The Crown Prince of France - Chapter 206

Chapter 206: The First Battle of the Crown Prince's Guard Corps

Tunis City.

In the Kahil Palace, Bey Hamid Ali listened to the battle reports delivered from the front lines, his face breaking into a wide smile.

Initially, upon learning that Younes had indeed returned to Tunis, he was quite alarmed. Fortunately, his beloved consort Hafsa was extraordinarily clever, predicting that Younes would risk a surprise attack on Kairouan.

Following his orders for Koja to prepare in advance, they indeed achieved a great victory, capturing and killing thousands of rebels.

Several officials in the grand hall immediately showered him with flattery:
"Is it not child's play for the great Bey to deal with these rebels?"
"May the Lord bless the Bey, ensuring his army remains invincible!"
"With Younes gone, the Algerians will no longer extort our annual tribute!"

After basking in the praise, Ali joyously returned to the harem, eager to share news of their grand victory with Hafsa.

Contrary to his expectations, Hafsa appeared somewhat concerned upon hearing the news:

"Bey, a wounded buffalo becomes ten times fiercer after being bitten by a lion and may even strike back to injure the lion. Although you have defeated Younes once, you must not lower your guard. In fact, now is the time to increase your forces and strive to eliminate the rebels as quickly as possible."

Ali, although impressed by her accurate predictions of the rebels' previous movements, dismissed her concerns this time. According to the report Koja had just sent, Younes was left with barely 4,000 troops. Having suffered an immediate defeat after their rebellion, he seemed unlikely to stir up much trouble.

He casually brushed off Hafsa's advice and continued with music and dancing.

However, as if Hafsa were possessed by a prophet, bad news arrived from the front lines just five days later.

Koja, commanding 13,000 troops to encircle Younes, unexpectedly suffered a devastating counterattack from Younes' artillery.

The report described how the artillery had an extraordinarily long range and tremendous power. After just over a dozen volleys, Koja's vanguard suffered heavy casualties.

Moreover, Younes had somehow procured a large number of high-quality muskets with formidable firepower. Under the artillery's cover, Younes broke through Koja's encirclement within hours, pursuing him out of the Chukri Valley.

Following this battle, Koja's guards no longer dared to face Younes directly. Currently, Koja was forced to hold a stalemate with Younes at the Kairouan Fortress.

When Hamid Ali turned his gaze toward Hafsa again, his heart was filled with admiration. He immediately followed her advice, dispatching 3,000 garrison troops from Tunis City to Kairouan and allocating 20,000 rials to Koja as military funds.

Meanwhile, in front of the Kairouan Fortress, Younes, fresh from victory, was also grim-faced.

A week earlier, as predicted by the French adviser, a French transport ship had arrived at Sfax Port, bringing 2,000 Charleville flintlock muskets, four six-pounder cannons, and 15,000 ducat gold coins.

Using these weapons and funds, he swiftly reorganized his army, then decisively crushed Koja's encirclement, pursuing him back into the fortress.

However, Younes now faced the fortified stronghold and over 10,000 Tunisian guards defending it.

If he had more gunpowder and cannonballs, he would have full confidence in storming the fortress or at least suppressing the defenders enough to bypass it and march straight to Susa.

But with only four carts of ammunition left, bombarding the fortress was impossible. The French resupply schedule remained uncertain.

Several days later, Hamid Ali's reinforcements arrived at Kairouan. Koja immediately led a massive counteroffensive against Younes' army...

While Koja and Younes were locked in a bitter tug-of-war, over ten transport ships carrying the French Crown Prince's Guard Corps appeared outside Bizerte Harbor, escorted by the Anti-Piracy Joint Fleet.

Bizerte, located at the northernmost port of Tunis, was a key base for the Barbary pirates—or rather, the Tunisian navy.

A small boat was lowered from the fleet's flagship, Advancement, carrying an official tasked with negotiations ashore.

