When Gilligan slowly stirred into wakefulness, he found himself in his hammock, which he didn't remember climbing into. By the look of the light, it was late afternoon. He rubbed his eyes, still groggy. "Skipper? What time is it?"

The voice that answered wasn't the Skipper's. "I make it about four bells, lad. You've slept most of the day away. Must have been pure Jamaican they gave you."

Woozily, Gilligan craned his head to see Lord Admiral Gilligan, still in full dress, leaning against the doorpost. Gilligan blinked, trying to clear his head. "Lord Admiral...where's the Skipper? Where are the others?"

"Oh, each one's about his own business. They held some sort of briefing earlier. And you're right: not a blessed one of them can see or hear me!" The phantom's eyes suddenly widened. "Blessed…Damn me, I've been as blind as a barnacle. Of course!"

"Unngh." Gilligan was only half listening. He groaned and slid awkwardly from the hammock, dragging the blanket with him. Bundling it blindly back into place, he stumbled to the water barrel and awkwardly ladled himself a cup. "You said they had a briefing? You mean like a meeting?"

"Mmmm? Oh, to be sure, they did. Seemed to be mainly about you, lad."

"Oh." Gilligan took a drink of water, grateful for its revitalizing cold. "Wh...what did they say?"

"Well...that scholar fellow was holding forth at great length, though I'll be hanged if I understood a word he said. He was prattling on about a battle between the Id, the Ego and the Superego. What are those, pray? Ships of the line? Sound jolly foreign to me."

Gilligan nodded his head wearily. "The Professor sounds foreign a lot of the time. What else did they say?"

"A great deal - the pretty little milkmaid was crying and said you were the sweetest fellow and it shouldn't happen to you; your captain was wringing his hands and saying it was all his fault; the rich lord and lady were offering to donate money for an asylum...oh-" the Lord Admiral scowled, trying to remember "-and what did the red-headed strumpet say? Oh, yes, that your plight reminded her of a picture she was in." He sniffed, moustaches curling in annoyance. "Why it should put her in mind of some portrait she sat for is beyond me, but even she seemed to take some pity on you." The Lord Admiral's eyebrows suddenly shot up like canon fire as a revelation struck him. "By Captain Kidd's compass! Do you know, lad - I think they think you're mad!"

Gilligan groaned again. He splashed some cold water on his face, dried it with a towel, and looked bleakly at the phantom. "That's just great! I thought everything was going to be all right when you turned up! Now it turns out everything's worse than ever!"

The Lord Admiral was a bit crestfallen. "Here...steady on, lad!"

At the Lord Admiral's wounded tone Gilligan changed his tack. "Oh, I know it's not your fault, Lord Admiral sir, and I know you want to help...but..."

The Lord Admiral saw his descendant's hesitation. "What is it, lad?"

"Well...well if the others are wrong and I'm not crazy, how come I'm the only one who can see you? Or Tom Scallion, come to think of it? I mean, maybe they're right..." Gilligan shivered visibly as he slumped down into a chair. "Maybe I am losing my mind!"

"What?" The Lord Admiral drew himself up, moustaches bristling, and strode over to Gilligan, arms akimbo. "What nonsense is this? I'll not stand for such lily-livered posturing on my ship--I mean, in my family!"

"But, Lord Admiral--"

"But me no buts! I know I'm here, in the flesh--" he paused and looked down at his glowing form. "Well, in spirit, anyway, and you know it too! Don't surrender to that lot just because you're outnumbered!"

Stung, Gilligan drew back. "I'm not surrendering! I'm just...confused, that's all." He shrugged, turning away. "I get that way a lot..."

"Balderdash. You have the Sight, and that means you see a damn sight clearer than most people."

Gilligan blinked. "The Sight?"

The Lord Admiral nodded sagely. "Aye. I should have realized it at once. T'is a gift, you see, a legacy of our ancient Irish blood. Only appears about once every ten generations, mind you, but sooner or later, one of us is blessed with the power to see ghosts, soothe savage beasts, dream in cryptic messages..."

This revelation took Gilligan by complete surprise. "Wow...really? And you think I've got it?"

"Well – " the ghost smiled. "You can see me, can't you?"

"Yeah! Wh- yeah, you're right!" Gilligan's face flushed with amazement and delight. "That's incredible! I have the Sight! I can see ghosts!" This took about two seconds to register before Gilligan gulped in horror. "Wh-what? I can? All of them? All the time? Wait a minute! I don't want to see ghosts! I don't want to hear them! I don't want to know anything about them!"

The ghost rolled his eyes. "Dashed flattering sentiments, I must say."

"Well, no, no, I don't mean like you, Lord Admiral. Nice ghosts like you are okay. It's the scary ones like pirate ghosts!" Gilligan began to shrill like the whistle of a kettle on a rolling boil. "You mean I'm going to see more of them? All my life?"

The Lord Admiral fixed him a long-suffering look, not unlike the Skipper's, and sighed. "Who can say? At any rate, if you haven't seen any other phantoms on your pretty isle in all these years, it follows that perhaps there just ain't any more to see. Don't get your sails all in a flutter, lad."

"Oh." That relaxed the first mate – just a little. "Well, what about you? Do you have the Sight?"

"Alas, no. I've all the sensitivity of a pewter mug. The first time I saw a spirit was only after I'd become one."

