THE FIGHT.Round 1.—When the men appeared at the scratch, which they did in the midst of perfect silence, there was a visible contrast in their physical powers. The Novice stood well over Sayers, his muscles were larger and better developed, and altogether he looked, as he undoubtedly was, the heavier and more powerful man. His attitude at first was good, and led one to suppose he had studied under a good master. His condition was perfect, there not being a superfluous ounce about him. Tom looked rather fleshy about the chest and shoulders, but in such weather it was perhaps a fault on the right side. His attitude was the same as ever—cool, calm, and collected. He eyed his adversary with steadiness, and there was the same unmistakable glance of confidence always to be seen on his mug. He had clearly made up his mind to let the Novice make the first move, and tried several dodges to draw him out. The Novice, although evidently nervous, sparred and feinted like an accomplished boxer for a brief period, and at length tried his left, but Tom stopped him with nonchalance, and returned quickly with the left on the nozzle, and then on the mark a sharp crack. The Novice stood his ground, and now succeeded in stopping Tom twice, and returning, but very slightly, on the cheek. Tom next delivered his left and right at close quarters, on the cheek and jaw, and the Novice dropped. He was conveyed to his corner, and the look of dismay upon his countenance as he glanced around was perfectly ludicrous. It was at once patent to all that he knew nothing of the business he had undertaken, and that the contest was virtually over, for directly his guard was broken through he appeared to have no resources. He could not use his legs, and his arms flew about like the sails of a windmill, so that Tom was able to put in both hands perfectly at his ease. The celerity with which he brought his right into play thus early in the fight was remarkable.2.—The Novice did not “smile as he was wont to smile,” but seemed to be on the look-out for a place of secure retreat. Tom walked quietly up, led off with his left and was stopped, but the Novice missed his return. Tom then popped his left very heavily on the mouth, knocking his opponent clean off his pins, and filling his potato trap with ruby. The Novice lay as if undecided for a second, and then, turning over, got gradually on his pins, and his seconds took him to his corner. He shook his head several times, and appeared extremely undesirous of encountering another of Tom’s heavy shots, but, on time being called, Harry y Broome pushed him forward, and he went reluctantly to the scratch, Massey, in disgust, having declined to have any more to do with him.3.—Sayers, evidently bent on making short work of it, quickly went to work left and right. Benjamin tried to rally with him, but beyond an accidental touch on the lip, did not reach him. Tom planted heavily on the mouth and jaw, drawing more ruby, and down went the Novice all abroad. He lay in the middle of the ring, and nothing could persuade him to come to “time.” Broome then threw up the sponge, and Tom Sayers was once again proclaimed the conqueror, and still champion, insix minutes and a half, the battle—if battle it could be called where it was all one way—being the most bloodless we ever witnessed. The Novice, on being asked to account for his cutting up so badly, said he was hit very hard in the mark in the first round, and not expecting to be hit there, it had made him very sick and incapable of exerting himself. Further than that he knew not. His easy defeat struck dismay into all his friends, and the look of surprise and contempt cast upon him by Jemmy Massey was a study for an artist. Both men at once left the field of action, and repaired on board the boat, where they lost no time in resuming their warm wraps, and taking other means to infuse a little of that caloric into their systems which had been subtracted therefrom during their brief exposure to the outward air.Remarks.—We question whether it is not an insult to the understanding of the reader to offer any remarks upon this singular exhibition of incapacity upon the part of the would-be champion. Of Tom Sayers we have nothing more to say than he did what he was called upon to do with the utmostnonchalance, and that he performed his task even easier than he had all along anticipated. The Novice did not exhibit a single point which would entitle him to be called even an “outsider.” From the time that he was foiled in his very first move he cannot be said to have even “tried.” All his senses seemed to have left him, and, as far as we were able to judge, the only predominant thought in his mind was how to escape from the dilemma in which he had been placed, with the least damage to himself. Doubtless he was hit very heavily, but still he had not received even half enough to justify him in crying “a go,” had he meant winningat all hazards. That he must eventually have been beaten by such a man as Sayers, barring an accident, is a positive certainty, and that he exercised a sound discretion in not submitting to further punishment is equally true; but that he has done more than heap ridicule upon himself and those who brought him out, by his miserable performance, is a proposition not to be disputed for a moment. How such a judge of fighting as Harry Broome could have made the mistake he did we cannot understand, but the task of bringing out a candidate for the Championship once undertaken by a man of his known “talent,” it is easy to understand how the public were induced to come forward and take the long odds offered on Sayers. Among the deceived was the renowned Jemmy Massey, who, liking the appearance of the man, and being led on by the reports of Harry Broome as to his man’s cleverness and gluttonous qualities, took the odds of 2 to 1 to a considerable amount. The whole affair was carried out from first to last in a quiet and orderly way, and there was no fault to find with the partisans of either man for either unseemly language or noisy demonstrations. All that was required to render it a model fight was a little more devil and resolution on the part of the loser. The battle money