The sun hung low over the purple sea as Igor and his captives reached the beach; already the great mountains were fading into shadow. "Igor, you are mad!" Balinkoff shouted as he stumbled along in Igor's grip. "The sun will set in minutes! You are no sailor, and yet you intend to sail at night?"
"He's a sailor," snarled Igor, giving Gilligan a push that nearly sent him sprawling into the sand. "He can navigate for us!"
"Him?" Balinkoff threw Igor an unbelieving look. "You are more mad than I thought!"
"He's right, Igor!" Gilligan looked frantically from the two men to the dark, endless waves on the horizon. "I can't steer at night – I get the stars all mixed up! And I'm afraid of the dark!"
"Come on! Quit stalling!" The hulking man dragged them forwards until they reached a stand of dense bush. Savagely he ripped aside the bushes to reveal the slim lines of Balinkoff's motor launch. "Get this boat in the water and make it snappy!"
"Our hands are tied, you fool!"
"You won't need your hands, Doc!" Igor grabbed the gunwales and with a mighty heave, wrenched the boat free as branches snapped and leaves flew. Then he lashed his vine-leash through a metal ring that protruded from the prow. "Now, the two of you: mush!"
Balinkoff blinked. "You cannot be serious!"
For answer, Igor shook his huge fist under Balinkoff's nose, then Gilligan's. "Think so, fellas? Would a fat lip or a busted nose change your mind?"
"It changes mine!" gasped Gilligan. The first mate spun and struck off for the beach, half-dragging Balinkoff with him. Igor grabbed the shoulder of the doctor's coat and fairly lifted him along for the first few steps until Balinkoff regained his footing in the shifting sand and stumbled along beside Gilligan.
The sand was damp now beneath their feet, and seconds later Gilligan and Balinkoff were splashing into the breakers, with Igor dragging Balinkoff by the coatsleeve again. "This water is cold!" cried Balinkoff. "And my suit will be ruined!"
"Shaddap!"
The curling waves were soon smacking the men in the waist as the wind picked up and the sun sank still lower in the darkening sky. The boat behind them bobbed and bounced, jerking back on the vine until Gilligan and Balinkoff nearly lost their footing. But Igor dragged them on until they were bouncing on their toes to keep above the waves, their lips rimed with salt spray.
"Do you mean...sputter...to drown us!" A wave crested over Balinkoff's head and stole his hat. "We must...ack...get aboard!"
"Sure thing, Doc!" Igor untied the vine from the boat. Then, his chest and shoulders still above the waves, he grabbed Balinkoff under the armpits and hoisted him into the boat with one mighty heave.
Balinkoff howled as he bumped the bottom boards. "Ungrateful swine! You are only fit to be a monkey!"
The sun was sinking in the violet heavens. Desperately trying to stay above water despite his bound hands, Gilligan threw a despairing look back towards the island where the dark palms were waving as if in mournful farewell.
"Get in there," Igor snarled, reaching over and hauling Gilligan over the rail with one hand. Gilligan yelped as he tumbled into the boat and sprawled into Balinkoff, who was crouched in the bow. Meanwhile, Igor grabbed the rail himself and clambered in. Swiftly he made for the stern and busied himself with the motor, yanking back on the starter. Phzzz...phzzz...phzzz...went the outboard. "You cheapskate, Balinkoff!" he snarled. "This lousy outboard's always giving us trouble!"
"Only because you do not take proper care of it!"
"If you untied me I could row," Gilligan suggested hopefully.
"Shaddap!" Igor pulled again, and the motor throbbed wildly before sputtering out. "Almost got it that time," he muttered.
Gilligan strained at his bonds, wrists aching and heart hammering. As he writhed on the floorboards, he caught the glint of a tiny pair of eyes in the darkness behind Balinkoff, beneath the bow seat. Gilligan gasped in disbelieving hope as the little brown monkey darted out and scuttled over to him. Igor, intent on the motor, saw nothing else.
"Little fella!" whispered Gilligan. "Am I glad to see you! Get me out of this, huh?"
