I am the Crown Prince of France

Chapter 206: The First Battle of the Guard Corps

Tunis City.

In the Kasbah Palace, Bey Hamud Ali listened to the battle reports from the front lines, grinning from ear to ear.

At first, when he heard that Eunice had indeed returned to Tunisia, he was genuinely worried. But fortunately, his favorite concubine, Hafsa, had predicted with remarkable accuracy that Eunice would take the risk of launching a surprise attack on Kairouan.

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

The officials in the grand hall immediately showered him with praise:

"How easily the great Bey crushes these rebels!"

"The Lord blesses the Bey, making his army invincible!"

"Once Eunice is eliminated, the Algerians won't be able to extort our annual tribute anymore!"

Ali, pleased as could be, returned to the harem, eager to share the news of their victory with Hafsa.

Contrary to his expectations, Hafsa seemed worried when she heard the news. "Bey, when a bull is wounded by a lion, it becomes ten times more ferocious and might even turn and gore the lion. While you've defeated Eunice once, you must not let your guard down. I believe that now, more than ever, you need to increase your forces and aim to wipe out the rebels as quickly as possible."

Although Ali was impressed by her previous accurate predictions about the rebels, he was less convinced this time. According to Koja's recent report, Eunice should have only about 4,000 men left. After such a crushing defeat, it was unlikely he could cause much trouble.

He gave his concubine some casual reassurances and then resumed the music and dancing.

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

Koja had gathered 13,000 troops to besiege Eunice, only to be unexpectedly bombarded by the latter's cannons. The report stated that these cannons had an incredibly long range and devastating power; after just ten volleys, Koja's vanguard had suffered heavy casualties. Moreover, Eunice had somehow acquired a large number of highly advanced muskets, providing extremely fierce firepower. Under the cover of the cannons, Eunice broke through Koja's encirclement within a few hours and chased him out of Choukri Valley.

After this battle, Koja's guardsmen no longer dared to engage Eunice. Now, Koja could only use the Kairouan fortress to hold a standoff against Eunice.

When Hamud Ali looked at Hafsa again, all he could feel was admiration. He immediately followed her advice, sending 3,000 troops from Tunis to Kairouan and allocating 20,000 riyals to Koja for military expenses.

Meanwhile, outside the Kairouan fortress, Eunice, who had just won a victory, still wore a grim expression.

A week earlier, just as the French advisors had predicted, a French transport ship had arrived at the port of Sfax, bringing 2,000 Charleville flintlock muskets, four 6-pound cannons, and 15,000 ducats in gold coins.

Using these weapons and funds, Eunice quickly reorganized his army and then decisively shattered Koja's siege, chasing him all the way to the Kairouan fortress.

However, faced with the fortress's solid defenses and the over 10,000 Tunisian guardsmen stationed there, Eunice was also at a loss.

If he had more gunpowder and ammunition, he was confident he could storm the fortress, or at least force the defenders to stay hidden, allowing him to bypass the fortress and head straight for Sousse. But he only had four wagons of ammunition left, not nearly enough to bombard the fortress effectively, and who knew when the next French supply ship would arrive.

A few days later, Hamud Ali's reinforcements arrived in Kairouan. Koja immediately led his army in another fierce attack on Eunice's forces...

As Koja and Eunice engaged in a seesaw battle, more than ten transport ships carrying the French Prince's Guard Corps appeared off the coast of Bizerte, escorted by the anti-pirate joint fleet.

Bizerte was Tunisia's northernmost port and a significant base for the Barbary pirates—or rather, the Tunisian navy.

A small boat was lowered from the joint fleet's flagship, Avance, carrying the officials in charge of negotiations to the port of Bizerte.

They presented the local officials with a list of several hundred names, demanding that these pirates be handed over to the joint fleet within 24 hours. Additionally, their pirate ships, used for raiding, were also to be surrendered to the fleet.