He presented a list of hundreds of names to the local officials at Bizerte, demanding that the pirates be handed over to the Joint Fleet within 24 hours. Additionally, their pirate ships used for plundering were to be surrendered to the fleet as well.

The list, provided by Hamid Ali's nephew Hajji, detailed individuals notorious for massacring and looting Europeans—what the Tunisian navy regarded as "achievements," but easily verifiable by their own records.

Unsurprisingly, the Joint Fleet's demands were flatly rejected.

The pirates on the list included many of Bizerte's military officers, several of whom held significant influence across Tunis. There was no way they would willingly "turn themselves in."

On the harbor's battlements, a Tunisian naval officer gazed nervously at the distant warships of the Joint Fleet and asked,
"Why are these Catholic nations making such a big show this time? What exactly do they want?"

Another officer nodded in agreement.
"Yes, they're not leaving any room for negotiation."

Based on their past experiences, even if they accidentally attacked a French or Spanish merchant ship, at most, they would pay some compensation to settle the matter.

They had never faced such a situation, with warships blockading the port and delivering an ultimatum demanding immediate handover of personnel.

A mustachioed officer scoffed dismissively:
"Hmph, what is there to fear? Even if they're first-rate ships, they can only circle outside the harbor. We have the fortifications on our side."

Another officer agreed.
"Exactly. If commercial traffic in the harbor is halted, they'll suffer losses too. I bet in the end, they'll settle for compensation—at worst, a higher amount."

Yet, regardless of the pirates' speculation, the tension at Bizerte Harbor remained palpable. Uninvolved merchant ships, especially those from Europe, wasted no time weighing anchor and leaving the area.

Onboard the Advancement, Berthier stood in the officers' quarters, watching the negotiating envoy return, his expression calm as he remarked:
"As expected. It seems we'll have to capture those pirates ourselves."

Rear Admiral Cisneros let out a soft sigh.
“Colonel, though I still don’t fully agree with directly assaulting the harbor, I will do my best to provide your forces with artillery cover.”

Although he had received orders to “strike decisively against the Barbary pirates,” he hadn’t anticipated being tasked with attacking a heavily fortified major harbor.

Until now, he had thought the mission would involve little more than sailing around the Mediterranean, using the allocated funds to capture a few pirates to appease the Americans.

However, after rendezvousing with Berthier, the latter produced orders from the Minister of the Navy, declaring the objective was to seize Bizerte Harbor, the pirates’ base of operations.

These orders were obtained by Joseph from the Marquis de Castries. For the marquis, combating piracy was an initiative approved by the Queen during cabinet discussions. Since Berthier’s corps would handle the direct assault, the Navy’s role was merely to transport troops and provide supporting bombardments. Gaining favor with the Crown Prince at minimal risk was a winning proposition.

Rear Admiral Cisneros continued,
“As you know, we cannot approach too close to the coastal fortifications... so your corps will likely face their heavy guns alone.”

“Rest assured, Admiral,” Berthier replied with a firm nod. “I have complete confidence in my men.”

The landing tactics had already been meticulously planned. After further discussions with several naval officers, Berthier rose and returned to the transport ship. Tomorrow, he would lead his soldiers into the pirates’ lair.

...

The next morning, ten transport ships lined up outside Bizerte Harbor. Soldiers of the Crown Prince’s Guard Corps stood in formation on the decks, silently watching as sailors lowered landing craft into the water one after another.

Aboard the Stallion, Berthier walked past his troops, nodding seriously to each soldier. Then, he stepped to the front of the formation, pointed decisively toward the distant shoreline, and shouted:

“There lies the place where we shall earn eternal glory!
“Soldiers, I will stand with you as we shatter those cowardly pirates with our unyielding courage and conviction, delivering them to the judgment of God!
“Now, let the world witness the fearlessness and valor of French warriors! Win your victory—just charge forward and crush everything in your path!”

Taking a deep breath, he raised his arm and shouted:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince! For glory!”

The soldiers erupted in a thunderous roar:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince! For glory!”

