Reincarnated as Napoleon II-Chapter 109: On Sight

May 25th, 1830. Mediterranean Sea.

The French Fleet stretched across the water in layers. Ships of the line held the outer lanes, their gun decks sealed and secured for sea transit. Frigates moved ahead and along the flanks, adjusting position with every change of wind. Corvettes and brigs threaded between columns, carrying messages and checking spacing. Behind them came the transports, wide-bellied vessels packed with infantry, cavalry, artillery, engineers, and every crate needed to keep an army alive once it stepped onto hostile ground.

On the flagship, Davout’s command staff worked from a cramped chart room that smelled of ink, wax, and damp wood. Maps of the Algerian coast were weighted with brass instruments. A navigation officer traced planned approach routes. A naval liaison tracked ship positions and timing for bombardment cycles.

Above deck, the wind rose and fell through the rigging. Men hauled lines until their hands bled, then wrapped them and went back to work. The creak of spars and the slap of waves against hull planks never stopped.

In the transports, the crossing turned men into passengers.

They slept in shifts. They ate what they were issued. Seasickness took some of them hard in the first days. Buckets were passed up and down without comment. Officers walked the decks to keep order and prevent fights over space. NCOs checked rifles daily to make sure operational efficiency.

Horses were worse.

They sweated in cramped stalls, eyes wide, nostrils flaring at the constant motion. Handlers fed them in small portions and kept water steady, careful not to flood them. Some animals kicked until their hooves were raw. Others stood rigid and refused to eat until the handler forced a calm rhythm on them with voice and touch.

Every ship carried its own small world of labor.

The new water containers were stacked in nets and wooden frames to keep them from sliding. Quartermasters checked them repeatedly. In the old system, water casks spoiled or leaked. Here, the goal was to keep fresh water controlled and clean for as long as possible, especially once landing began and resupply became uncertain.

On the fourth day, the wind shifted south.

The formation adjusted.

Signal flags rose and fell across the fleet. Frigates widened their arc. The ships of the line tightened their spacing. Duperré’s orders traveled through the column in measured sequence. Nothing was rushed. Congestion at sea could kill as surely as enemy fire.

By the sixth morning, Africa showed itself as a thin line under the haze.

Then it sharpened.

Algiers’ coastline took shape—ridges, beaches, fortifications, and the pale mass of the city rising behind. Smoke drifted in faint lines from shore fires and industry. Coastal batteries were visible as dark points along the heights, positioned to punish any ship that came too close.

"Send a telegram to Marshal Davout. Inform that we have sighted the Algerian coastline."

"Aye Admiral," said his aide-de-camp who immediately relayed his orders.

Below deck, inside the transport assigned to army headquarters, a telegraph operator sat before the compact wireless apparatus bolted to a reinforced table.

The message arrived in clipped bursts.

Coastline sighted.

Enemy batteries visible.

Fleet maintaining formation.

The operator wrote it down at once and handed the sheet to a waiting courier.

Minutes later, Marshal Davout stood over the paper inside the command cabin. The lantern above him swung with the motion of the sea, light shifting across the chart pinned to the wall.

He read the message once.

Then again.

He stepped toward the main table where senior officers were already gathered. A detailed map of the Algerian coastline lay unrolled, corners secured with weighted pistols and brass dividers. Sidi-Ferruch was marked in charcoal.

"We proceed as planned," Davout said.

He placed a finger west of Algiers.

"Sidi-Ferruch first."

The officers leaned closer.

"We do not attempt to force the harbor," he continued. "The coastal batteries command the direct approach. A frontal assault there wastes ships and men."

His finger traced the shoreline toward the peninsula.

"We land here. Secure the beach. Establish perimeter. Bring artillery ashore before pushing inland."

One officer nodded.

"And the fleet?"

"They remain disciplined," Davout said. "No unnecessary engagement. Admiral Duperré will hold the ships at controlled distance until landing begins. We do not announce ourselves with bombardment unless required."

He looked around the table.

"The enemy must not be certain of our point of disembarkation until our boots are already in the sand."

Another officer spoke. "And if their cavalry appears during landing?"

Davout answered without pause. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"The first wave establishes a defensive line immediately upon landing. They are armed with the latest bolt-action rifles and the light machine detachments. Skirmish formation first. No dense columns on open sand."

He pointed at the drawn shoreline.

"Artillery follows in the second wave. Two batteries to be unlimbered facing inland. If enemy cavalry attempts to break the line, they are met with sustained fire before they close."

"Cavalry remains aboard until the beachhead is secure. No horses in the first hour. Infantry holds ground."

The officers nodded and dispersed.

On deck, the order moved fast.

Boat crews were called forward. Davits creaked as landing craft were swung out over the water. Ropes were checked twice before being eased down in controlled drops. Oars were stacked along thwarts. Coxswains took their positions without shouting.

Infantry companies formed by battalion at the gangways. Packs were tightened. Bayonets fixed, then covered with cloth to cut glare. Cartridge pouches were opened and counted once more. Officers moved down the line, tapping shoulders, correcting straps, keeping spacing even.

"First wave forward."

Men stepped onto the rope ladders and climbed down into the boats below. The craft rocked under their weight but steadied as sailors shifted ballast. Machine gun teams passed down the disassembled components first, wrapped in oilcloth. Ammunition belts followed in sealed cases.

Behind them, artillery crews maneuvered the 75mm field guns into position near the lowering stations. The wheels were blocked, limbers detached, and the pieces secured with sling points so they could be hoisted down by crane once the beachhead was confirmed stable.

Above, signal flags were lifted again. Across the fleet, other transports mirrored the motion. Dozens of boats now hung suspended over open water, then descended together.

Now, they dipped their soars and propelled themselves forward to the landing site.