The sailor had not always been a sailor, but he had always been a romantic. As a child he was always falling in love with things he saw or ate or smelt or thought (he once famously spent two days on his tricycle chasing a particular cloud shaped like a toucan’s foot, only to be eventually distracted by the perfect rotation of his own wheels, and finally by the delectable taste of blood as he fell slowly forwards into the spokes). By and by he managed to fall in love with being in love, and after his ship docked at certain colourful ports, he began to take sneaky doses of love potion. As well as being a romantic, the sailor was also meticulously organised, and modified all his clothing to include extra pockets, which he filled with all sorts of essential items: coconuts and cutlery, and books on identifying rare mushrooms. In the special pocket over his heart he kept a steady supply of various love remedies which he sipped and supped and chewed and swallowed when no one was looking, until he felt like the most handsome man in all of Klah - and he certainly did surprisingly well with the ladies.
(Speech Translation from Klah: AHOY MY LOVELIES)