Once again, many thanks to littlesoprano for her witty, perceptive and tireless beta reading!

Ginger stood at the window, her face gently shadowed in the last of the daylight. The deep gold of the sunset gleamed in her titian hair and shimmered on the beads of her sequinned evening gown. As she looked outside, she silently held a finger to her lips and made a quick beckoning movement.

"Just as I suspected!" cried the Professor.

The actress whirled, her hand to her throat, but sighed in relief when she saw that he was looking at atest tube and not at her. "What is, Professor?" she asked in her most innocent voice.

The Professor was frowning at the clear liquid that oozed lazily back and forth as he manipulated the test tube. "I was afraid of this. While I was under the influence of that Jekyll and Hyde ray I ruined the experiment you prepared so carefully, Ginger."

"You did? How?"

"I subjected this glycerol to so much heat trying to create a formula for those coconut landmines that I've made it virtually useless for my weather detectors." The Professor sighed as he popped the test tube back in its place on the rack. "Oh, well. At least it won't explode on us. I'm afraid all I've ended up creating is a new pectin for Mary Ann to use in her jam!" He turned in his chair, hands on thighs as he prepared to get up. "I suppose I should—"

Ginger took a quick step forward. "Oh! That reminds me, Professor! Mary Ann wanted to know whether you'd gotten rid of all those poisonous berries!"

The Professor sank back into his chair. "Oh, yes, of course. I threw them all

on the fire last night after we all came back to camp."

"Thank goodness! Mary Ann says that Gilligan told her, 'You've gotta watch out, Mary Ann! You put those primadonna berries in a pie, and we'll all be buried!'"

The Professor chuckled. "I'm pleased to hear he was so cautious, at any rate. I was afraid Gilligan's sweet tooth might tempt him to raid the food locker for a midnight snack!"

There was a knock at the door. "Anyone at home?"

"Come in, Mr. and Mrs. Howell," the Professor called.

As the wealthy couple entered, Ginger winked at Mr. Howell. The Professor began to stand, but Mr. Howell waved him back down. "Oh, no, don't get up, old man. We don't wish to disturb you. It's just that we had a question for you, you see?"

"Oh?"

"Yes, it's about those lovely oysters Thurston found for us," gushed Mrs. Howell. "The ones we all enjoyed last night. Several of them had the most perfect pearls inside!" She glanced up at Ginger. "Of course, darling Ginger, I'll share them with you and Mary Ann, but I do wish there were some way of training the little creatures. Some of them hadn't any pearls at all."

"Yes, that's just it, Professor," said Mr. Howell. "I've heard there is some way to mass produce them: cultured pearls, I believe they're called."

Mrs. Howell was delighted. "Cultured pearls, of course! Why Thurston, I'm sure we could train them! Play them Beethoven and Mozart and read them poetry..."

"Mrs. Howell," said the Professor, trying very hard not to smile, "I'm afraid the process is much simpler than that. The oyster secretes a nacreous substance in order to coat an irritant. All you have to do is introduce a foreign element into their environment."

"Oh." Mrs. Howell frowned for a moment. "Do you mean German and Austrian music isn't foreign enough? What about Indian music? Or perhaps Chinese?"

"We'll play them as much music as you like, Mrs. Howell," said the Professor, unable to hide his smile any longer. "You can even conduct us, if you like."

Mrs. Howell beamed. "How splendid!"

"How's supper coming?" asked Ginger nonchalantly.

Mr. Howell caught her eye again and adopted a breezy tone. "Oh, Mary Ann's very nearly got everything ready. Very nearly." He cleared his throat. "Lovey, my dear, didn't you have a question for the Professor about yournext salon?"

"Oh!" Mrs. Howell started. "Oh, yes! Yes, Professor, have you chosen your text yet?

"Yes I have, Mrs. Howell. But it isn't going to be Shakespeare for this first one, though it is one of his contemporaries. I'd like to read the poem to you all tonight, as a matter of fact."

Mrs. Howell's hand flew to her lips. "Oh, dear. We'd be delighted, Professor, but I'm not certain we can change the programme at the last minute!"

