Decades ago when I was still a fairly young man, there was a quiet pub in my corner of London that was popular among gentlemanly American sailors. Not the sort of rowdy drunken loudmouths that gave their country a bad name, mind you, but their more mature brethren who enjoyed a quiet drink and pleasant conversation by the fireside before returning to sea. Having never been to the States myself in those days, I came to love welcoming the strangers to my neighbourhood to hear their tales of far away. The clientele seemed to include young men from every port over there, and in time I came to feel I knew Boston, New York, San Francisco and all the other ports as well as a native might.
Regrettably -- or so I thought at the time -- I made the mistake of divulging all that to my niece. The daughter of my much-older brother, she was scarcely ten years younger than I. Being as she had just gone eighteen that rainy summer and boasted a shameless lust for foreign men, nary a visit to my brother's home went by without Lillie begging me to bring her round to my pub. "Uncle Edmund, I know you are not one of those silly old codgers who believe alcohol is for men only -- you can't fool me, I
know
it!"
"Of course I'm not, my dear. I should even be more than pleased to treat you to a glass of wine or two with dinner. But if I brought you to a pub crawling with sailors, I scarcely wish to imagine what your mother and father should have to say to me!"
"Well, they don't need to know, Uncle Edmund, now do they?"
Indeed, I reflected, they did not. I had been an impertinent youngster myself not so long before, and I had many unpleasant memories of my brother ordering me about as if he were my father. I could only imagine the regulations poor Lillie must have faced, being that he really
was
her father. The poor thing was entitled to her bit of fun before the responsibilities of adulthood took full hold. And so, against my better judgment but with the devil-may-care joy of a favoured uncle, I told my brother and sister-in-law I had purchased tickets to a matinee and mightn't I treat my beloved Lillie to an afternoon at the theatre? Not without conditions, mind you: I told Lillie in no uncertain terms that she was to wear trousers or a long skirt, drink nothing stronger than wine, say nothing she would not want her father to hear, and be prepared to depart at my word should anything go amiss. "And I am certain I do not need to advise you on the chance of my doing any such thing for you again should your parents learn of this," I advised her.
"Heavens, no!" Lillie exclaimed, leaping into my arms with an added assurance that she would follow all my orders. "Thank you, Uncle Edmund!"
Three days later, dressed to my conservative specifications, she joined me in her father's parlour with a kiss goodbye to him, and we were off. She was uncharacteristically quiet in the taxi, owing perhaps to nerves; but she allowed a delighted sigh when I held the pub door open for her and ushered her inside. "Just as I have always imagined!" she said just a bit too loudly as she took in the view of the dark red leather seats and opulent decorations adorning the walls. "Are they all this lovely?"
"I only wish they were," I replied, drawing an appreciative nod from the bartender.
As it was a cloudy, cool afternoon despite the season, there was a roaring fire in the fireplace. Four chairs were set around the hearth, of which only one was occupied, by an older gentleman nursing a whiskey neat. I expected Lillie's attention to run to the younger men seated at the bar or by the window; but she found the fire irresistible and lost no time in approaching the older man. "Pardon me, sir, may we join you here?"
"I'd be delighted with your company," he said in an American accent of a variety I did not recognize.
Lillie undoubtedly did not know its exact origin either, but her smile in response to his invitation made it clear she did not care just where he might be from. "Thank you!" She recalled her manners long enough to smooth out her skirt as she sat down in the chair facing his, but then instant familiarity took over. "I've been after my uncle here to bring me to this pub for the longest time!" she exclaimed, not even noticing as the waiter approached and I ordered a glass of merlot for her and a pint for myself. "Dying to meet the American sailors, I've been! Are you a sailor? Oh, heavens, are you American? I understand Canadians hate it when we assume..."
"Lillie," I reproved her gently. "I think our new friend might not be here to play twenty questions!"
"Oh, it's quite all right, thank you," the gentleman reassured me. "Delighted with the welcome, actually. We aren't beloved in every port nowadays, you know." Turning to Lillie, he said, "Yes, I am an American sailor. Went to sea when I was twelve, actually, and I've been at it ever since."
"Twelve!" Lillie was appropriately shocked. "Heavens, I wasn't even allowed out of Nurse's sight at that age."
"Well, it was a different time and a very, very different place," the man explained to her.
"Which place?" Lillie's brazenness was back in full force. "Uncle Edmund has told me all about the great American ports. I think I like the tales of New York and San Francisco the best. Little wonder a boy could go to sea at twelve if he came from a place like that."
"Indeed," the man chuckled. "But I'm not from either of those, though I have spent many a lovely day in both. No, I'm from Sauraquid."
Now it was my turn to pipe up in a most un-English fashion. "Sauraquid!" I said. "My God, man, the stories I've heard of that place from so many sailors here, but do you know you are the first one I have met who is from there!"
"That doesn't surprise me," he said. "The sea is our life in Sauraquid, and everyone there makes a living from it in one way or another. But most of us who come from there stay there. Little wonder, really, if you've ever seen the filthy towns elsewhere in that part of the world. My own story is a very unique one, actually, if I do say so myself."