[ TT ] Everyone knows about the kraken , but there 's actually an even more dangerous sea monster , only no one has lived to tell the tale . You and your fellow pirates discover treasure in this sea monster 's lair .

The hull was sweating. 
 
 The men were packed in tight. Four of them. The only sounds were the hushed breathing of the chilly crewmembers and the low, smooth sound of water all around them. Occasionally some noise would reach them through the hull, some iceberg cracking miles away or something of the sort. The Captain turned the light starboard. 
 
 “ I see it. ” 
 
 His words quick, loud, and clear. He gave deliberate hand motions to the helmsman to drop the vessel two fathoms, but did not move his eyes. 
 
 Water rushed into the ballast tanks. The men looked around, watching the seams of the vessel. The sudden call of the helmsman cut through the focus of all the men on the *Temperance*. 
 
 “ Fifty fathoms. ” 
 
 The men looked at the captain. The helmsman, per procedure, stopped the dive at the calculated absolute dive limit of the *Temperance*. The Captain did not move his eyes from the periscope. Several seconds passed. 
 
 “ Fifty fathoms. ” 
 
 No response. 
 
 “ Fifty fathoms, Captain. ” 
 
 “ It ’ s right there. I can see it, helm. It ’ s barely ten fathoms away. ” 
 
 His crew watched him. The only light source that wasn ’ t red, the light from the external lights that came through the periscope, illuminated his wide eyes. He licked his lips, tightened his coat. Cracks and groans of metal came through the *Temperance*, marking the adjustment of the frame to the intense pressure. The crew tore their eyes from their Captain and watched the rivets at the seams of the metal. All in place, for now. 
 
 The helmsman, having not received an order, said it again. “ Fifty fathoms. ” 
 
 The Captain ’ s eyes remained wide, his brow furrowed, and his focus on the periscope. A long groan came from the hull, and a rivet came out -- gently. 
 
 The helmsman seized the opportunity. “ Hull is compromised. ” Normally, a torn rivet would not constitute a “ comprised hull ”, but technically, it did. And, save an order from the captain, he was obliged to drain the ballast and ascend. 
 
 The helmsman had only begun saying “ Forty-nine fathoms ” when the Captain tore his focus from the periscope. 
 
 “ Where did it go? What did you do? Where are you going? ” 
 
 No order had technically been given. “ Forty-eight fathoms. ” 
 
 “ What are you doing? ” 
 
 “ Forty-seven fathoms. ” 
 
 “ Stop! ” 
 
 The Temperance stopped. The ballast pumps shut off. The hull was sweating. 
 
 “ That was insubordination. ” 
 
 “ I haven ’ t disobeyed any orders. ” 
 
 “ You ’ re relieved. Release the helm. ” 
 
 “ On what grounds? ” 
 
 “ Release the helm. ” 
 
 The crew looked at the helmsman. The helmsman looked at the Captain. The Captain was breathing quickly and heavily. 
 
 “ We are in an active dive. Release the helm this instant, or -- ” 
 
 “ I will not release the helm, Captain. We are at forty-seven fathoms. Our absolute dive limit is fifty fathoms. The goal is at sixty fathoms at least. We have seventeen minutes of air. It takes ten to surface. You wasted three minutes of air staring at the goal, during which we sustained hull damage -- ” 
 
 “ ENOUGH! ” 
 
 The Temperance was silent. Even the depths seemed to hold their breath at the power behind the weathered Captain ’ s word. 
 
 “ I will not have an insubordinate helmsman on my vessel when we are less than fifteen fathoms from the greatest treasure of our careers. ” 
 
 “ I know you to be a levelheaded man above and below sea. I was with you in Bermuda, Cuba, the Falklands, Sri Lanka, Australia, the Maldives, and Indonesia. The man staring slackjawed at the goal, wasting precious minutes of air and precious hull integrity, risking the lives of the men under his command, was not my Captain. ” 
 
 “ I am your Captain. That was your Captain then, it was your Captain in the Maldives and all those other places, and this is your Captain. ” 
 
 “ My Captain does not mince words. You wanted to drop below fifty. You hadn ’ t the balls to say ‘ drop ’ nor the brains to say ‘ surface ’. ” 
 
 “ I am your Captain, and your Captain orders you to drop to sixty fathoms! ” 
 
 “ Then I have no Captain. ” 
 
 The helmsman turned around, and the sound of the ballast pumps returned. 
 
 The crew, silent during this ordeal, watched the Captain, who watched his most senior officer and oldest friend turn his back on the prize. He ran between them, towards the helm, but the youngest crewmember -- a lad of sixteen -- stuck out his foot and the Captain fell into the stairs to the helm. 
 
 The helmsman turned. His Captain spat blood onto the floor of the Temperance. “ Forty-six fathoms. ” 
 
 The Captain stood and ran towards the helmsman, who threw a fist that caught the Captain in the jaw, hard. The Captain stumbled and caught himself on a railing. 
 
 
 “ You haven ’ t seen it. It glittered. Even from ten fathoms away, in the light of these dive lights, it glittered and winked at me. It begged me to come to it. To rescue it from these sick depths. It ’ s alive. It wants to be plundered. ” The Captain began to cry. “ Don ’ t you see? This is what we talked about when we were children. You wanted the great treasure we dreamed of? There it is, waiting for us, at sixty fathoms. ” 
 
 The helmsman looked his Captain up and down. He bled from his mouth and was holding his jaw. Tears streamed down his face. “ You ’ ve gone insane. ” 
 
 The Captain lunged at his helmsman, who drew a knife and drove it into his chest. 
 
 The Captain drew one breath, looked at his helmsman, and fell to the floor without another sound. 
 
 “ Sable, you ’ re at the helm. Boy, you navigate for now. ” 
 
 Sable took the helm of the *Temperance*. “ Forty-six fathoms. ” 
 
 The hull was sweating.
