number of enemy ships they had damaged? Zero.
Pix knew that such a disastrous performance would likely force him into an early retirement. At the same time, the Empire's plans to reclaim the Mediterranean would be delayed by years.
One week later.
In the offices of the British Admiralty, Admiral Jervis slammed a French newspaper, delivered that morning, onto his desk. His expression was darker than the London sky.
The front-page headline screamed: "The Toulon Fleet's Triumphant Procession Will Be Held in Three Days; British Officer Colonel Russell Returns to Port with the Fleet."
The main text below highlighted the names HMS Foxhound and HMS Cyclone in bold. Those were the prizes of the Toulon Fleet.
Further down, the article printed: "In the future, the Mediterranean will remain a sea where no British fleet dare appear."
Indeed, Joseph had anticipated that once the British learned of the French landing in Egypt, they would certainly send a fleet to intervene, just as they had against Napoleon in another history.
Therefore, he had instructed the Franco-Spanish fleet to wait for an opportunity to strike, intending to at least intimidate them from venturing deep into the Mediterranean. He hadn't expected such a spectacular victory.
It was worth noting that the Royal Navy had not suffered such a significant loss since the Battle of Texel over a century ago.
This battle further solidified French dominance over the Mediterranean and made the various Italian states even more dependent on France.
An officer standing nearby stole a glance at Jervis's face before gathering the courage to continue his report.
"General, in addition to this, Lord Duncan and General Parker have proposed a halt to the construction of steam-powered warships. Their proposal has already gained the support of several other generals..."
Jervis frowned instantly.
Duncan and Parker were influential figures within the Navy Board. For even them to harbor such foolish thoughts was alarming. It seemed he would have to go and lobby them personally.
He knew very well that without steamships, they could never set foot in the Mediterranean again. In fact, the naval battles of the future would be ruled by steam alone.
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