At six this morning, just as the tide is about to start ebbing, Gary calls all hands. Still half asleep, the crew stumble on deck and take their positions along the deck to heave up the anchor. The job is made easier by the turning tide which is beginning to move Duyfken in the same direction as the crew start straining on the cable. Once the anchor is aweigh we set sail. There is almost no wind and Duyfken is slow to answer her helm, but with the ebb tide now running we drift, rather than sail, out past the leads and past the shipping at anchor waiting to enter the port. By lunch time we have all sail set making the most of a light breeze which has sprung up from the north-east. This is really delightful sailing and the voyage crew congratulate themselves that they have already experienced both upwind and downwind sailing so soon in the voyage. Adam, our West Virginian truck-driver who joined us in Mackay as voyage-crew, surprises himself by how much he has learned about sailing Duyfken. After only five days at sea he is a good helmsman, has remembered most of the lines, and doesn't need to be told where to go when the order comes to 'Stand by to tack.' I suspect he will have plenty of memories of his time on Duyfken to while away those long nights on the interstate highways when he gets back home. As we roll along before the gentle breeze tonight the feeling about the ship is strangely subdued. It might have something to do with the grey skies and occasional drizzle, but probably has more to do with the crew becoming accustomed to the changing pace of life. I sense the new crew are reflecting on the strange new experience of travelling slowly but surely, propelled by the wind in this little wooden ship, with periods of gut-busting activity at all hours of the day and night interspersed with lots of standing around doing not very much.