Reborn In 17th century India with Black Technology-Chapter 1214: WWI: Taking back the Suez (4)

’Oh Lord, please let me hold on,’ Pierre Martin prayed devoutly. The arrogance he had displayed earlier, when he had been ready to strangle the Bharatiya Battle Group formed entirely by frigates and Clippers, had completely vanished, leaving behind only naked desperation.

Sadly, his prayer was all for nought, because, in the very next moment, the torpedoes arrived like the Devil’s bell, shattering the sanctity of the prayer. They cut right through the water beneath the surface, driving straight into the unprotected hulls of the warships, exploding on impact.

"BOOM!"

Mists of water sprayed up into the air, forming a beautiful rainbow for just an instant before it disappeared.

The ships that were hit shook violently, and the water flooded in within seconds, tilting the ship in a few minutes and sinking it entirely in the next.

There wasn’t an aiming system for the torpedoes; it was a simple point-and-shoot system, but thanks to the European fleet being confined to a single part of the sea, the hit rate was several times higher than usual. The single torpedo salvo took down several warships and even managed to hit a battleship, which caught the rear admiral off guard

"Goddammit!"

Pierre Martin cursed under his breath, ’Why am I so unlucky?’ He slumped onto a chair, his expression bitter. 𝓯𝓻𝒆𝙚𝒘𝓮𝙗𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝒍.𝙘𝓸𝙢

In normal times, to ensure the Suez Canal remained blockaded, all twenty battleships in the fleet were stationed directly at its entrance. They formed a tight semicircular formation, designed so that any attempt to force a passage would be met with uninterrupted, overlapping fields of angled firepower. Such concentrated fire would be enough to shred even the most advanced Maharaja Rama Chandra class battleships into scrap metal.

But the problem is, this formation was not particularly advantageous for launching an offensive against an enemy advancing from the Aegean Sea. After all, the battleships are in the inner layer of the formation, making it hard to move, but that was hardly a concern. An enemy emerging from the Aegean? Heh, ya, right. Like that was ever possible.

Obviously, with hindsight, considering the current situation where the European battleships were not only tied to the entrance of the Suez Canal but also isolated within their own fleet, such a decision seems somewhat ironic. But that’s beside the point; the point is, with such an arrangement set in place, a torpedo striking one of the battleships was practically a miracle, though not the kind anyone would wish for. Yet that was precisely what happened. A stray torpedo somehow slipped past the warships positioned at the front and detonated in close proximity to the very battleship upon which Pierre Martin stood.

If this was not bad luck, then he did not know what could be called as such. For a fleeting moment, he even felt as though the Bharatiyas had resorted to some form of black magic to curse him; otherwise, he could not begin to explain the absurdity of the situation.

’As expected of the ancestors of the damn gypsies.’ He had no time to think about the situation any further; his officers and the sailors were already in disarray, running around the bridge like headless chickens.

"Hey! Ascertain the level of damage, if it is severe, quickly cordon off the lower chamber, but if it is not that severe, quickly plug the hole and have the sailors drain out the water."

His orders did bring some calmness, but he was no longer willing to stay on the same ship. The previous thought of his battleship being cursed still lingered on his mind, so he decisively boarded an emergency boat, lowered it onto the surface of the sea, and paddled to the nearest battleship along with his trusted subordinates.

While he was paddling the boat, he suddenly felt a chill run down his spine as he remembered that the enemy could launch another salvo of torpedoes, but thankfully, nothing of that sort happened.

However, just when he boarded the new battleship, he was not happy with the fact that the enemy had not launched another round of torpedo attacks at all, because when he looked up at the sky, what he saw was not a clear blue sky, but, but a meteor shower. Unfortunately, this was no spectacle of awe like the storybooks described; it was a calamity, the bringer of dread instead of wonder, the harbinger of chaos instead of beauty, for this meteor shower was descending straight toward them.

’God damn this cursed day.’

"Everyone hold onto a solid object and brace for impact," he roared.

The artillery shells shot by the navy of the Bharatiya Empire crashed into the European fleet at great velocity, immediately blasting apart the hull, the deck, or anything that came in its path. Splinters flew all over, and the sea water became turbulent, with shockwaves spreading in all directions.

"Ahhh"

Sailors who were even near the explosion had their bodies pierced with splinters, their heartbreaking screams echoing throughout the battleship, plunging the men nearby into a deeper despair.

