“Keep it, for if what you speak is true, you will have great need for that rifle, and I would rather see it in your capable hands than any other man I know,” Cyril said.
With a smile I could not hide, I thanked my friend, this was the first time I had properly relaxed and felt at all comfortable in a couple of days. This would be a fine replacement for my beloved Marlin.
“That goes for all of you, equip yourselves in as best way possible, and be sure to fill your pockets with plenty of ammunition,” Cyril said to the room.
As the men began equipping with a selection of weapons from the cabinets, Holmes wandered, unsure of what to choose. Despite having a great knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, the detective had never had an intent and enthusiastic knowledge of ranged weaponry like I did. Besides his Webley Bulldog and the typical range of common scatter guns, he had no further firearms experience. As with many subjects, Holmes was ignorant to those he considered unnecessary for the task he undertook, and whilst I doubted he would ever change, firearms now became a subject he was all too keen to develop. Cyril had clearly noticed Holmes’ indecision on the subject and went to his aid.
“What sort of firearm are you most comfortable and effective with Mr Holmes, for I will choose something appropriate?” Cyril asked, glad to be of help on his favourite subject.
“One with the most power at close range and little concern of accuracy,” he replied.
Cyril chuckled.
“Then I know exactly what you need Mr. Holmes!”
Crossing the room, Cyril opened a cabinet and pulled out a weapon that looked like a shotgun, though not like one I had ever seen. Crossing back to us with a large smile and a box of ammunition that he placed down on the table beside us, he took the weapon in both hands.
“Gentleman, this is the Spencer & Roper 1882, a repeating shotgun.”
In awe, this truly was a weapon built for Holmes. Cyril showed how it worked, with a racking foregrip which caused the spent shell to eject and a new shell to be loaded. In the close encounters we had already faced, this weapon would have been a godsend.
The men of the room were quickly gathering a selection of rifles and shotguns and the ammunition for them, clearly all capable folk, likely military men from their efficient and determined will with weaponry. Cyril pointed us to a large wardrobe at the far end of the room, opening it we discovered it was full of all manner and means of carrying weapons and ammunition.
Taking a large leather satchel I filled it with stripper clips for my newly acquired rifle. Holmes took a large leather bandolier and began placing as many shotgun shells in to it as he could. Each of the men took out as much load bearing equipment as they could carry. Next would be sidearms.
What became evident throughout combat of the last two days was that one weapon was never enough, two being barely adequate at best.
“Mr. Matthey, we need handguns, and close quarter weapons,” Holmes said.
“You really feel that will be necessary?” he replied.
“Without a doubt,” Holmes answered.
Matthey was shocked by the fact that seven men equipped with rifles and shotguns, and enough ammunition for a regiment, would not be well armed enough for the battles we faced. Yet he was rather pleased to be asked for further weaponry. Walking to the centre of the room, where a large table stood draped in a velvet cloth, he took hold of the cover and tugged it off. The eyes of every man glistened at what we knew it beheld. The table was almost entirely glass on top, showing a large array of handguns on display underneath in pull out drawers. This was not storage, this was a magnificent display.
“Take what you need from here, I will get us some cold steel,” said Matthey.
As he left the room, Holmes pulled on the closest drawer, which must have been four feet wide, and looking in amazement at the wonders before him. Holmes had never been a firearm enthusiast, but his recent necessity for their usage appeared to have changed that.
I walked over to the large wardrobe of equipment and looked for holsters. Rifling through the items, hung along the top I saw a handy looking device. Taking it off the rack I could see that it was a type of leather shoulder harness with two holsters. Taking off my jacket I pulled this rig on and it sat comfortably. The holsters fitted at my front, in parallel just above my belt line, this was much better than using my jacket pockets and jacket liner.
Walking back over to the table, Holmes had in hand a large revolver, an 1879 model Reichs Revolver, an elegant and robust piece in its huge frame, though far from modern in design. The gun was a nuisance to reload and could only fire by single action, but it was incredibly solid, reliable and packed an almighty punch, not a bad tool to have.
Holmes fondled the gun, clearly becoming rather attached to it. It was not worth explaining how there were far better guns to choose, in any respect, it suited him. Walking over to the wardrobe he pulled out an American low slung belt holster. Filling the cartridge belt with as many of the large calibre rounds as he could, Holmes fitted the gun belt around him, becoming a strange hybrid of English gentleman and American gunslinger. Over this went the shotgun bandolier, he looked happy with himself, and certainly confident.
Holmes as ever, seeing quantity being preferable to quality of firearms, also reloaded his Bulldog, placing it back into his jacket pocket. Additionally he reloaded the Webley .455 I had given him and picked up a matching model to it from Cyril’s collection stuffed both into a shoulder pack that he threw over himself.
Seeing another Adams Revolver in the drawer that used the same cartridge as mine, it made sense to pair it with my old faithful companion in this paired holster I now wore. As I slung the cartridge satchel over my shoulder Cyril strolled back in to the room grasping a mass of military sabres. This was a welcome sight. For the thought of running out of ammunition again in front of such frightful odds was a fearful one, cold steel had been the saviour of many men for thousands of years, why should we be any different? Despite all the advances in technology, a sword was still a reliable friend in a time of crisis.
The swords varied massively in age, ranging from the period of Bonaparte to modern day. Holmes, being a modern fencer opted for the most modern British sword he could see and recognise, an 1853 pattern Cavalry Trooper’s sword, a simple three bar hilt design with pinned grip and almost straight blade. This sword offered a good mix between cut and thrust with a rather long blade, but its reputation was mixed from my knowledge. I instantly saw the weapon I would have to choose, a 1796 pattern Light Cavalry sword, one of the wonders of British sword design. This heavily curved sword, with a simple stirrup hilt, offered little hand protection but astonishing cutting ability. It was by far best suited to the task. This beautiful butcher’s blade looked a lot heavier than it was, its wide fuller doing wonders to keep the balance in check. All the men donned swords using the sword belts that Cyril had kindly provided; few men would have been able to equip such a force from his own home.
“What now?” asked Cyril.
“We must continue our journey to Switzerland, at a speed fast enough to present danger to our villain, but not quick enough that he cannot catch up. We do not know the exact location that he is so eager to protect, but we must present the notion that we do.”