I can see the Mary Rose getting ready to engage, her gun doors wide open. It seems like there are hundreds of them, stacked in rows from her upper deck to the waterline. I can see men on the upper deck: the master of the ship and the boatswain at the wheel, and a figure—I suppose it is Thomas; I suppose that small still figure in the bold red cape is the man I adore—standing behind them.

“God keep him. Oh, God keep him,” is all I whisper.

I can see the two fighting castles at prow and stern, built high, crowded with men. The sun is shining on their helmets and I see them raise their pikes as they wait for their chance to grapple and board the enemy ships. Thomas will lead them when the charge comes. He will have to jump from one ship to another and bellow for them to follow him. Below the fighting castles, over the middle of the open deck, there are nets stretched from side to side. They are the boarding nets, so that no one can jump on board in a rival attack, and take our precious ship. I can see the ranked soldiers underneath the nets. When they get close enough to a French ship, they will be released and swarm out.

“Fire!” Henry shouts, as if they can hear him from the castle. “Fire! Fire! I command it!”

A barge comes towards the beautiful wallowing English ship, the oars like the legs of an insect crawling through the water. A cloud of black smoke suddenly spits from the prow. Now we can smell the stink of gunpowder, drifting over the water.

The cannon of the Mary Rose roll forward to every open gun port so that she is bristling with weapons, all of them moving as one. She turns and fires from her left-hand guns and there is a simultaneous roar. It is beautifully done, and powerful as a move in a chess game. At once, we see one of the galleys struggling in the water, going down. The king’s great plan, Thomas’s strategy, is showing its power to the astounded enemy. Ship is engaging with ship, and the soldiers have nothing to do yet but cheer in their fighting castles and raise their swords in threat. The great ship is coming about, turning in the water, so that she can fire her starboard guns while the port guns reload.

A sudden gust makes all the standards snap with a noise like tearing silk. “Fire! Come about and fire!” Henry shouts, but the wind is too loud for anyone to hear him. I hold my hat and Anne Seymour loses her cap, which goes sailing from the walls of the castle and out to sea.