During the evening I washed thoroughly, feeling dirty after my day of sword practice, then I packed my satchel, replenishing the medical supplies in the wallet, including some embrocation for my aching muscles which were now causing me some pain. I left behind my clerk’s equipment, all but a sheet or two of paper, the sealing wax, one quill and the ink pot. I had not needed them before, but I might on this journey. This left room in the top of my satchel for a spare shirt, stockings and shift. I planned to carry only my satchel and travel light. I added the passes Phelippes had provided and the purse of Dutch coins that Sir Francis had given me, and my preparations were complete.

Although I was tired, I found it difficult to sleep. My whole body ached and my mind was troubled by thoughts of what I would find in Amsterdam. Making general enquiries would not be difficult, but tracking down the missing agent Mark Weber could well lead me into danger. I did not like the knowledge that his last despatch had reported the return of Cornelius Parker.

I left early the following morning, entrusting Rikki to my father, and setting off to collect the first post horse at the stable near the north end of the Bridge. I felt awkward wearing the sword belt, the sword swinging against my side. How anyone could move normally so encumbered, I could not imagine. My small dagger lay easily against my right hip, but with every step I took the sword seemed ready to tangle itself in my legs, making me feel foolish.

Phelippes’s pass procured me one of the best government post horses, a long rangy beast who had a good turn of speed but who seemed indifferent to me. It must be an unpleasant life for a horse, constantly changing riders, valued for nothing but the speed at which they can gallop from post to post. I changed horses about every fifteen miles and reached Dover that evening, exhausted and very saddle sore.

I chose not to report to the commander of the garrison, Sir Anthony Torrington, who had been singularly unwelcoming before, but found one of the more junior officers. Flourishing Phelippes’s warrant giving me priority in all government premises I demanded – and got – a small room to myself. Although I dined with the soldiers as before, I saw no sign of Andrew, but this hardly surprised me, for the whole garrison buzzed like a wasps’ nest struck with a stick. By now everyone was well aware that the Spanish Armada, a fleet more vast than any could imagine, was sailing at its best speed for our shores.

The following morning I was down on the quay at first light, in search of the fast pinnace, the Good Venture, that Phelippes had ordered for me. And on the quay I met Andrew.

‘Kit, good morrow,’ he said. ‘I was this minute coming in search of you. Are you ready to leave? We can catch the turn of the tide.’

‘Are you crossing to the Low Countries as well?’ I asked. ‘On the Good Venture?’

‘Aye. And I was told you were to be on board.’

Together we made our way along the quay to a slender ship, longer and narrower than Captain Thoms’s vessel, so gleaming and new it looked as though she had just been launched, which I soon learned was the case.

‘Just arrived from the Chatham shipyards,’ Andrew said. ‘Apart from sailing round from the Medway, this will be her first voyage. She is one of the newest ships, built above all for speed.’

We boarded by means of a plank no more than a foot wide, unlike the solid ramp which had been provided for the horses, and I saw that though the ship was young, most of the crew had the weatherbeaten look of experienced sailors. There was very little superstructure, just a low cabin in the stern, and six cannon were ranged along her gundeck, three to a side.

Hardly had our feet touched the deck and our presence been acknowledged by a black-bearded man I took to be the captain, than the plank was drawn in, the mooring ropes cast off, and we were on our way.

In all this haste Andrew and I had hardly exchanged a word. Now we ducked out of the sailors’ way and found a sheltered corner on the foredeck, in the lee of the foresail.

‘But why are you going to Amsterdam, Andrew?’ I said.

‘I have orders to bring back a squadron of foot soldiers from our army based there,’ he said. ‘I am made a captain now.’

‘Congratulations,’ I said. ‘But are you not a trooper?’

‘Aye, my orders are to seek out men who can ride, even though they may be enrolled as foot soldiers as the moment. We need more cavalry. They cannot be fully trained, not in time, but if I can find enough who at the very least know one end of a horse from the other, then we can teach them some simple manoeuvres. The advantage of cavalry over infantry is that we can move about the country more quickly.’

‘Of course.’

‘So if we are needed somewhere in a hurry we can ride there, even dismount to fight on foot if we cannot train them to fight as cavalry.’

It sounded like a desperate measure to me, but I held my peace.

The ship had been moving fast while we spoke. Already Dover was disappearing behind us. The ship heeled over, slicing through the waves faster than I had ever seen a ship move.

‘A fair speed,’ I said, bracing myself to keep on my feet as we heeled further.

‘A fine ship,’ a voice said behind us. It was the black-bearded man. ‘I am Captain Faulconer. Captain Joplyn I have already met and I understand that you are Dr Alvarez.’

‘I am.’ I shook his hand and bowed.

‘If we had a fleet of ships as fine as the Good Venture, we could round up the sluggish Spaniards as a dog rounds up sheep,’ he said. ‘Even our merchant ships and privateers have a fair turn of speed. We will show them what English sailors are made of.’

I remembered what Dr Nuñez had said about the battle of Salamis and nodded, although I did wonder whether Captain Faulconer was partly moved by an inclination to boast of the navy before a captain of the army.

The journey up the Channel and along the Dutch coast showed just how fine a ship this was, and the whole crew conducted themselves as though they were already rehearsing for war. There was to be no sitting in the captain’s cabin, drinking wine on this voyage. Instead we dined, like the crew, on deck, standing and snatching mouthfuls of ship’s biscuit, dried meat, and ale when we could. We might be important passengers, carrying orders from high officers of state, but the times were such that no concessions could be made to our comfort.

So fast was our journey that we reached the waterway leading to Amsterdam before dark, though of course we were now at the height of summer’s longest days, whereas my previous journey here had been in the short, dark days of winter. In seemed Captain Faulconer was familiar with the route to Amsterdam, for he did not stop in the harbour but headed at once for the canal. There was still light enough to see our way, but with the approaching evening the wind had dropped, so the sails were lowered, the oars run out, and the sailors set to. By now they were stripped to the waist, for it had been warm work manning the ship under the summer sun. Now came the sweaty, demanding labour of rowing many miles up the canal. Once we were fairly under way, the captain joined us again. Andrew and I had found seats on two of the water barrels.

‘We are making a fair speed, even under oars,’ Andrew said.

‘Aye, she’s a very light ship,’ the captain said. ‘Light to sail and light to row. Not so hard on the men.’

By the time we had berthed in Amsterdam it was dark. Andrew and I walked to the centre of the town together, where we parted, I to stay at the Prins Willem, Andrew to seek out the officers’ quarters in the town before riding out the next day to the army camp to recruit his men. I wondered how willing they would be, whether they would prefer to remain here in the Low Countries, where the campaign had temporarily reached a stalemate, or would prefer to return home to face an invading Spanish army. On the whole, I suspected they would rather come home to England and their families, even if they then deserted.