"I beg your pardon?" asked the Professor, confused.

Mr. Howell took his wife's arm. "Come along, Lovey, my dear. We'll just see whether Mary Ann needs our assistance."

"But we are assisting her, Thurston. Don't you remember? She insisted we come in here and make certain—"

"Come along, Lovey!" Mr. Howell gently guided his wife out as the Skipper appeared in the doorway. The old sea dog stepped politely aside, tipping his cap to Mrs. Howell.

The Professor looked up at Ginger. "Getting to be like Grand Central Station in here, isn't it?" he said sotto voce.

Ginger merely gave a smile and graceful shrug. "What can I say, Professor? You're just a very popular man."

The Skipper bustled in. "Say, Professor, have you got a minute?"

"Always, Skipper."

The Skipper gave a wide smile ...a little too wide, thought Ginger. "Well, it's just that...ep...I was wondering about that medicine you were working on. Did you ever get to finish it?"

"Why, Skipper? Is someone ill?" The Professor began to stand up again.

The Skipper quickly pushed the Professor back down. "Ep...no, no Professor! Everybody's fine!" He laughed a little too heartily. "I just thought it would be mighty handy to have around in case somebody gets sick. I mean, you never know...ep...somebody could get sick! Couldn't they, Ginger?"

Ginger folded her arms and shook her head at the worst improvisation she'd ever seen. "Sure, Skipper. Could happen anytime!"

The Professor looked curiously at the Skipper for a moment. "Well...fortunately, Skipper, I only cooked a few of the mushrooms while under the influence of Dr. Balinkoff's ray. Most of the ones I gathered are still in the food locker. Don't worry, though: they're quite safe as long as they're consumed in small quantities."

The Skipper nodded eagerly. "I'll make sure everybody knows, Professor. Especially Gilligan! Beats me how that skinny kid holds so much, but – Gilligan! Gilligan!" He looked back at them both, wringing his hands nervously. "Uh...sure is nice weather we're having, isn't it?"

Ginger's sigh could have blown the Skipper out the door.

The Skipper edged a little closer to that door. "Gilligan!" he bellowed again. "Gilligan, I need you!"

After a moment the door swung open and Gilligan came in, leading the little brown monkey by the hand. "Hi, Skipper. Is it my turn already? I-"

The Skipper grabbed Gilligan by the upper arm and shoved him forward. "Here, little buddy. Why don't you ask the Professor that question you were wondering about?"

"Uh, sure, Skipper," said Gilligan, frowning slightly as the Skipper released him. "Uh, Professor, I had a question about my little pal here. I want to know all about him. All that scientific stuff."

Ginger and the Professor traded looks for a moment. "All of it?" asked the Professor, eyebrows climbing.

The Skipper nudged Gilligan none too subtly. Gilligan nodded. "Yeah! All of it, Professor."

The Professor shrugged and took a deep breath. "Well, to begin with, he belongs to the Kingdom of Animalia..."

Gilligan's face lit. "There's a kingdom? Oh, Professor, where is it?"

"No, Gilligan, it's simply a..." The Professor couldn't help breaking into an indulgent smile. "It's just a form of classification. I assume you wish to know what kind of monkey he is?"

"Yeah, Professor! So I can know what to feed him and stuff like that."

The Professor leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand as he regarded the little creature. "Well, I'd say he's a Barbary Ape, indigenous to North Africa – which means he isn't a true ape at all, but a monkey. His diet consists of fruit, seeds and roots. Don't worry, Gilligan. You'll have plenty to feed him here on the island."

Gilligan smiled down at his new little friend. "Hey, did you hear that, little fella? Even if you don't have a kingdom, you're sure gonna eat like a king!"

"By the way, Gilligan," the Professor added dryly, "did you ever find my tracking device that he ran off with?"

Gilligan shook his head, embarrassed. "Oh, not yet, Professor. He moves pretty fast for a little guy. By the time I'd caught up to him he'd pitched it somewhere in the jungle. Don't worry, though, Professor. I'll keep looking. It's bound to turn up someday."