was handed to Tom Sayers at Owen Swift’s, “Horse Shoe” Tavern, Tichborne Street, on Wednesday evening, January 13th, when he was again adorned with the Champion’s belt, which, according to rule, was deposited with the stakeholder to abide the event of his next battle for the permanent possession of the trophy.After this victory Tom appeared in a fair way to rest upon his laurels, but soon, to his astonishment, as well as every one else’s, it was announced that Tom Paddock had recovered, and did not intend to let the belt pass without a struggle. He issued a challenge to Sayers, in which he intimated that, it being dead low water in his exchequer, he was as poor as a church mouse, and that unless Tom would extend him the hand of charity, and meet him for £150 a side, instead of the stipulated £200, the darling wish of his heart could not be gratified. He thought he could win the belt, and hoped Tom would not let a paltry £50 stand between them and prevent a friendly mill. Sayers, like a “brick” of his own laying, promptly responded to the call, and intimated that the meeting would afford him the highest gratification. With such an old pal he could not allow the paltry “rag” to stand in the way. The match was at once made, and came off on the anniversary of Tom’s fight with the Slasher—viz., on the 16th of June, 1858. After some narrow escapes from police pursuit and persecution, the two Toms met on a place selected as “maiden ground,” at Canvey Island.And here the phrase, “the two Toms,” tempts us to a brief digression. The baptismal name of “Tom” has, indeed, furnished more than its calculable proportion of Champions of the fistic Ring; and hence we have pictured on a previous page the “three Toms” whose deeds made their names, in the first three-quarters of the present century, among admirers of pugilistic prowess, “familiar in men’s mouths as household words.” This curious pre-eminence of name may be further extended; for though the Christian name of John, the familiar Jack, and the royal one of George (during the reign of “the four Georges”) twice outnumbered theToms, yet Tom Johnson, Tom Paddock, Tom Sayers, and Tom King—theultimus Romanorum—make up the mystic number of Seven Champions bearing that designation, while Jack Broughton, John Jackson, and John Gully are the only three to be credited to the far more numerous family of “Johns.”The first to shy his wide-awake into the ring was Tom Paddock, who was loudly cheered. He was attended by Jemmy Massey and that accomplished master of the art Jack Macdonald, and looked as red as beet-root, and as strong and healthy as though he had never in the course of his life assisted at the ceremony of turning off the gas. His demeanour was the same as ever, that of extreme confidence, and the smile on his mug was more that of one who had merely come out to enjoy a little gentle exercise than of a candidate for honours preparing to meet the Admirable Crichton of theP.R.There was, however, nothing of bravado about him; he merely took the affair as a matter of course, which would soon be over. He was not kept many minutes before he was joined by his opponent, who, attended by Bill Hayes and Harry Brunton, was also received with a complete ovation of applause. Tom, like his brother Tom, also looked in rude health, but his good-tempered mug struck us as if anything too fleshy, and in this we were confirmed when he stripped, for it was then apparent that he was some three or four pounds heavier than he should have been under such a tropical sun. The lads shook hands good-humouredly, and while they were completing their half-finished adornments, the betting round the ring was of the liveliest and heaviest description: £25 to £20, £50 to £40, and similar odds to smaller sums upon Sayers were offered and eagerly accepted in all quarters, and it was as much as the stakeholder could accomplish for some time to collect and enter the names and amounts of perhaps some of the heaviest investments for many years.We feel it incumbent upon us here to perform an act of justice to Alec Keene, which speaks volumes for his kindness of heart, and without which our account would be incomplete. After the men had been fighting about twenty minutes, Alec, who had followed the belligerents in a tug from Gravesend, made his appearance on the ground, and, finding that things were not going altogether smoothly with Tom Paddock, at once betook himself to his corner, offered him the hand of fellowship, and throughout the remainder of the fight stood by him, to afford him the benefit of that experience and advice which he is so capable of imparting.THE FIGHTRound 1.—Both came grinning to the scratch, and manœuvred for a brief space for an opening. Paddock looked, as usual, big and burly, but it was evident he was no longer the active, fresh man we had before seen. His mug was more marked with age, and there was a dulness about his eye we never remember in former days. His condition was good and he was in good health, but still he looked only Tom Paddock in name. Sayers was more fleshy than he should have been, but this was the only fault to be found with him. His eye was as bright and clear as a hawk’s, and the ease of his movements was a picture to behold. His attitude was, as usual, all readiness for a shoot or a jump. Paddock, instead of rushing, as had been expected, steadied himself, and felt with his left for an opening. It was not long before he attempted it, but Sayers stopped him easily. He made a second attempt, and Sayers stepped back, shaking his noddle and laughing. After a little sparring, Paddock tried again, and got on Tom’s brow, but not heavily. Again they dodged, and at length two counter-hits were exchanged, each getting on to the proboscis. After this Paddock again reached Tom’s nozzle rather sharply, but was stopped in another attempt. Another bit of cautious sparring eventually led to very heavy exchanges, in which Sayers left a mark on Paddock’s left cheek, and napped a warm one over the right peeper, slightly removing the bark, and giving Paddock the first event. Several rapid passes were now made on both sides, but they were evidently mere trials to find out what each intended. After