The huge, lustrous moon gleamed like a pearl in the dark sky, bathing the island in blue and silver. In the centre of the camp the great bonfire blazed and leapt a brilliant orange, illumining the three castaways still seated on the ground. The Skipper, who had taken no notice of anyone or anything but his first mate, sat rubbing Gilligan's back and murmuring gently to him. Mary Ann, on the other side, had brought a damp cloth for his face. By now Gilligan's grief had exhausted itself and he lay against the Skipper's chest, blinking in a depressed daze. Since he had first collapsed in the Skipper's arms, he had not spoken.
Ginger sat on the bench by the communal table, twisting her long hands helplessly in her lap. The Professor poked a stick into the base of the bonfire and rocked back on his knees as he watched the orange-yellow flames lick hungrily around the wood.
"You always make such wonderful fires, Professor," she murmured. "Why is it I can't do something like that?"
He shrugged nonchalantly and smiled. "Sometimes being a scoutmaster comes in handy."
Ginger fingered the gauzy blue scarf that hung from the shoulder strap of her gown. "Mary Ann and I were sitting up late talking earlier. I was telling her how I'd once thought of being a nurse. Tonight…tonight I wish I had!"
The Professor looked up at her tone and came to sit beside her on the bench. "Why, Ginger?"
She looked wretchedly at the three on the ground. "I feel so useless. What good is a movie star right now? If I were a nurse maybe I could help Gilligan!"
The Professor gently took her hand. "There's more than one way to heal. You're an entertainer. Perhaps that is what he needs now. Go on, Ginger. Give it a try."
Ginger frowned for a moment, then looked as determined as the Professor had when he had begun to build the fire. She took a deep breath and leaned forward to face Gilligan. "Gilligan, sweetheart, listen to me. I'd like to sing for you. Would you like that?"
Gilligan didn't seem to hear her. His eyes were closed and every so often his breath hitched painfully. But the Skipper nodded at her in encouragement and he and Mary Ann sat back a bit and kept absolutely quiet. Then Ginger began to sing in her softest, sweetest, most tender voice. And though it was not one of the lounge songs she was famous for, they all recognized it at once.
Sleep, my love, and peace attend thee
All through the night.
Guardian angels God will send thee
All through the night.
Soft the drowsy hours are creeping
Hill and dale in slumber steeping
I my loving vigil keeping
All through the night.
At the first petal-soft notes Gilligan's eyes had slowly opened and he stared at her in wonder. She gazed at him, smiling gently, as though they were the only two people there. Gilligan's eyes never left her. Slowly he quieted, his breaths lengthening, as he leaned into the Skipper's protective arm.
While
the moon her watch is keeping
All through the night
While the
weary world is sleeping
All through the night
O'er thy spirit
gently stealing
Visions of delight revealing
Breathes a pure
and holy feeling
All through the night
As the last notes of the chorus faded into the darkness, Gilligan heaved a great sigh and closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them again, the haunted look he had worn for days was gone. He did not speak, but gazed up at her as though she were an angel.
Even the Skipper was still having a hard time trying to speak. "Oh, Ginger, that was beautiful!"
"Hear, hear! No nurse could have done that," murmured the Professor.
"Thank you. Would you like to hear some more, Gilligan?"
There was an almost imperceptible nod.
"All right then. I'll sing you some songs my great grandmother sang to me when I was a little girl; she said they were from the old country. Whenever I hear them I feel safe and warm. I hope you like them."
The actress's voice caressed the night air again. And again they were not the familiar sultry tunes, but this time they were old, old Scottish airs filled with love and longing. Come By the Hills, Annie Laurie, Bonnie Doon, Will Ye No Come Back Again…
Will ye no' come back again
Will ye no' come back again
Better loved ye canna be
Will ye no' come back again
On and on she sang, as the fire blazed bright and the surf crashed softly in the distance.