Castaways

The SS Minnow sat tightly against the wharf in the private marina on Oahu. The Skipper looked out at the dock. The passengers were waiting on the dock as impatiently as any other group. As always Turner overbooked the luggage and not the passengers. He quickly counted 20 trunks and suitcases, way too much overkill for a three hour trip to Maui.

He had enlisted into the Navy in 1940. He'd been on deck the morning the Japanese attacked Pearl. He served as a tugboat Captain during the Big One. When he retired in 1961, he'd been able to buy the Minnow with his savings and now ran charters between the islands of the State of Hawaii. He'd met Gilligan in the Navy and had taken him under wing. He hired him as first mate when he mustered out.

His eye was arrested by the buxom redhead wearing next to nothing in the humid Hawaiian heat. His dark side immediately lusted after the women, until his good sense returned him to normal, and he realized that she wouldn't even give his 380 pound frame a glance.

Gilligan had been with the skipper since he was 18. He had barely graduated high school, but was successful in the Navy, gaining a Seaman First Class rating. He loved the Ocean. He felt wonderful when they were at sea. He thought of himself as Popeye brought to life, a mighty Sailor man. He had been diagnosed by his school nurse as being hyperactive, and although he meant well, his impulsiveness caused him much trouble. He looked at the redhead and nearly fainted.

The corporate headquarters of Howell Enterprises seemed very far away to Thurston. Out here on this dock he felt naked without his phone. Henry had been very happy with the Massachusetts stamping plant for the new Mustang. He still didn't understand the telegram from Drysdale though. Milburn had lived next to their Beverly Hills home for years. Of course the Howell's only stayed there when they were in California. Now he wanted them to sell. A good price, but Drysdale would be somehow benefit. Thurston knew that was a fact of life. Banks and Bankers knew how to make money. This vacation was doing him a lot of good, he was relaxing.

He looked at the Minnow and silently cursed the tour guide Turner. This was no yacht, at best it was an ocean going cruiser, at worst a death trap. Though clean, the ship looked as if it had seen better days a long time ago. It desperately needed a new coat of paint. Still for thirty dollars one didn't go first class.

Lovey certainly wouldn't let him live this down. He'd have to find some way to make it up to her in Maui. Maybe he could find some fresh pineapple on sale. Well one could suppose that one could talk to the redheaded person, but what would Lovey think? No, best not.

Mrs. Howell sniffed. She looked at the Minnow and remembered a summer when she was younger. Her father and brother had sailed over to Joe and Rose's. That was before their sons were killed. That cruiser had been similar to the Minnow but with richer fittings. She had knelt on the deck and scrubbed the salt from the deck as her brother instructed.

She had talked to Lady Bird last night and everything was going well in Washington. General Westmoreland's wife was due in Hawaii tomorrow, and would be having lunch with her. Thurston was looking too long at the overdeveloped redhead. They weren't in Boston now, and a man's thoughts could be turned from security and responsibility to mere self-gratification. That would have to be nipped in the bud quickly or the trip to Maui would be very tedious. Thurston mumbled something about the cost of the dress the redhead had worn at the party last night. "$41.69" she answered. He then responded that the woman was definitely middle class then. God ole' Thurston, He knew just what to say to make her happy.

The Professor looked at the redhead and was immediately intimidated. He was a bookworm. He noticed the other girl standing there and wasn't threatened at all. She looked like one of his students. He was attracted to her look of pure innocence. Two of his trunks were packed with a duplicate of his science library.

He was going to accept the Practical Science Chair at Stanford this fall. The symposium he'd attended this week was very exciting. He had met a few rising geniuses there including Steve Jobs, Bill Gates, Angus MacGyver, Alan Grant, and Carl Sagan. Oppenheimer's lecture had been the most boring. While Henry Jones Archeological lecture had been the best he'd ever attended.

Mary Ann looked back at the tour shack. She didn't know if Mr. Turner was a native, or an immigrant from China. Her father had muttered something about "wild oats", but if she understood that comment correctly, that was definitely not on her itinerary. She was from Iowa. She was going to see the world. Maybe join the Peace Corps.

If she met a man, he better be husband material. She wasn't really looking for anybody with wild oats. She thought that if she looked as good as the redhead; men would notice her more and want to know her name.

Ginger sighed. Nobody even cares what my name is; all they see is the hair, the mole, the curves, the cleavage. Just for once in her life, she wished she could drop the vixen act. She was a singer, an actress, a model, not a hussy. She worked so hard to keep the illusion alive that even she didn't know if she was able to exist independently of it. She was much too scared to try.

The "Tiny Bubbles" duet with Don had been very satisfying, although that one c note was much too flat. Mr. Ho seemed very happy to have her at his restaurant. Her agent had promised a trip to Japan in the near future to audition for the new James Bond movie. Mr. Hefner had personally written to invite her to pose.

Gilligan was loading the trunks. He placed one of the professor's trunks next to the wheel. The trunk contained one of the professor's very good magnets. The Minnow's compass was never right again. The skipper welcomed everyone on board, and then asked Gilligan to cast off the lines. The Minnow put out to sea and headed northwest.

The man known as Turner watched and then felt a tap on his shoulder. "Mr. Turner, or should I say Wo Fat, I think we have enough evidence to deport you back to China." claimed Steve MacGarret. The top Chinese agent in Hawaii could still feel the sting of the spear gun. He'd just murdered the owner of the diving school down the wharf. But it would be days before his body was found. He smirked his ridiculously large smile and headed to the squad car. "When the Minnow returns, we'll be here to greet your North Vietnamese friends. Book him Danno! Three hours out, three hours back!"

The UDT man stepped to the rail of the cruiser Wisconsin bound for Vietnam. A recent graduate of OTC, Nineteen year old JG Thomas Magnum was deciding whether to go into the new "Seals" program or join the NAVINT. He saw two men in a small skiff. He hailed them in English, Hawaiian, Chinese, and then on a hunch Vietnamese. They immediately turned their boat and headed back to Maui. Magnum headed for the radio room to contact the Coast Guard. He noticed a large storm brewing to the northwest. The weather would be getting rough. God help anyone in a small boat out there.