Author's Note: I have read and enjoyed many of the tales written wherein the other castaways do something in an attempt to correct their unkind behavior to the affable and well-meaning first-mate, Gilligan. This is an attempt to do something similar with another castaway interaction. I always felt a little disconcerted with the way the Professor dealt with Mary Ann after her interesting suggestion during the episode, "Man With A Net." It seems to me that the character of the Professor, being the kind man of honor that he was written and portrayed to be, would have offered her an apology later on. I have often wondered what could have happened on the island after the various failed rescues. What did everyone do? How did they press on, make amends, and keep their hope alive and their minds occupied? Maybe this is how events could have transpired after this particular episode. Picking up from the end of the episode…

The Professor clicked off the radio in disgust. Another hope for rescue dashed to pieces. Lord Beasley was off to hunt down a rare butterfly in the Arctic, and he had completely forgotten about the seven stranded castaways who had helped him capture the elusive pussycat swallowtail. After mumbling some words of discontent and resignation, the man of science headed off for a walk to mull over the events of the past few days.

Frustrated, disappointed, and still a little fuzzy from sleeping for two days after drinking the juice of the fermented berries, the others remained near the table. Mr. Howell tried to block it all out by taking another swig of the "tea" and began sinking quickly to the ground. The Skipper and Gilligan managed to catch him, and they then helped him re-take his seat at the table. Thereafter they all lingered together for a while, vocalizing their exasperation over the latest debacle. Eventually, however, they had to press on with their day.

The Howells rose and politely excused themselves. Mrs. Howell retired to her hut and Mr. Howell went to stretch out on a lounge chair under some palm trees. Lord Beasley had worn them out marching around the entire island. The previous few days had been simply exhausting for all of them, but the Howells, completely unaccustomed to such forced labor, were ready to collapse. All the extra exercise, coupled with their age and the lingering effects of the special brew they had served at the party in Lord Beasley's honor, had caught up with them. No one begrudged the older couple their moments to rest.

Ginger yawned, covering her mouth with her well-manicured hand. "I think I'm going our hut to lie down as well." The last few days had been as grueling a schedule as she had when filming a movie back home, so she felt it was high time to return to her 'dressing-room', so to speak, for a little break. Upon entering the hut, she sat down at their home-made vanity table and picked up her hand mirror, gasping at the tired look on her face and dark circles that had started to form under her eyes. The two days they spent sleeping, slumped over one another at the table had added some unwanted creases to her face as well.

"It's high time for a proper little cat nap," she said out loud. Putting down the mirror, she headed over to her cot and was soon sleeping sweetly.

Back at the communal table, the Skipper, Gilligan and Mary Ann lingered a little longer - mostly in silence, but with an occasional comment thrown out bemoaning the latest twist of fate that kept them marooned there on the island. The Skipper finally rose to his feet, announcing that he was going to head down to the lagoon and do a little fishing. They still needed to eat, and he felt obligated to provide something. He was so frustrated. Perhaps a little peace down by the water, he thought to himself.

He was going to invite Gilligan to join him, but then he realized his little buddy would perhaps be safer if he sent him in another direction. The way he was feeling, he was sure Gilligan would have him annoyed over something in a matter of moments, warranted or unwarranted, and a swat of his cap would be a certainty. Therefore he suggested, "Gilligan, why don't you head into the jungle and get us some fruit to go with our dinner."

"Okay, Skipper," replied the first mate as he trundled off toward the leafy paths that lead through the island's tropical forest. He seemed to have recovered his energy quicker than the rest, but he certainly had quite enough butterfly hunting for awhile. He thought maybe he would run into Gladys or one of his other animal friends and just have a day of adventure of his own choosing. That's what always helped him bounce back after each failed rescue.

Mary Ann was the last one left at the table. She had been sitting there with one elbow on the table and her head leaning on her hand, just staring at the matting in front of her. All that work and we're still stuck here, she thought with great discontent. However, she allowed herself only so long to wallow in the disappointment of it all. Soon her mind turned to the more important tasks at hand, particularly the washing.