"Oh." Gilligan pondered the whole bizarre business again, shaking his head in confusion.. "But…how come I've had it all these years and never knew?"

"T'is said that the power of the Sight grows as one ages. But I've little doubt you've other hidden talents too, lad. You're a trifle too modest for your own good."

Gilligan's face suddenly fell further as a new complication struck him. "But the others don't have any special Sight. They can't see you or the pirate. How are we gonna manage when no one believes us?"

"Tush!" The Lord Admiral flashed his brilliant smile. "I believe in myself, lad. That's how I've always managed. This is no different, never fear."

The ghost's infectious confidence was a ray of hope for the beleaguered first mate. A trace of a smile crept cautiously across his face. "I guess so."

"Mmmm." The Lord Admiral stroked his moustache and glanced towards the window, looking thoughtful. "But perhaps we'd best sail under false colours, just for the time being."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that when we're with your shipmates, you'd best pretend I'm not here. Otherwise they'll keep slipping you grog 'til you can't see straight, or clap you in irons. And that would suit that rascal Scallion down to the ground!"

At the mention of the pirate Gilligan blanched. "But what'll we do if he comes back? I can't just sit there and let him hurt my friends!"

The ghostly admiral chuckled, absently straightening the lace on his cuffs. "Tchah. Let him try. You're forgetting, lad - you're with me now! And after all, two Gilligans are more than a match for any pirate!" He looked up at his living counterpart and smiled. "Come now, enough of that long face. On your feet, sir! Look alert! There's work to be done!"

Gilligan smiled back and jumped to his feet, saluting. "Yes, sir!"

There was a sudden soft tap at the door. "M-May I come in?" came a soft voice.

"Sure," Gilligan answered.

The blanket-draped door of the hut eased open to reveal Ginger, dressed in her flowered sarong. She flowed into the room and stood posed, shoulders back, one knee bent slightly forward.

"I-I thought I heard voices," she said, with just the slightest hint of a nervous laugh.

"Oh...but that was just--" a warning look from the Lord Admiral caught Gilligan just in time and he yanked his fingers down from the salute, wiping them on his shirt. "Oh, that was just me, Ginger. I was just thinking out loud, wondering where everybody was."

"Oh." The answer was like a sigh, and Ginger seemed to relax. She smiled gently and took a couple of steps nearer. "You know, we all really care for you, Gilligan. We just want to make sure you're all right."

"Oh, I know that, Ginger."

"And the Professor thought that maybe you might open up and talk to me about what's bothering you."

"Bothering me?" Ginger's proximity, dress and perfume was bothering him, but he couldn't say so. "Wh-what do you mean?"

"Well, the Professor was trying to explain it to us, and he thinks the answer to your problem might be very simple."

The Lord Admiral snorted. "Eh? Putting paid to a pirate is simple? I'd say it's your scholar chap that's simple, lad."

Gilligan flashed a warning glance at the ghost, then smiled back at Ginger. "Wow-that's great, Ginger. What does he say the problem is?"

Ginger lowered her thick black lashes, then unleashed her basilisk eyes. "He thinks that the pirate and the admiral are all in your mind, Gilligan. You're trying to make yourself seem stronger - because you're a little jealous of the Skipper, that's all."

Gilligan was absolutely flabbergasted. "The Skipper? Ginger, what are you talking about? It's nothing to do with the Skipper!"

Ginger swayed forwards, smiling seductively. Her long fingers lightly touched his chest. "Oh, come on, Gilligan," she purred. "You can tell Ginger."

The Lord Admiral drew back, scandalized. "Why, the brazen trollop! Has she no shame?"

Gilligan shook his head, looked in the ghost's direction, and forgot that he wasn't supposed to acknowledge him. "You don't get it. All the men get this same treatment. It doesn't mean anything."

Ginger stopped dead. "What? Just what's that supposed to mean?"

"Ack!" Gilligan backpedalled furiously. "Uh...no, look, Ginger, I wasn't..."

"Is that something the Skipper told you, so you'd never listen to me?"

"N-No, of course not!" In his nervousness, Gilligan forgot that loose tongues sink ships. "The-the Skipper's only said that whenever you were after me I should close my eyes and think of gutting fish!"

"What!"

The Lord Admiral tisked. "Scarlet woman, eh? You want to watch yourself, lad. The family has a reputation to consider--don't let her put a stain on it!"

"Nobody's going to stain my reputation!" Gilligan shouted, exasperated.

"Your reputation?" Ginger's eyes blazed. "Don't worry about it, Gilligan! You've got about as much reputation as a Victorian maiden aunt!"

"Ginger, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Then just what did you mean?"

"I say, saucy piece has got a tongue on her! Sharp as a cat-o-nine-tails!"

Gilligan couldn't take it anymore. "Cut it out, will you? I wish you'd just disappear!"

A split second later he realized his fatal error. Ginger took a step backwards, blood boiling, and slapped his face. "I've never been so insulted!" she cried, and stormed out.

Gilligan held his jaw painfully as he and the Lord Admiral watched her go. The Lord Admiral shuddered and dabbed at his face with a silken handkerchief. "Good thing you told her to be off, lad. Take my advice and never court a flame-haired wench. They've a fiery temper to match."