After a lonely three-week voyage across the Pacific, the multinational crew of the British-flagged container ship Hyundai Tokyo arrives at the largest U.S. port complex and proceeds to do irreparable damage to the stereotype of the hard-living international merchant seaman.

The 28 sailors are as well-mannered as young men meeting their girlfriends’ parents. The favored drink is Gatorade. The big snack: Blue Bunny Caramel Chocolate Nut ice cream cones. The most popular purchase is from Victoria’s Secret — not the catalog for those long nights at sea, but Amber Romance body spray or Love Spell, which they mail to wives back home.

All of this is best known at the International Seafarers Center of Long Beach and Los Angeles, one of hundreds of places in a loose worldwide network that offer respite, fellowship and just about anything a young sailor or an old salt might need at a foreign port of call. Wedged near a noisy 710 Freeway overpass, the clubhouse might be mistaken for the nation’s most modest Elks Lodge.

Now, the Seafarers Center is threatened by changes in the maritime industry as well as by the global downturn in trade, which is hitting the local ports hard. Exports have shown signs of firming, but the improvement may not come in time to save the Seafarers Center, which may be forced to close by January.

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