The motor throbbed again, louder and longer. They shot forward a few feet, then bobbed to a stop. Igor unscrewed the gas cap on the top of the motor, sniffed it, and laughed. "Whaddya know? It's just out of gas! Lucky we've got plenty!" He lifted the red gas can from the stern and poked the nozzle into the gas tank. "We'll be outta here in no time!"
Balinkoff scowled as the little monkey began gnawing on the vines that bound Gilligan. "Wait one moment! I am your master," he hissed. "Untie me first, you stupid creature!"
"He is not stupid!" Gilligan hissed back.
"Oh, yes, he is!"
"If he's so stupid, how come he's free and you're all tied up?"
Gilligan sat up straight and held as still as he could, feeling the warmth of the little lips on his wet, cold wrists. Somehow he kept himself from struggling even as he saw Igor tap the nozzle of the can against the gas tank's rim and lift it out.
Balinkoff was so angry with the monkey that he hardly noticed.
"Get me loose, you worthless ape!"
Busy screwing on the gas cap, Igor suddenly turned. "Who are you calling a—" He caught sight of the monkey. "Hey, what the heck is he doing here?"
The monkey shrieked and dove behind Gilligan. Igor started towards them when a new sound reached their ears above the rush of the waves: a chorus of shouting voices. "Gilligan! We're coming!" The three men in the boat looked back to the darkening shore where six figures were pelting down the beach, tiki torches glowing before them. The Skipper was in the lead. "Hang on, little buddy!"
"Skipper!" Gilligan cried desperately. "They're gonna Shanghai me! Hurry!"
Igor grabbed the remote control from his pocket. "Keep back, all of you!" he shouted to the castaways as they thudded down the sand towards the breakers. "Or your friend gets it!"
The Skipper flung his arm out, stopping the others so abruptly they nearly crashed into each other. "Wait!" he ordered. "They'll hurt Gilligan!"
"I'll give you half a million dollars – each!" shouted Mr. Howell. "Just let the boy go!"
"Nothing doing! We're getting out of here!" shouted Igor. He ripped back the starter with a vengeance, and the motor roared to life. Igor grabbed the tiller as the boat shot forward, cresting the waves as foam erupted under the stern. "And you!" he snarled, stabbing a finger at Gilligan. "You steer us right, or I'll feed you to the sharks!"
Gilligan saw the tiki flames and familiar figures on shore growing smaller and smaller. He wrenched fiercely at the tough remnant of vine that still bound his wrists.
Igor stared at him. "Hey...what's the big idea? What's that little rat doing back there?"
"Who are you calling a little rat?" snarled Balinkoff.
In that moment the monkey's teeth met and the vine snapped. Gilligan's wrists flew apart, missing the monkey but nearly hitting Balinkoff in the process. The first mate threw the vines from the rest of his body as Igor watched in astonishment.
The motorboat was fairly flying through the water now, spray blasting from the bow. His one hand still on the tiller, Igor whipped out his other hand to aim the remote at Gilligan and the monkey. "Oh, no you don't, kid! You can still steer if you're an ape!"
The monkey's lip curled back in rage. With a shriek it leapt forwards, grabbed Igor's arm and chomped down on his wrist as though it were a particularly fine banana. Igor howled. "You little rat!" He tore the monkey off of his hand and flung it savagely into the waves. The little dark figure thrashed for a moment, screaming, before it sank.
"No!" Gilligan screamed. He made to spring at Igor, but the boat was jouncing wildly now with no one at the tiller. A rogue wave rocked the boat so high that Gilligan and Balinkoff crashed backwards into the hull. Groaning from the impact, Gilligan turned and saw that Igor's foot was right in the middle of a loop of mooring line. His own pain forgotten, Gilligan grabbed the line. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" he shouted, and pulled with all his might.
Igor toppled backwards, landing on his backside on the bottom boards. The remote was underneath him. "Ow!"
But Igor was already getting up again; Gilligan realized he would have no chance at all in a hand-to-hand battle. And the little monkey was still nowhere to be seen. Gilligan clambered up and dove over the side, his arms flung out before him. Breaking into his swiftest stroke, he plunged through the waves to the place he had last seen his little friend. "Hold on, little fella!"
On shore, the Skipper and the Professor threw down their torches. "Gilligan's out!" yelled the Skipper. "Let's go!" He and the Professor dashed into the water as the others held their torches up for light. The sun was halfway below the horizon now, and the dark purple mantle of the sky was almost one with the wine dark sea.
