The hands of her watch pointed to four o'clock. She seated herself close
at the side of the window, with her back toward the quarter from which
the vessels were drifting down on her--with the poison placed on the
window-sill and the watch on her lap. For one half-hour to come she
determined to wait there and count the vessels as they went by. If in
that time an even number passed her, the sign given should be a sign to
live. If the uneven number prevailed, the end should be Death.
With that final resolution, she rested her head against the window and
waited for the ships to pass.
The first came, high, dark and near in the mist, gliding silently over
the silent sea. An interval--and the second followed, with the third
close after it. Another interval, longer and longer drawn out--and
nothing passed. She looked at her watch. Twelve minutes, and three
ships. Three.
The fourth came, slower than the rest, larger than the rest, further off
in the mist than the rest. The interval followed; a long interval once
more. Then the next vessel passed, darkest and nearest of all. Five. The
next uneven number--
Five.
She looked at her watch again. Nineteen minutes, and five ships.
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