a pause Sayers tried his favourite double, which he succeeded in landing on Paddock’s cheek, but not very heavily. More sharp exchanges followed, the advantage being with Sayers, until they both retreated and stood to cool themselves, the heat being intense. After a few seconds thus employed, they again approached one another smiling, and after a dodge or two they exchanged slight reminders on the side of the nut, broke away, and then got at it again, when heavy counter-hits were exchanged, but Sayers was first, and inflicted a cut on Paddock’s left brow, calling forth the juice in abundance. Paddock landed on the cheek, but not heavily. After this slight exchanges with the left took place, and they again stood, Sayers awaiting the onslaught, and Paddock puzzled. At last the latter dashed in, and was easily stopped twice in succession. He rushed after Sayers, who ducked under his arm, and, as Paddock turned round again, nailed him very heavily over the left peeper, renewed the supply of carmine, and then got out of harm’s way. Paddock, nothing daunted, dashed in, but Sayers stopped him most beautifully, and then, putting in his double, got well on the old spot. Paddock once more bored in, and was neatly stopped, but, persevering with his usual gameness, heavy exchanges ensued, all in favour of Sayers, who was as straight as a die, and got heavily on the left cheek and brow. Paddock, wild, rushed after him; Sayers ducked, and then planted his left on the left cheek, another hot one, and then on the snout, renewing the ruby. As Paddock bored in, he made a cannon off the cushion by putting his double heavily on the mark and nose without a return, and Paddock then rushing after him, bored him down. This round lasted fifteen minutes, and at its conclusion the backers of Sayers offered 2 to 1—an offer not accepted by the Paddock party, who looked indigo. It was patent to all good judges even thus early that Paddock was only Paddock in name, and that all the steel was out of him; and he has since informed us that he felt tired and worn out, and that he had no chance from this time. His gameness, therefore, in persevering so long and so manfully against his own conviction is the more commendable.2.—Both came up grinning, but while Sayers was almost scatheless, Paddock’s mug showed that Sayers had been there. Paddock, nothing daunted, rattled in, and got on to the top of Tom’s nob. Sayers returned, but not heavily and sharp counter-hits followed, Sayers on the damaged ogle, and Paddock on the left cheek. After this, Sayers got home his dangerous right on the side of Paddock’s nob, and the latter fell.3.—Paddock seemed slow, while Sayers was as fresh as a daisy; Paddock attempted to lead, but was very short. He, however, stopped Tom’s return. Heavy exchanges followed, Sayers receiving on the left cheek, and getting heavily on Paddock’s damaged squinter. Paddock, nothing daunted, made several desperate efforts, but Sayers got away with the greatest ease, and at length, as Paddock persevered, he once more countered him on the old spot, drawing more of the red port, and stopped Paddock’s return. Twice again did Sayers repeat this visitation, and get away from Paddock’s kindly intentions. Sayers then tried to lead off, but was well stopped. He made another attempt, and lodged his favourite double on the mark and nose, and then stopped Paddock’s return. Paddock now endeavoured to force the fighting, but Sayers danced away under his arm, came again, and, as Paddock rushed in, delivered a tremendous left-hander on the cheek, by the side of the smeller, drawing more home-brewed from the fresh cut. Paddock, angry, made several desperate efforts, but was well-stopped. At length they got close, and in the heavy exchanges, Sayers got his right heavily on the side of the nut, and received on the mouth. Paddocknow dashed in, and although Sayers pinked him on the nose and eye, he persevered until he forced Sayers down.4.—Paddock’s physog. seemed a good deal out of the line of beauty, while Sayers had scarcely a mark. Paddock still smiled, and attempted to lead, but the dash and vigour we remember of yore were all gone; his blows seemed but half-arm hits, and did not get near their destination. Almost every time Sayers stopped him with ease, and at last, as Paddock came boring in, he met him heavily on the cheek, producing another streak of cochineal. Still did Paddock persevere but only to be nailed again, and to have the Red Republican once more called forth. After this he got home on Tom’s chest, and then on the cheek, but the blows lacked vigour. Exchanges ensued, in which Paddock removed the bark from Tom’s sniffer, and turned on the main, but it was not a material damage. After a rest, in which both piped for wind, they again got at it, and a tremendous rally took place, in which Sayers was straightest and heaviest; he, however, got a hot’un on the mouth, which drew the Badminton. This was a tremendous give-and-take round, and Paddock caught it heavily on the left side of his nob, while Sayers received chiefly on the hardest parts of his cast-iron canister. In the end Paddock was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of the Sayers party.5.—Paddock made two ineffectual attempts to deliver, each being short, after which Sayers missed his favourite double. He then stopped Paddock’s one, two, and exchanges followed, in which Paddock reached Tom’s chin, and received with interest on the damaged cheek. Again did they deliver left and right, and Paddock drew more gravy from Tom’s sucker. Paddock rattled to it, but Sayers countered heavily on the snorer, again calling forth the ruby; he, however, napped one on the kisser, which must have shaken his false ivories. After this they piped for wind, the perspiration oozed from every pore, and they were evidently both tired. Paddock retired for a wipe, and after a pause Sayers went to him, and Paddock, seeing this, rushed in but Tom danced away, followed by Paddock, who eventually got a reminder on the cheek, and Sayers, in getting away from the return, fell.6.