It's hard, being the Kraken. Plenty of food, for sure. But there was something about being a "mythological figure" that wasn't great for ones self esteem. The fabled Kraken. Didn't anyone care that he had a name? Besides, anyone who knew that he was real was either dead or terrified of him. He supposed that it was partly his fault. What with the destroying of the ships and the eating of people. But he had to make a living.
He knew he wasn't really a nice thing to look at, but people over look that all the time in human society. Plenty of people has bulbous head too. And sharp teeth. The mucus wasn't really necessary, he supposed. But Jack Sparrow, my old acquaintance, would have wanted his hat back. Really, it worked out better that way.
I mean, what would you have done? As he pondered these facts, this thought came over him. Perhaps he had chosen the easier option, but still. You really couldn't blame it on him. Have you seen Davy Jones? Scary! Perhaps not to a ten foot monster, but the fact that he was practically indestructible chase away any though of rebellion.
But, as he lay in the water pondering these facts, a pulse ripples through the ocean. Another ship to sink, more sailors to eat, more victims for Jones. Had to make a living. What else could he do? Sighing, he turned and, with a single glance back at the dark depths, he ascended, never knowing that it was the last time he would visit his murky home.