Adeena Cole and the Dead Man's Chest

Chapter One

I paced in Jack and I's cabin, as I had been the past few days. Jack had entered the prison a week ago, promising me he would be back within a few hours, and also leaving me in command. I had learned over my time sailing with him and the crew how to work a ship; and I was proud to say I was a little more than an expert.

I paused, then charged out the cabin and onto the deck. "Mr. Gibbs!" I called.

He came up to me, a little wary. I had been increasingly moody over Jack's absence. Jack was the only one, really, who I could relax around. "Aye, Adeena?"

I was about to tell him that I was going to go in after Jack, when I was interrupted by a loud gunshot.

Fearing the worst, of course, I rushed to the railing with the rest of the crew and stared over the side.

Out in the water, floating innocently, was a coffin, a smoking hole in the lid. I tensed, wondering about the living dead.

Suddenly, the rest of the cap to the coffin was ripped apart as a familiar ring-adorned hand punched through, and Jack Sparrow popped heroically out of the top.

I smiled, laughing in relief, and turned to the crew. "All hands, prepare to sail!" I called, and the crew rushed to obey. "Clean up the deck, Jack won't be happy if conditions have slacked in his absence!"

They hurried around and I turned toward the black water again, watching apprehensively as Jack brought a decaying foot out of the coffin and used it as a paddle to reach the ship. He looked worried, rummaging around the remains of the poor soul inside. He grinned and yanked out his hat, pulling over his bandana. I bounced a bit. I had missed him so much it hurt.

Finally, after a bit of monotonous paddling, Jack bumped into the Pearl and Gibbs gave him a hand up. Jack used the foot instead of his hand, and Gibbs heaved him over the railing with a small grunt.

"Not exactly according to plan?" Gibbs asked warily, glancing at the bones in his hand. He tossed the disembodied leg at Cotton, who caught it with a rather surprised expression, and Jack pushed past Gibbs, his eyes sweeping the deck.

"Complications issued," Jack said. "And consequently were overcome." He pushed past him dismissively.

"I assume you got what you went in for?" Gibbs asked. He was trying to get Jack to open up and spill about his adventure in the prison. Fat chance, I thought. Jack probably wouldn't even tell me.

His coat was draped over his shoulders by Anamaria, who I had christened Keeper of the Coat, and he walked forward, swaying. He stopped and looked around, his eyebrows raised. "Where's Adeena?" He asked.

I forced myself to not rush and tackle him, but instead pushed my way to the front and hugged him fiercely. "I'm here, Jack."

He gave me a brief squeeze and pulled away, so I could look at him. He was filthy, I would force him to wash later, and his eyes held a sort of haunted look that I wished would go away. He smiled kind of shyly at me, grabbed my hand, and then sauntered away, toward our cabin, pulling me along.

The crew all moved to stand in front of us. Jack watched them sort of impatiently; I could tell he wanted to be alone with me as soon as possible.

Gibbs stepped up behind him. "Captain," He began, sort of hesitantly, "The crew, meself, included, I think, were expecting something a bit more...shiny, after Isle de Muerta going all pear shaped, the treasure being reclaimed by the sea and all--"

"And the hurricane!" Marty added helpfully. I smiled fondly down at him, he barely came to my waist.

"And the Royal Navy chasing us all around the Atlantic!" An African American crew member, Leech, pointed out.