Then I went about "laying out" the larger anchor, which was no easy matter, for my only life-boat, the frail dory, when the anchor and cable were in it, was swamped at once in the surf, the load being too great for her.

Then I cut the cable and made two loads of it instead of one.

The anchor, with forty fathoms bent and already buoyed, I now took and succeeded in getting through the surf; but my dory was leaking fast, and by the time I had rowed far enough to drop the anchor she was full to the gunwale and sinking.
There was not a moment to spare, and I saw clearly that if I failed now all might be lost.

I sprang from the oars to my feet, and lifting the anchor above my head, threw it clear just as she was turning over.
I grasped her gunwale and held on as she turned bottom up, for I suddenly remembered that I could not swim.

Then I tried to right her, but with too much eagerness, for she rolled clean over, and left me as before, clinging to her gunwale, while my body was still in the water.
Giving a moment to cool reflection, I found that although the wind was blowing moderately toward the land, the current was carrying me to sea, and that something would have to be done.