The five remaining castaways were consumed by overwhelming silence after the Professor's departure. Their eyes begged each other to say something—anything—but no one dared speak up. A dozen times someone opened their mouth, only to have no words exit.
It went on like this for several minutes, until Ginger finally whispered, "What are we going to do?"
The Skipper sighed. "I don't know, Ginger. I just don't know."
Another bout of silence. This time it was interrupted by Mr. Howell.
"Well does anyone here have medical knowledge of any sort?"
The blue clad sailor shook his head. "Mr. Howell you know very well that combined we barely…" He stopped short.
"Is something wrong Skipper?" Ginger asked gently.
"Well…no, never mind."
"Go on." The movie star said, an undertone of urgency in her voice.
"On one of the ships I was on, a fellow came down with what was determined to be appendicitis. There was absolutely no way we could make it back to port in time. Everyone was worried sick. We didn't have a doctor on board, but we had two corpsmen…and they were able to perform the operation. The man made it out unscathed."
"And what is that supposed to prove?" Mr. Howell snapped. "None of us are…whatever type of lowly drone you just said."
"What it's supposed to prove, Mr. Howell," the portly man replied quietly, "is that a layman can perform a successful appendectomy. It's very hazardous, but it can be done." His words hung heavily in the air as the group was once again brought to silence.
"Are you volunteering, then, Skipper?" Mrs. Howell inquired, tugging at one of her gloves.
The ship captain paled a bit, but his voice was even, his words chosen carefully. "I am of the opinion, Mrs. Howell, that we should attempt to find the Professor. He is the one best qualified to perform such an operation, whether he will admit it or not."
"But we can't search forever," the movie star pointed out, her eyes shrouded with fear. "Mary Ann might…"
"I know Ginger. We'll split up and meet back here in half an hour. If we haven't found him, I'll attempt the operation. Let's all synchronize watches."
After they did as they were directed, the Skipper looked at his first mate. "Stay here with Mary Ann, Gilligan. If she gets any worse, signal somehow."
Almost immediately after the words left his mouth, a bloodcurdling scream came from the hut. Five pairs of eyes met, and in a moment they were all on their feet, rushing to the source of the sound.
Gilligan was the first one through the door. It was quiet—the scream had been short—but the look of utter pain on Mary Ann's face explained its every decibel.
A moment later the first mate felt himself being pushed aside as the others rushed in, gawking at the figure on the pallet.
"I'm…I'm sorry I screamed," she apologized weakly, "it's just that I'm so cold one minute and then hot the next…and I feel like I'm being stabbed…I can't stand it. It feels so wrong."
The Skipper stroked her cheek. "You don't need to apologize, Mary Ann. We know you're in pain. Just…hold on." He turned his head and mouthed "fifteen minutes" to the rest of the group. Each one of them nodded.
He jerked his head back to the Kansan. "Gilligan's going to stay here with you, Mary Ann. The rest of us have to go out and look for…do something."
"Alright, Skipper. And please…" she added quietly, "don't worry about me."
The sailor mustered up a smile for her. "We…we won't Mary Ann." Then he got up, and, along with Ginger and the Howells, left the hut.
As soon as they were gone, the brunette looked up at Gilligan.
"Did the Professor tell you what was wrong with me?"
The question caught him off-guard and for a moment the answer lingered on the tip of his tongue.
His mother had taught him to be honest. Always.
But was there ever an exception to the rule? To make someone feel better, worry less…
He swallowed. If there was ever such a time, this was it.
He reached down to tuck a sweaty strand of hair behind her ear. "All he said was that you're going to be fine. Just fine."
She breathed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, satisfied.
The angelic smile on her face was worth every word of the prevarication.