The Skipper, who had been peering out the door, suddenly tapped Gilligan on the shoulder. "Come on, little buddy. We've wasted enough of the Professor's time."

"What do you mean? I thought you said we had to—"

"Never mind what I told you. Come on. Let's get going!"

The Professor called to them as they reached the door. "Ahem. Gilligan, I think you've forgotten something!"

The two sailors turned back to see that the little monkey had swarmed up onto the Professor's work table. The simian was chattering happily as it crept among the unlit Bunsen burners and curling pipettes, poking curiously at everything in its path.

"Sorry, Professor. I'll get him." Gilligan stepped forward, arms outstretched. "Little fella! Cut it out! What do you think this is, a toy store?"

He reached for the monkey, who had just picked up a hollow coconut shell and was juggling it back and forth.

"Oh, my gosh! Get it away from him, Gilligan!" cried the Skipper. "That's one of the Professor's landmines!"

Gilligan gasped and lunged for the coconut, but the monkey beat him by a fraction of a second, launching the shell across the hut.

"Hit the dirt!" yelled the Skipper, shoving Gilligan flat to the floor beneath him.

The Professor and Ginger, meanwhile, simply watched as the empty shell bounced off a bamboo support pole and clattered to the ground. The monkey clapped and hooted merrily.

"All clear, Skipper," said the Professor. "My formula wasn't explosive after all. At any rate, I've decided it's far too dangerous to have explosives sitting around!"

The Skipper and Gilligan peered up from the floor. "He said all clear, Skipper," gasped Gilligan from underneath the Skipper, his face turning an alarming shade of red.

The Skipper clambered off of him, leaving his flattened first mate gulping in great draughts of air. "Gilligan, you've got to teach that monkey to stop stealing things and throwing them! Somebody could get hurt someday!"

"Somebody already has," groaned Gilligan, still on the floor.

"Oh, don't worry, Skipper," Ginger chuckled. "I mean, it's not as though a crate of explosives is going to wash ashore someday, is it?"

"I sure hope not." The Skipper bent down and hauled Gilligan to his feet. "Come on, Gilligan. Get your crew aboard there. On the double!"

Gilligan nodded, still a little unsteady. "Sorry about that, Professor. Come on, little guy! You've caused enough trouble for one day!"

At his gentle tone the little monkey looked up and grinned. With a bound, it leapt into Gilligan's outstretched arm and threw its own skinny arms around Gilligan's neck.

The Skipper piloted him out the door. "Shove off, Gilligan!"

Gilligan's voice floated back as they both disappeared. "What, Mary Ann? Was that the signal?"

"Gilligan! Shhh!"

"Oops! Sorry, Skipper!"

The Professor looked up at Ginger. "Ginger, I'm afraid our friends don't all share your acting talents."

Ginger blinked her long black lashes. "Why, Professor! I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, yes you do. You're up to something." He stood up at last, grinning, his arms akimbo. "Are you trying to make a monkey out of me?"

She laughed. "Oh, Professor! I think you're already cute enough. Come on." She glided past him to the door. "Do you mind? Ladies first, you know."

He bowed and waved her on. "Of course. After you, madame." Ginger hurried ahead a bit so that she could see his reaction.

The yell was right on cue.

"SURPRISE!"

"Good Heavens!" exclaimed the Professor in genuine astonishment.

The castaways were ranged around a sumptuously laden table, so piled with food that it seemed the bamboo frame would crack beneath the weight. Towers of fruit, platters of fish drizzled with savoury sauce, and - best of all - heaping baskets of freshly baked rolls sat in state amid seven elaborate place settings. And the splendour did not end with the table. The eaves of all the huts were festooned with ropes of flowers, while in the centre of the camp hung a great banner that read, "Welcome Back, Professor!"

The Professor shook his head. "This is fantastic! I have to admit I suspected you were all planning something, but I never expected anything so elaborate! I can't believe it!"

"Believe it, Professor," said Gilligan, the little monkey still cradled in his arm. "We're just so happy to have you back!"

The girls led the scientist to the place at the head of the table as the others took their places. "We made all your favourites," said Mary Ann. "And no more experiments tonight, Professor! This is one meal you're going to eat!"

