he enemy."
His own ship and that of his chief admiral's bore the brunt of the
battle for a long time. _Trefoldigheden_ fired 315 shots during the
engagement, and at one time had four hostile, ships clustering about
her. King Christian was on the quarter-deck when a cannon-ball
shivered the bulwark and one of his guns, throwing a shower of
splintered iron and wood over him and those near him, killing and
wounding twelve of the crew. The King himself fell, stunned and
wounded in twenty-three places. His right eye was knocked out, two
of his teeth, and his left ear hung in shreds.

The cry was raised that the King was dead and panic spread on board.
The story has it that a sailor was sent aloft to strike the flag but
purposely entangled it in the rigging so that it could not fall; he
could not bear to see the King's ship strike its colors. In the
midst of the tumult the aged monarch rose to his feet, torn and
covered with blood. "I live yet," he cried, "and God has left me
strength to fight on for my country. Let every man do his duty."
Leaning on his sword, he led the fight until darkness fell and the
battle was won. Denmark was saved. The danger of an invasion was
averted. In the palace of Rosenborg the priceless treasure they show
to visitors is the linen cloth, all blood-stained, that bound the
King's face as he fought and won his last and biggest fight that
day.

Half blind, his body black and blue and sore from many bruises, King
Christian yet refused to sail for Copenhagen to have his wounds
attended. Three weeks he lay watching the narrow inlet behind which
the beaten enemy was hiding, to destroy his ships when he came out.
Then he gave over the command to another and hastened to the
province of Skaane on the Swedish mainland, from which he expelled a
hostile army. But when his back was turned, the men he had set to
watch fell asleep and let the Swedish admiral steal out into the
open. There he found and joined the Dutch ships that had slipped
around the Skaw during the rumpus. Together they overwhelmed the
Danish fleet, being now three to one, and crushed it. The slothful
admiral paid for it with his life, but the harm was done. It was the
last and heaviest blow. The old King sheathed his sword and set his
name to a peace that took from Denmark some of her ancient
provinces, with the bitter sigh: "God knows I had no share in this,"
and he had not. Even at the last he appealed to the country to try
the fortunes