—Sayers feinted and dodged until Paddock came to him, when Tom got home a very hot one on the snuff-box, turning on the vermilion galore. Paddock, wild, dashed at him to deliver the right, but Sayers getting quickly out of mischief, the blow fell on the stake, and evidently caused the poor fellow intense pain. He was not cowed, however, but followed Sayers, who fell, and Paddock’s umpire appealing, the referee desired Sayers to be cautious.7.—Paddock slow, came up cautiously, and after a few dodges, led off, but was short, and received a reminder on the beak from Tom’s left. Sayers then got heavily on the mark with the left, and stopped the return. This led to heavy exchanges, in which Paddock received on the nose, and lost more juice, while Sayers only got it on the brow. Paddock tried again and again to lead off, but Sayers danced away, or ducked under his arm, and each time nailed him heavily on the nose or left cheek, and, finally, Paddock fell weak.8.—Paddock’s left peeper was now completely closed, and the left side of his knowledge-box much swollen. He was sent up very clean, however, and again tried to lead off, but Sayers was too quick for him, and got away. Still did the gallant Paddock persevere, but Sayers stopped him with ease, and returned on the damaged visual organ very heavily. Paddock again dashed in, but was short, his blows lacking vigour; and Sayers returned on the mark. Again and again did Paddock make an onslaught, but there was none of the vigour of the Paddock of former days; he was repeatedly stopped with ease, and Sayers caught him again and again on the mark and damaged chop. At last they got close together, and Paddock succeeded in knocking Sayers off his pins by a heavy right-hander on the whistler, which inflicted a severe cut, and drew the carmine (loud cheers for Paddock, who had thus won the two first events).9.—The blow in the last round had evidently shaken Sayers, who was slow to the call of time, and came up with a suspicious mark on his potato-trap. Paddock tried to follow up his advantage and incautiously went in, when Sayers met him with a beautiful left-hander on the snout, which sent him staggering, and put an end to his rushing for the time. This enabled Sayers to recover a little, and then, as Paddock afterwards came in, he made another call on the cheek, and got cleverly away from the return. Paddock followed him up, and heavy left-handed exchanges took place in favour of Sayers, who afterwards stopped Paddock’s right twice in succession. Good exchanges ensued to a close, and Paddock got down, just escaping Tom’s right.10.—After slight harmless exchanges, they stood piping, until Paddock took the initiative, but Sayers danced under his arm, and, as he turned round, pinked him on the blind goggle, and then, putting in his double, renewed the home-brewed from the cheek. Paddock tried a return, but was stopped twice in succession, and then got another little ’un on the out-water. After some neat stopping on both sides, Sayers made another call on the cheek, then on the chest, and after sharp exchanges, as Paddock rushed after him, he slipped and fell, but obviously from accident.11.—Paddock at once rushed to close quarters, but found Sayers nothing loth; they struggled for a brief period, and in theend both fell, it being obvious that Sayers was the stronger man.12.—Paddock, who was piping and evidently fatigued, tried to lead off, but was miserably short. After a slight exchange they again closed, and, after a short struggle, Sayers threw and fell on his man, amidst the cheers of his admirers. One hour and two minutes had now elapsed.13.—Paddock, whose mug was all shapes but the right, and whose remaining goggle glared most ferociously, rushed in and missed. Sayers, in getting back, fell, and there was a claim of foul; Massey and Macdonald, according to the custom of modern seconds, neglecting their man, and rushing to the referee. There was not the slightest ground for the claim, Sayers evidently having fallen from pure accident; but the usual complimentary remarks were offered by the card-sharpers and other blackguards, whose only interest was, perhaps, the value of a pot of beer depending on the result, and who were proportionately anxious to win, tie, or wrangle rather than lose their valuable (?) investments. After some time the ring-keepers succeeded in clearing these gentry away, and inducing Macdonald and Massey to return to their duty; and the referee having said “Fight on,” the battle proceeded.14.—Paddock, to whom the delay had afforded a short respite, dashed in, caught Sayers on the cheek, closed, and both fell.15.—Sayers feinted, and got on to Tom’s nozzle, drawing more claret, and, in getting away from a rush, crossed his legs near the stakes and fell.16.—Paddock, who was evidently fast getting worn out, at the instigation of his seconds dashed in, as if to make a final effort to turn the scale; he let go both hands, but was short, and Sayers once more pinked him on the swollen smeller. Paddock still persevered, and more exchanges, but not of a severe description, took place, followed by a breakaway and a pause. Again did they get at it, and some heavy counter-hitting took place; Sayers well on the mouth and nose, and Paddock on the brow and forehead. Paddock then rushed in and bored Sayers down at the ropes. (Another claim of foul disallowed.)17.—Paddock, desperate, rushed at once to work; and they pegged away with a will, but the punishment was all one way. At last they closed and rolled over, Sayers being top-sawyer. In the struggle and fall the spikes in Sayers’s boot in some way inflicted two severe wounds in Paddock’s leg, and Massey declared that the injury had been committed on purpose; but this every one who saw the fight was convinced was preposterous. Even supposing it was Sayers’s spikes, it was evidently accidental, but so clumsily did they roll over that it is not impossible that it was done by the spikes in the heel of Paddock’s other boot, which spikes were much longer and sharper than those of Sayers. The idea of Sayers doing such a thing deliberately when he actually had the battle in hand is too ridiculous to admit of a question.18.—Paddock rushed in and caught Sayers on the side of the head with his right, and they closed and pegged away at close quarters until Sayers got down.19.