The level green meadow that lay in the shadow of a high green hill now boasted the castaways' bamboo table, two long benches, and the black stretch of the cricket pitch. Five castaways, all resplendent in white, wandered about like so many models in an ad for laundry bleach. Ginger was touching up her lipstick, Mrs. Howell was fussing with the decorative flowers, and on the pitch, the men were practicing their game. The Skipper leaned over, pitching a cricket ball, and Mr. Howell shook his head in annoyance as it bounced past three feet beyond him. "You really must work on that bowling technique of yours, Captain. You bowl as though you're shoveling coal into the boiler. Come along now. Let's try it again."

The Skipper scowled. "I'm bowling just fine, Howell. Maybe it's too much work for you to lift that bat and hit the ball!"

"Gentlemen!" the Professor urged. "This is supposed to be a gentleman's game! Let's try to be civil, shall we?"

"You're quite right, Professor," Mr. Howell conceded. "We shan't count that one, Captain. Give it another try. Just pretend that you're aiming for a strike."

The Skipper had just bent for another go when Mary Ann and Gilligan dashed breathlessly into view.

"Run! It's headed straight for us!"

The castaways jumped in alarm. "Mary Ann! Gilligan! What in the world?" exclaimed the Professor.

"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Howell. "They forgot the cucumber sandwiches!"

Mary Ann and Gilligan skidded to a halt. "There's no time, Professor! We've got to run! The wave'll be here any minute!"

"Wave?" demanded the Professor. "Gilligan, what are you talking about?"

"A huge wave! Bigger than the one Duke Williams rode in on!"

The Professor stared. "Do you mean a tsunami?"

The Skipper grabbed his hat in horror. "Oh, my gosh! A tsunami!"

"Is that any good on sandwiches?" asked Mrs. Howell hopefully.

"Not salami, Mrs. Howell, tsunami!" said the Skipper. "It's a huge wave caused by an underwater earthquake! Isn't that right, Professor?"

"Yes." The Professor turned to his young friends, hands planted on his hips. "But what happened, Gilligan? Did you actually see this wave?"

"No, Professor!"

"Did you, Mary Ann?"

"No!"

"We haven't felt any earth tremors here. Did either of you feel anything?"

"No!"

The Professor looked at the Skipper, who scratched his head under his captain's cap. "Then I'm lost at sea here, little buddy. What makes you think there's going to be a tsunami?"

"It's the pews and the meewits!" Gilligan cried. "By millions crouched on the old sea wall!"

Now the Skipper was lost at sea in a fog. "The what?"

"The birds, Skipper! The birds are acting really funny!"

At last the Skipper could see land. He nodded his head in comic resignation. "Ah. Now it all makes sense. So that's it. A little bird told you?"

"Yeah! I mean--uh—" Gilligan winced as the salvo hit full force, but despite the dubious half-smiles of his audience, he fought on. "No. Not one little bird, Skipper. Millions! Mary Ann and I saw them all crowded together in the valley! They know something's wrong! It's the tsunami!"

Mr. Howell balanced the tip of his cricket bat on the ground. "My boy, you're holding up the grand match because of a spate of bird-watching? I mean really!"

"They are upset about something, Mr. Howell!" Mary Ann cried. "What if Gilligan's right? We have to get to the high ground as soon as possible!"

The Professor shook his head. "Mary Ann, there is no scientific evidence to support the claim that birds can predict tsunamis."

"They predicted the high tide off the coast of Lincolnshire!" Gilligan insisted.

"The what?"

"Oh! I do believe Gilligan means my poem, Professor," said Mrs. Howell. "The one I'm going to recite today." She turned to the frantic first mate. "But that was just a poem a lady wrote, dear boy. You mustn't take it seriously."

"But Mrs. Howell, you said it was based on a true story!"

Ginger tried to explain. "That doesn't mean everything in the story is true, Gilligan! The author was probably just going for dramatic effect, that's all!"

"It'll be pretty dramatic when that tsunami hits us, that's for sure!"

