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.