Pixton felt as though he had thrown a fierce punch, only to hit empty air.
The French had not occupied Egypt at all. After teaching the Mamluks a lesson, they had simply withdrawn...
What would his fleet accomplish by sailing to Egypt now? Offer congratulations to the Ottoman Sultan?
At his side, Nelson, commander of the vanguard squadron, suggested, "General, we could go to Alexandria Port, even along the Levant coast, and reinforce the Empire Navy's presence."
After all, the British had not entered the Mediterranean Sea for a long time. Trade between Europe and Ottoman now depended entirely on the French goodwill. This voyage was the perfect opportunity to turn the situation around.
Nelson licked his lips, visibly fired up. "If we happen to encounter the French Fleet, the Mediterranean's strategic situation will change completely!" Ever since they had been driven from the Mediterranean Sea last time, British shipyards had launched vast numbers of Battleships at nearly twice the pace of their French counterparts. At present, the English Fleet's total tonnage exceeded that of the Franco-Spanish Joint Fleet by more than twenty percent.
And now, they had Steam Warships as well.
Everyone in the British Navy longed to wipe away their past humiliation—if the French had not already acquired so many ports in the Mediterranean Sea, such as Genoa, Tunis, and Mitija, they would have loved nothing more than to blockade the French Fleet outside Toulon.
Brigadier General Pike could not help hesitating. His orders had been to cut off the retreat of the French Army landing in Egypt, but the French had already withdrawn.
Just as he was wavering, urgent drumbeats suddenly rang out from the deck.
It was the alarm for enemy contact.
Pike exchanged glances with several generals, then strode toward the command room on the