Every time I essayed to plant my legs on the beach, the irresistible backwash swept me down, rolling me head over heels, and in my exhausted condition this filled me with despair.

On one occasion this backwash sent me spinning into deep water again, and I am sure I should have been drowned had not my brave dog come to my rescue and seized me by my hair--which, I should have explained, I had always worn long from the days of my childhood.
Well, my dog tugged and tugged at me until he had got me half-way through the breakers, nor did this exertion seem to cause him much trouble in swimming.
I then exerted myself sufficiently to allow of his letting go my hair, whilst I took the end of his tail between my teeth, and let him help me ashore in this peculiar way.

He was a remarkably strong and sagacious brute--an Australian dog--and he seemed to enjoy the task.

At length I found myself on my legs upon the beach, though hardly able to move from exhaustion of mind and body.

When at length I had recovered sufficiently to walk about, I made a hasty survey of the little island or sandbank upon which I found myself.