The Professor grasped the back of his chair as if to steady himself. "But I don't understand! I don't deserve this! Look at the things I did!"

"Oh, knock it off, Professor. We know you didn't mean them," said the Skipper.

"Don't give it another thought, old man," said Mr. Howell. "You should have seen the boys and I after a particularly jolly night at the Harvard Club. Will I ever forget the night I made off with a fireman's helmet? Oh! What daring I had in those days!"

"Aw, Mr. Howell. That doesn't sound so daring," said Gilligan.

Mr. Howell grinned. "My boy, the fireman was still in it!"

"Professor, nobody blames you," said Ginger gently. "Like Gilligan said, we're so glad you're back with us!"

The Professor shook his head, still unable to believe the bounty before him. "Well...to coin a phrase, you people sure are nice to give me a party just to show you don't mind if I goof!"

Gilligan grinned. "Like the time you looked up the wrong bug in your book and told everybody I was a goner? Gee, Professor, that was the best goof you ever made! That was a swell party!"

The Professor smiled briefly, then grew serious. He looked down for a moment, searching for words. "I can't begin to thank you all for what you did for me. Especially you, Gilligan, and you, Skipper. When I think of the two of you going back to that mountain, despite the way you felt about the place! And after I'd behaved so selfishly!"

"That's okay, Professor. But I sure hope we're not heading up there again soon," said Gilligan with a shiver. "I know you wanted to find out what happened to those people, but-"

"I did, Gilligan. I made the discovery just before Dr. Balinkoff assaulted me."

The castaways sat up, intrigued. Mrs. Howell clasped her hands together. "Oh, do tell, Professor. I love a mystery! I suspect it had something to do with their awful table manners. When the other savages saw how they behaved, this tribe was probably so ashamed they simply couldn't show their faces in savage society again!"

"Well, in a way you're correct, Mrs. Howell," said the Professor. "That was why they lived on the mountain. There were other natives around, but they drove this hated tribe to the most inhospitable spot on the island."

"Well, I can see why they eventually left the island altogether," said Mary Ann. "But Gilligan said you found out they took nothing with them. Why would they leave all their tools and things behind?"

Gilligan held on to the little monkey like a teddy bear. "Please don't tell me the ghosts got them, Professor!"

The Professor shook his head. "No, Gilligan. Their own cruelty destroyed them. I cracked the code of their hieroglyphic writing, and found the last account they ever wrote. This account claimed that on the following day, the tribe was going to hold their largest mass-sacrifice yet, with every member of the village there to watch. It was to take place on a promontory that projects out over the sea, where they were going to push the intended victims over to their deaths. This is a copy I made of what they drew in anticipation of the event." The Professor pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and showed them the crude but all too evocative image.

The castaways all shuddered. To their surprise, however, Gilligan leaned forward, staring at the picture. "Wait a minute, Professor. That picture's all wrong. I recognize the view from that spot, but that's not what that spot looks like. That's where I nearly went over when I first saw Igor. There's no promontory there – the cliff just drops right off!"

"Gilligan's right," said the Skipper. "That is the same spot; I'd swear to it! That promontory's just not there anymore. Not surprising, mind you. There are cliffs all over Hawaii that look like that – like somebody just took a big axe and chopped a piece off. It's all because of the..." and the Skipper paused, his blue eyes wide. "...the landslides," he finished softly.

The Professor nodded. "Caused by excessive rainfall and erosion. They only happen about once every 100,000 years. But on that day, the day of the great sacrifice, when everyone in the village was standing right on the edge, above the sea, the ground just couldn't take the weight. And..."

"Oh, my gosh. All of them?" whispered Gilligan. "All at once?"

"Yes, Gilligan," said the Professor. "And so perished the lost tribe of the Whispering Mountain."

A horrified hush fell over the castaways. "But why did they do it, Professor?" asked Ginger at last. "Why all the sacrifices? I've heard of people in the olden days doing it for the sake of the harvest, or to make the rain fall."