Lord Beasley had them all so busy trekking around the jungle that she had let many of the chores slide. With the sudden rainstorms that had been occurring, the pile of muddied clothing had really built up. Gilligan and the Skipper only had a few changes of clothes, so she thought she should get caught up with the laundry so they would at least have something fresh and clean to wear. It was bad enough they were going to be stuck there on the island. They didn't need to be walking around in dirty clothes too. Not as long as they had their island soap and the wonderful washing machine the Professor had constructed for them.

She stood up, pulling the wilted red flower out of her hair as she walked toward her hut. After a quick change out of her red dress and into some more appropriate attire, she headed off to the washing area.

The Professor walked contemplatively around the various well-worn island paths. Deep in thought, he had not been paying attention to where he was headed. Hearing some soft humming, he looked up. He had come upon Mary Ann doing the wash.

He just stood there for a moment, watching as she picked items out of the weaved basket and attached them to the clothesline. As disappointing as the whole episode with Lord Beasley had turned out to be, there was one matter that had been weighing upon his mind – the way he had treated Mary Ann on one particular evening. She had happened upon him the night he was trying to memorize facts about butterflies so that he could converse with Lord Beasley on a more intellectual level – colleague to colleague. She had stood there smiling and supportive as he dramatically recited facts about the Nymphalis Antiopias. She looked up at him with as much appreciation and awe as someone watching a trained Shakespearean actor.

But he had been extremely frustrated that night, as he was unable to commit an entire branch of study to memory in one evening. He had been finding it an impossible task. When Mary Ann mentioned how some students made use of crib notes, he was completely indignant. How many times he had needed to discipline students in his own class for such a practice? And the very idea! A Professor with six degrees, using a method he would have always considered completely unorthodox! He turned his mortifications into a quite condescending remark and aimed it straight at smiling little Mary Ann. What made the whole situation worse was that, as soon as she retreated back toward camp, he decided her idea was indeed a good one after all, considering the circumstances. How foolish and humiliated he felt when he was caught using them. The Professor postulated that must have been the sensation his students felt when he reprimanded them in front of the rest of the class. He made a mental note to be more empathetic in the future, should they ever finally be rescued, and conduct such disciplinary action in private, and with greater tact.

But, at present, he was wondering how Mary Ann must have felt when he was so rude to her. She didn't argue. She didn't get angry. She just put her head down and walked away. He was upset with the situation and his own limitations, but did he really need to speak that way to someone that was only trying to help? He hated himself every time he yelled at Gilligan. Although he had not raised his voice to Mary Ann, he still belittled her in the same manner.

Now, as he watched her hanging the wash, hardworking and self-sacrificing as usual, he felt even worse. He had to do something.

"May I help you with those?" said a deep, familiar voice.

Mary Ann turned around to see the Professor standing behind her.

"Oh, that would be wonderful, Professor. Thank you," she said. There was a smile on her face, but a tiredness in her voice, and her normally bright countenance was dimmed slightly with shades of weariness from the task at hand and the exhaustion from the events of the past week.

Picking up a shirt, he began pinning it to the line. They continued working in tandem for a few minutes until the Professor finally found the courage to speak.

"Mary Ann, I wanted to apologize for the way I spoke to you the other night."

She looked confused, so he clarified, "when you suggested the use of crib notes."

"Oh, that! Professor – it's okay. There's no need to apologize. It was foolish of me to have suggested such a thing. You're so intelligent and educated. I didn't mean to insult you," she said, casting her eyes down to the ground.

The Professor's heart sank within him. How much damage can be done by the tongue! The poor girl already suffered from self-esteem issues, and he had obviously knocked her down even more with his aloof attitude. Why, my behavior was no better than Lord Beasley's! he thought to himself.

Placing his hands on Mary Ann's shoulders he gently turned her toward him and looked her straight in the eyes. "No, no, no, Mary Ann. Please… please accept my sincerest of apologies. It was my pride...my own foolish pride that kept me from being open to a very wise suggestion. I was more concerned about how I felt – my image, my reputation. I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you. The moment you stepped away, I gave it a little thought and realized it was actually quite a good idea," he said with a kind smile.

