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Experience new tales on empire
“It seems they’re serious this time,” an officer said anxiously, holding a telescope, “I have spotted a 60-gun ship of the line.”
Yet the man with the eight-character mustache scoffed with disdain:
“Hmph, what’s there to fear? Even if it’s a first-rate ship, at most, they’ll just cruise outside the harbor. We have fortifications after all,” he said.
Another officer nodded:
“Exactly, if the commerce at the port stops, they too will suffer a great loss. I suspect it will all end with them paying compensation—just a bit more, at worst,” he said.
However, no matter what the pirates thought, the atmosphere in Bizerte Port still hinted at an impending storm. The merchant ships, especially those from Europe, did not hesitate to weigh anchor and leave this place of trouble.
On the “Advance,” in the officer’s cabin, Bertier looked towards the officer responsible for negotiations and said calmly:
“As expected, it seems that we will have to apprehend those pirates ourselves.”
Major General Sisneros, the commander of the Combined Fleet, heaved a slight sigh and said:
“Lieutenant Colonel, while I still have reservations about attacking the port, I will still try my best to provide fire support for your troops.”
He had received orders from the Navy to “strike at the Barbary pirates with full force,” but no one had mentioned attacking a well-defended port before this.
He had thought that with the funding received, patrolling the Mediterranean for a while and capturing some pirates to appease the Americans would suffice.
But after rendezvousing with Bertier, the latter produced an order from the Navy Minister, informing him that this time the target was to seize the pirate stronghold of Bizerte Port.
Naturally, Joseph had obtained this order from the Marquis of Castries. For the latter, combating piracy was a task endorsed by the Queen in a Cabinet meeting, and the assault on the port was an operation by Bertier’s Corps, unrelated to him. The Navy’s role was merely to transport troops and to bombard from the periphery. Selling a favor to the Crown Prince in this affair, why not?
Major General Sisneros continued:
“As you know, we cannot get too close to the batteries… So, your corps might have to face those heavy cannons atop them on their own,” he said.
“Rest assured, General,” Bertier nodded, “I have confidence in my men.”
The landing tactics had been laid out in advance. Bertier spoke for a while longer with a few naval officers and then stood up to return to the transport ship. Tomorrow, he would lead the soldiers of his corps in an assault on the pirates’ lair from there.
The next morning, ten transport ships lined up outside Bizerte Port. Soldiers from the Crown Prince’s Guard stood in formation on the deck, quietly watching as the sailors launched the landing boats into the water, one after the other.
On the transport ship “Stallion,” Bertier walked past the crowd, nodding seriously at each soldier. Then, he moved to the front of the line and pointed forcefully towards the coastline not far away and shouted:
“There lies the place where we shall earn supreme honor!
“Soldiers, I will stand with you, with invincible courage and conviction, to shatter those cowardly pirates and let them receive God’s punishment!
“Now, let the whole world witness the fearlessness and bravery of the French warriors! Go, win your victory, simply by charging forward and crushing everything!”
He took a deep breath, raised his arm, and cried out:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince! For honor!”
Immediately, a thunderous roar erupted from the soldiers:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince! For honor!”
Their voices reached the other transport ships, where the soldiers also began to chant:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince…”
At ten o’clock in the morning, the Crown Prince’s Guard’s debut began.
The soldiers skillfully slid down the ropes into the small boats—an action they had practiced hundreds of times before—and then they grabbed the oars and rowed vigorously.
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Dozens of small boats charged toward the shore like arrows released from their bows.
On the batteries of the port, lookouts quickly spotted the activity on the sea and hurriedly reported to the officers.
More than ten Tunisian officers gathered together, discussing tensely—they hadn’t expected at all that the fleet outside the harbor really intended to land and commence battle.
“What do we do now? Do we open fire on them?”
“Where is Ayas Pasha? Without his orders, opening fire on the French people rashly, who knows what consequences it would bring!”
Ayas was the highest-ranking officer in charge of the port’s defense.
“He seems to be at his…” The officer almost let slip “those female slaves,” but hastily corrected himself, “I have already sent someone to report to him.”
It wasn’t that Ayas was negligent in his vigilance, he was somewhat nervous after receiving the ultimatum yesterday, but the traditional style of the Ottoman officers [Note 1], still had him return to his villa in the town to spend the night, several miles away from here.
The Tunisian officers’ laxity reduced casualties among the Guard Corps. In what was supposed to be a very dangerous beaching process, the port’s batteries didn’t fire a single shot, and the first wave of landing boats had already rushed onto the beachhead.
Hundreds of paces away, one could see the pirates setting up obstacles, which were stakes sharpened at one end and inserted into the ground at the other, with four to five rows in front and back, taking up almost the entire beach.
Behind the obstacles, there were hundreds of Tunisian Navy soldiers, each holding various types of muskets, looking nervously toward the coastline.
Dawu, as part of the first wave of the assault force, leaped from the small boat, turned back to the soldiers in his company and waved them on, shouting loudly:
“Quick! Disembark, form up! What are you dawdling for, forgotten how to run?”
As his standard-bearer planted the flag onto the beachhead, dozens of soldiers from several nearby small boats rapidly gathered towards him. The Guard Corps’ rigorous training shone through at this moment, and within just about ten minutes, they had arranged themselves into neat rows of three columns, beginning to load their ammunition.
A few soldiers carried a knee-high cannon to the left side of the line. The men behind them pried open wooden crates full of cannonballs and positioned them in front of the cannon.
It was not until then that Ayas’s command finally reached the battery. The Tunisian soldiers, receiving the “permission to fire on the enemy” order, hurriedly adjusted the angles of their cannons, aiming at the landing forces on the beachhead.
However, before they could fire, the “Forward” from the distant sea initiated the attack first.
32-pound and 24-pound heavy cannons spewed flames and thick smoke in succession, and amid the tremendous roar, pitch-black iron balls whistled down onto the western side of the port’s batteries.
The training level of the French Navy might not have matched that of the British, but in Europe, they were still top-tier.
At almost extreme range, three out of twenty cannonballs hit the walls of the battery directly. The fierce impact shattered large chunks of stone, splashing into the Mediterranean Sea.
The battery shook violently with the bombardment, and the pirates on it immediately panicked. Two hurried to light their cannons, while many more cowered in the corners, holding their heads.
One of the cannonballs shot from the battery fell directly into the sea, while another landed more than two hundred paces away from the Guard Corps, kicking up a cloud of sand.
On the side of the Combined Fleet, more warships joined the bombardment of the battery, and the sound of cannon fire became even denser immediately.
Their efforts drew the attention of most of the pirates. More than seventy percent of the cannons on the battery turned towards the sea, trying to drive away the fleet.
On the side of the Guard Corps, the first group of landers, 8 companies, which is about 800 soldiers, had all finished forming up.
On the officer’s “begin the attack” command, the gunners loaded gunpowder and cannonballs into the Mortar Cannon, that knee-high small cannon, and then lit the fuse.
With a burst of booming, 5 cannonballs spewing sparks drew several arcs, flying towards the pirate ranks opposite.
Don’t be fooled by the small size of these cannons; because of their large caliber and the parabolic trajectory they fired in, their range was quite formidable.
The cannonballs landed one after another, three to four hundred paces away, and as the fuses burned out, they exploded one by one with a thunderous boom.
[Note 1] Most of Tunisian officers come from the Ottoman conquerors over a hundred years ago. In order to retain the purity of their lineage, they strive not to intermarry with the local people of North Africa, always preserving the Ottoman way of life and military customs.