"The rain falls on that mountain all the time," said Mary Ann, twisting a tress of her long black hair. "There's fruit on the trees and fish in the sea. They didn't have to do anything, except be grateful for it."

"You're right, Mary Ann." said the Professor. "But you're right too, Ginger. They wanted control over all the elements. They wanted supreme knowledge and power. And to that end, they sacrificed friends and family to their cruel gods."

"But they had everything they wanted on this island!" said Mr. Howell. "Even a gold mine!"

The Professor nodded sadly. "Yes, they did. But they turned their back on their most precious resource: each other. It's a lesson they never learned: one I hope Boris Balinkoff learns eventually. I certainly know that I have."

The Skipper twirled his fingers in embarrassment. "Oh, knock it off, Professor! Like we said before: we know all this wasn't your fault!"

"But it was, Skipper, when I put my curiosity above my responsibility to all of you. When I was less than honest about my true intentions for wanting to explore the Whispering Mountain. When I made fun of your concern for me. That all happened before Balinkoff and his ray ever affected me."

The castaways sat listening as the Professor stood gripping the back of his chair. "And as for what happened afterwards...do you remember when we all ate those seeds that allowed us to read minds – or at least allowed us to read each other's superficial thoughts?"

His friends nodded silently.

The Professor took a deep breath and continued. "Suddenly all of our daily irritations and petty, split-second judgements that we keep so carefully hidden leapt up out of the darkness and took on a life all their own. They became far greater than what they truly were. I'm sure none of us wanted to be judged on those things we thought that day: because they do not reflect who we truly are."

His blue eyes looked imploringly at them all. "What you've all seen over the past twenty-four hours is the darker side of me, twisted and magnified a hundred times. The seeds of it were real, but they will never grow. I will never let them. In the end we are what we choose to be, and I choose to be one of you: the best men and women I have ever known." The Professor met each of their eyes in turn. "Thank you - for giving me back that choice."

Those six pairs of eyes looked back with great compassion. "Professor, we're the lucky ones," said Ginger softly.

The Skipper nodded in agreement. "None of us was too happy when we got shipwrecked on this island, but we got something out of it. We got to know you, Professor."

"And we're all the richer for it," said Mrs. Howell.

"Hear, hear," said Mr. Howell. "Even if the coconut weather detectors don't make a million after all."

"You are one in a million, Professor," said Mary Ann.

"We couldn't imagine life on the island without you," said Gilligan. "Inventions or not. You're a real pal."

"I...I hardly know what to say," murmured the Professor, overwhelmed. "I think I'd better let the poet John Donne say it for me."

As the castaways sat in hushed expectation, the Professor recited softly,

"No man is an island, entire of itself.

Every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

If a clod be washed away by the sea,

Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were,

as well as if a manor of thy friends or of thine own were.

Any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls:

it tolls for thee."

"Wow, that's sure pretty, Professor," said Gilligan. "Feel sorry for that guy Claude, though."

"Huh?" said the Skipper.

"The guy who got washed away by the sea. You'd think somebody'd have yelled 'man overboard' and tried to help him."

"Gilligan-" The Skipper sighed. "Stick to the comic books, little buddy."

"What it means, Gilligan, is that there's no room for selfishness on this island, or anywhere. We all depend on each other," explained the Professor. He looked at the monkey and smiled. "Even the little monkey's taught me that."

"Hey, you hear that?" said Gilligan to his new friend. "You're one up on the Professor himself!"

The monkey snatched at the fresh banana Gilligan offered him and gummed it happily.

"Hey, what is this, anyway? A court martial? This is supposed to be a celebration, remember?" said the Skipper. "The monkey's got the right idea. I'm famished. Let's eat!"

The castaways broke into laughter and began eagerly passing the platters. In the evening light the jungle's dark green swayed and rustled, while the far off mountains glowed dark gold beneath the fiery underbelly of the clouds. From the distant beach came the foamy rush of the surf, crashing in everlasting song.

The Professor looked at his friends. "Folks, I say that as soon as we finish dinner, we all head for Sunset Cove." He gave Ginger his fondest smile. "I think it's going to be a lovely evening for a stroll."

Finis