Summary: Jack's compass has been stolen and he is less than amused. Set between COTBP and DMC. One-shot.
A/N: Written for school. I'd like to wish everyone a good Thanksgiving.
Prompt: Stolen Glasses… Write a short story where an item of seemingly little value is stolen. You can choose to explain why the item was stolen (give your villain some context!) OR you can choose to explain why this inconsequential item is a really big deal to your protagonist. Aim to make your reader understand the urgency of either the culprit or the victim.
Thieving Beastie
"Gibbs?" A slightly slurred yet authoritative voice called down to the main deck of the Black Pearl.
"Aye, Cap'n?" An older, mutton-chopped man looked up towards the ship's helm, where his superior was stationed.
"Fetch my compass." The captain, one Jack Sparrow, ordered.
"Aye, sir." Joshamee Gibbs made way for the captain's cabin to retrieve the item in question.
Jack waited patiently, observing the crew as they loaded the last of the supplies onboard and began to move it down to the hold. He could hear them call to each other as they tried to organize everything. There was the occasional complaint as men stumbled or bumped one another. Mr. Cotton's parrot squawked unhelpfully from up in the rigging, repeating some of the things that the men were saying.
The sound of his cabin door closing drew his attention back to Gibbs, who was making his way towards the quarter deck stairs, frowning.
"Well?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Er...it wasn't there, Jack."
"What do ye mean?"
"I couldn't find it, Cap'n. It jus' wasn't there." The older man explained.
The captain frowned, double checking to make sure that he didn't have it. He came up empty handed. "That's...odd. Someone must've stolen it."
"Ye didn't give it away to anyone, did ye?"
"No. Not in awhile. Check an' see if any of the men have it."
"Aye, sir. If any o' 'em has it, I'll find it." He started off towards the men moving the crates below deck.
"Ye'd better, mate." Jack called after him.
His grip on the railing in front of him tightened as he considered the possibilities of what could have happened to the trinket. Had someone stolen it? Could someone had thrown it overboard? Would he even recover the compass?
He could remember the first time he'd been given the item. The voodoo mystic, Tia Dalma, had gently placed it in his hands, gently closing his fingers around it.
"I have a compass. Why would I need this one?" He'd asked, confused. "Does it not point North or somethin'?"
"This compass, Witty Jack, this compass points to whatever your heart desires." She had spoken slowly, a finger tapping his chest.
His eyes had widened, intrigued. "Does it, now?"
He could recall using the compass time and time again over the years. It'd never failed him. Now that it'd gone missing, he wasn't sure what he'd do without it. The possibility of not having the trinket had never crossed his mind. He'd only ever lent it to a crew member a couple of times, only for short periods of time. If he never got it back, he wasn't sure what he'd do. He'd rather not go back to map reading if he didn't have to.
A shrill screech came from higher up in the rat lines, somewhere near the crow's nest. Scowling, Jack turned his gaze upwards to the late Hector Barbossa's undead monkey. It climbed about the ropes with ease, but what caught his attention was the box shaped object it carried in his forepaws. My compass!
"I hate that monkey." He grumbled, drawing his flintlock and loading it. He took aim. "C'mere."
A crack of thunder rang out as he pulled the trigger. The monkey squealed in pain, releasing the trinket, but continuing its climb. The pirate captain reached out, catching the compass with ease.
Gibbs appeared on deck as Jack inspected his compass for any damage. "Ye get it?"
"Aye." Jack responded, satisfied his compass was in good condition. He cast a glare up at the monkey. "Thievin' beastie."