The Moving Picture Girls at Sea | Page 6

concern. In the big room brilliant with electric lights as well as
from the illumination that came through a sky-glass, there were several
scenes from different dramas being filmed at the same time.
When Ruth and Alice DeVere entered with their father, Mr. Pertell, the
manager of the Comet company, was engaged off to one side, evidently
instructing a man in what he must do before the camera. The man was a
sailor, and it needed but a glance to show that he was a real one, and
not "made up" for the occasion.
"You see," said Mr. Pertell, "you come into the shipping office, and
pretend to hand over the papers. But you slip the clerk the wrong ones,
and while he is examining them you reach over behind him and take
the documents you want."
"Avast there! Belay!" came the hoarse voice of the sailor. "I do that
there, do I?"
"Yes."
"Steal the papers?"
"Well, it isn't stealing, exactly. It's only----"
"Stealin' is what I call it, and it can't be called by another name to my
way of thinkin'. It won't do, sir, it won't do! Jack Jepson got into trouble
once, but he isn't goin' to do it again. No sir! That stealin' won't do for
Jack Jepson. You've got to get someone else to sign them articles for
you. No stealin' for Jack Jepson!" and the figure of the old sailor turned
and, with a rolling gait, he started across the big studio room.

CHAPTER III
SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY
"Look out there!"
"Where you going?"
"Hold him back, somebody! Look out, you'll spoil that scene! Don't
cross in front of the camera!"
Half a dozen frantic voices were calling to the sailor who, with dogged
persistence, kept on, shaking his grizzled and gray head, and muttering
over and over again:
"It won't do for Jack Jepson! No sir! It won't do. I had one experience
with trouble and I don't want any more. No sir!"
Evidently utterly unused to a moving picture studio, the old man kept
on his way. He was headed directly toward a camera that was "filming"
an elaborate ball room scene.
If any figure came between the scene and the camera with the pictures
it was imprinting on the sensitive celluloid film (at the rate of sixteen
per second) part of the elaborate work would have to be done over
again. And as one of the characters in the little play was a celebrated
dancer, whose time was paid for at an almost unbelieveable sum per
hour, it would mean a heavy expense.
"Stop him!" cried Mr. Pertell. "Come back here!"
"Halt! Vamoose! Turn about!" Paul Ardite called to the worked-up
traveler of the deep blue sea.
This had no effect.
"Avast there! Belay!" cried Russ Dalwood, who was not at that

moment engaged at the crank of some camera. He used the same sea
terms the old man himself had uttered, but this salt-water "lingo," or
translation of the command to halt, had no effect either.
Then came an interruption at a most opportune time. Just ahead of the
sailor a scene from a Wild West drama was being enacted. A group of
cowboys were engaged in a quarrel in the bunk house, which had been
set up in the studio. The outdoor scenes of the little play were to be
made later, for it is the custom in this business to make all the scenes,
taking place in one locality, at the same time, regardless of their
sequence in the finished play. Later the film is cut up into strips, pasted
together with the proper headings, or captions, and the finished play
results.
And just as the old sailor, who called himself Jack Jepson, was about to
step in front of the ball room scene camera, to the frantic horror of the
operator, one of the cowboys, following out his lines, drew his revolver,
and fired a blank cartridge at the "villain."
In the studio the noise was like that of a small cannon.
"Mutiny!" yelled Jack Jepson, jumping in the air a foot or more.
"Mutiny!"
But he stopped, and just in time. Two steps more would have brought
him in front of the clicking camera.
"Mutiny!" he fairly roared. "What is this! Who's firin' a shot across my
bows? All hands on deck t' repel boarders! Avast there!" and he stood
looking around in bewilderment, while the smoke from the revolver
floated upward.
"Come here!" called Mr. Pertell running forward, and grasping the arm
of the sailor before he could get away to step in front of any of the
other moving picture machines. "You don't understand, Mr. Jepson. I
merely want you to----"
"Yes, I reckon I heard you say what you wanted me to do.