First, the feet; he had been told to bind them tight on account of the cannon-ball which is attached to the dead body to make it sink. Then the legs; and presently the body was entirely hidden, enveloped in many thicknesses of coarse canvas; only the pale face was now visible, tranquil in death, and looking strangely handsome with a peaceful smile. And then roughly, with a brutal indifference, Le Hir drew over it an end of the grey canvas and the face was veiled for ever. In a French village the old parents of this Barazère were looking forward to the day of his return. When the job was done Yves and Barrada came out of the mortuary chamber pushing Le Hir before them by the shoulders, to see that he washed his hands before he drank his wine. They had been exchanging ideas about death apparently, for Barrada, as he came out, said in his Bordeaux accent: "Ah! Nonsense! It is with men as with beasts; others will come, but those who die . . ." And he finished by laughing that curious laugh of his, which sounded deep and hollow like a roar. From his lips, there was nothing impious in the phrase; it was simply that he knew nothing better to say. They were both, as a matter of fact, much moved; they grieved for Barazère. Now, the malady which had caused them fear was covered up, forgotten; in their memory, the dead man had emerged from that final impurity and become suddenly ennobled; they saw him again as in the time of his strength, and in thinking of him they were moved to pity. CHAPTER XC "There's no foppery in a sailor who has washed his skin in the waters of five or six oceans." On the following morning, when the sun rose, the wind was still fresh. The _Primauguet_ was moving very quickly, rocking in its course with the supple and vigorous movement of a mighty runner. In the bow the men released from the watch were singing as they made their morning toilet, stripped, resembling, with their muscular arms and shoulders, the statues of ancient Greece; they were washing themselves liberally in cold water; they plunged their head and shoulders into tubs, covered their chests with a white foam of soap and then, turn and turn about, rubbed one another down. Suddenly they remembered the dead man and their blythe song subsided. For they had just seen the men of the other watch assembling at the order of their officer and lining up in the stern, as if for an inspection. They guessed why and drew near. A long new plank had been placed crosswise on the nettings, overhanging, making a kind of see-saw over the water, and a sinister thing which seemed very heavy, a sheath of grey canvas which betrayed a human form, had just been brought up from below.