—The in-fighting in the last round had told a tale on Paddock’s nob, which was much swollen, and the left eye was now beginning to follow suit with the right. At last they got close, and both fell, Paddock under. Massey made another claim that Sayers fell with his knees on Paddock, but it was evidently an attempt to snatch a verdict.20.—Paddock tried to make an expiring effort, but was wofully short, and Sayers countered heavily with the left on the damaged cheek, then repeated the dose with great severity, staggering the burly Tom, who, however, soon collected himself, and once more led off, but out of distance. He then stood, until Sayers went to him, popped a heavy one on the nose, and the right on the cheek, then closed at the ropes, where he fibbed Paddock very heavily, and both fell, Paddock under.21 and last.—Paddock came very slowly to the scratch, evidently without the ghost of a shadow of a chance. He was groggy, and could scarcely see; the close quarters in the last round had done their work, and any odds might have been had on Sayers. Paddock tried a rush, but, of course, Sayers was nowhere near him, and as he came again Sayers met him full on the right cheek, a very heavy hit with his left. It staggered poor Tom, who was evidently all abroad, and all but fell. He put out his hands, as if to catch hold of Sayers to support himself, and the latter, who had drawn back his right hand to deliver the coup de grace, seeing how matters stood, at once restrained himself, and seizing Paddock’s outstretched hand, shook it warmly, and conducted him to his corner, where his seconds, seeing it was all over, at once threw up the sponge, and Sayers was proclaimed the victor in one hour and twenty minutes. Paddock was much exhausted, and it was some time before he was sufficiently himself to realise the fact that he had been defeated, when he shed bitter tears of mortification. That he had any cause for grief beyond the fact that he was defeated no one could say; indeed if ever man persevered against nature to make a turn it was he, for notwithstanding the constant severe props he got whenever he attempted to lead, he tried it on again and again, and, to his praise be it said, took his gruel with a good temper exceeding anything we have ever witnessed on his behalf during the whole of his career. As soon as possible after the event was over, the men were dressed and conveyed on board the vessel, where Paddock received everyattention his state required; but it was long before he recovered from the mortification he felt at his unexpected defeat. Sayers in the meantime went round among the spectators, and made a collection for him amounting to £30.Remarks.—Although the above battle tells its own tale, our account would not be complete unless we appended a few remarks, not only upon the contest itself, but also on the general management and other concomitants. From the very commencement it was obvious to us that the fight was out of Tom Paddock. All the devil and determination for which he had been so famous had completely left him, and he was almost as slow and ineffective as the old Tipton. True, he left no stone unturned, and never once flinched from the severity of the punishment administered to him. He took all that Sayers gave with apparent indifference, and although it was obvious his powers of delivering had departed, his extraordinary gifts as a receiver of punishment were fully equal to his olden reputation; and, as we have before remarked, his good temper exceeded anything we have ever witnessed on his part. It was supposed by many that had he not injured his right hand by the blow delivered upon the stake he would have done better; but, as he used that mauley afterwards so effectually as to floor the Champion, and as he admitted to us that he felt his cause to be hopeless previous to that accident, such speculations go for nought. That both his daddles eventually became much swollen and innocuous is true, but that he could have turned the tide in his favour had this not have been the case, we do not believe. It was not the mere hardness of the hammer that was wanting, but the steam for driving the hammer was absent. The principal cause of regret was that he should have been induced, after his severe illness, to try conclusions with one so much fresher, and, as it turned out, stronger than himself; but, however much his physical powers had declined, it was all along evident that his old spirit of daring everything was as strong in him as ever. From the first moment he entered the ring he did all, and more than all, that could be required of him to make a turn in his favour, but in vain. As may be gathered from our account, he once or twice seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it was very short lived. Enough, however, was done by him to convince us that had he been the Paddock of five years ago, the chance of Tom Sayers retaining his proud position would have been anything but “rosy.” The collection made for Paddock proved the estimation in which his gallantry was held by the spectators.Sayers, throughout the contest, fought with that extraordinary judgment of time and distance which so much distinguished him during the last few years of his career; and from the first it was apparent that any diffidence he might have displayed in his mill with the Slasher had completely disappeared. He abstained, to a considerable extent, from the harlequinade which he displayed in that encounter, and often stood and fought with his ponderous opponent with steadiness and precision. He fell down, it is true, three times, but only on one of these occasions could it be fairly said that it was not accidental, and even then we do not believe that it was a wilful act, especially as it was clear that the tumbling system was farthest from his thoughts, and his great desire was to keep Paddock on his legs.Tom had now reached the very pinnacle of his fame, for among the not very extensive range of big ones then in the field—Harry Poulson, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and Tom Paddock had fallen beneath his punishing arm, while Harry Broome, having struck his flag to Tom