Meanwhile, Dicky had been making hay while the sun shone, and a day had come when he went on board the Indomptable to ask Captain Sarsfield a very important question indeed--which was whether Polly and himself could get married. Dicky was terribly frightened, but managed to appear tolerably self-possessed as he sat in Captain Sarsfield's cabin, although he could not help twiddling his cap desperately under the table. The captain was as grave and stern as ever, and gave Dicky no manner of help while he was blundering and floundering about, trying to tell the captain how much he loved Polly, although it was perfectly plain that Captain Sarsfield, or anybody with half an eye, for that matter, must have known directly what ailed Dicky. Then Dicky told the captain that he had a snug sum of prize money put by, which should be Polly's, and the captain had said that Polly was not quite dowerless, and the whole thing was arranged, Captain Sarsfield shaking Dicky's hand formally, and wishing the young couple might be as happy as he and Polly's mother had been, long years ago. And for a wonder, Captain Sarsfield appeared to think that perhaps Polly and Dicky might have something to say to each other, and considerately stalked up and down the quarter-deck for a full hour, while the young ones had a rapturous interview in the cabin. When Dicky got back to the Hornet, he sent for Barham, who was his first-lieutenant, and they hugged each other and danced round in the cabin very much as they had done when they found amusement in catching cockroaches in the old Xantippe. Polly and Dicky were to be married in the spring. Dicky was cruising about the English Channel, getting into Portsmouth for a few days every month, where the Indomptable was lying awaiting her turn to be overhauled and repaired, for she too had got a shot or two from Boney before he got away to Elba.