The abandoned supplies were worth a fortune, and the ships carrying them were even more valuable.
But Old Edward Hobart Seymour knew that the ten thousand professional sailors and marines were the most precious prize of all.
Yet what Vice Admiral Manko, commander of the squadron, had risked his life to salvage was loot stolen from Austrian merchants, wine sent by the French, and even a box of medals shipped from Britain.
Old Edward Hobart Seymour was furious, but this was no time to hold anyone accountable. On the contrary, he needed to soothe the officers' tempers.
Otherwise, the entire army risked a collapse in morale.
The Austrians' new flying machines and bizarre weapons had dealt the British Army's morale a devastating blow.
As for Vice Admiral Manko's claims that the Austrian Navy's ships were sturdy, its guns powerful, and its sailors well trained, Old Edward Hobart Seymour saw them as nothing more than excuses from an incompetent man.
Rather than shirk responsibility, he had more important things to do: draw up the next battle plan.
But he had few options. With the military situation unclear, neither continuing the assault on Crete nor venturing deep into the Adriatic Sea to harass the Austrian Empire's coastline was a wise move.
At the thought, Old Edward Hobart Seymour couldn't help feeling incensed. What were those idiots in the Military Intelligence Department good for? Why hadn't they highlighted such crucial intelligence as the Austrian Empire's possession of a large number of new weapons?
In truth, that was somewhat unfair to British intelligence. Britain had four major intelligence organizations: the Foreign Intelligence Service, the Army Intelligence Office, the Naval Intelligence Office, and the Cambridge Alumni Association.
They had long since sent word of events in Italy back to Britain, but no one believed them—not