Paddock, and Harry Orme (who had also retired) surrendered to Harry Broome—there was a clear title made for the Little Wonder, Tom Sayers, the first ten-stone Champion.This state of things seemed likely to leave Tom to enjoyin otium cum dignitatethe laurels of his many hard-fought days. The year 1858 grew old, when once more “an Unknown” was talked of, who would be backed to try conclusions for the £400 and belt against the redoubted Tom. Again these rumours came from the head-quarters of the erewhile Champion, Harry Broome, in the Haymarket; and to the astonishment of every one who recollected the “lame and impotent conclusion” which, sixteenmonths before, marked what was supposed to be the first and last appearance within any ring of Mr. Bill Bainge (Benjamin), that worthy was named as the man for the coming fight.It was urged by himself and his friends that he did not have fair play in his training for his former battle; that he was very far from well on the day of fighting; that these drawbacks, coupled with his novelty of his position in entering the ring for the first time, and going through the ceremony of peeling,&c.before the assembled throng, had quite unnerved him, and rendered him almost oblivious as to what had actually taken place. The weather, too (it was January, and bitterly cold), had a great effect on him, his frame not being accustomed to the exposure in a “state of buff;” and besides all this, he himself asserted that the suddenness and severity of the punishment he received was something that had more paralysed than hurt him. He had felt ever since that a stigma attached to his name, which he felt conscious was not deserved. He believed himself at heart to be no coward, and, being anxious to vindicate himself, he had begged his backer to give him an opportunity of clearing his character, and that gentleman, believing his version of the case to be true, had kindly granted him a new trial. Of course, when Sayers heard of the challenge he was nothing loth, feeling, as he did, certain of victory, while further calculating that what he considered such an easy job would bring him six months nearer to the retention of the belt as his own private property, he threw not the slightest difficulty in the way of settling preliminaries, and articles were signed and delivered at once.The men did not go into training immediately, as they had nearly six months before them, but Benjamin took every opportunity of gaining such knowledge as might assist him in his undertaking, and acting under the advice of an experienced ring-goer, he lost no time in securing the services of “ould Nat Langham,” whose judgment could not but prove of the greatest assistance. Liberal offers were made to Nat to go down to Shirenewton, where Benjamin was resident, to take the entire management of him, but Nat rightly judged that his own business was such as to require his presence; he, therefore, contented himself with an occasional run down for a couple of days, when he enforced upon his pupil some of his own peculiar style of practice in many a heavy bout with the mufflers. As he could not undertake the whole training, however, Nat recommended Bill’s backer to send a retaining fee to the bold Bendigo, whose country habits, sobriety, vigilance, and judgment he knew could be depended upon, and the appearanceof hisprotégéon the day of battle proved that his confidence had not been misplaced, for his whole bearing was the very perfection of condition. Bendy, however, had a corporation of most Daniel Lambert-like proportions, no doubt much increased by good living, in which he had indulged while superintending his new pupil, and was therefore a curious choice for the trainer to a candidate for the championship.As to the gallant Tom, he occupied the next four months after the articles were signed in starring it about the country, and exhibiting himself, his cups and his belts, to hosts of admiring friends. He took a benefit here, a benefit there, and a couple of benefits in one week somewhere else, and so on, and was everywhere so well received, that he must have returned to town, prior to his going into work, with a perfect sack full of “shiners.” He further announced at these gatherings his retirement from the Ring, which he had already fixed for June, 1860, when the belt would become his private property.From the very first Tom held this match extremely light, and had expressed the most entire confidence, a confidence which at one time during the fight now under description we thought was very near proving his downfall, from the fact of his having split on the same rock which has proved fatal to many a good man and true under similar circumstances. We allude to neglect of training. The first portion of Tom’s exercise, which did not extend over more than seven weeks, was taken, as on former occasions, in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge Wells, but about a month later he removed to Rottingdean, another favourite locality of his, for the purpose of sea bathing, and it was during his stay at this place that his practices were anything but conducive to high condition. During his so-called training, Tom, instead of the usual walking, running,&c.was repeatedly seen on horseback in full career after the harriers which meet in the neighbourhood, and during these gallops his falls were anything but few and far between. Had the champion, by an unlucky purl, dislocated a limb or sprained an ankle or a wrist, what a pretty pickle his backers would have been in, and how he would have cursed his own folly! His backers’ money would have been thrown away, his belt would have been forfeited, and he would have had to recommence his career of three years as its holder, in addition to losing the confidence of those who were behind him. As it was, on entering the ring, the general remark was that he was too fleshy, and there were signs of a protuberance in the neighbourhood of his bread-basket which told an unmistakable tale. Many abrave fellow has suffered severely for this reckless despising of an adversary, and has thereby lost a position which he has never been able to regain.The rumours and speculations anent this match were of the most