Pink sunsets were rare on the island, but when they did occur, they were spectacular. The huge overarching Pacific Sky was glowing in bands of pale gold, softest coral and dusky rose, deepening to rich purple in the darkening east. Even the castaways' humble camp partook in the glory as the warm light burnished the grass huts to bronze and the bamboo table to mellow ivory.

As the five castaways prepared for dinner, the Professor shaded his eyes at the sunset. "Looks as though we've seen the last of the storms for this season. That sky indicates that the storm clouds have moved east of us with the jetstream."

"Back home the farmers have a saying about that colour of sky," said Mary Ann as she turned a grill filled with fish on a spit over the fire. "Red sky at night, shepherd's delight."

The Professor nodded. "Yes, that old saying's been attributed to a number of vocations that take a particular interest in the weather."

"Sailors, for example," said Mr. Howell quietly. "Dash it all, I do wish we'd hear something!"

Mary Ann looked at the seven place settings. "So do I! Oh, Professor, do you think I should wait dinner on them? I don't know what to do! We haven't heard a thing since the Skipper left last evening!"

"I wouldn't worry about it, Mary Ann. In fact, I'd say it's a very positive sign."

"Positive?" asked Ginger, coming up beside the Professor with her arms folded tightly in front of herself, as though she were cold. "Are you sure, Professor? I mean, if everything was all right, wouldn't they have come back by now?"

"It may be some time before things are 'all right,' Ginger," the Professor explained gently. "In fact, we may have to face the fact that Gilligan may never be quite the same as he was."

"But I don't want him to change," the tall redhead said softly. Sadly she lifted a slim wrist and looked at her watch. "Twenty nine hours…that's the longest we've ever gone without seeing him. The only other time that came close was when--"

"Now just stop it, Ginger." The Professor gently closed his fingers over her watch and pressed her arm down. "It's not like that at all. He's with the Skipper, and you know the Skipper will take very good care of him. And Gilligan must be comfortable with having the Skipper around, or the Skipper would have come back alone."

"Do you really think so, Professor?" asked Mrs. Howell. "I simply couldn't see the Captain allowing the boy to stay out there alone all night, no matter what the circumstances."

"True, Mrs. Howell," said the Professor, sighing. "But I sincerely hope we can put a more positive interpretation on events than that."

Suddenly a voice hailed them from the edge of the jungle. "Ahoy there! Anybody home?"

The five castaways turned to see a figure emerge out of the shadows: a single figure.

"Skipper!" Mary Ann cried, dropping her basting spoon on the ground. "Where's Gilligan? Why have you come back alone?"

The big man smiled. "I haven't. He's just a little slower than usual these days." He lifted his left hand for emphasis, and the castaways saw that he was carrying Gilligan's crutch.

Then they turned and stared in astonishment as Gilligan himself emerged from the jungle. Whether it was a trick of the light the castaways could not tell, but his face seemed to have lost its sickly pallor, and warmth glimmered in his eyes. But it was no trick that although he was walking slowly and carefully, he was walking, and he was actually carrying a pitcher.

"Looks like your water detail's over, Howell," laughed the Skipper. "He insisted on carrying it – at least for the last few yards or so."

Mary Ann and Ginger flew across the sand to them. "Gilligan!"

The Skipper grabbed the pitcher away moments before Gilligan had both arms full of redhead and brunette.

"You came back!"

"You're not crippled anymore!"

"Do you feel better?"

"Does your leg hurt?"

"Do you want some dinner?"

"Are you going to stay?"

Gilligan whipped his head back and forth. "Yes, no, yes, no, yes and yes." He blinked for a moment. "I think."

The Professor rushed up and eagerly shook the Skipper's hand. "Skipper, this is miraculous! Sigmund Freud couldn't have done better!"

The Howells approached, Mrs. Howell's diamond bracelet flashing as she clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, bravo, Captain!"

"Yes, jolly good show, old chap!"

"They're right, Skipper," said Gilligan quietly. "I think you saved my life."

"Oh, nonsense, little buddy. I didn't do anything. You did it all yourself." The Skipper's face suddenly appeared somewhat red in the failing light, and he rubbed at the corner of his eye and sniffed. Then he drew himself up, sniffing again. "Seems like we got back just in time! That fish smells great, Mary Ann!"

She smiled from under Gilligan's arm. "Well, you can thank Mr. Howell for them, Skipper! He turned out to be a pretty good provider while you and Gilligan were away!"

Mrs. Howell patted her husband's cheek. "Yes, Thurston, you were simply marvelous!"

"Oh, come now, Lovey. Give credit where credit is due. After all, it was the Professor's idea."

"But it was you who caught the fish, Mr. Howell," said the Professor, smiling. "I only found the shallow river bed where they were spawning."

"I never knew you were an angler, Mr. Howell!" said the Skipper.

