As matters developed, the iron kettle was more than sufficient to hold the multiple gallons of dark, aromatic liquid. After the sugar was added and stirred in and when it had cooled to a temperature Ehomba thought appropriate, it was presented with some ceremony to the waiting cephalopod.
A tentacle powerful enough to rip a ship’s mainmast right out of its footing reached over the railing. The prehensile tip hooked beneath the kettle’s sturdy handle. Without spilling a drop, the Kraken lifted the heavy iron over the side. Ehomba’s companions rushed to the railing, expecting to see the contents of the kettle vanish down that clacking beak in a single prodigious swallow. Instead, the monster tipped the kettle ever so slightly forward, and sipped. A vast, invertebrate sigh rose from within, and the Kraken seemed to slip a little lower into the sea. As it drank, other tentacles dipped and waved.
“What’s it saying, bruther?” An enchanted Simna looked on as his friend strove to communicate with the many-armed visitant.
“It is wondering why it is drinking alone, and why we do not join it.”
Stanager replied absently. “It was our entire supply of coffee that went into that kettle.”
“Tea will do,” Ehomba assured her. “I could do with a cup myself. This has been thirsty work.”
“Hoy, and I’ll have a cup as well, Captain!” Simna grinned broadly.
“Just remember that I am the master here,” she growled back at him, “and not some serving wench put aboard for your amusement.” Muttering to herself, she went once again to confer with the cook.