The Moving Picture Girls at Sea
L >> Laura Lee Hope >> The Moving Picture Girls at Sea"Strike hard, men!" called Jack, and the sound of their axes followed.
Ropes were severed with a blow, but the wire shrouds were tougher, and
it was not until several minutes had passed that the mast, with its
tangle of sails and ropes, was chopped free to float away on the crest
of a billow.
"Get up the mizzen storm sail!" ordered Captain Brisco. "She's falling
off!"
The schooner was indeed in danger of wallowing in the trough of the big
waves.
Pausing only for a moment, the sailors who had labored so valiantly at
cutting loose the broken mast, sprang to get more sail on the craft. She
was deprived of the reefed, or shortened, one that had been on the stick
which was now overboard, and the jib was not enough to hold her head to
the waves.
"What is it? Oh what is it?" gasped Miss Pennington as Alice fell,
rather than walked down the companionway into the cabin.
"Are we sinking?" demanded Miss Dixon.
"Not at all!" answered Alice, catching her breath, and, with a shake of
her head freeing her face from the salty spray that had drenched her.
"It isn't anything at all."
She determined to make light of it, even though her own heart was
beating like a hammer at the thought of her narrow escape from possible
death.
Alice really did not know whether there was any danger or not from the
fall of the mast. She had often read of such things happening, and she
remembered that the masts were always "cut away." So she supposed, as
long as this was being done, that the proper course was being followed.
"There's no danger at all," she said, speaking more calmly now.
"No danger!" cried Miss Pennington. "Listen to that!"
It was the noise of sailors on deck chopping away the mast-gear.
"Oh, one of those upright sticks, that they hang the sails on, fell
over. Not enough glue on it, I guess," said Alice, calmly.
"Not enough glue!" gasped Paul. "Well, I never--"
"Can't you take a joke?" Alice whispered to him, as she saw that her
minimizing of the accident was having its effect.
"Oh, yes, of course!" Paul exclaimed. "Not enough glue on it--Oh yes!"
and he had to turn away to keep from smiling at the idea of a
mast,--that is the most firmly set of anything on a ship, (being indeed
almost an integral part of it)--the idea of that being stayed with glue
was enough to make almost anyone smile, even in the midst of danger.
The sounds on the deck gradually became more quiet. The danger seemed to
be over for the time being. The moving picture actors and actresses
crowded around Alice to hear her story of the accident. She carefully
avoided mentioning her own peril, but she resolved to properly thank old
Jack later. Just now Alice did not want her father to worry. His throat
was troubling him, because of the amount of salt spray in the air.
On deck Captain Brisco and Jack Jepson took charge of matters until the
wreckage had been cleared away. And a lot of wreckage there was. The
_Mary Ellen_ looked little like the trim, schooner that had left New
York a few weeks before.
Jack Jepson stepped close to the stump of the mainmast. He gave one look
at it, and uttered a single word.
"Rotten!" he exclaimed.
"What's that?" cried Captain Brisco sharply.
"Rotten!" repeated the mate. "That mast had dry rot to the very core.
Only the varnish held her together."
"What's that to you?" cried the captain in angry tones. "You keep your
opinions to yourself! When I want 'em, I'll ask for 'em! Now get below
and see if we're taking in any water."
"Very well, sir," was the answer, but Jack gave the captain a queer
look.
He found some water coming in, but not more, he thought, than the pumps
could take care of, so he reported the matter only to Captain Brisco.
"That's good," the commander said, seemingly well pleased. "I guess they
can have their fake shipwreck after all, if the weather clears."
As the day advanced, the storm lulled slightly, but it was still rough.
Those of the moving picture company who ventured up on deck went below
again with white, scared faces at the sight of the wreckage of the
mainmast. For it did look doleful.
"This shipwreck comes pretty near being real," said Mr. Pertell. "If we
could only photograph it now, it would make a fine film."
"Can't you?" asked Alice.
"Yes, I suppose I could make some views."
A few hundred feet of film were exposed by one of the operators, but the
pretended shipwreck would need to be taken from a small boat, and the
sea was too rough to admit of that.
Then the storm, that had given them a brief respite, began again, worse
than before. The schooner was tossed about like a toy, and the
mizzenmast was sprung so that no sail could be rigged on it.
Then when a great wave struck the craft, washing over her from stem to
stern, the work of the ocean and the storm elements seemed completed.
The _Mary Ellen_ staggered under the blow like some living thing, and
she did not rise to it as buoyantly as she had before.
Jack Jepson came rushing up from below.
"We're leaking fast!" he cried. "We'd better take to the boats, Captain
Brisco! The pumps won't work!"