"I'm not, Captain. But I am a rather remarkable golfer, if I do say so myself. I just waded barefoot into the stream with my driver and whack! Whack! Whack! There on the shore was a veritable feast!"

The Skipper joined in the castaways' laughter. "Well, Isaac Walton, you did a great job! And we can wash it down with this!" He hoisted the pitcher for emphasis.

"What is that, Skipper?" asked Ginger.

"It's water from that pool. It must be fed by an underground spring or something. Best water I've ever tasted."

"We drew it first thing this morning after we got up," said Gilligan. "Afterwards I went swimming, and my leg felt lots better afterwards!"

The Professor almost smote his forehead in self-deprecation. "Oh, of course! Why didn't I think of that? Water exercise is often recommended for physical therapy, especially in the case of injuries to the extremities!"

"Works good on legs too," said Gilligan.

"What else did you do there all day?" asked Ginger, still clinging to his arm. She gave a little sheepish smile. "We were kind of worried about you!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Ginger. We should have thought of that, but we just kind of lost track of time, I guess." He shrugged. "It's so peaceful there. We just talked and talked about stuff…reminisced about our days in the navy, that kind of thing. And we ate those provisions you packed for us, Mary Ann. Thanks for the coconut cream pie, by the way. It was great!"

"You're welcome. Gee…I'm not surprised you stayed so long. It is a lovely place," said Mary Ann. "But so hard to find! I don't think I could ever find it again!"

"Neither could I, to tell you the truth," said the Skipper. "Yesterday was just luck, I think."

"It wasn't luck, Skipper," said Gilligan, smiling. "I don't think you'll have trouble again."

"I'd sure like to find my way back there. I'd love to meet your little friend, Gilligan. Did you see him again?" asked Mary Ann.

"Well…I'll tell you all about it after dinner, okay? Right now I'm starved!"

"Me too," laughed the Skipper. "Let's eat!"

After Mary Ann had cleared the last of the dessert plates and they were all lingering over coffee, Gilligan looked up and nodded at the Skipper. The Skipper suddenly cleared his throat and called for attention. "Now hear this, folks. My little buddy has something he wants to explain to you. Something he told me about today."

The castaways were all attention as Gilligan rested his chin on his clasped hands. His eyes, with their faraway look, held the clarity of the mango pool.

"Well, it's like this, everybody. I-I think I kind of shocked you all by what I said yesterday morning…but you didn't hear the whole story, because I didn't remember it then. The last couple of weeks, everthing's been mixed up in my head. What with the hunt, and my leg, and the quicksand, I've just been spinning around like the Minnow did in that storm. And there were a lot of things I just didn't want to remember."

The castaways nodded in silent sympathy, but Gilligan's face was lightening with wonder. "But this morning, everything seemed so different. The pool was beautiful again. The light was shining through the trees, and it just looked like diamonds on the water. And everything was so still."

The castaways waited patiently, watching each nuance of expression that played across Gilligan's face.

"Well, the Skipper took a nap after breakfast, and I wanted to go swimming, but I was afraid the splashing might wake him up, so I just knelt down by the pool and splashed some water on my face, real quiet-like. It was so fresh and cool, and it felt like it was washing all the cobwebs out of my head. Then I took a drink. You've tasted it now: it's like no other water I've ever had, it's so pure. And while I was leaning over the water I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and I looked up." Gilligan's face brightened into a smile like the dawn over the island's mountains. "It was the little guy."

"The margay!" whispered Mary Ann. "He came back?"

"Yeah! He was crouched not two feet from me, lapping up water out of the pool, you know, the way cats do? Well, I was so happy to see him but I couldn't yell, 'cause I didn't want to scare him and I didn't want to wake the Skipper, so I just whispered to him. He looked up at me with those huge yellow eyes, and he came over and let me touch him. Oh, the way he moves…he just seems to float. And he's so soft. Your hand just kind of disappears into his fur." Gilligan laughed softly and shook his head. "Sorry. I could go on all day. But I looked at his leg and saw that the wound had healed over real good. There was just a scar. And then, all of a sudden, he turned around, and I swear he jumped eight feet straight up into the trees. It was like he flew! He just vanished into the leaves, and the vines were still swaying high up over my head where he'd jumped. And that sight made me remember something – something that I only half-remembered from a dream."

The castaways waited expectantly under the dancing shadows of the tiki torches.

"I was so excited I woke up the Skipper to tell him." Gilligan smiled a little sheepishly. "Sorry, Skipper."

The Skipper raised his eyebrows, smiling. "You've woken me up for worse things. But it wasn't as if what you told me was any big surprise. I could have guessed."

The first mate held his eyes gratefully for a moment, then took a very deep breath. "I finally remembered what had happened when Kinkaid was struggling in the quicksand. It was horrible, but I remembered that when he was struggling and screaming for help, I did try to get him out. I tried to grab some of the vines from the tree branch above my head, but he'd already shot me, and I couldn't stand long enough to reach them. And I remembered that when I first set the trap and took the vines away, I didn't mean to kill him. I meant to get him out - just after he'd thrown away his gun. But when he shot me, I knew I wouldn't be able to save him. It was him or me."