The list had been provided by Hamud Ali's nephew, Hajji, and every person on it had been involved in the killing and raiding of Europeans—actions considered achievements within the Tunisian navy and easily traceable by those familiar with their operations.

Predictably, the joint fleet's demands were refused.

Most of the pirates on the list were local officers in Bizerte, many of whom held significant influence throughout Tunisia. They were not about to surrender themselves.

On the fortress's battlements, a Tunisian naval officer, nervously eyeing the joint fleet's ships in the distance, asked, "Why are the Catholic countries making such a big move this time? What exactly do they want?"

Another officer nodded. "Yes, there's no room for negotiation at all."

In their past experiences, even if they accidentally attacked French or Spanish merchant ships, the matter could usually be settled with compensation.

Never before had they encountered a situation like today, where warships were on the doorstep, issuing an ultimatum demanding immediate surrender.

A nearby officer, twirling his mustache, sneered, "I bet it's the Americans behind this. A few months ago, Pargalle seized two of their ships and killed about a dozen of them."

"They seem serious this time," one officer said anxiously, holding a telescope. "I see a 60-gun warship."

The mustachioed officer scoffed. "Hmph, what's there to be afraid of? Even if it's a first-rate ship, at most, it'll just circle around outside the port. We've got the fortifications."

Another officer nodded. "Exactly. If they stop the port's trade, they'll suffer heavy losses too. In the end, it'll just be about paying compensation, maybe a bit more this time."

But regardless of what the pirates thought, there was an air of impending doom at the port of Bizerte. Unrelated merchant ships, especially European ones, wasted no time raising anchor and leaving the area.

Onboard the Avance, in the officers' quarters, Berthier calmly said to the negotiating officer, "As expected, it seems we'll have to capture those pirates ourselves."

Rear Admiral Cisneros, the joint fleet's commander, sighed, "Lieutenant Colonel, although I still don't fully agree with a direct assault on the port, I will do my best to provide fire support for your troops."

Although he had received orders to "strike hard against the Barbary pirates," no one had mentioned attacking a well-defended port. He had thought it would be a matter of sailing around the Mediterranean, capturing some pirates, and satisfying the Americans.

But after meeting up with Berthier, the latter presented him with orders from the Navy Minister, revealing that the mission was to capture the pirate base at Bizerte.

These orders had come from Joseph, who had secured them from the Marquis de Castries. For the Marquis, this was an opportunity to score points with the Queen, who had endorsed the anti-pirate mission in the Cabinet. Since it was Berthier's troops who would storm the port, and the navy's role was limited to transport and providing artillery support, the Marquis was happy to oblige.

Rear Admiral Cisneros added, "You know we can't get too close to the fortifications, so your corps will likely face those heavy cannons alone."

"Don't worry, Admiral," Berthier nodded. "I have confidence in my men."

The landing tactics had been planned long in advance. After a bit more discussion with the naval officers, Berthier returned to the transport ships. The next day, he would lead his corps ashore to attack the pirates' stronghold.

The following morning, 10 transport ships lined up outside the port of Bizerte. The soldiers of the Prince's Guard Corps stood in formation on the decks, quietly watching as the sailors lowered the landing boats into the water.

Onboard the Stallion transport ship, Berthier walked past the assembled soldiers, nodding seriously to each one. Then he stood at the front of the formation, pointed forcefully towards the shoreline not far away, and shouted:

"There! That is where we will achieve the highest glory! Soldiers, I will stand with you as we crush those cowardly pirates with our unbreakable courage and conviction. Let them face God's judgment! Now, let the whole world witness the fearlessness and bravery of the French warriors! Victory is yours—just charge forward and crush everything in your path!"

Taking a deep breath, he raised his arm and shouted, "For the King! For the Prince! For Glory!"

The soldiers erupted in a deafening roar:

"For the King! For the Prince! For Glory!"

The shout echoed across the other transport ships, where the soldiers joined in the cry:

"For the King! For the Prince..."

