Some one entered this obscure hole, and the open door admitted a little of the oxygen from the outside, without which I should have been suffocated.

Then the wherewithal to quench my thirst and appease the pangs of hunger was placed within my reach.
How much longer will this incarceration last?
Days?
Months?
I cannot estimate the hours that have elapsed since I fell asleep, nor have I any idea as to what time of the day or night it may be.

I was careful to wind up my watch, though, and perhaps by feeling the hands--Yes, I think the little hand marks eight o'clock--in the morning, no doubt.
What I do know, however, is that the ship is not in motion.

There is not the slightest quiver.
Hours and hours, weary, interminable hours go by, and I wonder whether they are again waiting till night comes on to renew my stock of air and provisions.

Yes, they are waiting to take advantage of my slumbers.