It was not a corpse, only a skeleton, with the skin still adhering, and drawn tightly over the bones.
Resting it upon the gunwale of the boat, they made a moment's pause, their eyes turned heavenward, as if mentally repeating a prayer.
The Irishman, a devout believer in the efficacy of outward observances, with one hand detached from the corpse, made the sign of the cross.
Then was the body again raised between them, held at arm's length outward, and tenderly lowered down upon the water.
There was no plunge, only a tiny plashing, as if a chair, or some other piece of light wood-work, had been dropped gently upon the surface of the sea.

But slight as was the sound, it produced an effect, startling as instantaneous.

The sailor, whose dead comrade was thus being consigned to the deep, as it were, surreptitiously, all at once sprang to his feet, sending forth a shriek that rang far over the tranquil water.

With one bound, causing the pinnace to heel fearfully over, he placed himself by the side over which the corpse had been lowered, and stood with arms upraised, as if intending to plunge after it.
The sight underneath should have awed him.

The dead body was slowly, gradually sinking, its garb of dark blue Guernsey shirt becoming lighter blue as it went deeper down in the cerulean water; while fast advancing to meet it, as if coming up from the darkest depths of the ocean, was a creature of monstrous shape, the very type of a monster.