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At the end of the fourth month of the journey in the water of the Amazon, Istvan noticed distinct streams of light. At one of the camps, he drew the attention of the captain to them, and Don Teixeira cheerfully replied:

“This is the waters of Madeira, Father. Believe it or not, here each river has its own color, and for many leagues ahead the streams do not mix.

“So we’ll reach the tributary soon?”

- Take your time, - the captain laughed, - we will sail to Madeira for at least a week.

He wasn't wrong. Only ten days later, on the left of the course, they saw a wide tributary, carrying its golden waters to the Amazon. It seemed to István that the bed of the river had split in two, but Sebastian Gomes, to whom he addressed the question, shook his head.

No, this is Madeira.

Directly opposite the mouth, travelers noticed a group of islands with sandy shores. This is where the expedition dropped anchor.

“We’ll spend the night here,” Don Pedro informed the chief helmsman, “and in the morning
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