((I do not recall that being mentioned. sounds shitty... Octo isn't big on swimming though, I can see him being unaware too))

Octavius was glad he wasn't bothered much during the "celebrating". After the initial offer, the sailor who'd offered him a tankard seemed to be more than happy to take advantage of his ability to drink twice as much at the same time. The pirate lord chuckled, watching the spectacle, and then shook his head, taking another wander around the ship to ensure things were, well, ship-shaped. Thankfully, they seemed to be. And once he was satisfied that nothing was going to explode or snap or get ruined in some other way, he headed off to find his cabin. While the rest of the crew celebrated prematurely, Captain Cuttlam did his best to prepare for the inevitable disaster. Using the munitions stores, he attempted a clean-up of his weaponry, but found the resources there to be limiting at best. He gave up eventually, not entirely satisfied, and not entirely sure what to do about it. But it didn't take long to realize that the Kraken wasn't going to try and swallow them. He was starting to bet more heavily on mermaids or sirens by the time dusk rolled around.

And then the storm started. The pirate exclaimed triumphantly upon returning to the deck, announcing his correctness with great pride. Going on about women being bad luck and some other utter nonsense. This was a man more than happy to be "dead right", if it would vindicate him. Not the most pleasant side of him, but that was what people got to deal with when they celebrated early, with a woman in charge. The wind swirled around him, picking up quickly as the clouds rolled in. The rain was poured down, increasing steadily in force and volume. And the clouds were dark, lightning flashed among them, and the man fully expected to watch the ship go down with all hands. And he would happily drown, declaring how right he was. But regardless of all that, he had the sense to actually help out, now. He could probably batten down the whole ship by himself, but the extra hands were nice. Even so, he took on the work of three or four men, while the sailors did their best. He was the only sober one, so he figured it was only fair to do his part. Some more effort had him working like five whole sailors, and despite his limited limb capacity, the captain was a relentless flurry of activity, preparing everything around for the storm that was settling in around them. But even as he worked harder than all the drunk men around him, he still prayed to watch the whole stupid operation go down in watery flames...