Chapter 795: Sea Power Is Everything
Dichayella wasn't very hopeful, but he still asked,
—"What's your plan to bypass the British fleet?"
—"No, there's no need to bypass them," Dumville muttered, his head slightly lowered.
—"You see, I used to trade in England, but when the Channel patrols tightened, our captain decided to try his luck in Ottoman ports…"
—"Get to the point."
—"Oh, yes, Admiral." Dumville sped up his explanation.
—"We used Piraeus Port as a transit hub, and it has plenty of supplies."
Dichayella frowned.
—"That's too far away. We don't have time."
Piraeus Port was in Morea, Greece, over 700 nautical miles from Genoa.
—"No, it's possible, Admiral!" Dumville insisted.
—"I heard that Piraeus started using steamships for trade six months ago."
—"Many French merchants operate there."
He took a deep breath.
—"Most importantly, the British would never expect supplies to come from the east."
Dichayella exchanged glances with his officers.
They had assumed that supply ships were too slow, completely forgetting that France's Ottoman trade now relied on steam paddle ships.
With one week of sailing, these ships could reach Genoa in time.
The chief of staff nodded, then hesitated.
—"But steam paddle ships have small cargo holds, and we don't have pre-stocked supplies there."
Dumville stepped back nervously and muttered,
—"I… I hadn't thought of that. I'm really sorry. Just… pretend I was rambling nonsense."
—"Wait," Dichayella raised a hand toward his staff.
—"We have no other options. Send someone to Piraeus. I recall that Baron Memac runs a trading company there. Ask him to figure something out."
A New Plan for Supplies
Marseille was blocked,
Corsica lacked enough supplies,
And Bizerte was too close to the British Mediterranean Fleet.
That left Greece as their only hope.
Days Later – The Mission Begins
The steam corvette Sea Parrot arrived at Piraeus Port.
That afternoon, in a second-floor office at the Port Authority,
the General Manager of the French Eastern Mediterranean Trading Company,
Baron Memac (Steller), addressed a room full of shipowners:
—"That's the situation.
—"The army in Genoa needs:
4 million pounds of flour,
35,000 barrels of wine,
50,000 pounds of gunpowder,
and large amounts of artillery shells, medicine, and other supplies.
—"We need ships to transport them, and I guarantee the pay will be generous."
Unfortunately, the company's own ships were all out at sea.
The soonest ships would return in five days, so Steller needed private French shipowners to carry the cargo.
Immediately, several shipowners shook their heads and stood up to leave.
—"Baron Memac, everyone knows the British fleet is near Genoa. It's too dangerous."
—"If it were safe, why aren't they shipping from Marseille?"
—"And now you want us to pay for part of the cargo upfront? This is a terrible deal."
Steller was sweating.
Most of the company's funds were tied up in Syria and Egypt, where they bought goods.
If he had ten more days, this wouldn't be a problem.
But time was what he didn't have.
—"Wait!" Steller blocked the door.
—"I promise you won't encounter the British fleet."
—"And for your trouble, the company will pay 25% interest on your investment."
—"Sorry, Baron, I can't accept this deal."
—"Who knows where the British warships might appear?"
—"Honestly, the risk is too high."
As more shipowners prepared to leave, Steller became desperate.
—"30% interest! Plus insurance payments! Please, for God's sake!"
Still, more shipowners walked toward the door.
They were French, but they were also businessmen.
If the profits weren't worth the risk, they didn't care about patriotism or loyalty to the king.
Just as the first shipowners reached the door, a rough-skinned man in a black coat—who had been silent until now—stood up.
He spoke loudly:
—"Baron Memac, I'll lend you my ship and pay for a full cargo load of flour."
Immediately, another shipowner pulled his arm and whispered,
—"Leon, are you insane? If you run into the British, you'll lose everything!"
—"Thank you, Ferry. But I've made up my mind."
Leon Troque turned to the shipowners at the door.
—"You all know my family has been trading between France and the Far East since my great-grandfather's time.
—"At our peak, my grandfather owned four ships, including the Ocean Current, a 43-yard-long, three-masted schooner."
The other shipowners nodded.
Owning four ships meant his family had once been rich and powerful.
Leon sighed and continued:
—"But then, France lost the Seven Years' War to Britain.
—"We lost all our Far Eastern trade.
—"The Ocean Current was seized by the British at the Cape of Good Hope.
—"Two years later, my family went bankrupt."
The room fell silent.
—"After that, my father moved to Naples to work as a mapmaker, but he died of illness.
—"My mother worked repairing fishing nets in Marseille, but by age 30, her hands were ruined.
—"My brother and I both got malaria. We had no money for medicine.
—"We almost died."
A shipowner interrupted impatiently:
—"What's your point?"
Leon raised his hand.
—"Most of you here rely on Mediterranean trade.
—"Have you considered what happens if our troops in Genoa are defeated?"
The shipowners exchanged uneasy glances.
Leon's voice hardened.
—"My father's fate will repeat—this time for all of us.
—"And our children might die from disease, just like I almost did!"
A few people laughed nervously.
—"Surely it's not that serious…"
—"It is." Leon's eyes burned with determination.
—"If Genoa falls, the south of France will be defenseless.
—"Austrian troops will take Marseille and block our access to the Mediterranean.
—"North Africa, cut off from France, will surrender to the British.
—"When that happens, the entire Mediterranean trade will be controlled by British merchants.
—"You. Me. Everyone in this room—we'll all go bankrupt!"
Leon looked at them, one by one.
—"This is our only chance.
—"We must hold Genoa.
—"Not for the King, not for Baron Memac—but for ourselves.
—"So that we'll never be humiliated by the British again!"
He extended his hand.
—"Who will sail with me to Genoa?
—"Who will deliver supplies to our French soldiers—
—"So they can crush those Austrian dogs?"
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