For centuries, sailors have told stories of strange creatures in the sea. They've told tales of beautiful mermaids who captured their hearts with enchanting songs. They've told stories about terrible sea serpents who attacked ships. Legends also exist of huge fish that seem, somehow, to have come from a prehistoric time. But one story is so terrifying that only the bravest sailors dare to tell it. It is the story of an encounter with a horrible creature known as the Kraken. During World War II, a group of British soldiers discovered that it was more than just a legend of the sea. It was true-terrifyingly true.

The bloody battle finally ended for the British Army. The Germans had surprised Lieutenant Rolandson and his crew in the South Atlantic. The Germans had fired repeatedly on the British ship and England's Navy just wasn't able to fire back quickly enough. This was one of those, short, small battles of World War II that didn't move the Allies any closer to victory. No matter how unimportant the battle, however, the loss of life was, as always, tragic. Lieutenant Rolandson climbed into a life raft and shook his head sadly. Only Rolandson, two other officers, including his close friend Robert Cox, and nine sailors had survived.And it wasn't likely that they would survive for long on their tiny raft. The next forty-eight hours were a nightmare. Heat, exhaustion, and thirst overcame the twelve men. The raft had begun to leak and was sinking into the deep, salty water. Portugese man-of-wars managed to swim in and out of the raft, stinging the men over and over. Soon, only five survivors remained. Five of the seven victims died of wounds they had received earlier in the battle. And two men couldn't take the anguish anymore-they jumped from the raft to die in the Atlantic's waters. Rolandson knew that he had to hang on as long as he possibly could. A rescue mission might have been organized and help could be on its way. He had to keep hoping. It was all he had. Then the sharks came. They made quick work of the bodies of the dead and began circling the small life raft. Rolandson was truly terrified. The others in the group seemed to be unconcerned, as if they would just as soon be devoured by a shark as to die any other way. But Rolandson could not think of a worse fate. Suddenly the sharks mysteriously turned and headed the other way. Rolandson breathed a sigh of relief. For the next hour or so, the waters remained calm and peaceful. The man-of-wars didn't bother them. In fact, it seemed as if the entire stretch of ocean had been deserted. For a moment, Rolandson thought this was a sign of his imminent death, that perhaps it was his turn to succumb to the sea's cruel caress. He looked deep into the ocean waters, awaiting some sign indicationg wheter he was going to live or die. And then he saw it-a gigantic shape just under the water. It looked like a huge squid, but it was unlike any sea creature he had ever seen. Each of its tentacles was at least twenty yards long. And its skin was bright red. "Look!" Rolandson yelled to his companions, sure he was hallucinating. "Do you see it?" He could tell by the look on Robert's face that he had, indeed seen the giant creature. He could also tell that the sailor who was sitting just beside him had seen it, too. The sailor began screamin in terror, yelling the same phrase over and over: "It's the Kraken! The Kraken!" And before he could yell again, one of the creatur's long tentacles smashed into the raft like a ginat whip. It grabbed the sailor, wrapping its long arms around him, and began to speeze him. Rolandson and Robert Cox, tried to tear the tentacle away, but they could not stop it. The long tentacle pulled the sailor, still screaming, into the water. A few seconds later, the water around the life raft churned a blood red. Rolandson looked at his fellow survivors. "What was that?" he asked them. "What just happened?" "It must have been the Kraken, " Cox answered. "I thought the stories were just legends, but after what we've just seen. . . " "The Kraken?" Rolandson asked. "Yes, you must have heard of it." "No, I haven't," he said, his voice trembling. "It's a giant squid, just like the one we saw. The old sailors used to tell stories about it to scare us young ones, you know? They said it always attacks the helpless ones, like us-the ones who aren't going to survive anyway." "Will it come back?" Rolandson asked. "Well, it depends," Cox answered. "If we are meant to die, we'll see it again. The Kraken will make short work of us." Rolandson sat shivering as he pondered what Cox had just told him. It seemed there were no real choices now. He had escaped being killed in the battle and drowning at sea. He had escaped the terror of the shark's bloody attack. And now, if he was to die, it would be the Kraken that would take him-squeezing him to death, and then pulling him into the cold, dark waters that would become his grave. Neither Rolandson nor Cox slept that night. Though they didn't speak of it, they both watched for the return of the the mighty monster, a return that would mean certain death. The next morning they did see somthing. But it wasn't the Kraken. It was a Spanish ship. It pulled alongside what was left of the tiny life raft and took the survivors aboard. Rolandson couldn't believe their good fortune. The ship's doctor took them into his office for an examination. The initial exam went well enoungh, and thhe doctor was amazed that they were in such good shape, considering how long they had been adrift. However, as he examind Rolandson further he gasped. "You were close to death. . . " he said in broken English. Rolandson looked up at him in amazement. Neither he nor Cox had told the story of the Kraken. They had figured the Spanish sailors wouldn't believe them. Besides, now that they were rescued, it just didn't seem important anymore. "What do you mean?" Cox asked. "The Kraken," the doctor said in barely a whisper and pointed to Rolandson's shoulder. There, on his back, was a large, round welt-the kind that would have been made by one of the suckers on the creature's tentacles. The doctor began speaking in rapid Spanish, shaking his head, terror filling his eyes. Suddenly, he stopped, as if he realized that Rolandson couldn't understand him. Slowly he removed his own shirt. On his shoulder was a round scar, almost identical in size and shape to the one on Rolandson's back. In that moent, Rolandson grasped the full meaning of what the dovtor had said. They had both come close to death-touched by the horrifying Kraken.