The Eikō-maru had turned into a ball of fire on the dark waters of the
Pacific and was leaning dramatically to the starboard side. The larger waves
crashed halfway up the deck, and each time they struck, the entire boat
shook precipitously. Some sailors had grabbed fire extinguishers but had
been thrown overboard, leaving the fire to spread to the radio room. There,
with a face distorted by anguish, Matsubara was using his left hand to
dispel the sparks and smoke as he continued to strike frantically at the
telegraph key.
Click-click-click, Click . . . Click . . .
But no one answered. A succession of gut-wrenching groans rang out
from the steam whistle, announcing the end was near—Whoooo, whoooo,
whoooo . . .
Almost immediately, a deafening CREEEEEEAK sounded throughout the
boat, as if something or someone had been lying in wait. The bow of the
ship lifted toward the night sky while the stern plunged deep into the ocean
water.
The froth and bubbles, which had been rising from the churning water
with tremendous force, stopped almost completely. Now, the only bubbles
were extra large ones that occasionally floated to the surface of the water,
then vanished as if trying to dispel their resentment into the sea.
Just moments before, the sailors on the Eikō-maru had been talking
excitedly, thinking of their mothers and yearning to go home, but now the
ship had disappeared completely from the world. A silent curtain of
darkness descended over the spot, and gentle moonlight illuminated the
glittering ocean surface as if nothing at all had happened.

Godzilla: Godzilla in Tokyo
A Strange Bright Light from the
Ocean Floor