The shout echoed across the water to the other transport ships, where soldiers joined the chant:
“For the King! For the Crown Prince…”

At ten o’clock in the morning, the Crown Prince’s Guard Corps began its debut battle.

The soldiers, well-trained for this very moment, deftly descended ropes into the landing craft—a maneuver they had practiced hundreds of times before. Grabbing oars, they rowed with all their might.

Dozens of small boats shot toward the shore like arrows loosed from a bowstring.

...

On the harbor’s battlements, lookouts quickly spotted the commotion at sea and rushed to report it to their officers.

A dozen Tunisian officers gathered nervously, debating their next move—they had never imagined the fleet outside the harbor would actually attempt a landing.

“What should we do now? Should we fire on them?”

“Where is Ayas Pasha? Without his orders, who dares to open fire on the French? Who knows what consequences that might bring!”

Ayas was the senior officer responsible for the harbor’s defense.

“He seems to be at his…” The officer nearly said “his slave girls” but hastily corrected himself. “I’ve already sent someone to inform him.”

It wasn’t that Ayas was completely unprepared; receiving the ultimatum yesterday had left him somewhat uneasy. Yet, as was customary for Ottoman officers [Note 1], he had returned to his villa in the town for the night, several miles away from the harbor.

The Tunisian officers’ laxity reduced the casualties among the Guard Corps. During the otherwise perilous beach landing, not a single shot was fired from the harbor’s cannons, allowing the first wave of landing craft to reach the shore unscathed.

A few hundred paces inland, makeshift barriers came into view. These were wooden stakes, sharpened at one end and driven into the ground in rows four or five deep, covering nearly the entire beach.

Behind the obstacles, hundreds of Tunisian naval troops stood nervously, armed with a hodgepodge of firearms and staring tensely at the approaching shoreline.

As part of the first assault wave, Davout leaped from his craft and shouted to his soldiers,
“Move! Get ashore and form ranks! What are you waiting for? Have you forgotten how to run?”

As his standard-bearer planted the banner on the beach, dozens of soldiers from nearby boats quickly converged on his position. The rigorous training of the Guard Corps shone through—within barely ten minutes, they had formed three orderly ranks and begun loading their weapons.

Several other soldiers set up a small cannon no taller than a man’s knee to the left of the formation. Behind them, others pried open wooden crates of cannonballs and placed them in front of the cannon.

Only then did Ayas’ orders reach the battlements, granting the Tunisian troops permission to fire on the enemy. The soldiers frantically adjusted their cannon angles to target the landing troops.

However, before they could fire, the Advancement opened fire first.

Its 32-pound and 24-pound heavy cannons erupted in flashes and smoke, sending thunderous roars across the sea as massive iron balls smashed into the western side of the harbor’s fortifications.

Although French naval training was not on par with that of the British, they were still among Europe’s best.

Even at near-maximum range, three of the twenty cannonballs struck the battlements directly, showering the Mediterranean with rubble.

The impact rocked the fortifications, throwing the defenders into chaos. Two soldiers hastily lit their cannons, while many others ducked into corners, hands over their heads.

Of the two cannonballs fired from the harbor, one fell into the sea, and the other landed over 200 paces from the Guard Corps, kicking up a cloud of sand.

As more ships from the Joint Fleet joined the bombardment, the cannonade grew even more intense.

The pirates’ attention was drawn away, with over seventy percent of their cannons redirected toward the sea in an attempt to repel the fleet.

Meanwhile, the first wave of eight companies—nearly 800 soldiers—had completed their deployment on the beach.

At the command to begin the assault, gunners loaded powder and shells into the small mortars and lit their fuses.

With a series of explosions, five shells arced through the air, streaking toward the pirate lines.

Despite their small size, these mortars had a large caliber and fired in a parabolic trajectory, giving them impressive range.

The shells landed between 300 and 400 paces away, and as their fuses burned out, each erupted with a thunderous explosion.

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