Tomorrow we arrive in Brisbane and the voyage we started in Fremantle in April will be complete. On Monday I will hand over to Gary, leave Duyfken and fly home, so today will be my last full day of sailing on this beautiful little ship. The perfect penultimate day of the voyage would be to sail in to an anchorage in Moreton Bay before sunset without having to start the motors. But I am realistic. I come on deck at four this morning to find Point Cartwright lighthouse still abeam, the ship nearly becalmed and barely able to maintain steerage. I resign myself to one more day of engines, but resolve not to start them until I have to. Duyfken waddles along at a turtle's pace all morning. It is very pleasant, and the Sunshine Coast is living up to its name, but a good blast of wind would be nice. I am being sentimental, but I would love to feel Duyfken flying one last time. Around noon a light north easterly sea breeze springs up and slowly freshens. Duyfken has all her sails set and begins to come to life. By the time we enter the mouth of Moreton Bay she is charging along with a stream of foam coming out from each bow. We have to take in the mizzen because she is getting difficult to steer. Someone up there in the weather room must have dispatched my requisition. Seven and a quarter knots. This is the fastest Duyfken has sailed since the day we left Fremantle when we paced her at eight knots. Our first and last days on passage will stay in my mind as two of the most glorious sails of this voyage. We make our way across the bay to Moreton Island, round up under sail and drop anchor at Tangalooma Point with nearly an hour of sunlight to spare. It has been a perfect day after all. We haven't started the engines since the Wide Bay bar and this knowledge causes me to walk around the decks smiling stupidly with satisfaction. Someone says 'Well done, skipper,' and I reply: 'No, well done to you for being such a great crew.' It is that kind of moment. Corny backslapping seems entirely appropriate. Over the course of the day I have given countless interviews. That's not a figure of speech, I really have lost count of them all. One was conducted over the radio, another by mobile phone and perhaps the most bizarre was the TV crew that wanted me to hop into their boat so they could interview me with the ship sailing along in the background. What the viewers will make of a ship's master who abandons his vessel just before she arrives in her destination is anybody's guess. Here is the generic interview with my generic answers. Reporter: How has the voyage gone? Me: We've had a good voyage up from Hervey Bay. It's been slow sailing because of the light breezes but we have managed to make steady progress anyway. Reporter: Where have you come from before that? Me: We left Fremantle in April. From there we sailed up the West Australian coast to Broome, then sailed through Indonesia for a couple of months. We re-enacted the voyage of the original Duyfken from Banda to Cape York Peninsula, then headed up to PNG for a week in Port Moresby. Then we sailed back to Queensland and have been doing an exhibition tour down the coast. Reporter: How many crew on board? Me: We are a full ship at the moment with 20. We have a permanent crew of eight professionals who have been on board since Fremantle and two volunteers with specialist skills. But we couldn't sail the ship with this number, so we have ten voyage crew who come on board for short legs of the voyage and contribute to the running costs of the ship. The permanent crew train up the voyage crew so they quickly become useful members of the ship's complement, steering, keeping a lookout, scrubbing the decks, and helping out with all the physical work necessary on a ship like this with lots of rope but no power winches. Reporter: So what is the significance of Duyfken? Me: She was the ship that came to Australia in 1606 and made the earliest existing chart of the Australian coast. She was dispatched by the VOC from Banda in the spice islands to scout for new lands to trade with and in particular to look for the mythical land of gold, Nova Guinea. She sailed into the Gulf of Carpentaria and made a landfall at the Pennefather River, just north of where Weipa is today. They found no spices, no gold, and lost some of the crew in a fight with the Aborigines. After charting some of the coast they turned back and returned to Banda with a fairly negative report of the new land they had visited. Reporter: What was the highlight of the re-enactment voyage for you? Me: Well, we have been to some beautiful places and met some fascinating people, but of me the highlight was arriving in the Pennefather River. We landed in the same place as Willem Jansz landed in 1606 and the landscape has changed very little since then. But the most amazing part of the experience was meeting the local Aborigines who are descendants of the people who made first contact with the Dutch sailors 400 years ago. These people tell the story of the Dutch arrival as part of their oral history. They tell the story of a fight on the beach where about nine of the crew and many Aborigines were killed. We departed from the re-enactment script by asking permission to land and that gesture went down very well with the locals. What made our arrival so special for me was that instead of them harbouring resentment for what happened 400 years ago, they welcomed us. They even told us that the modern Duyfken is now part of the same story. When the story of 'the Dutchies' is handed down to the next generation, we are in it. That's a good feeling. Reporter: Have you got anything else to say? Me: I think that about wraps it up. (Note savvy use of media lingo). Of course this interview gets cleverly condensed into a four second grab before going to air.