The Europeans continued to counterattack, and the Bharatiya fleet sustained a lot of damage, but it was nothing compared to what the European fleet was enduring.

One salvo after another, the Europeans’ ability to fight back continued to decrease, with them no longer even able to fire a few hundred shells in succession.

Pierre Martin, his clothes now completely soaked in sweat, writhed in anguish. During one of the artillery strikes that had exploded arms’ length from him, a splinter had struck and lodged deep into his knee bone. Though he was fortunate to have survived, the same could not be said for his executive officer.

Yet survival brought him little comfort. The pain was excruciating, plunging him into a depth of misery he had never before experienced. Pierre could not help but wonder whether the man he once was would even recognise the wretched figure he had become.

And as the attacks of the Bharatiya Empire showed no sign of ceasing, his panic only grew more intense and desperate.

Many times he wanted to immediately order for the white flag to be flown to directly surrender so that all the suffering could end, but once he remembered what would happen to his family if he deserted, he immediately put aside the thought.

He might be a high-ranking noble, but compared to the safety of the entire European Union, he is simply a disposable pawn. He had won large amount of merit and gained a high position in society thanks to his role as the commander of the fleet that is blockading the Suez Canal year round, but now if he surrenders to the enemy and gives up a crucial transportation route to the enemy, a route that would allow the enemy to reach the European continent in only a few weeks as supposed to two months, not only will he be killed, even his family will be implicated.

"So this is it then, this is the end of my road," he muttered, his eyes dull and lifeless.

He made up his mind, he would stand till the last moment, even if it meant death, at least then his family would be spared.

However, suddenly, as if someone lit a bonfire during a freezing storm when they were about to die, the lookout screamed, his eyes blazing with flames of fervour.

"Your Excellency, look, our reinforcements are here!!"

Pierre Martin’s body immediately shook; he took the support of a wooden peg and got up with difficulty.

Right at the horizon, hundreds of ships could be seen approaching their location. These were not warships; they were merchant ships, as their sizes all varied and their designs varied as well, even the flags the ships carried were of different countries, kingdoms, and empires, but all of the vessels had something in common: they were all ships of the European Union.

Looking at the fleet, although they were not able to give birth to a sense of majesty as a conventional fleet would, they were still enough to rekindle the flame of hope in the heart of Pierre Martin, which had gone cold.

"There are at least a few hundred ships." A smile finally appeared on his face, "By the blood of Christ, we can survive, we really can survive."

His laughter was mixed with tears, and given that he was limping around, it made him only look more miserable.

Rear Admiral Abhimanyu, upon being informed of the new variable in the battle that had suddenly appeared out of nowhere, was immediately taken aback. He had been certain that he would have at least half a day to complete his mission before the Europeans could react. Yet now, only four and a half hours had passed, and the Europeans were already here.

But then he suddenly remembered the reason for his delay, "Damn frogs," he cursed once again, his hatred for the French reaching a new level.

"There is no time to delay. Charge forward, the entrance lies right before us. Let us breach the canal in a single decisive strike."

"And send an emergency flare. We have dealt severe damage to the European fleet; our forces on the other side should now be able to take action."

Soon, the battle group took on a wedge-like formation, appearing like an arrow that had been released with a single target in its sight.

Over 18 kilometres away from the coast.

Atop a 1,500-tonne merchant ship, Francesco Dela Rovara immediately panicked. "Oh no! The Bharatiyas are going to rush into the Suez; they are attempting to break through."

He threw aside the telescope and roared at his subordinates, "Increase speed at once. I do not care what methods you use; every ship is to move faster."

At roughly the same moment, a series of fireworks shot up into the sky along the western bank of the Suez Canal, rising from within Egyptian territory.

This line of fireworks stretched several dozen kilometres until it eventually stopped at the central position of the Suez Canal.

Admiral Paramveer Subhash Chandra, once a close subordinate of the Bharatiya God of War, the Demon Sword, His Highness the King of Suryanagari, Sarvesh Ranavikrama, acted immediately upon receiving the signal.

"I want every seaworthy warship on this stretch of water moving north, now."

The Bharatiya fleet, composed of over a hundred warships, immediately set off in a massive column that stretched for several kilometres, resembling a long, uncoiling serpent across the ladder.