Duyfken is nearly becalmed. She is moving so slowly that from time to time she loses steerage and has to be brought back on course by judicious bracing of the yards. Out to the south-east appears a line of cloud, dark and low on the horizon. We watch it approach. When we judge it to be about quarter of an hour away we take in the topsails. Adam, Nic, Walter and Gary are just returning on deck from furling the topsails when we see the new wind rippling across the water towards us. Its approach is so clearly visible we are able to brace the yards to catch it at the moment it hits the ship. Duyfken heels over to port and we are off, close hauled against the south-easterly, heading towards Burnett Heads. With only the courses set she is comfortably 'snugged down' in case the wind decides to get up some more. 'That was rather seamanlike,' I say as we coil down the lines. 'I wish it always went as smoothly,' replies Gary, referring to the more usual scenario, especially if a change comes through at night, when the ship is caught aback (with her yards braced the wrong way and her sails setting backwards) and over-canvassed, and there is urgent work for fifty but only fifteen on board.