Mary Ann looked at him in quiet awe. "Gilligan, you didn't need to tell us all this either. We could have guessed too."

"I suspect it was only your fear of the intensity of your own primal emotions that caused your anxiety, Gilligan," said the Professor. "However, I hope you realize that none of us here ever blamed you for what you did. If anything, we feel at fault because we hadn't the courage or resourcefulness to stop Kinkaid ourselves. And in light of what you've just said…I don't think any one of us has your compassion, either."

Mr. Howell shook his head in horror and pity. "Kinkaid was a ravening beast, and you found pity in your heart even for him. You're nothing like him, my boy. No beast feels compassion."

"Perhaps the jaguar does," said Gilligan to himself.

"The jaguar?" asked the Professor, curious.

Gilligan seemed to shake himself awake. "Oh, sorry, Professor. Just something Kinkaid said to me the night before the hunt, when he was holding me prisoner in the hut. He said he was bored with hunting animals because it was too easy. He'd hunted the jaguar in the Amazon jungle and even that wasn't a challenge anymore. That was why he wanted to hunt people." The young sailor's eyes grew troubled. "And I've got the feeling that if he'd killed me, he never would have stopped. It's an awful thing to think, but…maybe this was for the best, even for him."

Mrs. Howell spoke up. "Oh, Gilligan, dear boy, can you doubt it? When I think of what that man would have done to you – what he could have done to all of us!"

"I know. I was afraid for you all. But you're all wrong about one thing: you shouldn't feel guilty. I know you tried to help me. But none of us was prepared for anything like him."

"He almost took you from us. But you won't change on us, will you, Gilligan?" asked Ginger, laying a hand on his. "I know you'll always have that scar…"

His fingers tightened around hers for a moment. "It's all right, Ginger. It'll remind me that I survived. And that we're all safe, and together."

Thurston Howell nodded his head emphatically. "Well said, my boy! In fact, in light of recent events, I propose we refrain from lighting the signal fires for a few weeks' time! We'll just let the ships and planes go on past for a little while, and leave us in peace!"

"Absolutely, Thurston!" said his wife. "I was planning the annual Howell Cotillion before all this began; now things can finally start to get back to normal. Oh, I have a thousand things to do!" She held up her hands in excitement. "And I am so delighted my allergy seems to be gone! Darling, I insist that when we're rescued, the first thing we'll do is adopt a cat.

"If you say so, my dear," said Mr. Howell. "We'll spare no expense. What shall it be? A Persian? A Russian Blue?"

"A cheetah!"

The castaways gaped. "A cheetah?" choked Thurston Howell the Third.

"Yes!" Mrs. Howell beamed. "Just wait until I stroll down the avenue with that on a leash! I'll show that Melissa Vandemere!"

A few nights later, the Professor and the Skipper stood outside the crew's hut, looking in the window at the candlelit interior. The Professor clutched his rattan bed under his arm. "Well, I can't deny it'll be nice to be in my own bed again," he whispered. "It was a little tricky climbing into that hammock. But you say he got into it himself tonight?"

"That's right, Professor," the Skipper whispered back as he peered through the window at the sleeping form in the upper hammock. "Had no trouble at all. I have the feeling we kept him hanging onto that crutch a lot longer than he had to. We were such a pair of mother hens we sort of used it as…as a crutch, I guess." He laughed softly.

"I suppose we were. Still, he has made a remarkable progress, in more ways than one." The Professor suddenly looked very thoughtful. "I'm curious, Skipper. Did you ever see Gilligan's margay?"

"No, not once. Gilligan hasn't seen it either since the day I was with him at the pool, but he figures it's still hiding in the trees there."

"Hmmm. It's extraordinary that the creature ever approached him at all. They're usually quite solitary. But I guess it's no more strange than the idea of a South American wild cat being on this island in the first place. I suppose there must have been another ship bound for a zoo that lost its cargo."

"Well, wherever that little guy came from, he was a godsend." The Skipper yawned heavily. "Oh, I think I'll turn in. I could sleep for a week!"

"That makes two of us."

"Well, thanks, Professor. Thanks for all your help."

"All I gave him was a bed," said the Professor. "You got him to get up and walk."

The Skipper smiled and clapped the Professor on the shoulder. "And it's a mighty good feeling, too. Goodnight, Professor."

"Good night, Skipper."

The Skipper slipped soundlessly inside. Before blowing the candles out, he took one last look at his first mate, sound asleep in his hammock. "Pleasant dreams, little buddy," the Skipper whispered, and blew out the lights.

And over the camp, the pool and the jungle the moon glowed, as bright as the moon above the Amazon.

Information on WWII taken from World War II Database

Dedicated, with the greatest respect, to the United States Navy.