for a moment there was excitement, and then the trained men of the sea got into action. nearby there were several fishing boats, operated by gasoline motors. there were planks at hand, and rollers on which the craft could be launched in the surf, being eased along the slope by releasing a cable rigged to a post some distance away.
it did not take long for the fishermen to launch one of these motor boats, and while c. c. piper was struggling in the surf, endeavoring as best he could to climb into his overturned boat, they put out to rescue him.
“do you want that in the picture?” asked joe, who was at one of the cameras.
“no indeed!” cried mr. ringold. “it won’t fit in at all! he must drift ashore. we’ll have to do all this over again.”
“i can see gloomy doing it,” murmured blake.
at that moment there came a hail from the comedian.
“hello!” he cried. “are you going to—gulp—let me—glub—sink out here? can’t some of you——” and the rest was lost amid a series of gurgles as the salty water got in c. c.’s mouth.
“hold on just a little longer,” called one of the fishermen, as he directed the craft toward the struggling actor. “we’ll have you out presently.”
“you’d—better—hurry—up!” panted the comedian, who might well be excused at this moment from taking a gloomy view of life.
he managed to cling to one side of the dory until the rescuing motor craft reached him. then he was soon hauled aboard, dripping wet, all but exhausted, and unable to utter a sound save sighs.
“well, it was too bad,” said mr. ringold, when c. c. was once more ashore. “i guess we’ll have to get you a little larger boat.”
“get me one?” asked the actor, with the accent on the personal pronoun.
“certainly. we’ll have to do this scene over again. i guess we could use one of the fishing boats, though they’re a little large. but we can move the cameras back. take one of those, c. c.”
“i guess not.”
“what’s that?”
“i said i guess not. no more for mine!”
“do you mean to say you won’t go on with this act? are you going to balk as you did in the indian scene?”
“say,” began c. c., earnestly, as, dripping wet as he was, he strode up to the theatrical man, “i can’t swim, and i don’t like the water. i told you that the time you took me up in the country, where we found these boys,” and he motioned to blake and joe, who were looking interestedly on, ready to work the cameras as soon as required.
“and yet,” went on mr. piper, “you insisted that i jump overboard then and rescue miss shay. now you want me to drift in as a shipwrecked sailor. it’s too much, i tell you. there is entirely too much water and tank drama in this business. i know i’ll get my death of cold, if i don’t drown.”
“oh, can’t you look on the bright side?” asked miss shay, who was to come into the drama later. “why, it’s so warm i should think you’d like to get into the surf.”
“not for mine!” exclaimed c. c., firmly, and it took some persuasion on the part of the theatrical manager, accompanied by a promise of an increase of salary every time he had to go into the water, to induce c. c. to try the shipwreck scene over again.
this time a larger boat was used, and, though it came near to capsizing, it did not quite go over, though considerable water was shipped. c. c. managed to stay aboard, and the cameras, rapidly clicking, registered each movement of the actor and those who later took part in the drama.
then some shore scenes were photographed, the supposed shipwrecked persons building a fire, pretending to catch fish from the ocean, and cooking them.
all this the moving picture boys, or mr. hadley, faithfully registered on the films, to be later thrown on the screen for the delight of the public.
“i wonder if the folks who look at moving pictures realize how they are made?” said joe, as they stopped work for the day.
“i don’t believe so,” answered blake. “there are tricks in all trades, it’s said; but i guess the moving picture business is as full of them as any.”
the next two days were busy ones, as a number of elaborate acts had to be filmed, and the boys were kept on the jump from morning to night. mr. hadley, also, had all he could do with the camera. there were fishing views to get, scenes on the beach, where a number of children were induced to play at games in the sand, building castles and tunnels, boating incidents and the like.
c. c. did not fall overboard again, though he often was sent out to do some funny stunt that was to be used in the play.
“i wonder when we can go to san francisco?” queried joe one afternoon, following a particularly hard day. “i want to see that shipping agent, and ask him if he can give me any clue to my father.”
“maybe we’d better speak to mr. ringold,” suggested blake, and they did, with the result that the theatrical man informed them that the end of the week would be free, as he had to wait for some costumes to arrive before he could produce any more dramas.
“i want to get a good wreck scene,” he said, “and that is going to be rather hard.”
“will it be a real wreck scene?” asked joe.
“yes, as real as we can make it. i’m negotiating now for an old schooner that i can scuttle out at sea. all the company will be aboard, and they’ll drift about for a long time without food and water.”
“am i supposed to be in on that?” asked c. c., suspiciously.
“of course,” was the theatrical man’s answer. “this is a circus company returning from abroad that is wrecked, and you are the clown. be as funny as you can.”
“wrecked?” queried c. c.
“that’s it.”
“and i’m to be funny?”
“certainly.”
“without food and water for days, and i’m expected to be funny!” exclaimed the comedian, with a groan. “oh, why did i ever get into this business? i’ll not do it!”
“oh you’re only supposed to be starving and thirsty,” explained mr. ringold. “if you want, you can take some sandwiches and cold coffee with you, and have lunch—but don’t do it when the cameras are working. it wouldn’t look well in the moving pictures to have a note on the screen saying that the shipwrecked persons were starving, and then show you chewing away; would it, now?”
“no, i suppose not,” admitted c. c., with a sigh. “oh, but this is a miserable business, though! i’m sure i’ll be drowned before we get through with it!”
“oh, cheer up!” called miss lee, but there seemed to be no need for the advice, for a moment later c. c. broke forth into a comic song.
while the preparations for producing the wreck scene were under way, there was small need for the services of the boys, and they made ready to go to san francisco.
“even if he has gone away somewhere,” suggested blake, “he may have left some address where you can reach him.”
“do you think he’ll be gone?” asked joe.
“well, if he left the lighthouse in a hurry, intending to call on a shipping agent, naturally he wouldn’t stay in port long,” said blake. “besides——” he stopped suddenly, being on the verge of saying something that would give joe a hint of the truth.
“what is it?” asked his chum, quickly. “what were you going to say, blake?”
“nothing.”
“yes, you were, i’m sure of it. blake, is there anything you’re holding back from me?”
joe looked earnestly at his chum.
“i—er—” began blake—when there came a knock on the door.
“what is it?” called blake, glad of the interruption.
“mr. ringold wants you to get ready to take some scenes to-night,” said the voice of macaroni.
“scenes at night?” inquired joe, opening the door, and forgetting the question he had put to his chum.
“yes,” went on their young helper. “flashlight scenes. he wants you at once.”
the boys reported to their superiors, and learned that a smuggling scene, to fit in one of the sea dramas, was to be attempted. by means of powerful flash and electric lights, the current 86coming over cables from san diego, it was planned to make views at night.
as this was an unexpected turn to affairs, they had to postpone their trip to san francisco for a few days. the night pictures came out well, however, and the first of the following week saw joe and blake start on their way to the city of the golden gate.
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