One hundred and forty miles north of the Marquesas Islands was a small island about the size of the Hawaiian island of Nihau. Volcanic in origin, it had once served as a home for a lost tribe of Melanesian aborigines, but after that tribe died out, it was a sacred land for the neighboring Papoo and Katuu natives still living on nearby islands. The United States Military briefly used it as a supply post after World War One and through World War Two, but they abandoned the post after 1950 and left behind the old Quonset huts, munitions posts and two derelict planes to be swallowed by the jungle. Citrus trees transplanted there prospered, and a few island creatures introduced there managed to survive. Today, it was a lush island resort owned entirely by Thurston Howell IV, the son of the man who had once been stranded there and had built it. He shared the island with the former castaways as partners. After the loss of both of his parents, they were his extended family and he loved them dearly like the brothers and sisters he always wanted. When they were hurt, he tried to help them, but there were some problems that could not be solved by vast amounts of money.

"Hey, Skipper…" The wiry former first mate had left his hut and head up to the bluff. "Sorry, I'm late, but I almost forgot to take Ginger her mail. She is so busy on the island and off I'm trying to take care of the things she misses. Anyway, I welcomed the new guests with Thurston and checked the supplies. The storm the other night washed away part of the brush around the basketball court so there's less for me to cut, but I've now got a big clean-up job to cover, but I can handle it. Don't get up, you just keep resting." He sighed a bit and sat down on the bench behind him.

"I think it's going to be a nice day." Gilligan continued looking out over the view. "The Professor said we got clear skies for a while with a lot of sun so you've got a good view of it. Just don't get too sunburned there. You know, I wish you could have come with me to meet Mary Ann's family in Kansas… They had so much food that that even you would have been full. Her sister got married you know, some CPA at the bank… he wants me to invest in a seafood restaurant there, but… I don't know. I don't get that stuff. I guess I'll get Thurston to check it out for me…"

"Gilligan?" A sweet voice came from the path and Gilligan turned his head. Clad in her blue jeans and flowered top with her long tresses in a pony tail, Mary Ann came up the hill and lit up to see him spending time with the Skipper. She ascended up next to him past the palm trees and frond leaves by the path and stood in the shade, taking her sat by Gilligan and kissing him to his cheek. The skinny man felt like a boy again next to her.

"Gilligan, we promised we'd have lunch with your sisters." She stroked his silvered hair.

"How do they like their bungalows?"

"They love them." She leaned closer to Gilligan as he wrapped his arm around her. "Will you be long?"

"Not long…" Gilligan looked over to the marker before him. It read, "Captain Jonas Grumby, December 5, 1918 – August 3, 1990. Forever Our Skipper."

"You miss him again, don't you?"

"I do…" Gilligan looked back to her. "I hope that doesn't affect our marriage."

"Gilligan," Mary Ann held her husband's hands. "I would never come between you two…"

With that Gilligan's face alighted with a smile. He was more a man than the boy he was, but he still had that youthful glint to his eyes. In his mind's eye, he was flashing back to his past…

May 11, 1953 – A home in suburban Philadelphia…

"Junior!" A man was calling. "Junior, come here!"

"Coming, pop!!!" The skinny youth was feeding his two guinea pigs, three hamsters, parakeets and tank of fish. His mother always said that her oldest son had been forced out by her younger son's animals. In this split-level Philadelphia suburb, the gawky young man with the tousled dark hair fed and identified his goldfish as Walter, Ralph, Spenser and Seymour. There was a Phil, but he feared he'd made into dinner by Gladys, his sister's white Persian. Not to keep his father waiting, the youth called Junior turned and raced from his room, across the top landing and started down the stairs, missing one and tumbling down on his back. His father turned from his guest to the fracas. Junior was never quite right. He watched the boy spill at the bottom landing with his legs sprawled out and his eyes spinning. All he saw looking up was his father rolling his eyes…

"Junior…." The boy's father took a deep breath and waited for his son to right himself. "This is an old friend of mine from the Navy. Johnny, this is Junior…"

"Hey, there, Junior…" His father's best friend was almost seven feet tall with a round grinning face and two twinkling blue eyes. Topped with blonde hair and powerfully built, he was dressed in his Navy dress uniform and holding his white captain's hat. "Put her there, pal…" He held out a massive hand the size and shape of bread dough. The young man flopped and shook like limp spaghetti to shake the hand of this powerful giant.

"I think I can get some muscle on this little guy!" The Navy Captain laughed amusingly at him. "Come on, son…" Still chuckling, he helped the young lad stop flopping and helped him to his feet.

"Junior," Father looked from his friend to his son. "This is First Captain Jonas Grumby of the United States Navy… We started out together as seamen in San Diego."

"Really?"

"Yeah," Grumby looked the young man up and down. "Your dad said you're just out of high school and interested in joining the Navy just like your old man. Well, I think that's the greatest idea for a boy like you."

"The Navy?" Junior lit up by sticking out his chest. "Oh boy, stow that mizzen mast! Lift that anchor! Stow that bale!" He tried spewing Navy jargon. "All hands on deck! All ashore going ashore…." He ended singing the United States Navy anthem and marching back and forth through the room his father taught music. His father just rolled his eyes again. He faulted himself for immersing Junior in all his old Navy stories. Captain Grumby just lit up with a smile and a chuckle at the boy.

"He's got a lot of spirit!"

"Oh yeah…" Father sat at his desk with his arm propping up his head. "A lot of spirit but little brains…. Johnny, do you think Junior has what it takes to join the Navy?"

"Of course, the Navy can make anyone a man…" He heard a crash. The young man was using a curtain rod as a rifle, turned sharply to practice marching and shattered the window.

"But will the Navy survive him…"

"Of course…" Grumby shined fondly at the boy. "Willie, I was no bigger than him when I joined and look at me now. Almost seven feet tall of pure muscle and the pride of the Navy… I tell you, a boy with that much spirit can be anything he wants! Give me a year, a month… you won't recognize him when I'm through!"

The young man ran out of the room to get a broom and dustpan to clean up the broken glass. Out of the room, through the foyer and past the dining room to get the stuff from the kitchen. As he reemerged from the kitchen, there was a lady's scream and William's son sheepishly appeared trying to act innocent.

"Sorry, mom…"

"Junior," William Gilligan Sr. looked out to the foyer as his boy returned to clean up the broken glass in the study. "Did you whack your mother with the end of the broom?"

"No…" Junior started cleaning his mess in the corner. "But I did…."

"That's a funny boy you got there!" Grumby was laughing so much that his eyes started watering. "But you know…" Grumby looked from his old friend to the young man. "I'm just not crazy about that name, "Junior." I mean, you're not my boy, so I got to call you something else…" He snapped his hot dog sized fingers. "I got it. Since you're the son of my buddy, I'll call you my little buddy; you got that, Little Buddy?"

"Oh boy!" Junior lit up like a bottle rocket.

"But you have to call me Skipper…." Grumby told him. "On my Destroyer, everyone calls me Skipper."

"Skipper!" Junior began practicing. "Permission to join the Navy!" The future first mate hoisted the broom handle up to salute, the tip of it plunging through the ceiling and up through the carpet of his sister's room, vaulting her cat through the air, out her open window and into the neighbor's yard with the Doberman pinscher racing after it.

"Junior!!!!" Dawn Gilligan screamed through the house as she raced down the stairs and out the front door to save her cat from the neighbor's dog.