Mary Ann stepped in. "Professor, everyone knows you know a lot about wild animals and birds, but I've never seen you charm them right out of the trees the way Gilligan can. He has a way with animals that nobody else does. If Gilligan says the birds know a tsunami's coming, I believe him!" The others looked at her in disbelief, but the look Gilligan gave her made her feel as though she had wings herself.

"But Mary Ann—" the Professor began.

"I'm not finished!" Her voice rang with conviction, and not a little anger. "I know a few things about animals myself. I grew up on a farm in Kansas that was smack in the middle of Tornado Alley. I saw my first natural disaster when I was two. And I remember that every time the tornadoes came, the animals always knew first! You could bet your last dollar on it!"

"But tornadoes are a weather phenomenon, Mary Ann," the Professor explained gently. "Even our science can predict those to a certain degree: we have weather satellites to help us. But we've no satellite beneath the earth's crust, where earthquakes originate. Even a seismometer can't predict exactly when and where an earthquake will occur, or a tsunami!"

"Then what's going on with the birds?"

"Calm down, Gilligan." The Professor reached out to pat Gilligan's arm and spoke in his most reassuring tone. "It's not that unusual. They've probably sensed a large school of fish offshore, and they've come to feed."

"Rusty's there," countered Gilligan, shaking off both hand and tone. "He doesn't eat fish. He eats fruit. And there's a lot of other birds there that don't eat fish either: ducks and parrots and woodpeckers!"

Mr. Howell rolled his eyes. "Look, my boy, when you're finished reeling off the Audobon guide, can we please get back to the game?"

The Skipper finally intervened. "That's enough, Howell. My little buddy and Mary Ann meant well." He turned to the pair. "Now hear this, you two. You need to trim your sails a little - you're getting all worked up! Now maybe you did see the birds doing something odd back there, but it seems to me you're making far too much of it. The Professor here knows what he's talking about. Let's just forget all about it."

"But Skipper!"

"No buts, little buddy!" The Skipper held up a calming hand. "Now Mrs. Howell wants those sandwiches and things. Why don't you two just run along and get them, and by the time you come back you'll probably find that the birds have all gone."

Mary Ann took Gilligan by the arm. She'd never seen him so angry. The first mate stood still for a second, blue eyes blazing with fear and fury. Then he seized her hand and strode off onto the jungle. "Come on, Mary Ann."

Mary Ann had to trot to keep up with Gilligan's determined stride as they doubled back along the trail. At last she dug her heels in, trying to stop their progress. "Gilligan, we can't just go back! They're all in terrible danger!"

He stopped and whirled. "I know that, Mary Ann. But they won't listen to me!"

She bit her lip. "I know. They wouldn't listen to me either. Just because we're the two youngest…"

Gilligan's expression softened. "Oh yeah. I forgot about that. Maybe that's it. But still—" he stared out through a break in the trees to where the whitecaps rippled on the turquoise sea. "We've got to find some way to make them go to higher ground!"

"How long do you think we've got?"

A sudden great fluttering, cawing, shrieking and chirping sounded above, and they looked up to see another huge, motley many-coloured flock winging its way overhead.

Gilligan's face paled. "There's your answer."

He cast around wildly and suddenly noticed that one bird had landed in a bush nearby. "Rusty! Are you out of your mind? What are you waiting for! Get away! There's no way you can help us!" Gilligan raced to the bird, but suddenly yelped as his feet slid out from under him. He flailed wildly, trying to keep his balance, until he finally grabbed hold of the bush. Scrabbling for a foothold, he sagged among the leaves and branches as the bird fluttered into the air and disappeared over the palms.

"Gilligan!" Mary Ann cried. "Are you all right? What tripped you?"

The first mate was staring intently down at something directly in front of him. "Wait a minute…I remember this place! The Professor and I were searching and he went the other way…and then there was that baby chimp!"

"Gilligan, what are you talking about?" The girl raced to him but he jumped up and caught her in his arms before she could pass the bush. "Gilligan, what are you doing?"

"Careful, Mary Ann! It's right in front of us!"

"What is?"

His eyes were bright with excitement now. "We've got it made! Now listen to me, okay? I'm going to need you to play along…"