Chapter 791: Battle of Genoa
Nelson continued: "In fact, the Toulon Fleet's current position is very disadvantageous.
"Once their supplies in Genoa are exhausted, they'll have no choice but to engage us in a decisive battle.
"At that point, we can calmly choose the battleground and set up our formation in advance.
"And once they're defeated—which is almost a certainty—they'll have no recourse but to flee south into the Port of Bizerte.
"We can then blockade the port, leaving the French without any warships available along their southeastern coast.
"Our marines might even be able to capture Toulon itself."
"I fully agree with your assessment." Lord Hood nodded, then turned to his staff officer. "Order the fleet to spread out towards Sardinia to prevent the French from slipping past our flank."
...
On the southwestern side of the Mediterranean Sea.
Sixty-eight sailing warships slowly advanced across the sea, their colossal hulls, once a majestic sight that seemed to blot out the sky, now lacked much of their former imperious grandeur.
Instead, they appeared somewhat desolate.
They were the main force of the French Toulon Fleet.
They were capable of defeating the navy of any other nation in the world—except Britain's.
Unfortunately, the enemy they were currently contending with in the Mediterranean was precisely the British Fleet.
The largest vessel in the fleet, a colossal ship like a city on the waves, was the Toulon Fleet's flagship, the Orient.
This was one of the few heavy battleships produced by the French Navy in recent years. It had originally been named the Crown Prince, but Joseph hadn't been fond of the name, particularly as a historical ship of that name had been sunk in Egypt. Thus, it was eventually changed to the Orient.
The Orient surpassed the British Victory in key specifications such as size, armament, and hull thickness, ranking alongside the Spanish Santísima Trinidad as the most powerful battleships in the world.
Although the Santísima Trinidad carried more cannons than the Orient, it was at a disadvantage in terms of hull structure and maneuverability. Its actual combat effectiveness was likely somewhat inferior to the Orient's.
At that moment, in the Orient's spacious operations room, Commander-in-Chief Brueys of the Toulon Fleet was grimly studying a sea chart, constantly measuring latitudes and longitudes, and circling various positions.
Beside him, Rear Admiral Antoine Ganteaume, the fleet's Chief of Staff, gazed out of the porthole and couldn't help but sigh softly:
"It's quite frustrating! I imagine the British are probably laughing at us somewhere out there."
Brueys said without looking up: "Being bait is certainly not pleasant, General Ganteaume, but you must get used to it.
"However, speaking of ridicule, I believe there will come a day when you will be laughing at the British."
Indeed, no one would have guessed that the main force of the French Toulon Fleet was merely a decoy.
Their objective was to draw the British Mediterranean Fleet far away from Genoa and to avoid engagement by any means necessary.
The main force for this operation, however, was the newly formed Mediterranean Fast Squadron.
This squadron was entirely equipped with Steam Warships, comprising 25 Mediterranean Light-class frigates and 8 Tunisia-class cruisers. It was commanded by Brigadier General Dichayera.
Their mission was to break through the British blockade of Genoa.
Currently, Hotham's formidable squadron was stationed off the coast of Genoa.
Ordinarily, Hotham's third and fourth-rate ships alone would be sufficient to annihilate the Fast Squadron, but Dichayera was tasked with defeating them, or at the very least, driving them away.
Brueys finally straightened up, pointed a pencil at the chart, and addressed Ganteaume:
"Next, we'll turn towards Sicily. Lord Hood will undoubtedly assume we intend to bypass Sardinia and approach Genoa from the east."
Ganteaume offered a rare smile:
"And then we'll change course to head west. Perhaps we'll even have a chance to rendezvous with the Spanish Fleet."
Brueys nodded:
"I hope General Dichayera can successfully complete his mission."
Dozens of nautical miles away, the British Mediterranean Fleet, after sailing north for a while to intercept the Toulon Fleet, then furiously chased the latter towards the Spanish coast.
...
Twenty-five nautical miles south of Genoa.
On board the British third-rate battleship Theseus, Rear Admiral Hotham himself had just finished arranging the frigate patrol routes, and after confirming everything was foolproof, he let out a long yawn.
The main force of the French Toulon Fleet was far away in the waters off Sicily, and the Spanish Fleet couldn't possibly attack Genoa—even if the Spanish had gone mad, Lewis's squadron was still watching them, and Hotham's own forces would receive an early warning.
Still, Hotham wasn't in a particularly good mood.
He was unable to participate in the battle to crush the Toulon Fleet, which meant he would be a step behind his peers on his path to promotion.
He exited the cabin and stepped onto the foredeck, gazing out at the distant sea:
"God, at least let the French send some transport ships our way."
If he could capture a large quantity of supplies intended for their personnel, it might, perhaps, somewhat compensate for his lack of battle merits.
It seemed his casual prayer had indeed been heard by God, as a fast-approaching galley in the distance repeatedly signaled with flags.
Without needing anyone to relay it, Hotham was almost the first to see the signal flags. Overjoyed, he turned to the signal officer and ordered:
"Quick! All ships prepare for battle! A French fleet is approaching!"
He walked to the command room at the bow, telling his staff officer:
"As soon as you have intelligence on the enemy fleet's exact numbers, report it to me immediately."
Typically, the first picket ships to spot the enemy would return to give warning, after which another vessel would scout for specific details like the enemy's numbers and ship types, then make a detailed report.
However, this time Hotham never received the detailed information about the enemy fleet.
That was because his scouting galley wasn't as fast as France's Mediterranean Fast Squadron, and had already been left far behind, out of sight.
About an hour later, Hotham finally learned the enemy fleet's exact numbers—by seeing them with his own eyes. By then, the French fleet had surged to less than 3 nautical miles from his position.
Hotham lowered his Telescope, a scornful sneer on his face.
The French had only sent 8 Tunisia-class cruisers, accompanied by more than 20 Mediterranean Light-class frigates.
This was practically a suicide mission. His squadron boasted 4 third-rate ships and 5 fourth-rate ships—these alone were enough to crush the Frenchmen's smaller vessels. And he still had 5 cruisers and 16 frigates at his disposal.
Hotham was not unaware of the French Steam Warships; Britain had previously lost quite a few merchant ships and frigates to them.
However, the British Navy had quickly developed countermeasures: utilizing their superior firepower and robust hulls to form a battle line and engage steadily.
The French ships only had the advantage of speed; once they entered a battleship's firing range, they would be shattered almost immediately.
As Hotham's flagship, the Theseus, issued a series of commands via signal flags, over a dozen British warships quickly formed a straight battle line, calmly taking the windward position.
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