Chapter 1082: The Total Annihilation of the Barbary Pirates
In the central-western region of Algiers, within the lands of the Akrum tribe.
Razaz, the tribal chief, shouted orders, urging his people to hoist bags of valuables onto the backs of camels. Not far behind him, a caravan of over a hundred camels moved slowly toward the western mountains.
Just then, Razaz’s son galloped up on horseback, pointing toward the north with a look of sheer terror. "Father! They... they’re here!"
Razaz’s body went stiff. He knew exactly who his son meant: Hadid’s men.
He looked back at his chaotic tribe. At least half of his people had yet to leave. Anxiety gnawed at his heart. Although the messenger he’d sent back had arrived two days ago, the mobilization capabilities of this era were abysmal. It was impossible to evacuate over eight thousand people in just forty-eight hours.
Worse, many tribesmen had clung to a sense of false hope, unwilling to abandon their meager household possessions.
It wasn't until Razaz himself returned to the tribe that the pace of the evacuation finally accelerated.
But they were only half a day into the move when those cursed naval bandits arrived.
Razaz knew these men well; they were pirates by trade. Even during the reign of the Dey, they had dared to plunder smaller tribes. Now that the French Governor seemed indifferent to local affairs, they had grown even more unscrupulous. They would likely loot everything and then sell the Akrum people into slavery.
He then commanded his son to gather the tribal warriors to hold the northern perimeter against the enemy.
An hour later, the banners of the Algiers Navy appeared on the horizon. When Razaz caught sight of the dark muzzles of cannons and heard scouts report an enemy force of over four hundred, despair washed over him like a cold tide.
The Akrum tribe had only a hundred and sixty warriors, and some were already deep in the mountains protecting the civilians. The most devastating blow, however, was that the enemy had artillery.
Soon, an envoy from the naval faction arrived. He demanded that the Akrum tribe hand over "stolen Janissary property" amounting to 120,000 riyals and five hundred camels.
Razaz couldn't possibly produce such a sum. He had managed to scavenge twenty or thirty thousand riyals during the chaos of the Janissary purge, but even if he stripped the entire tribe bare, he wouldn't come close to their demand.
The pirates gave him no time to stall. After only half an hour, they launched their assault.
The naval forces didn't even bother with the cannons. They fired a few disorganized volleys of musketry, and the hundred or so Akrum warriors began to break in a panic-stricken retreat.
Razaz closed his eyes in agony. He knew that if these pirates ransacked them, the tribe would be ruined. Many would surely starve come winter.
His hands trembled as he prepared to send his son to tell the pirates they would surrender everything. But suddenly, from the hills to the east, the rhythmic, steady beat of drums echoed across the landscape.
The pirates, who had been charging ferociously toward the tribe, froze. In a flurry of confusion, they halted and turned, raising their weapons in a defensive stance.
Moments later, Razaz saw a line of soldiers in white uniforms crest the hill. They marched in a perfectly straight line, advancing rapidly toward the pirates to the beat of the drums.
There were perhaps fewer than two hundred of them, but their presence was overwhelming. To them, the naval "army" seemed like nothing more than a flock of sheep.
Razaz’s son, who had recently been to Mitidja, recognized the uniforms instantly. "It’s the French army!" he cried out.
Razaz slapped him upside the head and corrected him sharply, "Those are our Roman compatriots!"
"Yes, Roman compatriots!" the young man shouted excitedly to the surrounding warriors. "Our Roman brothers have come to save us!"
An officer from the naval faction stepped forward to meet the French detachment, likely trying to negotiate. However, after a few brief words, the French soldiers simply seized him and tied him up.
The pirate ranks fell into a state of shock. Before they could decide whether or not to open fire, the French unleashed a devastating volley.
Immediately after, dozens of French cavalrymen appeared on the naval faction's left flank, shattering their formation in an instant.
The entire engagement lasted less than twenty minutes.
Hadid’s men were mostly a motley crew of rabble recruited on short notice. They were no match for French regulars. Before long, all four hundred of them were kneeling on the ground, heads bowed, with percussion cap muskets pointed at their chests.
Razaz and the tribal elders were led by soldiers to a French captain. After the tribesmen offered their respectful greetings, the captain gestured to his translator.
"Tell them that Governor Uste sent me to suppress this naval rebellion," the captain said. "They are safe now."
In truth, while it appeared the main force of Ney’s legion had retreated to Tunisia, over five thousand soldiers had diverted mid-route. They had scattered across Algiers, waiting for the "naval rebellion" to break out so they could strike at the perfect moment.
Hours later, the Akrum tribesmen poured out of hiding. They surrounded the captured pirates, shouting curses and even hurling stones at them.
Razaz’s son stood among his people, leading the cheer: "May the Lord bless our Roman brothers!"
The crowd took up the cry. "May the Lord bless our Roman compatriots!"
Seeing that the French soldiers didn't seem to understand, Razaz used the little bit of French he had recently learned and shouted, "Long live the King!"
The tribesmen mimicked him, their voices rising in a clumsy but enthusiastic chorus: "Long live the King!"
Similar scenes played out all across Algiers. More than a dozen major tribes found themselves under the protection of the French army, spared from the naval faction’s looting.
In an instant, the prestige of the "Roman compatriots" soared among the Berbers.
Soon after, orders were issued to all major towns and tribes in Algiers: "Assist the army in purging the naval rebels." This target included all personnel associated with the naval faction.
In Algiers, the "Navy" was not merely a military branch. They were a social caste centered around the descendants of the legendary Mediterranean pirate Hayreddin Barbarossa. Composed primarily of Ottomans, but including Arabs, Greeks, and even Spaniards, they had evolved over centuries into a distinct class numbering around a hundred thousand people.
The Berber tribes seized the opportunity for a fierce retaliation. Just as they had dealt with the Janissaries, they began a house-to-house purge of the naval faction.
Barely a week later, Shafik was struck down by a volley of arrows from Berber warriors. Even as he lay dying, he was still trying to send messengers to his supposed benefactor, Governor Uste.
With nowhere left to turn, the Algiers naval faction fled in all directions. Eventually, they remembered where the Janissaries had gone—the M'zab region.
The soldiers of the French Tunisian Legion carefully maintained the corridors leading from various parts of Algiers toward M'zab. Eventually, the Berbers learned that once they captured a naval rebel, they should proactively escort them south.
By early October, through the collective efforts of over 1.5 million Berber-Arabs, the Ottomans and Greeks within Algiers had been almost entirely driven into the southern deserts.
While the Berber nobility and tribal chiefs celebrated their great victory, Governor Uste, his administrative officials, and military officers like Colonel Gemile began to push forward the most critical step of the Algiers Personal Union plan.
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