"The boats! Nonsense!" the captain cried. "We'll ride it out here. The
schooner is all right!"
"I tell you she's sinking!" yelled Jack. "We must take to the boats."
"What? Do you dare give orders in my face!" stormed Captain Brisco.
"This is mutiny, sir! This is mutiny! I'll put you in irons!" and with
raised fist he started toward the old sailor.
CHAPTER XXIII
HELP AT LAST
Jack Jepson was a brave man. He proved it then by standing unflinchingly
in front of the angry captain, when shrinking back might have meant a
blow that would have brought about a general fight. Seeing him standing
there fearlessly, made Captain Brisco pause. And that gave the others
time for action.
"What does this mean?" cried Mr. Pertell.
"He is trying to start a mutiny as he did once before!" fairly yelled
Captain Brisco.
"I never started a mutiny before, and I'm not trying to do so now!"
retorted Jack, and he seemed to have lost much of his timid simplicity.
"I tell you the ship is sinking, and we had best take to the boats while
there is time."
"And I tell you that you are wrong!" snarled Captain Brisco. "I order
you below!"
"And I won't go, until I have told these people what is going on here!"
retorted Jack Jepson.
"If that isn't mutiny, I'd like to know what is," cried the captain.
"Well, if that's mutiny, then I'm glad to be a mutineer!" shouted the
old salt, "and any court in the land would uphold me, for I am trying to
save lives, and you're trying to throw 'em away."
"Throw 'em away! What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean," replied Jack, and there was significance in his
voice. "I won't say anything about putting to sea in a ship that wasn't
fit--with masts that were nothin' but dry rot, and with pumps that only
half work at best. And I won't say anything about your plot--there isn't
time now. But I will say----"
"A plot!" cried Alice, who, with Ruth, stood near her father.
"Yes, a plot, Miss!" Jack Jepson cried. "I'll tell you about it later.
But now we've got to do something. The water's comin' in fast, and if we
can't stop it, we'll have to take to the boats."
"Look here!" stormed Captain Brisco, and his voice was almost in keeping
with the howl of the gale all about them, and almost as raucous as the
salty spray that flew over everything. "Look here! Who is captain of
this ship?"
"You are," replied Jack quietly enough. He looked the angry man full in
the eye, and the half-raised fist of the commander fell again.
"Then if I'm captain, I'm going to be obeyed!" came next. "I order you
below, Jepson. You're no longer mate of this craft. You're deposed! Hen
Lacomb, I hereby appoint you first mate until my regular one recovers,
and you, Hankinson, you're second mate. Lively now. Jepson, go below,
and if he makes any more trouble, Hen, clap him in irons," he added
significantly.
For a moment there was silence following this announcement--that is, as
much quiet as the storm permitted. Then Alice cried out:
"Father, won't you say something! Mr. Pertell, you're not going to
permit this, are you? I'm sure Jack Jepson is honest and that he is
faithfully warning us. Don't let him be put down this way. Ask him what
he means by a plot!"
"Oh, Alice!" protested her sister. "At a time like this--when we may all
be drowned!"
"We'll all be drowned worse, maybe, if Jack's advice isn't taken. What
is it?" she asked, appealing to the old sailor. "What is the plot you
spoke of?"
"Ask him?" cried the old salt, pointing an accusing finger at the
captain. "Ask him, and if he doesn't tell you, I will. Talk about a
mutiny! It wouldn't be half as bad as his plot for getting possession of
this vessel."
"What's that!" cried Captain Brisco, starting forward. "You dare accuse
me----"
"Yes, you and Hen Lacomb!" cried Jack, who seemed to have acquired a new
boldness. "I charge you with plotting to make a fizzle of the shipwreck
these picture people planned. You were going to pretend the vessel was
sinking, before the time set for the pictures, and you were going to get
them to abandon the schooner. Then you and Lacomb were going to come
back to the ship later, take her to some secret port, fit her out again
and use her for your own purposes.
"That's the plot! That's what I overheard you and Lacomb plannin', and
when you suspected I knew, you thought I'd be better off in the sea.
That's how I happened to go overboard. I was thrown! That's what I
charge you with. Deny it if ye dare!" and he pointed an accusing finger
at the two men. "You threw me overboard, Hen Lacomb! And Captain Brisco
planned to have you do it!"
Captain Brisco appeared to struggle with some emotion. His face went red
and white by turns. He seemed unable to speak. But at last he choked
out:
"What! You dare say that to me. You accuse me----!"
"Yes, and I have the proof!" cried Jack. "Here's the agreement you made
Lacomb sign. You were afraid to trust to him unless he made a promise
in writing, and here it is. I found it in the secret compartment in your
cabin. Your cabin that used to be mine in the old _Mary Ellen_. That's
how I made sure this ship was the old one I used to serve on, made over.
