“Well, Stevie… you're seeing the world.”
“I liked the drunken gentleman very much, Gramp.”
“Nothing like a happy drunk for good company.”
The barman, a small, low-slung man with a line of oiled hair running from ear to ear and over his paperwhite brow, shook his head.
“No… drinkin' don't py.”
“No?” said Gramp.
“Look at me… ruined me life, took me wiges and left me 'igh and dry. That's why I'm 'ere behind this bloody bar. Seein' as I can swipe it 'as cured me of drink and fightin' in pubs….”
“What's a Cockney doing on a German boat?” asked Gramp.
“Oh, hit's to keep out graft and dishonest barmen selling tickets to the Captain's tible. The square'eads used to make a fearful fight of hit. So they 'ires Henglishmen… being as we're smarter at hunderhand polite dealing, you might sy.”
Gramp winked at me. “What will it cost to put two beautiful ladies at the Captain's table?”
“Now, sir,” said the barman. “You rightly can't sell that tible like it was fish and chips. But two pounds might do hit.”
“Another brandy,” said Gramp, “and a lemon crush for my friend here.”
When we got down to Mama's and Fran's cabin, Mama was wrapping cold towels around Fran's neck and face, and Fran was praying the ship would sink.
Gramp said, “Misfortune makes people kind, once pride is gone.”
“She's dying!” said Mama.
“Can she hold anything on her stomach?” asked Gramp.
“Not even my hand,” said Aunt Fran. “I forgive you, Sara.”
There was a tap on the door, and the waiter there had a bucket of ice and two bottles of bubbling wine wrapped in linen shrouds. Gramp opened one of the bottles with the pop of a heavy cork.
“Can you get this past your New England heart?”
“Let me die…” said Fran.
“She catted,” said Mama, in despair.
“Where are the kittens?” I asked. Mama looked at me, and I knew I would hear about it later. Gramp poured the wine…. “Well, I guess there is no cure for mal de mer… and I suppose the Captain will feel very bad about this….”
“The Captain?” said Mama.
“He asked me to be sure you two ate at his table. Every trip the two most beautiful women on the ship are invited to his table.”
Fran stirred. “What?”
Gramp took two bits of cardboard from his pocket….
“I think,” said Aunt Fran, “I might be able to swallow some strained soup.”
“You'll like the Captain,” said Gramp. “I've crossed with the handsome brute before. He makes witty epigrams that ate really mistakes in French grammar.”
The Captain was a huge brute with blonde hair and red cheeks bigger than a prize-winning beet. He kissed Mama's hand and held Aunt Fran's wrist, and he said something very amusing.
Gramp sat facing the Captain. Mama and Aunt Fran (pale but game) flanked him, and some assorted international bums filled in a few other places. The sommelier (looking like the Vicar who used to hint I could either go to Sunday School or go to Hell) stood behind us rattling his chains and saying Marquis and Marquise into the hairy ears of two fat people sitting at our table. They were so fat and pink and so hidden in their own suet that I never did find out which was the Marquis and which was the Marquise… although one smoked a fine, green-veined Havana cigar.
The Captain made a speech that I didn't understand, and the only three words in it I knew were “Plato” and “Henry Ford.” What they were doing in the speech I never found out.
The band began to play something frayed at the edges, and the Captain took another bow and kissed Mama's hand again. Mama felt this was the way they acted in Europe, but after that she wore gloves.
“American music,” said the Captain to Aunt Fran, while fumbling for her hand. “Bunnies Hug.”
Fran was thinking of some answer that would set the German nation back on its heels (Aunt Fran had figured out the Germans years ago, before they raped Europe for the tenth time and tried to peddle their Kultur in Moscowrushing Panzers), but as Aunt Fran was about to defend hugging bunnies, the headwaiter brought over a platter called a “Dish of Nuns.” That's what Gramp's old notebook terms it, and he gave the details of its tailoring; so he must be right. It was a chicken dish.
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