But his father had served as a
midshipman with Tordenskjold and the son did not flinch, outnumbered
though his force was, two to one, in men and guns.
The sun shone fair upon the blue waters as the great fleet of
thirty-odd fighting ships sailed up from the south. From the city's
walls and towers a mighty multitude watched it come, unmindful of
peril from shot and shell; the Danish line was not half a mile away.
In the churches whose bells were still ringing when the first gun
was fired from the block-ship _Proevestenen_, the old men and women
prayed through the long day, for there were few homes in Copenhagen
that did not have son, brother, or friend fighting out there. A
single gun answered the challenge, now two and three at once, then
broadside crashed upon broadside with deafening roar. When at length
all was quiet a tremendous report shook the city. It was the
flag-ship _Dannebrog_ that blew up. She was on fire with only three
serviceable guns left when she struck her colors, but no ship of her
name might sail with an enemy's prize crew on board, and she did
not.
The story of that bloody day has been told many times. Briton and
Dane hoist their flags on April 2 with equal right, for never was
challenge met with more dauntless valor.
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