The Fox of France - Chapter 532 (Patreon)

Chapter 532: Prison Break

The sun had just set when Murphy's boat left the dock. Murphy was a captain in the Irish Navy and had been fishing in these waters for over a decade before becoming a valiant Irish naval warrior. He was familiar with this area as he was with, well, his wife's temper.

For over a year, he had been tasked with monitoring a narrow strip of water near Belfast. On clear days, from atop the high lookout tower, one could clearly see the entire stretch of water, and even a small fishing boat would not escape the tower's surveillance. However, at night, the lookout was unable to monitor the area. Although huge sonar devices had been installed in the nearby waters to listen for the sounds of ships, especially steamships passing by, this proved mostly ineffective—the currents here were part of the Atlantic Gulf Stream, flowing from south to north. Due to the narrowness of the sea, the current was quite fast, and the sonars mostly picked up noise from the currents. Moreover, to remain undetected, the British fleet could easily drift past at night without engaging their steam engines.

Thus, the only method of night surveillance was to send out small boats to monitor the waters up close.

Each naval vessel was equipped with several rockets; if an enemy fleet was spotted, the small boats would launch rockets to warn the onshore lookout tower. Then, of course, they would make a hasty retreat, hoping to evade pursuit by British warships under the cover of darkness.

Typically, once discovered, the British fleet would simply accelerate rather than foolishly chase after a small boat. Coupled with the cover of night, the chances of a successful escape were high.

However, in recent months, things had changed with the seasonal southward movement of cold air meeting the moist air from the Atlantic Gulf Stream, causing dense fog to form almost daily. The fog often did not lift until near noon. Therefore, vessels on night duty in the channel had to stay out until almost midday before returning, when the fog completely cleared.

This brought increased danger. There was a British dock across the way with a cruiser stationed there whose primary task was to hunt Irish vessels monitoring the British fleet. In the absence of fog, this cruiser posed limited threat because at night, it was higher than the Irish boats, giving the Irish the advantage of looking up against a brighter sky; conversely, the British looking down at the Irish boats saw them vanish into the dark sea. Thus, the Irish could easily spot the British and avoid them well in advance, not to mention the noise from the British steam-powered cruisers made the Irish sailing boats more adept at evasion at night.

But the situation was different in fog. Before the fog lifted, conditions were not much different from nighttime, but once it did and the sun began to rise, it was a completely different scenario. Everyone knew when the sun would rise, so they could retreat at the right time.

However, it was hard to predict when the fog would lift, so retreating too early could allow the British fleet to slip by if the fog lingered. But if they retreated too late and the fog cleared, they might find the British cruiser not far away, which would be real trouble.

Two days ago, a boat had been captured by the British because it retreated a bit too late, and its fate was now uncertain.

Murphy and his two subordinates rowed their boat, moving from the small river towards the open sea. The boat's dock was not built on the seaside as it would be targeted by British cannon fire.

After about a kilometer east along the river and around a small hill, they entered the open sea. The two naval soldiers quickly hoisted the gray-blue sails, and the boat sailed into the deep sea.

Once at the predetermined location, Murphy dropped the anchor, and the soldiers lowered the sails—here in the strait, the current was fast, and without anchoring, they could easily drift from their position. Constantly adjusting the sails against the current was too exhausting, so anchoring became the most common solution. Of course, if there was an emergency and they couldn't lift the anchor in time, they would have to cut the rope.

In the past, they would have been reluctant to cut the anchor rope and lose the iron anchor, but now they could claim reimbursements from the French, so even the most frugal Irish soldiers felt it was acceptable to cut it.

Once the anchor was set, there wasn't much else to do. The two soldiers kept watch over the sea, while Murphy expertly set up his fishing rod and bait, beginning to fish. It was a good opportunity to improve their meals by catching a few fish while on duty.

The boat gently rocked on the sea, and the three men, having nothing else to do, began to chat about various topics. Time passed slowly in this way, and during this process, they seemed to encounter a school of herring. Murphy pulled up more than twenty h

erring in one go.

Murphy would haul one up, and another soldier would swiftly decapitate the flying fish, also pulling out its innards, then slice off the bones, sprinkle some salt, and pop it directly into his mouth.

This was a typical Dutch way of eating; if a bit more sophisticated, they would add spices and marinate it, then eat it with salad and potatoes—a German style. If they only removed the innards, placed the head up in dough, and baked it into a bread looking at the stars, that would be the British style. If smoked and dried for consumption, that would be the French way of dining. If canned, well, that would be the notorious Swedish method. On this boat, of course, they could only adopt the simplest Dutch method.

Twenty Atlantic herrings filled their bellies. The rest were left to take back. At this moment, fog began to rise on the sea, obscuring the view even at a short distance. The three men now had to rely not just on their eyes but even more on their ears to detect any activity on the sea.

