Adeena Cole and the Dead Man's Chest

Chapter Two

Jack shook his compass furiously and swore. I glanced at him and then went back to sharpening my sword.

He gave up and sat back, looking frustrated. "Jack, is it still pointing to me?" I asked teasingly.

He glared at me and said, "Sometimes. But right now--oh, yes, rum would be nice." He grabbed his bottle and brought it to his mouth, then frowned and tipped it upside down. A single drop fell out of the bottle.

"Why is the rum always gone?" He asked dramatically. I laughed.

He stood and almost fell over with the tossing of the ship; he was probably a bit more than tipsy. "Oh," He said. "That's why."

He walked out of the room, presumably to get more rum. I should've asked him to get me a drink.

I sang quietly as I waited for him to come back. Maybe he would share?

A sliver of silver

Gold is a goal

Running to rum

Hiding in holds

And tales being told

Switching to Jack's cutlass after a while, I continued to rub the stone down the shiny metal. Well, to be honest, Jack's was more of a dull gray. I was interrupted by Jack's sudden frantic yelling.

"All hands on deck!" He was yelling. "Movement! I want movement!"

I jumped and pricked my finger. Cursing, I sheathed my blade and then his, running out of our cabin and on deck. Jack charged up from below decks, then found Gibbs. "Port. Land." He said bluntly.

Gibbs's brow furrowed and I came up behind him, wondering what the bloody hell Jack was going on about this time. "Captain, what land?" Gibbs asked.

Jack flailed his arms. "Land. Any land."

Just then, there was a screech! and Jack the monkey swooped down. He stole Jack's hat and threw it over the side of the ship, then bounded away innocently.

"Jack's hat!" Gibbs shouted. We all knew how protective Jack was of his precious headgear. "Come about!"

"Nay! Belay that!" Jack yelled back, scrambling to us, gesturing frantically. "Leave it!"

We all stared. Jack gulped. "Run!" He squeaked, and did just that.

Gibbs and I exchanged a glance. I could tell by his face he was very worried about Jack's sanity, more than he was usually. He went for the helm.

Jack had sprinted for the helm as well. He didn't go up the stairs, though. He hid under them, clutching his left hand and trembling.

I cautiously padded up to him, creasing my brow with worry. "Jack, what--"

"Ah!" He started and stared, relaxing when he realized it was me. "Oh. Hi." He took his baldric from me and slung it around his shoulders.

I shook my head and took his hand, pulling it away from his left. He jerked away and glared at me. "Jack, are you hurt?" I asked.

"In more ways then one," He replied. He glanced behind himself and took a deep breath. "You know what I need? A drink. Preferably rum. Yet we don't have any rum. Why don't we have any rum..." 

I took him by the shoulder and shook him. "Jack, what's following us?"

He jumped. "Nothing." Very short and to the point. Jack is never short and to the point.