Chapter 794: Naval Power is Everything
Though Di Chiayera held little hope, he still asked, "Do you have any way to bypass the British fleet?"
"No, there's no need to bypass them," Demuville replied, his head bowed slightly. "You see, I used to run business in England, but then the Channel checks became too strict, so our captains started trying their luck in the Ottoman Empire..."
"Get to the point,"
"Oh, yes, General," Demuville hastened his explanation. "We've been using Piraeus Port as a transit point. The supplies there are incredibly abundant."
Di Chiayera frowned. "But it's too far. We wouldn't make it in time."
Piraeus Port, located in Greece's Morea region, was over 700 nautical miles from Genoa.
"No, it's not too late, General. I heard that Piraeus started using steamships for trade about half a year ago," Demuville explained. "Many French merchants operate there."
He took a deep breath. "Most importantly, the British would never expect the supplies to come from the east."
Di Chiayera and his staff officer exchanged glances. They had unconsciously assumed transport ships were slow, forgetting that French-Ottoman trade had already begun using steam paddleboats.
The staff officer nodded, then shook his head. "But steam paddleboats have limited cargo capacity, and the supplies haven't been prepared in advance."
"Ah," Demuville stammered, stepping back nervously and speaking softly. "I hadn't considered those points. My apologies. Please, just disregard what I said."
"Wait," Di Chiayera interjected, gesturing to his staff officer. "There are no other options right now. Send someone to Piraeus. I recall Baron of Memark running a trading company there; ask him to find a solution."
Marseille Port couldn't ship goods, Corsica couldn't gather enough supplies in a short time, and the main British Mediterranean Fleet was near Tunisia's Port of Bizerte. Thus, the Greek route was their only hope.
...
Several days later, the 'Cape Parrot' appeared outside Piraeus Port.
That afternoon, in a room on the second floor of the Port Management Committee building, Steller, General Manager of the French Eastern Mediterranean Trading Company and the newly ennobled Baron of Memark, looked earnestly at the shipowners gathered in the room.
"The situation is essentially this," he began.
"The forces in Genoa require a total of 4 million pounds of flour, 35,000 barrels of wine, 50,000 pounds of gunpowder, and large quantities of cannonballs, medicine, and other supplies."
"I hope you all can undertake this transport mission. The compensation will certainly be satisfactory."
Unfortunately, most of the French Eastern Mediterranean Trading Company's own vessels were not currently in port; the fastest would not return for another five days. Thus, Steller was forced to seek out French private shipowners, intending to hire their steam paddleboats.
Immediately, several men shook their heads and rose to leave. "Baron of Memark, everyone knows the British fleet is patrolling near Genoa. That's far too dangerous."
"Indeed," another chimed in. "If there were no risk, why wouldn't they ship the supplies from Marseille?"
"And we'd have to front part of the cargo costs ourselves. This is absolutely not a good deal."
Most of the French Eastern Mediterranean Trading Company's funds were tied up in places like Syria and Egypt, as those were their primary procurement points. Steller didn't even have enough money to acquire the supplies Dumouriez required.
If he could wait another half a month, no, even just ten days, Steller could easily resolve these issues. But at this moment, time was his most critical shortage.
"Please, wait," Steller quickly interjected, stopping several men. "I can guarantee you won't encounter the British fleet. As for the costs, the French Eastern Mediterranean Trading Company can offer you 25% interest."
"Forgive me, Baron of Memark, but I'm afraid I cannot take this job."
"Who knows where a British warship might suddenly appear?"
"Frankly, the risk is simply too great..."
Seeing that several men were determined to leave, Steller, sweating profusely in his desperation, called out again, "30% interest, plus insurance! I beg you, for heaven's sake!"
Nevertheless, a few more men began to rise.
These shipowners, though French, were first and foremost businessmen.
When the profit-to-risk ratio was too low, they cared nothing for patriotism, let alone loyalty to the King.
Just as the door was pulled open and the shipowners began to step out, a man in his thirties, with rough skin and a coarse black jacket, who had been sitting quietly in the corner, stood up and declared loudly,
"Baron of Memark, I can lend you my ship and personally advance the funds to fill it with flour."
A shipowner who knew him well immediately tugged at his arm, whispering, "Leon, have you lost your mind? If you run into a British warship, you'll be ruined!"
"Thank you, Ferry. But I've already made up my mind."
Leon Troque then turned to face those who had reached the doorway. "You may know that my family has been involved in maritime trade between France and the Far East since my great-grandfather's generation."
During my grandfather's most prosperous period, our family owned four oceangoing vessels. Among them was the 'Ocean Current', a three-masted sailing ship about 39 meters long."
Ferry nodded silently from the side, confirming his words.
The shipowners all paused, turning to look at Troque. A maritime merchant who owned four oceangoing vessels was certainly a prominent and wealthy figure.
Troque sighed, continuing, "Then France lost to the British in the Seven Years' War, and as you all know, we lost all our trade with the Far East.
"The 'Ocean Current' was also seized by the British at the Cape of Good Hope. Two years later, my family's business went bankrupt.
"After that, my father went to Naples, revising sea charts to support our family, but he soon fell ill and died.
"My mother took my brother and me to Marseille, mending fishing nets to survive. By the time she was thirty, her fingers were completely ruined. My brother and I both contracted malaria; without money for medicine, we nearly died...
"Luckily, I had some good fortune. With the help of a friend of my father's, I resumed the shipping business and eventually even bought a ship of my own."
Someone interjected impatiently, "Excuse me. But what exactly are you trying to say?"
Troque raised a hand, gesturing. "Most of the gentlemen here make their living from Mediterranean trade."
"Have you considered what would happen if our army in Genoa were defeated by the Austrians?"
The shipowners instantly exchanged dismayed glances.
Troque stated gravely, "What my father experienced will befall me and all of you. And our children might also be unable to afford medicine and face death!"
"It's, it's not as serious as you're making it sound, is it?"
"No, I'm not exaggerating in the slightest," Troque countered. "Once the army in Genoa is annihilated, Southern France will be left without any defenses."
"At that point, the Austrian army will seize Marseille Port, cutting off France's access to the Mediterranean. North Africa, severed from the mainland, will quickly surrender to the British."
He gazed intently at the assembled shipowners. "By then, all Mediterranean trade will be monopolized by British merchant ships. You, I, everyone here, will be ruined!"
"This is our only chance. Believe me, we must hold Genoa."
"Not for the King, nor for Baron of Memark, but for ourselves, so we are no longer bullied by the British!"
He extended his hand.
"Who among you will come with me to Genoa?
"To deliver supplies to the French soldiers there, and let them teach those Austrian bastards a harsh lesson!"
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