I found this agreement! It's the proof of what I say. Deny it if you
can."
"Why--why--" stammered the captain. "Do you dare--" but it seemed he
could not get any farther. He glanced at Hen Lacomb who stood near him.
A meaning look passed between the two men, and Hen started edging around
toward Jack Jepson.
"Father! Mr. Pertell!" cried Alice. "Let us have this settled! Jack has
made charges. They may be true or they may not be. But our lives surely
are in danger if this vessel is sinking."
"And I say she isn't sinking! She's as sound as a bell below the water
line!" cried the captain.
"And I say she has a hole stove in her, an' unless it's stopped we'll be
at the bottom in a few hours!" cried Jack. "The mast knocked a hole in
her and she's takin' water fast. The pumps are no good, but they can be
fixed with a little work on 'em."
"Keep still!" the captain shouted. "You're under arrest as a mutineer."
"No he isn't!" exclaimed Mr. Pertell. "This is my vessel. I'm the chief
owner of it, and I here and now depose you as captain, Mr. Brisco, and
appoint Jack Jepson in your place!"
There was a gasp of baffled rage from the former commander.
"Jack, take charge," said Mr. Pertell. "Select as mates whoever you
want. We'll go into this matter of the plot later. Just now we must save
the ship if we can. Everything must give way to that. Do you accept?"
"What! Him captain?" cried Hen Lacomb, who was edging nearer and nearer
to Jack all this while.
"Why not?" asked Mr. Pertell.
"He doesn't know how to navigate. He'll run us aground."
"I wish he _would_ run us on der ground!" murmured Mr. Switzer. "I haf
hat enough of der ocean. Der ground is goot enough for me."
"I can navigate!" cried Jack. "I hold a master's certificate, though
I've only filled mates' berths of late."
"I--I refuse to serve under him," stormed Captain Brisco. "And when we
reach port, I shall lay this matter before the authorities. You can't
depose a captain this way!"
"Can't I?" asked Mr. Pertell coolly. "I rather think I can. I looked up
the law on the rights of owners before I started on this voyage. Jack
Jepson is captain."
"And I refuse to serve under him."
"Very well. Then you can either work your passage, or pay for your
passage, I don't care which. But I'm going to save this ship, and the
lives of those aboard her, if I can."
There was a sudden little scuffle near Jack Jepson, and Hen Lacomb went
sprawling on the deck.
"No you don't!" drawled Mr. Switzer in his most German comedian voice.
"I think you haf fallen. Dit you hurt yourself?" he asked of the
prostrate Hen.
The latter, with a growl, got to his feet, an angry look on his face.
"What happened?" asked Mr. Pertell.
"Oh, noddings dit happen," was the reply. "It iss only vat might haf
happenet. He vas getting so close by Jack dot Jack might fall ofer board
again, und ve don't vant to lose our new captain so soon yet," explained
Mr. Switzer cheerfully.
He thus made light of the affair, but later it came out that Hen Lacomb
had evidently had the intention of at least trying to pitch Jack
overboard, as the easiest solution of the trouble of Captain Brisco and
his crony.
"This is enough!" cried Mr. Pertell. "Jack, you're captain. Do what you
like to insure the safety of us and the ship. Captain Brisco is no
longer in command of this vessel," the manager went on to a wondering
group of sailors. "I call for three cheers for Captain Jack Jepson!"
They were given with a will, for evidently Jack was a favorite, and the
deposed captain was not. The latter slunk below followed by Hen Lacomb.
"We've got to try to stop that leak first of all!" said Jack, as he
carefully put in his pocket the paper he had claimed was an agreement
between Brisco and his crony. "I appoint Jim West as first mate and
Frank Snyder as second!" the new captain went on. "Come below, you two,
and we'll see what we can do. We've got to mend the pumps. Keep her
about as she is," he ordered the steersman.
"Aye, aye, sir!" was the respectful answer. Jack was already developing
new qualities as a commander.
"This is a distressing state of affairs," said Mr. DeVere.
"Not as bad as it might be," Mr. Pertell answered. "There is a chance
for us now. I never dreamed that Brisco was such a scoundrel."
"Oh, I'm so glad Captain Jack is in charge!" cried Alice. "And I'm so
glad he found out about the plot. Maybe this will help to clear him of
the other unjust charge," she went on.
"Perhaps," agreed Ruth. "But oh, Alice! If we should sink!"
"Nonsense! We're not going to sink!"
