Chapter 1410: The Eastern European Meat Grinder
The few men sitting by the dock fell silent instantly.
Jegger often visited South Germany and knew that Austria, having suffered defeat, was highly opposed to France. Thus, it would certainly not allow the Swiss Confederation to join the Stuttgart Trade Agreement.
After a long while, a warehouse merchant gritted his teeth and demanded, "Which bastard decided to let the Swiss Confederation join?"
"The lords of the council cannot sell us out for the sake of their Holy Roman Emperor!"
Someone stood up. "That's right! We'll go to the Market Square and demand that the council revoke—"
The Market Square was home to the "Red House," which was the Basel Parliament Building.
The man who suggested protesting at the parliament received no response, and he himself quickly slumped back down.
They had all personally witnessed what happened a month and a half ago: hundreds of soldiers suddenly appeared, surrounded the protesters, and fired shots to disperse them.
Before that, the entire canton of Bern had fewer than 200 military police. The troops who came to suppress the protest were clearly newly conscripted by the council.
Just then, a middle-aged man with a deep-gray linen coat and a sharp, capable demeanor approached Jegger, eyed him briefly, and removed his black felt hat. "Excuse me, are you Mr. Niels Jegger?"
Jegger glanced at him and waved a dismissive hand. "I have no interest in the Steamship Association. As you can see, I can't even afford the membership fees."
"You misunderstand—"
"Nor do I need a captain."
The gray-clad man leaned in a step. "I have a business matter I need your help with."
Jegger frowned and waved him off again. "My apologies."
He knew well that someone seeking him out privately, rather than going through the shipping association, meant the cargo was definitely contraband.
He was already planning to sell his ship and didn't want any trouble in his final days of ownership.
The gray-clad man whispered, "Mr. Malti sent me."
Jegger paused, then gestured for him to move to a secluded spot, asking, "Where to? What kind of cargo?"
Malti had been one of the key organizers in promoting Basel's alliance with France, and he held considerable influence among the citizens.
"Bringing some... uh, rather dangerous items back from Esslingen."
Jegger spread his hands helplessly. "It's not that I don't want to help, but you know, if it were around Buchhorn, it might be fine, but the customs patrol is very strict with cargo coming from the north."
Buchhorn was an Austrian port city on the north shore of Lake Constance, northeast of Switzerland. Esslingen, on the other hand, was a city in Württemberg, which would be subject to tariffs in the South German market.
The gray-clad man nodded. "You needn't worry; someone will handle the customs patrol issue."
Jegger pulled back. "Don't mislead me. This could land me in prison."
The customs patrol reported directly to the council's Committee of Seven.
However, the gray-clad man replied with full confidence, "To be frank, we have help from some influential figures within the council."
More than ten days later.
Jegger personally steered his inland cargo vessel, the Red Violin, nervously scanning the river ahead, his palms slick with sweat.
He hadn't expected that Mr. Malti had managed to procure over 400 flintlock muskets from Württemberg!
Those very weapons were now stacked in his hold.
Several times along the way, he had considered simply dumping them into the Rhine River. If the customs patrol discovered them, he wouldn't just be going to prison; he'd be hanged.
But when he thought of what Mr. Malti might be planning, he convinced himself again—'If Malti manages to take control of the council, then perhaps I can avoid bankruptcy.'
More than an hour later, Jegger could see the lighthouse outside Basel harbor through his telescope. True to form, a customs patrol boat appeared to the south.
The light galley, armed with several six-pounder cannons, clearly spotted the Red Violin and turned towards it. Jegger's heart instantly leapt into his throat.
However, when the two vessels were two to three hundred meters apart, the customs patrol boat suddenly slowed, watching the Red Violin slowly sail past its port side.
Indeed, while councilors like Frenno might not wield as much influence as the Committee of Seven, they had been operating in Basel for years and certainly had their own connections.
Previously, as negotiations in Zurich regarding the Swiss Confederation neared their conclusion, they found themselves in despair until a mysterious figure informed them that they could seek aid from Württemberg.
Subsequently, they met with a Württemberg royal advisor, who expressed willingness to provide weapons and funds to assist Basel in "breaking free from Vienna's control."
As for Württemberg, it had long been troubled by the "stain" of allowing Russian and Austrian troops passage during the last Anti-French Coalition War. Upon receiving a subtle hint from Archbishop Talleyrand, it immediately dedicated itself wholeheartedly to the cause of intervening in Basel.
That same evening, Frenno's butler personally led a team to load hundreds of wooden crates onto carts at the dock, transporting them to a village south of Basel.
...
Mogilev, a city in northeastern Poland.
Inside the Polish Army's forward headquarters, General Mokronowski pointed to the east bank of the Dnieper River on a map and excitedly declared to Marshal Kościuszko:
"Marshal, this is an excellent opportunity for us to crush the Russian defenses!
"I propose we transfer all Lithuanian reserve troops from Vilnius to Mogilev. This time, we can definitely push the front line directly to Smolensk!"
General Madaliński, standing nearby, appeared much more cautious:
"Marshal, we cannot trust the Russians so easily. This might just be a trap set by Kutuzov..."
Mokronowski immediately cut him off:
"You are far too cautious. Currently, our army is on the offensive along the entire Dnieper River line. Even if the Russians intend an ambush, we can perfectly well probe their defenses and then choose to shift our main offensive towards Mozyr or Orsha."
General Madaliński retorted with a cold tone:
"We have already lost too many soldiers in our previous intense assaults. We absolutely cannot risk it lightly again!"
His words immediately garnered approval from several officers, but Mokronowski also had many supporters.
Since late autumn last year, tens of thousands of Polish troops had been continuously assaulting Kutuzov's Dnieper River defense line.
Although Russia was fighting on two fronts—in Transcaucasia and along the Dnieper River—meaning Kutuzov could never deploy more than 80,000 soldiers, with more than half being recently conscripted raw recruits, he nonetheless maintained a firm, defensive strategy, consistently holding the Polish army on the west bank of the Dnieper River.
During this time, he even launched several effective surprise attacks against the Polish forces from the fortress of Kyiv, located on the west bank.
In less than three months of fighting, the Polish army suffered over ten thousand casualties.
As winter descended, the Polish offensive paused for a while, followed by the muddy conditions brought by spring rains.
It wasn't until May that Kościuszko resumed the offensive.
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