With oars we caught and brought into ship wreaths of it.

All night we sailed in this strange plain.

A yellow dawn showed it still on either side the _Santa Maria_, and thicker, with fewer blue sea straits and passes than on yesterday.
The Pinta and the Nina stood out with a strange, enchanted look, as ships crossing a plain more vast than the plain of Andalusia.

Still that floating weed thickened.

The crowned woman at our prow pushed swathes of it to either side.