Again and again the high rollers came forward, hurling him up as they
caught him in their embrace, and then casting him down again. As he was
caught up from the bottom he sustained himself on the moving mass, and
supported himself on the crest of the wave, but as soon as his feet
touched bottom again he sprang forward toward the point which now became
every minute more accessible. Wave after wave came, each was more
furious, each more ravenous than the preceding, as though hounding one
another on to make sure of their prey. But now that the hope of life was
strong, and safety had grown almost assured, the deathlike weakness
which but shortly before had assailed him gave way to new-born strength
and unconquerable resolve.

At length he reached a place where the rollers were of less dimensions.
His progress became more rapid, until at length the water became
exceedingly shallow, being not more than a foot in depth. Here the first
point, where the mound was, protected it from the wind and sea. This was
the cove which he had noticed. The water was all white with foam, but
offered scarcely any resistance to him. He had but to wade onward to the
shore.

That shore was at last attained. He staggered up a few paces upon the
sandy declivity, and then fell down exhausted upon the ground.

He could not move. It was late; night came on, but he lay where he had
fallen, until at last he fell into a sound sleep.




CHAPTER V.