Meanwhile Gilligan dove beneath the water and finally surfaced in the narrow, wavering orange light of the nearly drowned sun. He stood waist high out of the water, his feet firm on a sandbar, and in his arms was a dark, motionless bundle that he turned so that its head was lower than its chest. After a moment the little shape hiccoughed and spat up water, and Gilligan gently held it above the waves as he waited for the Professor and the Skipper to reach him.
Igor had struggled to his feet by now, but saw that by the time he could reach his escaped prisoner, the others would reach Gilligan first. In his rage, he didn't notice Balinkoff behind him, sawing his vine bonds on the sharp fluke of their anchor. All Igor saw was the slim silhouette of the first mate against the dying sunlight. He aimed the remote. "If that little rat makes it, he's gonna be you, Gilligan! Have fun being a monkey – for the rest of your life!"
Gilligan turned towards that voice, and the blue ray that shot across the waves hit him full in the face. It illuminated both him and the monkey like a beam from a searchlight before they both toppled backwards and vanished beneath the dark water.
"Gilligan!" the Skipper cried. "Come on, Professor!" The two men were crashing through the waves now towards that wavering sliver of wan light on the water.
Igor's lips drew back in a snarling smile. He sat down and grasped the tiller with one hand while he fingered the remote in the other. "'Least it looks as though this thing ain't broken!" He saw Balinkoff hunched in the bow, and his bestial grin grew even more savage. "What do you say, doc? Should I test it again?"
With a wrench of his arms, Balinkoff's vines fell apart. "No!" he roared, his now-freed hands outstretched. "You are not fit to profit from my genius!" The mad scientist launched himself forwards and in a moment he and Igor were grappling in the hull, the remote clutched in their twenty fingers. And no one was holding the tiller. The boat began to zig-zag, knocked by the caprice of the waves.
"We're gonna capsize!" yelled Igor. "Let go, you idiot!"
"It is my invention!" shouted Balinkoff. "Barbar! Imbecil! You let go!"
The topmost curve of the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, and the island was instantly plunged into the equatorial night.
It was impossible to say whose fumbling finger hit the switch, but the darkness made the light that suddenly burst from the boat glow all the brighter: the light of the beam of the remote control as it lit the astonished faces of both Balinkoff and Igor, locked together in mortal combat. The boat bounced on a particularly angry wave, and the remote flew from the men's nerveless hands and plopped into the ocean. Balinkoff and Igor, meanwhile, slumped down into the hull unconscious as the boat continued unskippered out to sea.
On shore, the Skipper staggered out of the breakers with the long, limp form of his first mate in his arms while the Professor hurried after, cradling a damp brown ball of fur. The others bent in a semi-circle with their torches as both men laid their sodden burdens on the sand.
"Gilligan!" Mary Ann sobbed as she knelt at his head and fumbled with his collar buttons. "Is he breathing?"
"He is, Mary Ann," gasped the Skipper in a breaking voice as he gently took the little monkey from the Professor. "But I'm not sure about my little buddy!" He bent his head over the beast, and then to the others' astonishment, gently pinched its nostrils closed as he gave it mouth to mouth resuscitation.
"Wh-what does he mean, my little buddy?" gasped Ginger as she watched the Skipper's frantic efforts. "What's going on?"
"Kissing trees was one thing, but I mean, really!" said Thurston Howell.
The Skipper explained, "Igor hit Gilligan with the mind transfer ray! He's switched Gilligan with this monkey!" As the Howells and the girls exclaimed in horror, the Skipper clutched the Professor's arm. "Professor – Balinkoff's computer, in the cave! Could we use it to change him back?"
The Professor looked at the jungle, terribly worried. "I could try, Skipper. But we've so little time! We've got to get to his computer before-"
His words were cut off by the boom of a far-off explosion. The castaways all looked up. "What in the world was that?" cried Mary Ann.
The Professor stared in the direction of the sound, his face seeming to age years in minutes. "Balinkoff's computer. He told me he had set it to self-destruct so that none of you would find it!"
