He then paddled forward quietly and, keeping just outside the line of the breakers, waved to those on shore to throw, if possible, a rope.

Several attempts were made to hurl a stone, fastened to the end of a light line, within his reach.
After many failures, he at last caught the line.

This he fastened to the spar, and signaled to those on shore to pull it in; then, side by side with the dog, he followed.

Looking round behind him, he watched a great breaker rolling in and, as before, dived as it passed over his head, and rode forward on the swell towards the shore.
Then there was a desperate struggle.

At one moment his feet touched the ground, at another he was hauled back and tossed into the whirling sea; sometimes almost losing his consciousness, but ever keeping his head cool, and striving steadily to make progress.
Several times he was dashed against the beach with great force, and it was his knowledge that the only safe way of approaching shore, through a heavy surf, is to keep sideways to the waves, and allow them to roll one over and over, that he escaped death--for, had he advanced straight towards the shore, the force of the waves would have rolled him heels-over-head, and would almost certainly have broken his neck.
At last, just as consciousness was leaving him, and he thought that he could struggle no more, a hand grasped his arm.