Avast there! Be ya talkin' of the gianty squid, known ta those of old as the kraken? Ah, mateys, I can tell ye a tale or two of that beastie, I can!

We was sailin' from Lisborn, we were, with a cargo of rum and gunpowder. 'Twas off the Bight of Benin we was attacked by one o' them gianty sqids.
Night, and no moon, and his arms a-reachin' as high as our mainmast and higher! He snapped off our bowsprit with one twist, and tore the cabin boy and the first mate from the crow's nest with another arm. We fired a broadside inta him, but we might as well of attacked him with lace hankies.

Piece by piece he tore our ship apart, startin' with the mainskys'l and workin' on down to the deck. I was down below, fearin' for me life, hearin' the screams and the awful crunch-crunch as me shipmates disappeared into the beaky mouth o' that thing.

B'god, from the sounds it was eatin' the wood of the ship, too, and the copper bottom wasn't goin' to stop it! And me, just a lad fresh to sea, before I lost this and this and this, hidin' below with the cargo.

Arrgh! The cargo! Rum and gunpowder it was, and as that hor'ble beaky mouth and one huge eye appeared at the top of the hold, as a long tennykle or two came slitherin' down to pluck me, I did what any good sailor would do.

Aye! I did it. I took one more swig from me borrowed bottle of rum and threw the lantern into the powder! The ship went up with such an explosion as I hope I never see again, and parts of Old Beaky, the ship, bottles of rum, and meself went flyin' through the air. There bein' nothin' else for it, I was killed outright. And that, mateys, is the truth if you've ever heard it. Now give me another, will ya? Being dead makes a man thirsty.