It gradually brightened around them, and the night had passed. It was now about seven in the morning, a critical time for vigilance. From here to the Campbeltown exit was about seventy kilometers. At the speed of the British fleet, if they passed this point at this time, they would reach the Campbeltown exit around ten o'clock. The fog was also expected to start clearing around this time. Then, the British fleet would turn towards the Tynish direction, an area with many reefs, but the tide at this time of day was also just right. Along the entire British coast, this area had the highest tidal range, reaching up to 8 meters at its peak during spring tides. Even if it wasn't a spring tide, the sea level rose more than five meters during high tide, turning a normally difficult-to-navigate area due to numerous reefs into an open route, allowing the British fleet to speed towards the Tynish channel. Once they entered the Tynish channel, the French could not stop them from appearing in the North Sea.

But while the fog was still thick, the three could see nothing and had to keep their ears pricked. Soon, they faintly heard mechanical sounds coming from the south.

"There's movement!" Murphy whispered, although he knew it didn't make much difference—speaking normally, his voice wouldn't carry far, and the British definitely couldn't hear him.

But from the faint sounds now, it was hard to determine whether it was the British fleet coming or that cruiser specifically looking for them. Murphy and another soldier began to wind up the anchor with a winch—better not to lose it if possible. The other soldier continued to monitor the sea and prepared to raise the sails.

The iron anchor was pulled up, and they quickly raised the sails.

The sound of machinery grew clearer, although the fog was still thick, but it seemed to come from several places, clearly indicating a fleet.

"Captain, look there," a soldier pointed south.

Murphy squinted, and faintly, he seemed to see a red light.

That was the collision avoidance light on a warship; red light has a longer wavelength, thus penetrating fog better and being seen from a greater distance. More red collision lights appeared in their view.

"Raise the sails," Murphy whispered softly.

The gray-blue sails were raised, and the boat began to move westward. The fog was so thick that when they saw the red collision lights, the British ships were already not too far away. They hurriedly moved west to avoid a direct collision.

Murphy carefully counted the number of red lights passing before him—there were many, and possibly even more he couldn't see, so it was likely the main British fleet. The next phenomenon further confirmed his judgment: his small boat suddenly rocked severely. This wasn't the direction of the waves; such a sway could only be caused by one reason—the surge created by large ships passing by. This indicated that the warships passing by were very large.

"Prepare to launch the rockets, then we'll run," Murphy ordered.

The noise of launching rockets naturally couldn't escape the British fleet passing through this area, but as Murphy expected, the British had no intention of stopping here to play hide and seek in the fog. Their time was precious, so they didn't even slow down but continued heading north.

Fleet commander Lord George Cockburn, upon seeing the rockets and hearing the loud explosion, knew the fleet had been exposed. By the time he reached the Campbeltown exit, the French fleet might already be prepared there. But he now had no choice but to turn back. Britain's current situation did not allow the fleet to retreat—either they would break the blockade and achieve a grand victory or face a domestic revolution.

Ideally, he did not wish to take such a risk at this time—the navy had only just completed basic training on the new

-style warships and could not fully utilize their full strength. But he also knew that Britain no longer had time to wait.

"May God bless the King," Lord Cockburn thought.

The news of the British fleet's appearance was immediately transmitted through the telegraph system to Admiral Bruyes. At the time, the admiral was once again studying possible naval battle scenarios on the sea chart. When his adjutant Pierre informed him that the British fleet was indeed heading this way, Admiral Bruyes was initially stunned. It took him a moment to react—God had indeed lent him a hand.

"Thank God our Father in heaven. May your kingdom come soon, amen!" He made the sign of the cross over his chest, then steadied himself and said, "Pierre, immediately notify all captains to come here for a brief meeting. Also, have all the warships start their fires."

Ten minutes later, all the captains were in place. Admiral Bruyes's adjutant Pierre read them the relatively simple intelligence—due to the fog, Murphy could only determine that a large fleet had passed by, and some of the ships were very large. But he couldn't see more, so naturally, the intelligence did not include information like the composition of the British fleet. However, this wasn't a big problem. Everyone actually had a good idea of what size fleet the British had in the Irish Sea.

Admiral Bruyes assigned combat tasks, although the distribution of these tasks was already well known, but he emphasized them again. Then he encouraged everyone to fight bravely and achieve glory.

The captains then returned to their own warships, and by about 8:30 AM, all the ships had completed firing up and pressurizing, and the entire fleet left the anchorage, heading towards the Campbeltown direction.

At about 9:30 AM, the fleet arrived near the Campbeltown waters. The fog had not yet cleared, but according to calculations, in at most another hour, the British fleet would appear before them.

"The British minefield has a safe passage, but its width is definitely limited, certainly not enough to allow the entire fleet to deploy in formation. So when the enemy ships come out, they must necessarily give up the T-head advantage. We must seize this opportunity to strike them hard!" Admiral Bruyes watched the fog ahead slowly thinning, thinking this to himself.

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