Wow! Ginger Grant. My very first time and it's with a movie star on a beach in the South Seas under a full moon. I am grinning like I've never grinned before.

I look back at the Minnow with a newfound love. It used to make me sad. It used to remind me of that terrible storm. But now it is the place I became a man. It is the ship that carried me to the happiest moment of my life. It is our place, our secret rendezvous, and it will always remind me of her. I am so happy that I actually hug myself, and when I do that I can still smell her breath.

I've never had so much energy before in all my life. I have to do something. I have to run and shout! I have to climb! That's it. I decide, then and there, to climb the mountain so that I can look out over the whole island and bay at the moon.

I climb until I reach the start of the little ridge that runs across our island like a backbone. I can see the whole ocean from here, miles and miles under the moon. And now I'm really alone. It's surprising how hard it is to be alone here. It's not that big of an island and normally, even in the middle of the night, you can't walk for twenty minutes without bumping into someone. But the mountain, more of a hill really, is still steep enough to discourage casual strollers.

I am puffing and panting, but moving fast. And I am the king of all I survey. This is MY island, Gilligan's island! The moon is so bright that the trees are casting shadows; each frond, each leaf, each pebble shines forth and is beautiful. I love every inch of this place. I want to fly around it and then gather it up in my arms and hug it.

I love Ginger! I love her with all my heart. And I love Maryanne too. And the Howells and the skipper and the professor. I love them all. With every step I take I grow a little taller, a little older, a little stronger, a little wiser. I will be a wise king and I will rule my people well!

Then, as I approach the summit, I look up to embrace the stars. And that's when I see her. Standing there right at the very top with her back to me, holding a parasol as if to shade herself from the harsh moonlight. It is the last person I would expect. Mrs. Howell.

"Shsss" she says, holding a gloved finger to her lips, "Don't disturb the moment."

I stand there panting with not the faintest idea what to say.

"How quickly you climbed, my boy! It was thrilling to watch." She whispers with her head tipped towards mine, as if we were sitting together in a private balcony at the opera. "What a wonderful time you must have had. Is she really that good? Is it really that good?"

"She? It?"

"Ginger. Sex. Is it really that good? You flew up here like a rocket."

"What? But how --" For a moment I wonder if it's really her. Her eyes, which are normally kind of unfocused, are now sharp and almost twinkling. Is she seeing me for the first time? Or am I seeing her for the first time?

"Really, Gilligan. There's no need to stammer. Surely you're beyond that now."

This is just too strange.

"Entre nous, it wasn't ever like that with Mr. Howell. I do remember one time though. This was before Mr. Howell, a chance encounter. It happened during a crossing, on a night very much like this one. Not the kind of thing I was in the habit of doing - I was so shy then. But not too shy to pass up the chance, when it came to me. It was like nothing I'd ever imagined, like flying. I was a little ashamed at the time, but I'm so glad I did it now. Even after all these years I still think of it sometimes."

We stand there quietly for a minute. But I have to ask. "How did you know? About me and Ginger. Is it that obvious?"

"Oh my boy! I can see everything from up here. It's why I come."

She was right. We can see the whole island from up here. The huts, the clearing, the Minnow, all spread out before us like a stage. I can see it all: the girls' hut with my flowers stuck in the wall. Maryanne, keeping busy, sweeping the floor like a Kansas tornado. Next door Mr. Howell is asleep in his pajamas - I can almost hear him snoring. Over there is the professor's hut with its yellow green glow. And in the clearing is our hut and the tool hut and the dinner table. The skipper is back from his still by now. In the Minnow the candle has gone out and in my mind I can still see Ginger sprawled out on the bear skin rug.

"Do you see how small it all is, Gilligan? And how precious?"

"It's like an emerald."

Mrs. Howell sweeps her arms out across the sea. "Life is so much bigger than you can possibly imagine at your age. Treasure every moment. Hold on to each one as long as you can. You will be surprised at how quickly they slip away."

I can hear the surf pounding away at the beach and it's the saddest sound in the world. Hawaii is only a couple hundred miles away, but it might as well be a million. The ocean is just so big that next to it this whole island is like a mote of dust. We'll keep hearing voices from Hawaii until the radio goes dead, and then we'll be on our own.

Everything is different now. I reach out and hold her hand. She smiles at me and for the longest time we stand there together, under the stars, remembering.

After a while I'm back in my hammock, but that pounding sound stays with me now and I'm torn between feeling sad at how big the ocean is and laughing for joy to think there's a whole island like an emerald smack dab in the middle of it. The skipper is below me and he's so drunk that he's singing out loud. "No boats, no lights, no motorcars, not a single luxury. Like Robinson Crusoe, it's primitive as can be."

"Good night, skipper," I say, and he stops singing and reaches up to hold my hand.

"Good night, little buddy."

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