Chapter 793: The Battle of Genoa III
In fact, sailing warships sometimes also employed this arc formation for attacks.
But sailing ships were slow to adjust their angles; once they formed an arc, maneuvering again in a line formation would take a long time to reorganize.
Therefore, unless they had an absolute advantage, sailing warships generally engaged in line formation.
However, agile steamships didn't have this concern. As long as the crew was skilled at handling the ship, they could complete a formation change in just a few minutes, allowing them to freely use optimal attack methods for firing.
This was also why Bourne felt the French warships' firepower was excessively fierce.
Under the close-range harassment of the French warships, the 'Four-Wheeler' and other ships endured cannon fire for a good seven or eight minutes, yet still couldn't escape the enemy's firing range.
Hotham finally grew restless.
While losing a few cruisers and frigates was no big deal, those small French ships were ganging up on his vessels right under his nose—this was an outright humiliation!
Suppressing his fury, he told the signal officer, "Hoist the flag, move the battle line east, and prepare to attack the enemy fleet."
The 'Four-Wheeler' and 'Quartz Sand' were severely damaged and had begun to list. The other few ships had also sustained varying degrees of damage, drifting in place, almost completely losing their maneuverability.
Only two galleys, being at the very end of the formation earlier, had managed to escape the battle unscathed.
In a mere ten minutes or so, the British cruiser formation, sent to disrupt the French fleet's formation, had already suffered more than half its losses. This rate of destruction was so high it could be written into naval textbooks for the age of sailing warships.
Meanwhile, the British battleship formation, sails fully unfurled, charged furiously towards the French warships.
Hotham gazed at the enemy ships outside the porthole, silently calculating in his mind.
2,000 yards.
1,500 yards.
1,200 yards.
Just as he was about to order engagement, he saw the French flagship hoist a signal flag.
The more than thirty small ships immediately accelerated with extreme efficiency, turning and then sailing chaotically towards the northeast.
Their speed was like hyenas that had just snatched a lion's prey and were now gleefully making their escape.
By the time the British battle line reached the 'Four-Wheeler' and the other warships, only a vast expanse of white wake remained on the sea, along with the faint smell of coal smoke in the air; the French ships were already a nautical mile away.
Two British cruisers and one frigate were on the verge of sinking, and three more were in very poor condition, uncertain if they could hold out until towed back to port.
Hotham felt a surge of unvented fury. He slammed his fist down hard on the binnacle.
"Damn those Frenchmen, these cowards, these poltroons!" he growled through clenched teeth. "Come and face me in a man's fight!"
The distant French fleet seemed to have heard his words. They quickly circled around, turning back, and still in their previous, seemingly loose formation, approached Hotham from the north.
Hotham sneered and loudly ordered the battle line to adjust its heading, moving windward and trying to present its broadside to the enemy.
Half an hour later, the French steam warship formation had outpaced Hotham's battle line and seized the windward position to the west.
The British commander's expression began to grow uneasy.
Initially, his position was clearly further west, and the French ships had even detoured north to avoid him, yet they had still managed to reach the windward position first.
He could only order the formation to tighten, keeping their bows pointed northeast and preparing to meet the enemy ships' assault.
Truthfully, he wasn't afraid of the French fleet attacking.
With the sturdy hulls of his third-rate ships and the firepower of their seventy-four heavy cannons, even with the disadvantage of the wind, they could swiftly destroy those small French ships.
Immediately, the French warships moved.
With the wind at their backs, their speed instantly surged past 12 knots, and in the blink of an eye, they were within 800 yards of the British battle line.
Then, they suddenly turned right, and under Hotham's astonished gaze, they sailed at an incredibly high speed towards the tail end of the British battle line.
There was no intention of engaging in a broadside exchange.
Hotham was momentarily bewildered but quickly understood that the small French ships couldn't possibly exchange broadsides with him. He hastily ordered his formation to adjust course, keeping their broadsides facing the enemy.
But the speed of the windward steamships was simply incomparable to that of the clumsy third and fourth-rate battleships.
The steamships, at full power, constantly adjusted their angles and then, in an audacious maneuver, swept past the southernmost end of the British battle line.
The fourth-rate battleship 'Rough-Finned Shark' at the southern end desperately tried to turn, but as the French warships passed within 400 yards, its stern was still facing them.
The French cruisers, executing a reverse 'Crossing the T'—or what should perhaps be called a 'Crossing the Stern' maneuver—poured a volley of cannon fire into the 'Rough-Finned Shark'.
Although each ship only had one chance for a full broadside, after continuous bombardment from seven or eight ships in succession, the 'Rough-Finned Shark''s stern was utterly devastated, and even its spanker sail was severely damaged.
The French fleet showed no desire to prolong the engagement. As soon as that fourth-rate ship finally managed to turn around with great difficulty, the steamships that hadn't participated in the attack immediately turned sharply and widened the distance.
Hotham watched those smoke-belching vessels disappear into the distance, genuinely wanting to order a pursuit, but reason told him that with his formation's speed, catching them was utterly impossible.
A staff officer reported the 'Rough-Finned Shark''s damage to him.
Fortunately, it wasn't too severe; the ship could still continue fighting. Only its spanker sail was damaged, which might slightly affect its speed.
Hotham ordered another ship to move to the rear of the formation to protect the 'Rough-Finned Shark' in the middle.
Then, he saw the French warships, spewing black smoke, charging fiercely from a nautical mile away.
In that instant, he was reminded of the hyena packs he had seen years ago while hunting in Africa.
Each one was far smaller than a lion, and in a direct fight, they were no match for a lion, but they would always, when a lion was feeding, use their agility to constantly harass it.
Many times, he had seen hyenas successfully snatching away the lion's prey, and even, through surprise attacks, leave the lion covered in wounds.
Now, the French warships 'howling' towards him were simply a pack of hyenas.
And he, on the other hand, felt like a powerful but at his wits' end lion...
This time, he ordered three battleships to guard the rear of the formation in a column. But after those 'hyenas' swiftly circled his battle line a few times, they successfully created an opening and seized the opportunity to launch a 'Crossing the T' attack on the 'Caesar', which was slightly further from the formation.
After damaging the 'Caesar''s bowsprit, they sped away once more.
It wasn't until dusk fell that the French fleet ceased its harassment, sailing southeast and gradually disappearing over the horizon.
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