The lee rail, where the dead man lay, was buried in the sea, and as the schooner lifted and righted the water swept across the deck wetting us above our shoe-tops.

A shower of rain drove down upon us, each drop stinging like a hailstone.

As it passed, Wolf Larsen began to speak, the bare-headed men swaying in unison, to the heave and lunge of the deck.
"I only remember one part of the service," he said, "and that is, 'And the body shall be cast into the sea.' So cast it in." He ceased speaking.

The men holding the hatch-cover seemed perplexed, puzzled no doubt by the briefness of the ceremony.

He burst upon them in a fury.
"Lift up that end there, damn you! What the hell's the matter with you ?" They elevated the end of the hatch-cover with pitiful haste, and, like a dog flung overside, the dead man slid feet first into the sea.