"Oh, no!" groaned the Skipper. The others looked at each other in dismay, and then down at Gilligan's motionless form.
"We've lost," the Professor whispered. "Gilligan will be trapped in the body of this monkey for the rest of his life!"
"No!" cried the girls, stroking Gilligan's damp, dark hair and kissing his pale face.
"Oh, dear. Perhaps we could adopt him again," said Mrs. Howell. "Thurston, would we need a special licence to keep a monkey?"
"Lovey, my dear, this isn't the time," whispered her husband.
The little monkey finally coughed and whimpered, and the Skipper tenderly helped it to sit up. "There, little buddy. Take it easy. Try not to talk...I mean...oh, Gilligan!" The big man wiped a hand across his eyes and looked over to where the others were tending the slender figure in the red shirt. "Oh, I just can't bear to look at you lying over there when you're really over here! How am I ever going to get used to this?"
"A true tragedy at sea," murmured Mr. Howell, taking off his hat. "Lovey, my dear, remind me to make a sizable donation to the Sailor's Fund."
"Oh, yes, Thurston! And perhaps we'd better make one to the World Wildlife Fund as well," said his wife.
"But what am I saying," cried the Skipper, deliberately turning his back on the painful sight of the body of his first mate. "How am I going to get used to it? How are you going to get used to it? You're the one who's going to have to bear the brunt of all this. But you know I'm going to be by your side all the way, little buddy."
He pulled the little monkey up into his lap, and it peered up into his face in confusion. "Ooh ooh?" it squeaked.
"You bet I am!" the Skipper insisted. "I'll stick by you through fair seas and foul – I'll take good care of you, just like I always have! Share and share alike!"
"Skipper," the Professor began.
"Please, Professor!" The Skipper blinked back his tears as he patted the little back tenderly. "I'm trying to have a word with my poor little buddy, here."
"But Skipper," said Mary Ann.
"I say, Captain, you seem to have hold of the wrong end of the banana there," said Mr. Howell.
"Please, folks!" The Skipper swallowed the life-preserver-sized lump in his throat and tried to put on a brave face. "I tell you what, little buddy. Try to see the bright side of all this."
"Ooh?" The monkey cuddled up happily against the Skipper's chest.
"Oh, look at that. He still knows his big buddy!" The Skipper wiped away another tear and attempted to hold his quivering smile. "You know, Gilligan, there are some good things about this. You can have a full stomach all the time, because it won't take very much food to fill you up!" He gave the little creature a reassuring scratch behind the ear and was rewarded with a toothy smile.
"And you won't have to catch lobsters or cut wood or fetch water anymore. You can just play around all day."
"Sounds good to me, Skipper," said Gilligan.
"There, you see?" The Skipper's watering eyes lit with pride. "I knew you'd take it like a man. And I tell you what." He plucked off his captain's hat and sat it on the monkey's head, but the hat was so large that it settled over the little nose. Gently the Skipper tipped up the brim until two bright brown eyes peeked out. "You can wear my hat and you can sit on my lap any time you like."
"I think I'll just stick with a chair, thanks," said Gilligan.
"Sure, Gilligan. Anything you—" The Skipper suddenly stopped, frowned, and looked around. Sitting up in the torchlight was Gilligan, his face so tattooed with lipstick that he looked like a Marubi warrior. The others were clustered around him, grinning at the Skipper.
Gilligan's was the widest grin of all. "So, do I still get to play all day and wear your hat, Skipper?"
"Wh...Gilligan! Gilligan, little buddy!" The Skipper's face was one big smile as he lunged towards his first mate. But he didn't get far before he noticed that the little monkey was clinging to him like a baby. "Gilligan, don't hold on to me like—" The Skipper suddenly stopped as his eyes and mouth had a contest over which could open wider. "Wait a minute. This is a monkey!"
"Of course it is, Skipper!" chuckled Ginger. "That's what we've been trying to tell you!"
The Skipper stared at the little creature for a moment longer before snatching his cap back. "Gimme that!"
"Oh, Captain, do let him wear it a little longer," said Mrs. Howell. "He does look so dashing in it. And besides, a moment ago you were so solicitous over him!"
The Skipper blinked and swiped a beefy arm across his mouth. "Yech! I practically kissed that thing!"
