Chapter 550: Old Venetian Noble
None of the Venetians ever knew that the seas of Aegean can possibly boil in the darkest hour of the night when the scent of winter is still around.
It was just yesterday that the Venetians still had a majestic fleet, filled with ships that are decorated with majestic masts and sturdy hulks, then just in a few hours’ time about half of them became an ashen wreck, sinking one after another, laying its soft bellies on the sea beds with all its sailors struggling for a grip of air inside the scorching seas burning with flames created by the leakage of fuel used to power the Greek fire on these ships after getting ignited by all those gun powders.
The sea is burning, again.
The Romans definitely do not have the mood and time to save these drowning sailors, they sailed pass them without any hesitation continuing to chase the retreating Venetian ships, while in the process also crashing the last bit of hope in the eyes of these drowning Venetian sailors as their souls gradually fade away with their eyes turning dimmer and dimmer.
Just like what they used to sing, the seven seas are their home, their lullaby, and now they ought to add one new line to it, the seas are also their burial ground.
The chase has continued for more than two hours, and Benedetto has never been so worn out, agitated and perturbed in the entire span of his life. For almost his entire career he has never ever witnessed or participated in a naval battle like this. Since the start of the battle, he and his valorous and experienced sailors have not come into direct close quarters combat for even once, once! Which is absolutely appalling, and it is totally not because of the enemies being way too powerful or his warriors have become a bunch of cowards, no! It is because of all those god damn artilleries!
Benedetto knows that the mode of naval warfare has been changed forever from this day onwards, and unlucky for him, he became that piece of laughing stock that is going to be written in history that will be used to display the power and efficiency of the new mode of warfare, people might describe him as an ignorant man who is completely ignorant towards the development of new technologies with an unforgivable level of ignorance causing the destruction of the Venetian fleet who too is ignorant towards their opponents.
By now, the bulk of the Venetian ships have sailed out of the Greek area of contact and re gathered around the flag ship, and many have suggested to set the course of the fleet towards Albanon to replenish their supplies – what they mean by this is pretty clear, they want to advice the admiral to give up and flee the battlefield.
"What do we do, admiral?" The captain eyed Benedetto anxiously.
"What do we do? What can we do?" Benedetto yelled biting his lips hard till blood starts appear. "Tell all those captains that have made up this plan with you, I understand that they are all drafted, but if they want to run away, do it as they please! I will, in fact, I cannot, and I will not flee!"
"Remember, no war is never won by putting up a desperate defence, or won by fleeing, all wars are won through offenses! And if we are not the one putting up an offensive stance, the enemies will!"
A spark of light appeared in Giovanni Mocenigo’s eyes as he listens to the words of the old admiral, and he stepped up asking. "So, what do we do now, admiral?"
"Pull the sails, shift the rudder, we are charging back! Right towards those Greeks! Ahem! Ahem..." Benedetto suddenly began coughing violently as he said these words, he felt dizzy, he has not had a good rest for three days, he has exhausted too much energy since the start of the battle, he is too old and fragile for this, but still he held tight to the handrails and remain standing there despite the world slowly fading before his eyes turning into an entire black.
The first thing that came to Benedetto’s eyes when he regained his vision is his blood, dark red in colour, on his own hands. A violent shiver down his spine made him awake again and helped him make up something in his mind too as he ordered the captain before him. "Go, spread the word to the entire fleet."
Giovanni Mocenigo watched as the captain is being tossed off the ship, and then approached Benedetto. "How are you feeling, your grace?"
"I am fine, my child." Benedetto panted heavily as he looked back at the young man who seems to be still full of robust and energy after such a prolonged fight. "I have a plan, my child, we are going to destroy that fleet of those filthy Greeks, with a cost of course. Tell the captains, that we are charging directly onto the Greeks, head-to-head, they have no artilleries mounted on their front, and then we are going to use our Greek fire to create a barrier of fire for those Greeks, while also repaying them with what
"We are going to burn our own ships."
"I know."
Giovanni Mocenigo remained silent; he understood what the cost his superior mentioned is.
"I am going to, I am, already a sinner, for losing at least a thousand finest Venetian young men, I shall commit suicide right after this battle, I have no doubt that we are going to win this battle by the sheer amount we have, but I will need you, my child, to bring back the Venetian ships back to port for me, in one piece, and try to save as many Venetians, no, both Venetians and Romans as possible."
"Your grace..."
"I am already a dead man." Benedetto said firmly. Giovanni Mocenigo dared not to look into the eyes of his superior, but Benedetto forcefully tilted the junior’s head and stared into his eyes. "Look at me, look at the eyes of an old dead man, my child, I need you, no, may you please help me a favour... You can claim the victory and the perks for yourself and push all the blame to me, but please allow me to have a proper burial in the Basilica of Saint Marco, and please help me look after my family after I go. "
Giovanni Mocenigo knows why the admiral wants to end his own life, for there is a tradition within the Venetian nobilities to lighten the punishment on a convict if he is already dead, and through his suicide it might portray him as a hero gaining some sympathy from the other nobility, and lighten the flames of fury from those families whose sons or husbands have died in this operation, and so it might not affect the reputation of his family that much, allowing his offspring to make a come back to government posts after a few decades.
Through death sprouts new ways of life.
Giovanni Mocenigo nodded his head heavily, then fled the spot to spread the orders to the various signal men.
The Venetian fleet, which has already shrunken in size, turned around and faced the Roman feet incoming at them. Several ships continued their course of way and fled the battlefield, but that is alright, no one is there to stop them, not everyone could live pass that sheer shock from those Greek black metal rods.
Benedetto stood right on the foredeck of the ship, watching over the enemy fleet rolling onto him, the old admiral threw his helmet into the seas and allows the wind to freely blow over his clumsy ashen hair. Giovanni Mocenigo knows what he wants, and so he left with a sigh, going back to the command post.
...
"We have lost."
"Huh...what?"
The Roman commanders and captains could not believe what they have just heard from their leader.
"Well, I guess it is inevitable, in the end, it is yet way too early for us to challenge the Venetians in their seas...."
"Ad...Admiral! Please do not say such things!" Abraham is interrupted by one his captains, who rosed up to him with a face and eyes as red as fire. "We have not yet lost! We can still fight! We shall recover all the lost lands that belongs to the Roman people and throw those Venetians back to where they came from!... If... If..."
The captain hesitated a bit.
"If you have already lost your confidence and valour, then go back to where you came from! Go back to your country Abyssinia! We Romans shall fight for victory by ourselves!"
Abraham replied with nothing but a peek.
In the night, among the morning mist, two groups of men on ships, led by two respective people who are determined to die, came clashing towards one another, again, and for the very last time perhaps.
