Colorado, 1889
An ongoing letter to Clarence Forsyth, from Captain Henry Forsyth, RE. (Regretfully, retired.)
Denver, Colorado, America.
Dearest Brother,
I would have you know that I’m down to earth.
The business on Venus ended most unsatisfactorily. In the swamps, we were set upon by vile German assassins, I believe targeting my erstwhile famous, dare I say, friends.
Of course, they proved no match for British pluck and we turned the tables neatly on the villains and ‘All’s Well That Ends Well’ as the bard would say.
Still, we still had some alarms in trying to return. The blighter of a leader having run, as I might add I would expect from a Belgian, on the first encounter, tried to ambush us. Another foreigner trick and failure to fight like a man.
We captured the bounder, though I confess he was surprisingly fleet of foot for a man of his build and very at home in the swamps. Still, he sang like a canary, as I believe the expression is with the lower life.
Seems there was someone else behind all this.
We returned to Venusstadt. Naturally we stopped to change attire and then to the bank to call out this fiend, for that was his lair.
Yet, things again took on an unexpected turn. Another ambush! Why so many German thugs have an Irish name I cannot tell, yet seems always to be the case. Maybe they are damnable nationalists.
I regret to say many shots were fired and in a bank at that, a sad state of affairs. Despite poor odds, ultimately our British fighting once again proved superior. We followed those that fled our justice down and out into, well, I baulk to say it, the, er, lower recess.
It was most embarrassing when we returned to the hotel.
We then moved to investigate the warehouse belonging to this bounder. I will not trouble you with the details, but what we found was not only very illegal but most disturbing.
I now have to confess a most unfortunate incident. A number of villains opened fire on us in the warehouse, which was naturally returned. However, a stray bullet hit the case we were investigating. I can reveal that a Venus death flower was the content.
Naturally we all ran for our lives, friend and foe alike.
It is hard to explain what the draw of this flower is. I felt it touch me briefly, were I anything less than a British gentleman and officer, well, I hate to think what consequences would have entailed.
However, the enemy gunfire had clearly attracted the attention of the authorities. I regret to inform you that I was embarrassingly detained with my far more famous colleagues if I may be so bold as to describe them thus.
There followed an interesting discussion with I believe someone who may have been a member of the Zeppelin family. I think it may have been an opportunity missed, but who can truly tell in the very strange world I now find myself.
Frankly, it all ended rather embarrassingly. I was forced to resign my post on Venus to keep my reputation intact.
Further, my colleagues and I had to leave Venus, or otherwise be under a cloud.
Rest assured that my honour is intact and can assure you that no taint is attached to the family name.
Our flyer arrived in Denver, Colarado a week ago.
I will update you again soon.
Boulder, Colorado, America.
Once again, my felicitations to you and the family and I can but hope that all continue to prosper. Please give my humble regards to our parents.
We have tracked this vile smuggling ring to this part of world. I’ll forebear to say more, but trust you have received my coded letters and placed them as instructed. I hope they will not be necessary.
I do not know if the rest of America is like this, but it is much as the popularist papers depict. There is no discernible civilisation, everyone carries guns, law seems to be a matter of opinion rather than principle, it is close to anarchy.
Yet this allows a certain sense of freedom, certainly opportunities abound and an engineer such as myself could well make a fortune here. If only so many people weren’t trying to kill me!
We traced the smugglers to a warehouse in a small town within the state. We managed to gain entrance via something of a ruse, that owed its essence to the wooden horse of Troy. Please let father know that I didn’t entirely let my education in the classics go to waste.
That said, I cannot recommend being confined in a crate with others, especially when one insists on bringing a rifle. I can say that I don’t care how good a shot he was, there was one butt too many.
So, the ruse worked and thankfully we had avoided yet another gun battle. However, the foul villains had adopted the place as a landing for an ether flyer, the roof being its underside.
As its searchlight illuminated the place it smarmed with guards. Really do these people not understand the consequences of firing on a British officer? I may admit that it could be some time before a new uniform reaches me in these far places and that I’d had to resort to local dress, but even so!
It was touch and go to be sure, but the Rev. Fogg, who I may have mentioned in my previous despatches, surrounded himself with dynamite, so that the enemy dare not fire for fear of their own lives. He then dealt out some righteous justice, which allowed us to once again prevail.
Sadly, the ether flier was able to make good it’s escape during this interlude. So the villains remain at large.
We did however, find more evidence of their evil doing. Evidence that I may tell you of the utmost and shocking import. I pray that we have communicated this in time and the authorities in Europe have acted.
If you are reading this then those in London most certainly have. If there is war or disorder on the continent, then they have not and we will be swept with a double crisis of both plague and war.
