Night‑time cover is the oldest trick in the book, but it’s only as good as the execution. A fleet could throw a few ships onto a moonless horizon, use low‑profile sail arrangements, and let the smoke from a few controlled fires drift toward the enemy. If the attackers are still focused on the main column, the decoys can slip off with a few well‑timed rams or a sudden shift in wind. The key is to keep the false signal distinct—different sail positions or a different flag, if you’re that far back in history. It’s plausible, but only if the commanders had both the discipline to order a coordinated withdrawal and the chance to act on the confusion. So yes, realistic, but it would have taken careful planning and a bit of luck with the weather.

If the ruse worked, the wrecks will be a mess of twisted hulls and broken rigging, not neat sail marks. Flag debris rarely survives unless it was a large canvas. A true escape would leave a pattern of uneven damage—maybe a few forward‑facing hulls showing a brief ramming, the rest drifted to the sides. In the logs you’ll want to look for any mention of “sudden turn” or “misdirected wind” rather than explicit sail positions. The best clue is often the absence of normal battle damage, pointing to a quick, chaotic withdrawal. Dig those accounts; the silence can speak louder than the wreck itself.

Good plan. Just watch for the obvious – a sudden shift in the wind or a brief flare of gunfire could be all they left. Keep the eyes on the gaps, not just the scars. Good luck, and remember: silence is often the loudest signal in a battlefield.