Chapter 551: From Candia To The Bottom Of The Ocean
The sea sunk back into its usual silence, for only temporary of course, forming a strong contrast with the surrounding environment of Abraham’s fleet which is filled with sinking ships, bloating bodies, scattered planks and spilt fuels.
The first glimpse of the day has emerged above the horizon, showing that this epic battle has been ongoing for around five hours counting since the first encounter between the two fleet.
Abraham knows that when it comes to warfare, it is always the first all out offence, or the first charge by the troopers that determines the fate of the war. If a troop did not manage to crash their opponents in their first offensive, the troopers’ strength, determination, strive, shall diminish bit by bit until it is being worn out, and then this troop shall forever lose the ability to put up another offensive turning into a desperate defence.
Whereas for the opponents, if they managed to sustain their organisation and the will to fight against an all-out offensive operation, they are most likely able to sustain it for a second time, a third time... until they familiarise themselves with the tactics of their opponents, and turn the tide, switching the positions over, picking up the stance of an offender.
What shocked Abraham the most, to the brink of crushing his confidence of winning this battle, is that even after suffering such a great loss encountering a weaponry that most of the enemies have never seen or dealt with before, they still managed to keep their discipline and order, regrouping in a relatively short period of time. They are even willing to continue following the orders of a leader who has wasted so many lives just not long ago! When normally this fleet should already be pushed to collapse, and the various ships fleeing the battlefield.
The Venetians are still not yet defeated.
Abraham issued order after order, asking the various ships to regroup as well, turn around and stop these reluctant captains from showing their broadside to the enemies, Abraham knows very clearly from that round of conflict just now that many of the commanders inside his fleet have become over confident, sometimes maybe to a superstitious trust and believe in the power of the artilleries, which is however, obviously wrong to the bottom.
Not mentioning about the fact that the artilleries can easily lose its fire powers once the metal cast cracks after receiving a drastic decrease in its temperature from the morning dew pouring down from the sky, and also the poor aiming efficiencies while the fleet is travelling across the seas, and its poor range. Abraham knows clearly that only God is able to decide whether the artillery shell will hit a target or not on the seas.
The Roman fleet struggled to change its course while being stuck inside this small circle of the Mediterranean that is filled with sinking ships, boulders, and other friendly ships while trying to evade the enemy fleet that is fast approaching from their back, Abraham gazed the sealines hopelessly as he receives report of one after another friendly ship colliding with one another, creating traffic jams even within his own fleet, and the entire fleet is on the dangerously close edge of getting surrounded by the Venetian fleet from two flanks - heavily outnumbered as well.
Every captain, inclusive of the one who ranted towards Abraham a few hours ago, has realised the bitter outcome that is going to happen to them at this point of time.
On the other side of the seas, Giovanni Mocenigo kept looking at the direction of his admiral, Benedetto, still standing there on the front deck, against the tide like a statue.
The Greek shells are already soaring past his cheeks, but that does not seem like a concern to him as compared to those sailors whose leg trembles allowing them to hardly stand upright whenever the roar of the enemy artilleries is passed into their ears. Giovanni Mocenigo knows that a man is not afraid of anything when he has determined to die, especially for the admiral who is going to die in a few years anyways due to his fragile body and old age and having suicide by enemy shells might be able to wash away his sins for the suffer and loss of this battle.
Giovanni Mocenigo knows, however, that actually that if his familia is supportive of the old admiral, they can use their influence inside the Serene Republic to eradicate Benedetto of his crimes, wash him of his sins, and maybe keep his post as a senator. But at the same time Giovanni knows, that his familia has no intention of doing that, in fact they would rather let Benedetto die or get imprisoned as soon as possible after this battle, then can Giovanni’s father take over the post of the grand admiral giving the familia a huge amount of power and popularity and pave the road for them to become the next Serene Doge.
While Giovanni is still being lost in his thoughts, the moment Benedetto has desired for so long finally came for him, a Greek shell came flying through the air, as if attracted by Benedetto like a magnet, hit right onto the grand admiral, and just within a blink of an eye, half of the admiral is gone, literally. The shell torn the entire body, from head to feet, of the old man into half, showing the simple fact that no human power is able to withstand the impact and damage of modern technology.
Giovanni rushed to collect the remains of Benedetto, what the carcass of the old man is already far beyond the shape of a human being, looking rather... unrecognisable. In fact, there is only a pile of red, wobbling meat remaining on the deck, with a pair of leather boots decorated with silver linings.
"All units! I shall take charge from now onwards!"
Giovanni yelled towards the stunned signallers as he ran back to his command posts hugging the two boots in his chest.
"The admiral has sacrificed himself for the Serene Republic! I, as the vice commander, shall take full charge from this point onwards! Pass my orders, all ships continue the original course of way, and is free to split up and engage once they have come into contact with the enemies AND after they have fired a round of shots!"
"And tell them to remember, we have allies joining the battle in no time! Do not occupy the entire battlefield, leave some space for our friendlies!"
"All ships are free to engage by themselves once in contact! But always remember to keep having a two to one tactic! And never board two ships at once!"
"In God’s will!"
Giovanni wasted no time and sent a chain of commands to his subordinates the moment he took over the post from the owner of that pair of boots in his chest.
"Your highness! Your highness! What shall be our plan after engagement!"
"Our plan is not to have a plan! Remember, we are going to win this war through numbers, not planning and tactics!"
The lieutenant gulped in surprise, this new admiral is definitely a different leader as compared to all those past naval leaders who wish that they can have a plan for every single small thing on the battlefield no matter whether they seem to be trivial or not.
The Roman fleet is still struggling to pick up their speed and get into a complete formation as the Venetians come closer and closer. Abraham has no bird’s eye view to allow him to observe the entire battlefield that spreads over to several nautical miles, but still he can see his general order getting completely neglected by his ships, as he sees the ship right in front of him kept on firing shells frantically, trying to have a miracle shot again like the one the other ship did at the start of the battle that sunk the leadership of the Venetians.
But clearly this is not working, the Venetian fleet lessened their area of impact, and with the help of the wind blowing South they just seemed to continuously pick up their speed, charging right towards the softest part of the Roman fleet like a spear.
The continuous blasting of the Roman fleet did no magic trick or miracle of course, and the Venetian fleet inevitably came into a violent clash with their respective targets. Each and every Venetian commander followed their superior’s orders to the clear as they kept a close contact with their partners, ramming into the enemy ships.
Just a ram along is enough to move the artilleries out of action.
It is apparent that the weapon which made a miracle just now can no longer bless its owner with an absolute victory.
The hulk of the Roman ships groaned in pain as it is slashed into cases by the impact from the Venetian ships, many Roman ships are simply not built to withstand this amount of pressure exerted onto one point, and eventually one after another Roman ship shambled into pieces.
So did the Roman captains’ confidence for victory.
