Heaving up Duyfken's anchor is faster with twenty people on board. Henk (good authentic Dutch replica name that) takes the whipstaff, Greg taps the cable into place along the windlass drum with a metre long handspike as it comes aboard, Cian coils the cable down in the cabin, and I stand on deck trying to look important. Supervising is the word I'm looking for. That leaves sixteen enthusiastic heavers on the cable and there is hardly room for everyone to fit along the deck. The anchor rises off the bottom so fast it nearly gets jammed in the hawse pipe. We have to use the engines to cross the Wide Bay bar because the course through the leads takes us directly against the twenty knot south easterly. The waves are not too big, about two metres, but they give Duyfken a lively motion for a while as we traverse the shallow water. She pitches into the steep seas and throws a plume of spray over the foredeck. Some of the voyage crew are loving it, sitting up on the forecastle getting soaked. Others are not loving it, turning green already, and wearing expressions that read: 'How far is it to Brisbane?' As soon as we are clear of the shallow part of the bar we set both courses and topsails on the port tack and head south towards Rainbow Beach. The sun is out and the wind is just the right strength, even if it is from an inconvenient direction. Once we are under sail several of the crook voyage crew make a remarkable recovery, testifying to the far superior motion of a vessel under sail. We tack a mile off Rainbow Beach. We are close enough to see people on the beach but too far off to bother waving. I always wonder what those chance spectators make of Duyfken as we stand in to the coast then turn back out to sea. I know it would make my day to see something like that from a beach. 'When will we have to tack again to clear Double Island Point?' asks Doug. 'Somewhere near New Caledonia,' I reply. But I'm wrong. We tack in the late afternoon and as I write this, just after dark, it looks very likely that the lighthouse on the point may pass down our lee side in a couple of hours. If it does we will have achieved an impressive feat for a vessel of this type, beating out of Wide Bay off a lee shore in three tacks and about twelve hours. Even if we don't we should be in for a pleasant night of sailing. The wind is an easy topsail breeze and the stars are out. The waxing moon is still high over Rainbow Beach casting a silvery glow on our oak and flax, and I'm feeling good about having such an enjoyable sail for my last leg on Duyfken. To whichever deity is responsible for such fine things as this, I thank you.