He lay awake the greater part of the night, but was sound asleep when the same man re-entered with his meagre breakfast. The morning brought no comfort. A gray dawn struggled through the grimy sky-light, revealing the nakedness of the room. Cobwebs festooned the beams; the boards of the floor were dirty and mouldered; the walls in places were green with damp. Harry took silently the food offered him; he was not encouraged by the previous night's experience to question his taciturn jailer. The morning passed slowly, irksomely; when the man returned with another meal at noon, Harry ventured to address him.
"How long am I to remain caged here?"
"I can't tell 'ee, 'cos I don't know."
"You're not one of the sailors who trapped me?"
"Lord, no. I wouldn't be a dirty swab for nothing 'cept to 'scape the gallows."
"Who employs you in this turnkey business?"
"That's my business."
"Don't be surly. I've done nothing to you."
"Well, that's true. You ha'n't done nothing to me. That's true enough."
"Will you do something for me, then? You're a good fellow, I'm sure."