Duyfken' topsails are sheeted home and the yards hoist themselves. The big foresail and mainsail drop from their yards and the sheets and tacks creak as the canvass takes the strain of the wind. Duyfken heels slightly and starts to move away from the wharf. Her head turns down river between the piles of the Story Bridge. Before long she is bowling along with a following breeze towards the open sea. A child's voice causes me to open my eyes. OThat person's got four feet'. I'm lying on a thin mattress on the deck under the forecastle. Michelle is still asleep beside me and our feet are protruding beyond the windlass, visible from the wharf. I look through the grating and see the tower blocks of Brisbane are still there, glinting in the morning sun. Duyfken is not moving and the sails are still furled. My voyage really has ended. How long have I been dreaming? Nine months? It's not yet seven but the sun is hot already. Today is the last day of my contract and I must get up and pack my stuff. With the vague sort of unfocussed mood I'm in, that could take all day. But I have one other task before I go. Pete Gill, voyage crew from Cooktown to Cairns, has asked me to put 200 words together about the voyage. 200 words? What can I say in 200 words? OI have done some fabulous things in my life but the Duyfken Voyage has been special among them. We have learned a lot about sailing old technology. We have visited some beautiful places and met some fascinating people. But the highlight for me was the final part of the re-enactment when we landed at Pennefather River and met up with Aborigines who still tell the stories of the Duyfken arriving and the trouble they caused back then. For our re-enactment we changed the script, asking the locals for permission to walk on their ground. It was such a simple gesture, but it had a profound effect. The response we got was amazing and I will never forget it. I have never felt so welcome in my own country. All we had done was show a little respect, a bit of ordinary courtesy, and the next thing I knew tribal elder Silas Wolmbi was embracing me and calling me his son. OThe battle should have ended on the beach 400 years ago but I think it's still going on across the country. Arriving on Cape York Peninsula in the modern Duyfken I had the feeling that a black hand is being held out to us whitefellas and all we have to do is grasp it. It isn't all that difficult. And nobody loses anything by having more friends.' *** Speaking of friends, it was a strange feeling to say goodby to the crew today. There were few words, but a lot of warmth. Even big, tough, no-nonsense, don't-get-too-sentimental-on-me Gary gave me a hug. It was nothing like saying farewell to workmates. These people are my friends for life. That thought softened any sadness I might have felt as I loaded my bags into the boot of the car and gave my final wave from the window. For a while at least. In the privacy of my seat on the crowded aeroplane I suddenly felt my face unaccountably covered by salt spray again...