"not be responsible for leakage, breakage, or rust." This clause was
well for the ship, as one of those wild _pampeiros_ overtook her, on the
voyage, throwing her violently on her beam-ends, and shaking the motley
cargo into a confused and mixed-up mess. The vessel remaining tight,
however, no very serious damage was done, and she righted herself after
a while, but without her lofty topgallant-masts, which went with a crash
at the first blast of the tempest.

This incident made a profound impression on Garfield. He happened to be
on deck when the masts were carried away, but managed to scamper off
without getting hurt. Whenever a vessel hove in sight after that having
a broken spar or a torn sail, it was "a _pampeiroed_ ship."

The storm, though short, was excessively severe, and swept over
Paranagua and Antonina with unusual violence. The owner of the pianos, I
was told, prayed for us, and regretted that his goods were not insured.
But when they were landed, not much the worse for their tossing about,
old Strichine, the owner (that was his name or near that, strychnine the
boys called him, because his singing was worse than "rough on rats,"
they said, a bit of juvenile wit that the artist very sensibly let pass
unheeded), declared that the ship was a good one, and that her captain
was a good pilot; and as neither freight nor insurance had been paid, he
and his wife would feast us on music; having learned that I especially
was fond of it. They had screeched operas for a lifetime in Italy, but I
didn't care for that. As arranged, therefore, I was on deck at the
appointed time and place, to stay at all hazards.

The pianos, as I had fully expected, were fearfully out of
tune--suffering, I should say, from the effects of seasickness!