And so it proved--at least the _Mary Ellen_ was not doomed to go to the
bottom at once. The storm still raged with seemingly unabated violence,
but the sailors, under the direction of Captain Jepson, got a heavy
piece of canvas over the worst leak, and then the repaired pumps kept
the water in the hold down to a normal level.
The failure of the pumps to work, until Jack and the men fixed them was
due to criminal negligence on the part of Brisco. He put to sea with
this necessary part of a ship in poor condition, not thinking they would
be needed.
Brisco was a desperate man, and so was Lacomb. They had been involved in
more than one shady transaction, and though both may have been aboard
with Jack, during the mutiny, they successfully covered their tracks.
Brisco and Lacomb sulked below, and, for the time being, no effort was
made to bring them up and set them to work, though every hand was
needed. Some of the members of the film company turned in and helped. It
was thought better not to incite a fight.
So the _Mary Ellen_ lurched on through the storm, a mere semblance of
the gallant craft she had appeared to be on leaving port. And those
aboard labored desperately to keep her afloat.
"Talk about a shipwreck!" gasped Mr. Pertell, as a wave drenched him,
"this is the most realistic I ever saw. If I could only picture this!"
But it was impossible. How the planned drama of the sea would end, no
one could tell.
"And oh! to think of poor Russ and Mr. Sneed out in this--if they _are_
still out in it," murmured Alice, as she and Ruth clung to one another
in their cabin.
"The _Ajax_ may have survived," Ruth said, hopefully.
And indeed, at that moment, the motorboat was making the best of the bad
weather.
The sea anchor which Russ had rigged provided the necessary drag and
steerage way, and the boat's head was kept to the waves. Her high bow,
and covered fore-part, enabled her to ride seas that would have swamped
another craft of like size. And her dory-build added to her safety. The
bank fishermen know well how to shape a boat to meet heavy seas.
"Well, we seem to be doing fairly well," said Russ, as he and his
companion settled down in the shelter, to nibble at a bit of hard tack
and drink some of the water Jack had put on board.
"Yes, I suppose it might be worse," agreed Mr. Sneed. And that, for him,
was saying a great deal.
So the _Ajax_ drifted on, as the _Mary Ellen_ was driving, before the
gale, the occupants of neither craft knowing aught of the others. And
the storm still raged.
After a while Russ, for want of something better to do, began looking
over the motor. Presently he discovered something that made him shout
for joy.
"What is it?" asked his companion. "Do you see the schooner?"
"No, but I can make this boat run. Look, the propeller hasn't dropped
off at all! The set screws of the sleeve have become loose and the
propeller shaft didn't turn, that was all."
If any of you know anything about motor-boats, you know that the shaft
which passes through the stuffing box, and to which shaft the propeller
is fastened, is joined to the shaft of the engine by a coupling, or
sleeve. If you take two lead pencils, and thrust an end of each into
each end of a hollow, brass pencil holder, you will get an idea of what
I mean. One pencil will represent the shaft to which the propeller is
fastened, and the other the engine shaft. The brass holder is the
coupling, or sleeve. In order that the shafts will be held rigidly
together, turning at the same time, set screws in the sleeve are tightly
turned down on the shaft, binding both in the sleeve.
It was the set screws on the propeller shaft that had loosed, allowing
the sleeve to slip uselessly around, that had caused all the trouble.
With a wrench Russ tightened the screws. He tested them, and, finding
them firm, started the engine. A moment later the _Ajax_ was moving over
the waves under her own power.
"Hurray!" cried Mr. Sneed. "This is great!"
"And we don't need this any longer," Russ said, hauling in the drag
anchor. Then, able to mount the waves, the motorboat was in much better
condition for fighting the storm.
On and on she rushed. Hour after hour passed, but the gale showed no
signs of abating. The two young men were weary and disheartened, when,
as there came a little rift in the clouds Russ, who stood up to look
about, gave a yell.
"What is it now?" asked Mr. Sneed. "More trouble?"
"No!" cried Russ. "I see a steamer. Help at last! I'm going straight for
her!"
CHAPTER XXIV
A SIGNAL OF DISTRESS
Russ had been running the motor at moderate speed, for he did not know
just how long the supply of gasoline would last, and he did not know as
yet what might be before him and his companion in distress. But the
sight of the steamer gave him hope, and he turned on full speed.
The _Ajax_ was a powerful craft, though even a mighty steamer would not
have found it easy to make headway in that sea and in that gale. The
motor craft responded gallantly, and shot up on the crest of each wave,
sliding down the opposite side as though she were going to investigate
the uttermost depths of Father Neptune's caverns.
"Steamer! I don't see any steamer!" exclaimed Mr. Sneed, as he looked in
the direction toward which the face of Russ was turned.