extraordinary character. Tales of deep-laid conspiracies to rob the public—such as it has never been our ill fortune to see put into practice during our career as chroniclers of this truly British sport—were rife. The croakers and slanderers, who always look at the dark side of the picture, and by listening to the statements of those who attempt to decry the ring by blackening the characters of its members, are always ready to see “a barney” in every match, could not be persuaded to believe that Tom Sayers had far too high a notion of himself to listen to any suggestions on such a subject; and that, even admitting, for the sake of argument, that his principles might give way (which we were confident they would not), his pride and vanity were such as to forbid the supposition. While on the subject of “barneys” we may be permitted to remark, that such occurrences are much more common in the imaginations of some would-be knowing ones, who are literally know-nothings, than in the actual practice of theP.R.; and that we firmly believe, and we state it earnestly and seriously, that there is far less of this kind of thing in the doings of the members of the Prize Ring than in almost any other sport. Besides these rumours about “Mr. Barney,” there were whisperings that Benjamin was in reality an extraordinary good man, and that the winning of the former fight by Sayers was purely a piece of accidental good fortune. How these various “shaves” were received by the general public and by thecognoscentimay be best gathered from the fact that as the day approached no one would take less than 4 to 1 about Benjamin winning, and that many persons laid 5 to 2 that Sayers would win in a quarter of an hour. The betting on the whole, however, was small in amount, the cause no doubt being the preposterous odds demanded, which, as the backers of Sayers said, was actually buying money.Shortly after eleven o’clock Tom Sayers modestly dropped his castor over the ropes, and then as modestly crept under them himself. He was attended by Jerry Noon and Harry Brunton, and was received with enthusiastic cheers. He had wisely donned his milling boots and drawers, and had therefore only to remove his outer shell. After an interval of five minutes he was followed by Benjamin, who made hisentréein an equally unpretending way. He also was well received. He was waited on by the Bold Bendigo and Jack Macdonald. At this time there were severaloffers to bet £20 to £5 on Sayers, but there were no takers. Despatch being the order of the day, no time was lost by the men in preparing for action. Benjamin, like Sayers, had taken the precaution to make ready beforehand, so that a very few minutes sufficed to strip and tie the colours in their appropriate places. Sayers sported a pink and white striped brocaded silk of the richest description, while Benjamin adhered to the old-fashioned blue and white spot. By twenty-three minutes past eleven o’clock, under a burning sun, the men were delivered at the scratch and stood ready for hostilities amidst the most profound silence. Benjamin appeared in perfect health and condition; he had a smile of confidence on his mug, and he stood well up in a fearless manner, presenting a wide contrast to hisdébuton the former occasion. He stood well over Sayers, whose height is only 5 feet 8½ inches, and struck us as decidedly the more powerful man. Although Tom was evidently too fleshy, there was a dash and calm self-possession about him which denoted the more accustomed boxer. He moved about in a business-like way, and evidently had no fears for the result.THE FIGHT.Round 1.—Benjamin stood well on the defensive, and there was much in his position to remind us of his mentor, Nat Langham. He fixed his eye on Tom, and sparred for a short time to see what could be done. His whole bearing, indeed, was such as to call forth a general remark that he was a different man. Tom dodged in and out in his usual style, evidently trying for his favourite double, but Benjamin was ready. At length Tom dashed in, and delivered his left on the cheek, but was beautifully countered on the smelling bottle, and Benjamin had the honour of gaining “first blood” from that organ, a success which was hailed with much cheering from the Taffies. Sayers seemed pricked at this, and making his favourite dodge, he popped the left on the body and then on the left cheek, knocking Benjamin off his pins, thus gaining the second event, and equalizing matters.2.—Benjamin, nothing daunted, came steadily to the scratch, and, after a feint, let go his left, which was well stopped. He got away from the return, and after some sparring got home the left on the chest, and they got to close quarters, when the in-fighting was of a heavy description. Each got pepper on the nozzle and whistler, and Sayers also planted heavily on the side of Bill’s nob. In the close at the ropes Benjamin was forced down.3.—Both came up a good deal flushed, and each seemed blowing. Benjamin looked serious, and was rather cautious. Sayers, anxious to be at work, dashed in, and got home a very straight one on the proboscis, but Benjamin with great quickness countered him on the left cheek, just under the eye. This led to desperate exchanges, in which there appeared to be no best. At length Sayers caught his man round the neck, and holding him tight, pegged away with a will on his dial, and finally threw him heavily, his nob coming with some force against the stake.4.—Benjamin, desperate, at once rushed to work, and after some tremendous exchanges, each getting it on the left eye, Benjamin fell.5.—Sayers tried to lead off, but Benjy walked away, in obedience to his seconds. Sayers followed until they got close together, and a magnificent rally followed, in which Sayers drew the claret from Bill’s right brow, and also paid a heavy visit to the conk. Bill got on Tom’s left cheek, but his blows had not the precision and weight visible on the part of Sayers.6.