"...The storm is the most severe in perhaps seven or eight years. At this time, it has not hit any populated area, although a storm warning is in effect for Hawaii."

The Professor switched off the radio, in fear and frustration.

"Those poor children! Lost at sea!" Mrs. Howell made it sound like Gilligan and Mary Ann were five years old. But the Professor understood what she meant.

"I wish the Skipper were here," Mr. Howell murmured. The Professor understood that, too. Despite the Professor's knowledge of meteorology, it would be comforting to have their captain there to reassure them that the canoe and its passengers could survive.

Ginger burst into tears. The Professor awkwardly patted her arm. He felt shyer than ever about touching her in front of the Howells, now that he'd been intimate with her. He wished he could offer her comfort, but that would have to wait till they were alone.

The rain started again. They were far enough out from the storm that they had faced no worse than mild summer showers so far, and presumably the Skipper on his bride's island was going through the same.

"Oh, what's the Skipper going to say when he finds out?" Ginger cried.

Even though the Skipper had gone off to his new life after his best friend was launched on his new life, the Professor was sure that the Skipper had not expected anything like this storm. None of them had of course. But the four of them at least were sharing their fear together, at the time it was happening. The Skipper wouldn't find out until afterwards.

"Should we send him the bottle back, with a message about the storm?" Mr. Howell asked.

"I think not," the Professor said. "Not until we know anything definite."

"How can we know anything for sure unless they're rescued somehow?" Ginger demanded.

The Professor didn't say that Gilligan and Mary Ann's dead bodies could wash ashore on the island, or someplace civilized so that it would be reported on the news. It was too ghoulish a thought. He simply said, "All we can do is wait."

The rain got a little heavier, so Mr. Howell said, "Come, Lovey, let's go back to the shelter of our hut."

"Professor, please let us know if you hear anything." Mrs. Howell was crying now.

"Of course." He put the radio under his shirt and headed towards his own hut. He went in and set the radio on the table. He tried to play it but the reception wasn't as good now. He turned it off again and then heard knocking.

For a moment he thought it was a tree branch, but then he heard Ginger call, "Professor?"

He went to the door and opened it for her, though he now had to fight the wind. "Ginger, you should be in your own hut. What will the Howells think?"

"I'll tell them I wanted to keep listening to the radio. And I do."

"Well, you're going to have to wait till the storm dies down. I'm not getting a signal right now."

"Can I wait in here?"

He hesitated but decided there was no harm in their being alone in his hut, as they had been before. Yes, circumstances had changed, but the Howells didn't know that. Besides, he could hardly make the poor girl stand in the rain and the wind while he reasoned with her.

"Yes, come in, quickly."

"Thank you." She let the door bang shut behind her.

He bolted the door and she raised her eyebrows. "I'm not trying to keep you prisoner. It's just safer if the storm builds."

"I wouldn't mind being trapped in here with you."

"Ginger," he began.

"Relax, Roy, I'm not exactly in the mood to seduce you. Right now I'm too worried about Gilligan and Mary Ann."

He found himself a little disappointed, although she was right that this was the hardly the time for seduction. "Would you like some tea?" he said for something to say.

She smiled. "I would actually, thank you."

"You're welcome." He had experimented with various plants over the years until he'd found one that made a fine tea, one that even Mrs. Howell liked. And he was used to brewing because of his various scientific endeavors.

Ginger thanked him again when he brought her the cup of tea. He'd made one for himself, so for a few minutes they blew on the tea and then carefully sipped. They didn't talk at first.

Then she asked, "Can you hold me?"

"Yes, of course." He remembered when a storm hit the island a week after the shipwreck. They were living in a communal hut then, not yet having split off into separate huts, as the women would insist on. He hadn't known either of the girls very well of course, but when Mary Ann sat next to him, it had felt natural to hold each other. She brought out his protective instincts, especially back then, when she had seemed like a frail young woman. It was only later that he realized that the farm girl was as tough as her pioneer ancestors. And the sophisticated actress had a vulnerable streak that she showed when she got to know someone, although she, too, could be strong and brave at times.

They both set down their tea on the table and scooted their chairs closer together. He took her in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Thank you," she said softly. "This helps."

He kissed her forehead. "It does."

They sat like that for a long time, listening to the wind and the rain. He was sure that she was thinking, as he was, of Gilligan and Mary Ann out in far worse wind and rain, with only a little canoe to protect them against the elements, to keep them from plunging into the sea. The Professor felt guilty, guiltier than if he had allowed the Skipper to go with Gilligan instead.

"It's not your fault," Ginger whispered, as if she read his mind.

"Thank you," he said, although he didn't quite believe her. And he held her even tighter.