Then Phil saw him strike out and the waters hid him.

The beach was visible at moments from the bow, and once Phil, as he prepared to swing himself off, thought he saw figures there.

Then he, too, was battling.

The waves swept him under the rope and would have wrenched him from it had he not clung on desperately.
Holding to it with his right hand, he sought to find it with his left and so draw himself on, but the surf swirled him about dizzily and he gave up the attempt.

Instead, almost drowned in the smother, he used his left arm and his legs for swimming, edging his right hand along the cable as best he could, and presently, although none too soon, felt the churning gravel beneath his stockinged feet.