The Professor's hands were balled in fists, nearly ready to rip his own hair out. His brow was crinkled in deep thought, and a heavy scowl seemed to reside permanently upon his face. He was, in a word, frustrated. And frustrated was, in a word, an understatement.
The Professor's eyes swept from the wooden chest in front of him to his hut door as it banged open noisily. His frown deepened as Gilligan stumbled into the room, staring curiously at the aforementioned chest.
"Hey, Professor!" Gilligan greeted cheerfully. He moved to look over the Professor's shoulder. "What's that box?" he asked. The Professor sighed.
"This box, Gilligan, is a very old chest I happened to find on the island. Its designs are very intricate and intriguing; these symbols on the lid look archaic. The only problem is, I haven't been able to get it open. This chest is extremely sturdy; it cannot be broken open, and the lock cannot be forced. In fact, there isn't even a keyhole."
"Oh boy, maybe it's pirate treasure!" Gilligan speculated excitedly, his eyes dancing.
"It could be," the Professor admitted. "It could be anything, but I don't know if we'll ever find out what's inside; this chest is simply impossible to open!"
"Well if it's not opened with a key, how d'you open it?" Gilligan asked, leaning over to get a better look and nearly falling on top of the Professor.
"I just don't know, Gilligan, and I've been trying to figure it out for hours now," the Professor replied sullenly, absentmindedly steadying the first mate.
"Can I see it?" Gilligan asked eagerly, and the Professor, shrugging in acquiescence, pushed the chest to the other side of the table for Gilligan to examine. He waited, expecting Gilligan to glance at it quickly and push it back. Gilligan did in fact glance at it quickly and push it back. But to the Professor's immense surprise, when he found the chest back under his nose again, Gilligan's fingers were there too, gesturing to the odd-looking symbols on the lid - the horizontal and vertical lines and boxes, interspersed here and there with dots.
"Professor, that's the masonic code," Gilligan told him knowledgeably. The Professor could only gape. "Here, it's like this," Gilligan went on after receiving no response. He crossed the room and found a bit of the bark they had been using as paper, then grabbed one of the Professor's pencils from his desk, knocking over a couple of (thankfully empty) beakers as he did so. He came back to the table at which the Professor was seated, laid the bark paper in front of him, and swiftly began writing out the key to the masonic code. The Professor said nothing, only staring in amazement. And after the key was entirely written out, Gilligan's hands did not stop moving. Instead, he went on to decoding the symbols on the lid, smoothly and efficiently, without pause. Looking at Gilligan's translation of the symbols, the Professor saw that it was a riddle - and in English, too. How ingenious! A riddle that would tell how to open the box!
"Gee, I sure do love riddles, Professor," Gilligan admitted, that familiar boyish smile playing on his face.
"If you want to solve it, Gilligan, be my guest," the Professor offered, still trying to process the fact that Gilligan - stumbling, clumsy, childish Gilligan - had recognized the symbols to be a cipher, written out the key, and translated the text, doing in three minutes what the Professor could not even begin to do in three hours. The Professor watched in continued disbelief as Gilligan laughed knowingly - the kind of laugh that said, "Gotcha!" - and picked up the chest. He turned it around, pulled open a small hidden compartment, and pressed something, and just like that, the chest sprang open. Gilligan dropped it onto the table in surprise at its quick opening, muttering a hurried "Oops, sorry!". He and the Professor looked eagerly into the now-open chest, but it was empty.
"Aw, man," Gilligan sighed disappointedly. "Oh, well. Guess somebody else got it first." And with that, he walked casually out of the Professor's hut, running into a small stand on the way.
The Professor simply sat there, staring. He wasn't disappointed about the chest. In fact, he wasn't thinking about the chest at all. Because Gilligan had just waltzed in, all stumbles and smiles, and had figured out how to open the chest with astonishing speed and skill. The Professor was, in a word, amazed. And amazed was, in a word, an understatement.
But then, the more the Professor thought about it, he realized that he really shouldn't have been quite so amazed. Despite all evidence to the contrary, Gilligan definitely was not an idiot. After all, the Professor reasoned, he knew that Gilligan had been in the Navy. And no idiot could simply get into the Navy. And there were times when Gilligan spouted a good idea - the kind of idea that made the Professor think, "Why didn't I think of that?". On top of this, Gilligan was great at following orders, always obedient to his Skipper. He could start a fire with sticks. He could dodge a headhunter's sword while chanting a jumprope rhyme. He was exceptionally sneaky - even able to steal weapons, keys, and the eyeglasses off of a dozing Japanese soldier. The evidence was everywhere, really; it had just been overlooked, in light of the tripping, the stumbling, the boyish behavior, and the shameful accidental wrecks of many an escape plan.
And so, although the mysterious chest was empty, the Professor was not disappointed. He had learned, in only five minutes, a lot about the supposedly-simple first mate he thought he knew so well. Gilligan really was clumsy. He really was boyish. He really was accident prone. But he really was not an idiot. So why, the Professor wondered, would be portray himself as one? He pictured Gilligan stumbling around with his usual face-splitting grin, and he knew the answer. Comic relief. If there was one thing that Gilligan could do extremely well and without fault, it was making people smile - making them laugh. And although his accident proneness and incomparable clumsiness were often cause for irritation, desperation, and upset… even more often were his silly comments cause for laughter, joy, and optimism. Perhaps, the Professor realized, the first mate's amusing antics were a bit more of an act than he let on. And the castaways had fallen for the act completely. Just as Gilligan wanted.
Perhaps the castaways had more to be thankful for than they thought, especially, it seemed, when it came to Gilligan…