Early in November, a week or so after the great battle of Trafalgar, which the young captain witnessed from the deck of the French ship, from which in the confusion he escaped to the _Victory_, where he did good service until the close of the action, he was landed at Portsmouth once more. In his pocket he bore two documents, one dated a year and a half back, and the other but yesterday. Led by an instinct which he could not explain, instead of going up to Captain Venour's house on the hill, he made his way through the town and along the beach toward that sheltered little cove from which he had taken his departure two years before. As he turned the point of rocks he saw a lonesome little figure seated on the sand, resting her chin in her hand and looking mournfully out over the sea. It was Dorothy. He stole up behind her, caught her under the arms, lifted her to her feet, and kissed her before she could utter a scream. When she recovered, however, she made up for her startled silence. "Oh, Jim dear!" she cried, precipitating herself into his arms with a shriek of delight, "you look like a real man now!" "I am a man, Dot darling," he replied, his eyes brightening as he saw her radiant face peeping out from the brown curls near his shoulder. "Well, sir," exclaimed the deep voice of Captain Venour, coming down the beach,--singular how he always happened to be around at inopportune moments,--"you may be a man, but have you a command?" "Oh, grandfather, he has command of me," cried Dorothy, archly, breaking away from her lover. "Won't I do?" The old captain whistled. "I've had command of a ship-of-the-line and I've tried to command one woman, but give me the ship-of-the-line," he answered, reflectively. "No, you won't do." "Captain Venour," remarked the young man, gravely, "I have had a command, sir, and in accordance with your agreement I have come to claim your granddaughter." "What was your command, my lad?" asked the captain, facetiously, "a dinghy or a jolly-boat?" "Neither, sir." "A cutter, then?" "No, sir." "A brig or a sloop-of-war?" "No, sir." "Good heavens!" exclaimed the captain; "you don't mean to say you have been in charge of a frigate or a ship-of-the-line, a boy like you?" "No, sir, not quite," said the young man. "Well, what did you command? Did it have two masts?" "It didn't have any masts, sir." "No masts!" "No, sir; it was a rock." "Good Lord!" ejaculated the old man, sitting down feebly and staring. "A rock? What do you mean? Are you trifling with me? That is no way to gain the lass."