My prayers are with all of you.
Now to the final chapter of this letter, which I need to send post haste. A sad tale.
As befits our calling as British men, we attempted to beard one of leaders of this dreadful conspiracy in his lair.
We were grievously outmatched, something I realised from the outset. Yet we were honour bound to try. It was clear that some dreadful weapons were being constructed, we had to know what.
But the scientist working on them and as I now know his wife, were being held captive. Naturally we resolved to free them, despite the odds.
We have the company of an interesting gentleman, Copperfield by name, but of slightly dubious character, if I might make so bold. I do not deny him a gentlemen, for he clearly is, but I should not like to play cards against him.
He gallantly undertook to enter the main house to bring out the hostages, all with the intent of remaining unseen.
The rest us positioned ourselves to best advantage. The ever-gallant Waldmart to the front with a posse (as they say in these parts) of hired men to overview the courtyard. This yard was surrounded by buildings on 3 sides. In military terms my dear brother, in was a killing ground.
The heroic Rev. Fogg assembled a diversionary tactic, a cart laden with inflammable material and dynamite. He really is the most fearsome and oft reckless fellow.
For my part I took the rear of the house to be able to see and relay any signals from inside. I could also rush up to assist from this position.
The plan proceeded well at first, Copperfield entering the house unobserved. From my vantage point I could see the lady hostage held in the kitchen by a distracted guard.
On the other side, were clearly two of the main villains in discussion. Why he chose to interrupt these and place the odds against himself I have yet to find out, when the other way would have suited the purpose far better.
Yet one cannot judge the actions that men make in the heat of battle; each has their own rationale.
I gathered he’d come of the worst of the affair and rushed to the least cover his retreat.
He got out badly wounded, but with a guard stumbling out hard on his heals. I managed to knock this man down, but with more coming needed to look to hold them up and my attention was to the door.
I confess I mis-judged in expecting Copperfield to take out the now prone guard. Instead, he ran off into the night and the cad shot me in the back.
I too now had to retreat in ignominy.
Meanwhile Fogg’s diversion had hit home drawing many guards, but in the event too few.
Waldmart used his position well initially, but kept advancing beyond reason until he placed him and his men in the killing zone.
Somehow Fogg ran through it all and entered the house that was vacant of anyone but the enemy. I believe the Lord must truly look after his own.
By now, I’d come round the side of the building and managed to rally and draw a couple of our hands to me.
Although I placed them behind cover to give fire, such was the intensity of incoming shot that one of them was killed before he even got a finger to his trigger.
So, it was I witnessed a scene that will haunt all my years. The brave Waldmont, the man that had become a legend, the man that had survived beyond reason, that generous sole, a colossus that strode earth and then the heavens.
It was my fate, to watch him breath his last as the ceaseless gunfire cut him to ribbons. Even as I watched I wanted to run to him and try and change the outcome. For I like to think that not only was he companion in arms, but my friend. But I am a soldier, we know the battlefield. I could only die by such an action.
A few more shots were fired, but with little effect and I retreated in the best order I could, the last of our hired men being shot in the back as we made our way into the night.
Remarkably Fogg also made it out. There was a gallant attempt to subdue the main villain and hold him as a shield, which failed but to which the cad surprisingly showed some spine and held a fisticuffs duel with Fogg.
Despite being outmatched and surrounded by armed guards, Fogg once again proved his worth, landing a blow to stun the foe.
Recognising his predicament, he also realised that blooding his opponents’ nose was what he would have to settle for. He used the opportunity to also retire in good order.
Thankfully we met up as arranged. The good reverend was able to staunch my wound and I’m as near full health as can be expected.
We are now licking our wounds, if you forgive the crude expression. I am stunned by the loss of Waldmont, it leaves a big hole in our little party which has fought so hard together.
In the military such things are expected, yet this has been a different experience, we fight not on orders, but to do the right thing. We are dealing with injustice and criminal activity because we are British and it is the right thing to do.
We have a common purpose, which binds us more tightly, than I can express. I therefore mourn my friend and benefactor of our party.
Alas I have little time to do so, as I fear the villains may move against us.
I am disturbed that we could not recover Waldmonts body. To leave it behind feels like a betrayal and I am sure it will be ill used by the enemy. The Spartans of old would surely not have failed so, but they were not faced with Winchester rifles.
Dear Brother, I do not know the future holds for me, but it is of necessity one of great danger. Should I fail in this endeavour, then know the affection that I hold my family. Know also that I will have perished in service to God, Queen and Country, although on a battlefield that may never be revealed.
Respectfully yours,
Henry
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