The fisherman rushed waist deep into
the water and caught the end of it, which in a moment was knotted to
the one in his hand.
"Run along with her," he shouted.
For a moment, the boat towered on the top of a wave, which raced in
towards the shore. The next, as it came, took her stern, and she was in
the act of swinging round, when the strain of the rope came upon her,
and brought her straight again. Higher and higher the wave rose, and
then crashed down, and the boat shot forward, like an arrow, in the
foam. The fishermen rushed forward and caught it, those on board leapt
out waist-deep; all were taken off their feet by the backward rush, but
they clung to the sides of the boat, while the men at the head rope,
with their heels dug deeply into the sand, withstood the strain, and
kept her from being swept out again.
A few seconds, and the boat was left dry, and the next wave carried it
high up on the beach, amid a loud cheer from the fishermen and lookers
on; but there was no time to waste, for the next boat was close at
hand. Again, the rope was thrown to the shore, but this time the strain
came a moment too late, the following wave turned the boat round, the
next struck it broadside and rolled it, over and over, towards the
shore.
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