Chapter 771: The Hunt
A messenger rushed across the deck, shouting the captain's orders:
"Enemy fleet spotted at two o'clock! Distance: two nautical miles! Five merchant ships, two cruisers, and two frigates!"
Maderno's heart clenched.
A cruiser was a fifth-rate warship, typically armed with 44 cannons.
Meanwhile, their side had only three frigates: the Far Gaze, the Seagull's Wing, and the Great Tide.
Each only carried 21 cannons—nowhere near enough firepower to win a battle.
By all logic, the captain should have ordered a retreat.
But instead, their formation was sailing straight toward the British fleet!
Maderno sighed internally:
"Dear God, I barely escaped from the English Channel. Please don't let me die in the Mediterranean…"
Battle Stations!
Thirty seconds later, the drums roared.
Battle alert.
The British ships had also spotted the French fleet, and they began slowly turning westward, aligning their port side toward the French ships.
The west wind was blowing—a textbook maneuver to claim the windward advantage.
Meanwhile, the merchant ships fled south, letting the British warships block the French fleet from reaching them.
Steam Advantage
"Increase boiler pressure!"
The captain's voice rang through the speaking tube, and below deck, the engine room chief repeated the command:
"Increase boiler pressure! More coal, quickly!"
Thick black smoke billowed from the stacks of the three steam-powered French frigates.
Their speed surged forward, as if they were racing across the windy Atlantic, rather than the usually calm Mediterranean.
The British warships panicked, quickly scrambling to adjust their formation.
The two paddle frigates rushed to the east flank, trying to screen the merchant ships from view.
The French Maneuver
The flagship, Seagull's Wing, signaled orders to the other two frigates.
The French ships pivoted sharply, their boilers groaning at maximum output.
They left a long white trail in the water, moving at an incredible speed, circling toward the far east of the British formation.
The British commander was surprised by their unusual speed, but he remained calm.
He knew these small frigates had weak firepower.
Once they entered cannon range, the battle would be over in minutes—
One 44-gun cruiser was enough to sink two frigates.
Even against three, they could still hold their own.
And they had two cruisers, plus two frigates in support.
The only thing he didn't understand was why the French were charging straight into battle!
For a moment, he worried about a possible ambush.
But then he laughed at himself.
There was no way the French Mediterranean Fleet had any secret reinforcements—Lord Samuel Hood had them trapped in Toulon.
"Prepare to Fire!"
The British second officer turned to him.
"Major Hicks, the enemy is 800 yards away."
According to Royal Navy protocol, 350 yards was ideal firing range.
At their current speed, even if the French turned away immediately, they would still end up inside firing range.
Hicks raised his hand:
"Prepare to fire."
"Aye, sir!"
The gunports creaked open.
The black barrels of the cannons emerged, aimed at the charging French ships.
Hicks raised his hand to cover his ears—
The first volley was always deafening.
But then—
His eyes went wide.
The Impossible Turn
Just 600 yards away, the French ships suddenly veered sharply to the right—
With a completely unnatural turning angle!
The three smoke-spewing ships leaned heavily, tilting to an almost 60-degree angle with the water.
Now facing southwest, they were halfway into the wind, yet their speed barely dropped.
Hicks' battle instincts kicked in immediately.
At this rate, in a few minutes, the French frigates would slip past the rear of his formation—
And once they broke through…
They would have direct access to the merchant ships.
His eye twitched.
He shouted in panic:
"Hard to port! Now! Turn 1.5 compass points—forget formation! FIRE! IMMEDIATELY!"
Too Late
The ships were now only 550 yards apart.
Technically within cannon range, but far from an ideal distance.
"Aye, sir!"
The British ships groaned as they tried to turn, but the French frigates were simply too fast.
The two paddle frigates managed to get their left-side 18-pounders in position, and the cannons roared.
The Mediterranean filled with thick white smoke, waves crashing violently from the missed shots.
But at this range, and against fast-moving ships, their chances of hitting were almost zero.
The French ships didn't even return fire—
They simply kept sailing forward, chasing their prey.
By the time the British cruisers finally turned, the Far Gaze was already slipping past their western flank.
It flashed its stern at the enemy—
"BOOM!"
The British 32-pound cannons roared, but the shots fell short, splashing into the water.
The Final Chase
Hicks snatched his spyglass and looked south.
His merchant ships had barely moved one nautical mile.
At the French ships' insane speed, they would catch up in ten minutes.
Hicks shouted to his second officer:
"Send Beacon and Dragonfly after them! We must slow them down!"
The two British paddle frigates turned around, their galley slaves rowing desperately under the whip.
After a few minutes, they barely matched the French speed.
A Hunter's Instinct
Maderno gripped the mast, eyes locked on the British merchant ships ahead.
Then he glanced back at the British warships—
And suddenly, he felt like a seabird soaring freely.
The prey was right in front of him—
And the storm had been left far behind.
He felt free, exhilarated, alive.
The First Kill
The British merchant ships realized they were doomed and scattered in different directions, hoping to avoid being captured all at once.
Seven minutes later—
The Far Gaze caught up with one ship, its name painted on the bow: Longtail Ray.
Sailing alongside it, Maderno heard the deep rumble of cannons rolling into position.
A moment later—
A bright flash erupted from the gun deck.
The fire roared from bow to stern, the cannons firing in sequence.
From 200 yards away, the merchant ship shook violently.
Splinters exploded into the air, the midsection and stern tearing apart under the French bombardment.
The hunt had begun.
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