The Hornet was, though, as clean as hands could make her, her brass-work shining and her deck snow-white, although some of her spars were in splinters and things generally broken up. As for Dicky, he looked as if he had been parboiled and sand-papered and then hung out to dry, so clean was he; and he had the air of having just stepped out of a bandbox. Captain Sarsfield grinned at Dicky. "You are certainly cleaner than you used to be," said he. The captain had to hear all about the fight off Cherbourg, where Dicky sailed in under the very guns of the forts and made the Frenchman come out to fight. It seemed very unequal at first, as the Frenchman had the most men and the most metal. But Dicky plainly had the most seamanship, and, in a running fight that lasted four hours, he cut the French ship up so that at last, when she struck, nothing but a tow line and her nearness to Portsmouth saved her from going to the bottom. Both the Frenchman and Dicky were too far gone to carry the prisoners back to Portsmouth. These had been transferred to another vessel, but Dicky had the Frenchman's captain and her ensign and ten guns, which was good for Dicky. Dicky was dying to ask Captain Sarsfield about Polly; but, although he had been gazetted three times, he was so afraid of the captain that he could not get it out to save his life until just as Captain Sarsfield was leaving. "And--how--how is Miss Polly?" asked Dicky, looking sheepish and blushing furiously. "Very well," answered the captain, "and at present paying me a little visit. When you come to dinner to-morrow you will see her. She is quite a young lady--sixteen her last birthday." Young ladies grew up earlier then, and sixteen was considered quite old. So Dicky went, and found Polly a grown-up young lady, with full muslin skirts down to her heels, a short-waisted bodice belted just under her arms, and a large poke-bonnet. Dicky was very shy, but Polly was not, and rallied him unmercifully, even cruelly alluding to the smut on his nose, which she had remembered all those years. Things were very pleasant about that time to Dicky; but then the war closed soon after, much to Dicky's disgust, who had wild dreams of commanding a fifty-gun sloop of war at least before Boney was finally done for; and Dicky saw, disconsolately enough, that he was well off to have got the little Hornet, and that he would not get anything better for a long while.