At 10 a.m., the Prince's Guard Corps made their debut.

The soldiers expertly slid down ropes into the landing boats—a maneuver they had practiced hundreds of times before setting sail—and immediately grabbed the oars and began rowing with all their might.

Dozens of boats shot towards the shore like arrows from a bow.

On the port's battlements, the lookout quickly spotted the movement on the water and reported it to the officers.

Over a dozen Tunisian officers gathered, nervously discussing what to do—they had never expected the fleet outside the port to actually plan a landing operation.

"What do we do now? Should we fire on them?"

"Where's Ayas Pasha? Without his orders, who knows what consequences we might face if we fire on the French!"

Ayas was the top officer responsible for defending the port.

"I think he's at his..." The officer almost blurted out "with those slave girls" but quickly corrected himself, "I've already sent someone to report to him."

It wasn't that Ayas was negligent in his duties. After receiving the ultimatum yesterday, he had been somewhat on edge, but following the Ottoman officers' traditional lifestyle[Note 1], he had still returned to his villa in town for the night, several miles away from the port.

The Tunisian officers' laxity minimized the Guard Corps' casualties. During the typically dangerous beach landing, the port's cannons remained silent as the first wave of landing boats hit the shore.

Several hundred paces away, the pirates' obstacles came into view—rows of sharpened stakes driven into the ground, five rows deep, almost entirely blocking the beach.

Behind the obstacles, hundreds of Tunisian naval soldiers stood nervously, holding various firearms and watching the coastline.

Davout, part of the first assault wave, jumped from his boat, turned back, and waved to the soldiers in his company, shouting, "Quick! Get off the boats and form up! Don't dawdle—have you forgotten how to run?"

As his standard-bearer planted the flag on the shore, dozens of soldiers from nearby boats quickly gathered around him. The strict training of the Guard Corps was evident, as they formed three neat ranks and began loading their weapons within ten minutes.

A few soldiers set up a small knee-high cannon to the left of the formation, while others pried open a wooden crate of cannonballs and placed it in front of the gun.

Only then did Ayas' order to fire reach the port's cannons. Tunisian soldiers, having received permission to fire on the enemy, hastily adjusted their cannons and aimed at the landing troops.

However, before they could fire, the Avance opened up its attack.

Its 32-pound and 24-pound cannons roared in succession, sending flashes of fire and smoke into the air. Amidst the deafening explosions, the black iron balls whistled through the air and crashed into the western battlements of the port.

Although the French Navy's training was not on par with the British, they were still among Europe's elite.

Firing from almost maximum range, three of the twenty cannonballs struck the fortress walls directly, smashing large chunks of stone into the Mediterranean Sea.

The fortress shook from the impact, and the pirates on top were thrown into panic. Two of them hurriedly lit their cannons, while many more ducked down and cowered against the walls.

One cannonball from the fortress fell into the water, and another struck the ground over 200 paces from the Guard Corps, sending sand flying everywhere.

Meanwhile, more warships from the joint fleet joined in the bombardment of the fortifications, making the cannon fire even more intense.

Their efforts drew most of the pirates' attention. Over 70% of the cannons on the fortress turned towards the sea, attempting to drive away the fleet.

On the shore, the first wave of eight companies from the Guard Corps—nearly 800 soldiers—had all formed up.

Upon the order to attack, the gunners loaded powder and shot into the mortar—the small knee-high cannon—and then lit the fuse.

With a series of blasts, five cannonballs, trailing sparks, arced through the air and fell among the pirate ranks.

Despite its small size, the cannon had a large caliber, and because it fired in a parabolic arc, its range was considerable.

The cannonballs landed 300-400 paces away and exploded one after another as their fuses burned out.

Note 1: Most Tunisian officers descended from Ottoman conquerors over a hundred years ago. To preserve their pure lineage, they avoided intermarrying with the local North African population, maintaining Ottoman customs in both their lifestyle and military practices.

(End of this chapter)

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