Chapter 881: 789: Maneuvering over the Mediterranean Sea

Chapter 881: Chapter 789: Maneuvering over the Mediterranean Sea

Demoblin immediately frowned deeply.

Before he attacked Genoa, a reckless group of young men burned the grain storage warehouse, causing him to gain no food supplies from the city.

According to the Crown Prince’s orders, he was to hold Genoa for two months. Yet, more than twenty days’ worth of provisions were still unaccounted for.

For the past month, under relentless assaults from fifty thousand enemy troops, his forces had suffered heavy casualties. If food shortages were to occur, the soldiers would likely collapse instantly…

The ground trembled again, and Juno pushed open the door, bursting in anxiously: “Commander, the enemy has launched a large-scale attack from the north!”

Demoblin hastily grabbed his hat and put it on, striding forward on his sixty-year-old legs toward the northern frontline. After a few steps, he turned back to the staff officer and shouted, “Notify me immediately if any ships dock at the port!”

“Yes, General!”

Juno led over Demoblin’s warhorse, his voice tinged with frustration: “The British battleships outside the port ensure that none of our ships can enter…”

With his attendant’s assistance, Demoblin struggled to mount the horse, panting heavily as he said, “The Crown Prince promised me there would be supplies, so they will surely arrive.

“Our task now is to repel those damned Austrians and hold the line here!”

As he spoke, he swung his whip and galloped through the dust toward the observation hill nearby.

He took the telescope handed to him by his attendant but instinctively looked first toward the port behind him, silently praying in his heart: “Jesus, grant me the sight of a supply ship soon…”

…

Northeastern Mediterranean, Ligurian waters near Genoa.

In the officer’s quarters aboard the flagship “Victory” of the British Mediterranean Fleet, Lord Hood was idly flipping through a weathered navigation journal, occasionally sipping tea.

There was a knock on the cabin door, followed by Admiral Collinwood’s voice calling from outside: “Commander, ‘Old Silver Coin’ just returned with a report—a disturbance has been observed in the French fleet at the Port of Toulon.”

Lord Hood’s eyes sparkled with vitality as he stood up, donned his coat, and commanded loudly, “Summon all captains and senior officers to the conference room.”

“Yes, General!”

Twenty minutes later, within the “Victory’s” conference room, Hood pointed to the map marking the waterway between Toulon and Genoa: “Colonel Nelson, you are ordered to lead the escort fleet and thoroughly monitor this waterway. Do not let a single French ship escape notice.”

“Yes, General!”

Ordinarily, commanding an escort fleet wouldn’t fall to an officer like Nelson—a lieutenant colonel would typically suffice to oversee seven or eight escort ships—but the key to ambushing the French Fleet lay in tracking their movements. Hood would allow no room for error, assigning Nelson to supervise personally.

Hood turned to the staff officer beside him: “Immediately establish contact with General Hussem’s division and instruct him to be battle-ready at all times.

“He must hold off the main forces of the Toulon Fleet for at least half a day.”

At that moment, Hussem was leading a division tasked with blockading the waterways outside Genoa Port. The division included four third-class ships, five fourth-class ships, six fifth-level warships, and eighteen escort ships.

While this division was far inferior in size compared to France’s Toulon Fleet, known as the Mediterranean Fleet, Lord Hood had confidence in Hussem’s command skills and the British sailors’ expert navigation—enough to detain the French for six to seven hours.

Meanwhile, Hood’s main fleet lay hidden sixty nautical miles southeast of Genoa.

The location allowed convenient resupply from Tuscany’s ports and ensured they could join the battle at Genoa within half a day.

Should the Toulon Fleet dare to surface, Hood vowed to annihilate it entirely this time!

The French likely sensed the risk of heading to Genoa, but Hood knew they had no choice but to take that gamble.

Nearly thirty thousand French troops were trapped there. Without resupply from the sea, these forces faced either surrender or starvation.

Coincidentally, Hood had recently decided to lift the blockade on Toulon to lure the French Fleet out, which led to the opportunity presented by Genoa’s siege.

The battle at Genoa had already dragged on for over a month, and the French could no longer sit idly by!

Rapidly, Hood’s order swept through the British Mediterranean Fleet, and the warships eagerly prepared for combat.

Another half-day elapsed, and a British oar-and-sail ship sped up to the side of the “Victory.” The second officer delivered the latest intelligence to the conference room.

“The French Fleet headed southwest?” Lord Hood gazed at the officer from the escort ship with a look of deep puzzlement. “Are you certain?”

“Yes, General!” The second officer stood straight and replied, “The ‘Long-toothed Shark’ is still following them. They number sixteen primary battleships, twenty secondary warships, and a significant number of escort ships.”

Hood’s brow furrowed immediately.

This was unmistakably the primary force of the Toulon Fleet, yet they hadn’t gone toward Genoa.

Admiral Collinwood, pondering aloud, suggested: “General, perhaps the French intend to rendezvous with the Spanish Fleet before heading to Genoa?”

Hood nodded slightly: “That’s the only plausible explanation.”

Turning his gaze to the fleet positioning chart on the wall, he issued instructions to the staff officer: “Order Colonel Louis’ division to proceed to Valencia Bay immediately to search. If they spot the French forces, attempt to disrupt them and report back to me instantly.”

Louis commanded a convoy escort division.

Due to repeated attacks on British merchant ships by the French frigates earlier, this escort division was sizable, equipped with two third-level battleships.

Currently stationed in the western portion of the Barbary Coast, they were only half a day’s journey to Valencia Bay.

Hood then addressed the assembled officers with a commanding tone: “Order all warships to weigh anchor immediately. We head to Valencia.

“If the French and Spanish Fleets do converge, it’ll save us some trouble—this time, we’ll take them both down in one blow!”

“Yes, General!”

Twenty minutes later, over a hundred British Mediterranean Fleet warships surged westward across the Mediterranean.

By noon the next day.

Just as Lord Hood was eagerly discussing strategies with senior officers about defeating the French and Spanish Fleet with minimal cost, the “Long-toothed Shark” escort ship delivered a fresh report on the Toulon Fleet’s movements.

Within the command cabin of the “Victory,” the captain of the escort ship stood rigidly upright and reported: “General, the French have turned south off the eastern side of Lyon Bay. They are now close to the northern Barbary Coast.”

Hood felt a rush of anger and muttered grimly, “What on earth are the French plotting? Are they on holiday in North Africa?”

Nelson, who had just arrived and reviewed the “Long-toothed Shark’s” report—since the Toulon Fleet wasn’t heading to Genoa, his patrol assignment had been revoked—remarked to Lord Hood: “General, regardless of the French intentions, as long as we maintain our position at their northern flank, we can block their access to Genoa’s waterways.”