He heard it presently,
that low roll of the sea. He was quite sure of one thing. He was in the
same submarine dungeon of the famous Castle of San Juan de Ulua.
His door was opened, and a man, not a soldier, came in with soup in a
tin basin. He uttered a low exclamation, when he saw that Ned was
conscious, but he made no explanations. Nor did Ned ask him anything.
But he ate the soup with a good appetite, and felt very much stronger.
His mind, too, began to wake up. He knew that he was going to get well,
but it occurred to him that it might be better for him to conceal his
returning strength. With a relaxed watch he would have more chance to
escape.
The soup had a soothing effect, and his mind shared with his body in the
improvement. It was obvious that they had not intended for him to die or
they would not have taken care of him in his illness. The shaven head
was proof. But he saw nothing that he could do. He must wait upon the
action of his jailers. Having come to this conclusion he lay upon his
pallet, and let vague thoughts float through his head as they would.
About three hours after they had brought him his soup he heard a
scratching at the keyhole of his door. He was not too languid to be
surprised.
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