When I made it back to camp, I noticed the women were setting a long table.
"Have a nice swim ladies?" I asked.
"What did you catch, Gilligan?" asked Ginger.
When I replied, "I came up empty," both women seemed surprised.
Mary Ann addressed me, "Why Gilligan, you always catch something. Be it a fish, transpacific cable, or spaceship, you never come up empty. You're just lucky that way."
Now that was a response I didn't expect. Transpacific cable? Spaceship? Who was this Willie Gilligan I leaped into? I countered with, "Well I guess today just wasn't my day."
Ginger added, "Well it's a good thing we have plenty of food, thanks to the Professor. Go wash up for dinner."
"Yes ma'am," I said while heading to a barrel with an old fashioned pump on it. All of the sudden, I was hit in the back of the head with a sea sponge.
"Do I look old enough to be a ma'am to you?" Ginger playfully scolded me.
Choosing my words extremely carefully and replied, "You could still play my younger sister in the movie version of our adventure." I don't think Gilligan had a younger sister, but the answer nonetheless pleased her.
The setup for dinner was very cool. This was indeed a family, seven places with the captain at the head of the table. The menu looked like some type of dried shellfish along with tropical vegetation. Coconut milk right out of the shell was also served. Dessert, of course, was coconut cream pie.
The Professor addressed me, "you look a lot better Gilligan."
"Thanks Professor," I added, "I seem to be getting my appetite back." That earned a laugh from the table.
Mary Anne said with a smile, "That's our Gilligan. I just hope I made enough fried clams."
Ginger chimed in, "Good thing Professor found all of those giant clams and made that smokehouse for the meat." While saying it she gave the professor a look that I'm sure sold a lot of tickets at the box office in the late 50s and early 60s. Also made me wonder if there was something going on between the two of them. Al was standing in the background giving the Professor the evil eye, so he must have caught the same thing.
"Well it looks delicious," I said as I was digging in.
And it was delicious, but the taste was a little different. It didn't taste like clam, it tasted more like something else. At first I couldn't put my finger on it, then it hit me.
I pronounced, "This is abalone."
Mary Ann laughed, "Silly Gilligan, there's no bologna on the island."
I persisted, "Not bologna, abalone, a shellfish that lives in deep water. It's a fairly expensive delicacy, I've only had it a few times."
Mr. Howell joined the conversation, "My dear boy, where in the world would you have had abalone. Its not exactly on the menu at Long John Silver's"
The skipper boomed, "Gilligan, if the Professor said its clams, its clams. You'll eat it, and you'll like it!"
I backed down, "Its delicious. I admit, I haven't had that much giant clam. The taste just reminded me of something else."
Mrs. Howell broke the silence with, "You know, I think the boy is right. This distinctly tastes of abalone. I didn't say anything before because I thought it was just me."
Mr. Howell immediately jumped to his wife's defense, "I've learned long ago not to argue with a Wentworth palate," to the Professor he added, "what exactly are we eating?"
The Professor admitted, "It is abalone"
The significance of this seemed lost on everyone except for the Skipper and myself.
The Skipper once again bellowed, but for once not at me, "Professor! To get that much meat you would have to do some serious diving. That is way too risky to for something different to eat. We have plenty of fish and fruit to eat."
The Professor replied, "I wouldn't do it for the meat. I needed the shells for the project I was working on located on the other side of the island. I'm almost done with the project, and I will take you out to it first thing in the morning. I wasn't trying to hide things from you, rather I didn't want to get your hopes up. I will be more than happy to answer all your questions when we get out there. What I was doing would be far to hard to explain right now."
I shot Al a quizzical look. Al stated, "I have no idea what he's up to. Neither does Ziggy. This is a real closed mouth guy."
We had a fairly quiet dinner, after which the professor excuses himself to work out calculations for whatever his secret project was. Once he was gone, the other castaways were speculating left and right what abalone shells could have to do with something that is obviously a rescue plan. The discussion went well into the night, but never really got anywhere. Afterwards the Skipper and I retired to our hut, where once again I had to master the bunk hammock.
I surmised that Skipper and Gilligan must be close friends, because it would be simple to set up two separate hammocks in the hut. Separating the hammocks, though, would not give the "at sea" feel to the hut. Both men are obviously more comfortable on the high seas than shipwrecked on land.
The practical retired Navy Captain said to me in the dark, "I guess we'll know soon enough what the Professor's plan is. Goodnight Little Buddy.'
"Goodnight Skipper," I almost automatically replied.
Even though my curiosity was piqued, I slept more soundly than any night since I started quantum leaping.