"You will when we both come on top of a wave at the same time," was the
answer. "You see we lie so low in the water she can't see us, and we
can't glimpse her until we're both on a crest together. She's off to the
east there. Watch and you'll see her. Look now!"
At that moment the _Ajax_ rose on a mighty wave, which lifted her high
toward the sky, in which were now rifted clouds. Mr. Sneed glanced to
where Russ pointed, and saw the long, black hull of a steamer, from
whose stacks belched forth clouds of smoke, showing that her engines
were being driven at top speed to overcome the storm.
"There she is!" cried Russ. "Now if we can only reach her, we'll be all
right, and we can help the others."
"The others," murmured the actor.
"Yes, those on the _Mary Ellen_. She must be in trouble in this storm,
for she isn't built for this sort of thing. It's a wonder she lasted as
long as she did."
"Maybe she's at the bottom now," suggested Mr. Sneed.
"Cheerful, aren't you?" remarked Russ. "I thought you'd given that sort
of thing up."
"I meant to. I really did. I'm sorry!" the other exclaimed, contritely
enough. Really he was a different sort of Mr. Sneed from the "human
grouch" who often made matters so unpleasant for members of the Comet
Film Company. Since he and Russ had so nearly faced death, Mr. Sneed
was much braver and more cheerful.
"I think she'll keep afloat for some time," Russ went on, "as she is all
wood, you know. She may be pretty well battered, though."
If he could only have seen the hapless _Mary Ellen_ then, he would have
believed her quite battered indeed. For another rotten mast had fallen.
"Do you mean you're going to ask those on the steamer to look for the
schooner," asked Mr. Sneed.
"That's what I'm going to do, if we can get to her," Russ said. "It's
going to be nip and tuck, for she's going fast and she won't see us, as
we're so low in the water. She's not heading in our direction, either,
but I'll go after her on a long slant, and maybe I can reach her, or get
near enough to make her see us. This is a pretty fast boat."
They were speeding over the waves, now down in a hollow, and again on
the crest. Sometimes they would lose sight of the steamer altogether,
and again they would catch a fleeting glimpse of her. And, when they
did, she seemed farther off than ever.
"Oh, we'll never reach her!" said Mr. Sneed, despondently enough.
"She'll never give us any aid."
"There you go!" cried Russ. "I thought you'd given up that sort of
thing!"
"Well, I didn't mean just that," the actor said. "Perhaps we will make
her see us after all."
"That's better!" exclaimed Russ. "We'll get her--or crack a cylinder!"
and he tried to get a few more revolutions out of the fly wheel.
In spite of their brave front, Russ and his companion were sufficiently
miserable. Their boat constantly shipped water, and they had to use the
hand force pump, which, fortunately, was in the craft. A pump was
connected with the cylinder cooling apparatus, designed to free the
cockpit of bilge water, but the pump would not work.
Russ and Mr. Sneed were wet through, for the cabin could not be entirely
closed against the spray. And they had nothing to eat except cold
victuals. There was a gasoline stove aboard, but there was nothing to
cook, for only an emergency ration had been put in the craft, and that
was more because of a whim on the part of Jack Jepson, than because he
really thought it would be needed.
But more than once as they drank of the water, and nibbled the hard
biscuits, or crackers, in the water-tight box, Russ and his companion
blessed the forethought of honest Jack Jepson--I beg his pardon,
Captain Jepson it was now, though neither Russ nor Mr. Sneed knew that.
"I think I'll hoist a signal," said the actor, as they drove on, now
seeing the steamer, and again losing her.
"Good idea," Russ agreed, as he busied himself with an oil can.
Mr. Sneed managed to lash an oar upright, and on it he fastened a bit of
canvas. It stood out straight, like a board, so strong was the wind that
whipped it.
"I hope they see that," commented the actor.
"I hope so, too," added Russ. "It doesn't do any good to yell, for the
wind is blowing from them to us."
More than once, as they urged their craft on a long slant toward the
steamer, they almost gave up hope. But it sprang up again, and finally,
as a break in the clouds let out a little rift of light, someone on the
watch aboard the steamer saw the fluttering signal.
"She's seen us! She's seen us!" cried Russ in delight.
"How can you tell?" demanded his companion.
"She whistled. I saw the steam. You'll hear the blast in a second."
And they did. Light travels faster than sound. They saw the steam from
the powerful whistle before they heard the hoarse blast; even as one
sees the flash of a gun before hearing the report.
The steamer changed her course, and came on toward the motorboat.
"Suppose it's the English one, that wants to capture poor Jack,"
suggested Mr. Sneed.