"Really?" asked Mary Ann, her face brightening up a bit.

"Yes. I began making the necessary notes immediately. Unfortunately, I was quite unskilled in the execution of their usage, and was caught by Lord Beasley."

He had not mentioned this attempt to the other castaways. It definitely caught Mary Ann by surprise. She put her hand to her mouth to suppress a little giggle. "Oh, Professor... I'm so sorry!"

He smiled and ran his hand through his hair, chuckling a bit as well. "Yes. I must admit, it was a bit humorous. And I certainly deserved that scolding he gave me after the way I treated you."

Mary Ann waived her hand in protest. "Really Professor, you don't need to feel bad on my account."

With an extremely serious look on his face he affirmed, "Yes, Mary Ann, I do. I'm heartily ashamed of myself. I don't think you realize how valuable your contributions are to our little island family. It's true that you contribute physically by caring for much of the cooking, cleaning and washing. However your sane and grounded behavior provides much needed support that is also vital to our survival. Your input, intelligence and ingenuity are things that I know I find invaluable. I think you greatly underestimate your worth at times, and I'm sorry if I gave weight to that incorrect perception with my behavior the other evening."

Mary Ann had tears welling up in her eyes.

"Mary Ann, what's the matter?" asked a concerned Professor. He had been afraid he would make her angry. He had no idea she would start to cry.

"Oh, it's nothing," she said, wiping a few stray tears away with her free hand, sniffling a little.

"Please Mary Ann, you can tell me," he said, growing increasingly uneasy.

The look of concern in the Professor's eyes moved her to confess the reason for her tears. "It's just that no one has ever talked to me like that before – I mean, saying that I'm intelligent. Back home, I always got praised for my cooking or sewing, but when serious conversations were going on, I always was dismissed from the room. No one ever thought that what I had to say was important."

The Professor just listened quietly. He tried to imagine what life must have been like for Mary Ann, growing up in a farming culture. He assumed more emphasis would have been placed on survival rather than education. However, Mary Ann clearly displayed cognitive abilities that were far above average. How could no one have ever mentioned that to her? he wondered.

Thinking like a teacher, he proceeded to question her about her schooling, her grades and her performance in various subjects. Satisfied that Mary Ann's responses only confirmed his own assessment, the Professor said, "surely some of your educators must have told you how well you were doing."

Mary Ann shook her head. "Even though I got those good marks in school, and I thought all the math and science classes were really interesting and did want to learn more… my teachers told me I would be better off just sticking to the basics and concentrating on learning to be a good homemaker. I just assumed that I didn't have the aptitude for learning those types of things, so I never asked again."

"Well Mary Ann, it is time we remedy this situation." Crossing one arm across his chest and bringing his hand to his chin, he thought for but a moment before he continued, "You know, I have been contemplating a series of experiments I would like to perform on various items we have access to here on the island to test their ability to carry an electric current. I thought I might even include some types of seashells. Do you think you might like to give me a hand?"

"Would I! Oh, yes Professor! I would love to!" she said with great excitement. Mary Ann's head reeled at the thought. "Why, if we could somehow have electricity on the island, that would make our life ever so much easier!"

"I concur; however, I don't wish to get anyone's hopes up on that front. These are just the most preliminary of tests I'm proposing. You know that metals are good conductors of electric charge, while other substances we have on the island such as wood and rubber would more appropriately be considered insulators," said the Professor as he picked up another item of clothing and began to pin it to the line.

Mary Ann nodded her head in understanding as she picked up another wet shirt from the basket and shook it out a bit as she continued to listen.

"Now, the difference between conductors and insulators really can be found on the molecular level - how tightly bound the outermost electrons in the atoms of the substance are. In conductors, the outermost electrons in the atoms are so loosely bound that they are free to travel around, while in substances considered insulators, the electrons are much more tightly bound to the atoms, and are therefore not free to flow. Now, semi-conductors are a very useful intermediate class..."

The Professor, finding a listening ear, continued to lecture on, Mary Ann paid close attention and absorbed as much as she could… and the laundry was hung to dry in no time.

THE END