"Does that mean you're engaged, Skipper?" Gilligan's eyes twinkled with merriment as the little monkey stared adoringly up at his big buddy. "Can I be an usher?"
"You're going to need a pallbearer in a minute, wiseguy!" When the Skipper raised his cap on high the monkey squeaked in delight, snatched it and jammed it back on its own head. Everyone roared.
With an exasperated harrumph the Skipper shifted, monkey and all, to where Gilligan sat. For a moment the old sea dog stared at his sodden, skinny, shivering first mate before he grabbed him by the far shoulder and squeezed him so hard the water came squirting out of the red rugby shirt. "Oh, what's the use! With you around, Gilligan, I guess I'll always be a monkey's uncle!"
The others roared again and the little monkey clapped its hands.
The Skipper suddenly drew back. "Hey...what's that stuff all over your face?"
"What stuff?" Gilligan reached up and drew a finger across his cheek. When he looked at his finger in the torchlight, he gasped. "It's red! I'm bleeding!"
"No you're not, silly," chuckled Ginger. "That's just lipstick."
Gilligan dabbed at the other side of his face. "It's all over me!"
"It's mostly mine," said Mary Ann, smiling at him. "I was...trying to wake you up."
"Like Sleeping Beauty," added Ginger. "I kissed you a couple of times too, but I think I wore most of my lipstick off a little while ago." She flashed a smile at the Professor, whose blush glowed even in the torchlight.
"What was I, in a coma or something?" Gilligan gulped. "You didn't do mouth to mouth resuscitation on me, did you?"
"Here," sighed Mary Ann, pulling her compact out of her pocket. "So you can see to get it off."
Gilligan peered into the little circle of glass in the torchlight and yelped. "Look at me! What's the big idea, girls? I look like I just won a strawberry pie eating contest without any spoon!"
"Sorry, Gilligan," giggled Mary Ann. "Guess we got a little carried away!"
"Not still sleepy, are you?" purred Ginger.
"Skipper!" squeaked Gilligan as he scooted up next to his big buddy, and everyone laughed again.
Mr. Howell looked out towards the ocean blackness. Only the cool, moist kiss of the breeze and the hiss of invisible waves out in the darkness betrayed that there was any ocean out there at all. "Can't hear the outboard motor anymore. I suppose our friends are gone."
"And good riddance," said the Skipper. "But what happened with Gilligan, Professor? We both saw him get hit by that ray. Why didn't it work?"
"Igor fell over in the boat and landed on the remote control device," said Gilligan. "Maybe he broke it."
"I think it more likely that Igor's fall inadvertently changed the setting on the device," said the Professor. "After all, you did experience a brief period of unconsciousness, just as I did."
"But it didn't turn him into the monkey, and it sure doesn't sound like it's turned him evil," said the Skipper. "What did it do to Gilligan?"
The Professor smiled. "Absolutely nothing."
"What? What do you mean, Professor? How could do nothing?"
"Because there was nothing for it to do, Skipper. I believe Balinkoff's device was on the Dr. Jekyll setting when it hit Gilligan. In other words, it was programmed to turn him good: but Gilligan already is good. Therefore, the effects were negligible. It was like hitting a mirror: the ray just bounced right off him again."
"Like our kisses," said Ginger playfully. "We're going to have to work on that, Mary Ann."
Mary Ann chuckled. "Well, we'd better get you men back to camp and into some dry clothes first," she said, getting up and brushing the sand from her legs. The others followed suit, except for the Howells, who never knelt in sand if they could help it. "Are you going to keep the little monkey, Gilligan?"
"You bet," said Gilligan, now standing with the damp monkey in his arms. "He saved my life, and he saved the Professor too!"
"What are you going to name him?" asked the Skipper. "You can't just keep calling him 'monkey.'"
Gilligan looked at the little monkey and cocked his head. "I don't know, Skipper. I'll think of something. One thing's for sure, though. He's not going to be Igor – or Boris either!"
They all laughed. "Well, at least Balinkoff's computer is destroyed, and we've put at least one crimp into his plans," said the Professor. "Let's hope it's a long time before he ever comes back!"
