But as he came nearer the island appeared to move more and more out of
the line of his approach. Under these circumstances his only chance was
to float as near as possible, and then make a last effort to reach the
land.

Nearer and nearer he came. At last he was close by it, but the extreme
point of the island lay to the right more than twenty yards. This was
the crisis of his fate, for now if he floated on any longer he would be
carried farther away.

The shore was here low but steep, the waters appeared to be deep, and a
heavy surf dashed upon the island, and threw up its spray far over the
mound. He was so near that he could distinguish the pebbles on the
beach, and could see beyond the mound a long, flat surface with thin
grass growing.

Beyond this point was another a hundred yards away, but farther out of
his reach, and affording no hope whatever. Between the two points there
was an inlet into the island showing a little cove; but the surf just
here became wilder, and long rollers careered one past another over the
intervening space. It was a hopeless prospect. Yet it was his last
chance.

Brandon made up his mind. He let go the hen-coop, and summoning up all
his strength he struck out for the shore. But this time the wind and sea
were against him, bearing him past the point, and the waves dashed over
him more quickly and furiously than before. He was swept past the point
before he had made half a dozen strokes; he was borne on still
struggling; and now on his left lay the rollers which he had seen. In
spite of all his efforts he was farther away from the island than when