"If ever," said Mrs. Howell "And if he does, I just may serve him tea and scones with the Professor's special jam!"
The wind had calmed out on the dark bosom of the sea, and the milk-white light of the full moon shone down upon two unconscious figures in a swiftly moving motorboat.
One of the figures, a tall, ungainly man who would have made the Three Stooges look clever, stirred awake. He struggled to sit up, and instinctively cut the motor. "Oh...what happened to me?" he murmured as the boat's movement subsided to a gentle, rocking glide.
As the tall man tossed the anchor over, he heard another voice. "Oh! Ce sa întâmplat cu mine?"
The tall man looked up to see a small, dapper, bearded man in formal evening wear struggling up on to a seat in the bow. "Hey, Mac! What's the matter? You okay?" the tall man called.
The bearded man's large eyes focused as he noticed the tall man for the first time. "Unde sunt? Cine esti tu?"
The tall man shook his head in sympathy. "Sorry, Mac. I'd love to help you, but I got no idea what you're saying."
The bearded man blinked and gave a gracious nod. "Forgive me, dear sir. How rude of me to thus respond when you spoke to me in English! Please accept my apologies and allow me to introduce myself. My name is..." His large eyes suddenly clouded over in uncertainty. "Wh-why...I cannot remember my name!"
The tall man suddenly raised his eyebrows in alarm. "Hey, you know what? I can't remember mine either! I can't remember who I am...except..." and he gave the bearded man a puzzled frown. "Except...that I help you!"
"Yes! Yes, that is right!" exclaimed the bearded man, his face lighting up like the gleaming moon. "And that means...you must be my friend!"
"Yeah! I must be! Put it there, pal!" With a huge grin, the tall man leaned forward and shook the other man's hand.
"Do you know where we are, my dear sir?" asked the bearded man, looking around a little nervously at the dark, rolling water that stretched into black infinity.
"Beats me." Rummaging amid the boat's tackle, the tall man drew out a large map. He peered at it in the light of the brilliant moon. "Hey: this is a map of the South Seas! We must be somewhere in the Pacific!"
He passed it to the beared man, who looked as well. "So many isolated islands...miles from any civilization! I wonder how we came to be here?"
The tall man shrugged. "Sure is strange. But we can't be too far from land. I mean, we couldn't have come out in a little rinky-dink tub like this otherwise, could we?"
"Of course not! My dear sir, what a comfort your good sense must be to me!" The dapper man stroked his beard in thought. "Wait - I have a plan! In the morning, let us follow the wandering sea birds. Surely they will lead us to land!"
"Hey, that's a great idea! You're a genius!"
The bearded man's large eyes brightened for a moment as he smiled happily at the compliment. "I seem to remember...that I am a doctor! I specialize in the study of the human brain!"
"No fooling? Wow!" The tall man was greatly impressed.
As the bearded man gazed at the map again, his brow suddenly furrowed in sorrow. "Just imagine, my dear sir! All of those islands filled with poor, ignorant natives! No hospitals! No sort of modern medical care! The suffering that must go on in such places! It breaks my heart to think of it!"
"Yeah. That's sure rotten for those people, all right." The tall man glanced down again, picked up a black leather bag that lay against the bottom boards and looked inside. "Hey, Doc – this is your medical bag! It's got your instruments and medicine, and everything!"
The bearded man opened the bag and eagerly fingered the contents. "How wonderful! And I remember how to use every one!"
Now the tall man suddenly had an epiphany. "Hey, that's it, Doc! I bet that's why we're out here! You were gonna open a clinic on one of these islands! Help those natives!"
The bearded man's great eyes widened with joy. "Of course! That must be what I was going to do! Oh, my dear sir, I can hardly wait to be of help to those poor people!"
"Me too, Doc!" The tall man frowned at the map again for just a moment. "Say - I think I heard somewhere that some of these natives can be a little unfriendly – but you know you won't have to worry about a thing, Doc, as long as I'm in your corner."
The bearded man smiled fondly. "My dear friend! Whatever would I do without you?"
And as the great glowing moon beamed down on that vast emptiness, the two men who had been Igor and Boris Balinkoff leaned forward, laughing, and embraced.
Just one chapter left to go, folks! Thanks for hanging in there!