—Benjamin was evidently shaken by the punishment he had received, which even at this early period was very severe. He sparred, and was evidently in no hurry. Sayers seeing this went to him, but was exceedingly wild in his deliveries. At last he got home on the bread-basket, but without effect, and Benjamin missed his return. Tom nowfeinted, and just reached Bill’s smeller, but it was a mere flyblow. He tried a body blow, and was well countered on the cheek and mouth. A close and in-fighting followed, in which both were very wild, but in which Tom again turned on the main from Benjamin’s nose. After a struggle both fell through the ropes.7.—Benjamin looked savage. He lost no time in dashing at his man, and a tremendous round followed. Sayers let go the left at the nose, but Benjy countered him straight and well with the same hand, opening a fresh bottle. Several tremendous counters with the left followed, Benjamin astonishing every one by his calmness, and by the precision with which he timed his hits. Each got pepper on the nose and eyes, and Sayers napped a nasty one on the middle of the forehead. Sayers now missed his left, and Bill returned well on the cheek. They broke away, and after surveying one another again went to it, and more heavy exchanges took place, in which Tom again turned on the main from Bill’s nasal fountain. Benjamin persevered, and again did they dispute the ground inch by inch. Both were blowing, and the confidence of Bill’s friends was looking up. It was plain both men meant to do all they knew in this bout, and that each felt that it was to be the turning point, one way or the other. Sayers now got heavily on the left eye, which began to close, while Bill caught him on the mouth. The fighting was tremendous, and the way Benjamin stood to his man was beyond all praise. Sayers now and then was extremely wild, and had Benjamin possessed more knowledge of the art the result might have been serious, for Tom was evidently tiring fast, but still the greater force of his hitting was evidently telling a tale. As hit succeeded hit Bill’s dial grew more slantindicular; but he was undaunted, and evidently had made up his mind to do or die. At length they got to close quarters, when some heavy fibbing took place, and both fell, Benjamin under.8.—Bill’s left eye was all but closed, the bump at the side telling of Tom’s powers of delivery. Sayers was much flushed, and puffing like a grampus; he lost no time, however, in going to work, evidently hoping to frighten his man. Benjamin was ready, and after some sharp exchanges in his favour, he retreated. Tom followed, and as Benjamin attempted to plant his left, Tom cross-countered him heavily with his right on the jaw, and knocked him off his pins. He was almost out of time, and it required all the exertions of his seconds to get him round.9.—Benjamin shook himself, and came up resolutely, but evidently much shaken. He sparred a little, and on Tom going in, he timed him neatly on the middle of the dial, but without much force. Again did Sayers try it with a like result, and Benjamin then dashed in, but was short. Sayers returned with great quickness on the bad eye, and poor Benjamin was again floored.10.—Benjamin struggled up gamely, although requested to give in; he held up his hands, and tried to counter with his man, but Tom with great neatness got well home on the good eye, avoiding the return, and Benjamin once more dropped. His seconds threw up the sponge, but the poor fellow broke from them, with an intimation that he was not licked, and wanted to prove he was no cur, and commenced.11th and last.—Benjamin tried to lead off, but it was evidently a mere flash in the pan; he missed and stumbled forward, when Tom gave him a slight tap on the nose, which sent him for the last time to grass. He was conveyed to his corner, and his seconds then declared he should fight no longer. Sayers went to him to shake hands, but Benjamin, who was all but blind, wished to commence another round. This, of course, could not be listened to, and the poor fellow was forced from the ring against his will, Sayers being proclaimed the winner in twenty-two minutes, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of his friends. Benjamin was much exhausted, and his punishment was as heavy as one generally sees in double the time. He took it, however, unflinchingly, never complaining from first to last; and on this occasion, although defeated, his most determined enemy (if he has one) cannot say he was dishonoured. Sayers also was much exhausted, but this arose not so much from his punishment, although in this respect he did not come off scatheless, as from his want of condition telling upon him in a battle which was disputed for some rounds with unwonted quickness and desperation.Remarks.—Having commented upon the want of condition of Tom Sayers, and having gone at some length into a description of this short but busy fight, it is unnecessary to trouble our readers with many remarks thereupon. That Benjamin succeeded in redeeming his character, and proving that he can receive punishment and struggle hard for victory when properly looked after, is not for a moment to be denied, but that he will ever make a star in the pugilistic horizon we do not for a moment believe. He is, at 34, too old to learn the rudiments of the business; at that age even the limbs of a practised boxer begin to get stiff, and it is therefore extremely improbable that those of a man trained to other pursuits can acquire that quickness and readiness so necessary to a finished pugilist. Had he begun some years ago, we think it not improbable, with such strength and activity as he possesses, he might have hoped to rank in the first division. The desperation with which he contested the seventh round—which was one of the sharpest and severest we eversaw—evidently showed what he might have done; but as it is we think, having fulfilled his mission and proved to his friends that he is composed of more sterling metal than they gave him credit for, the best advice we can give him is to shun for the future the attractions of theP.R., and devote himself to the duties of his station in his own country. We are glad for his own credit sake that he determined to undergo this second ordeal, and equally glad that he came out of it so successfully. It also gives us pleasure to know that he has good and staunch friends at his back, who having witnessed his performance on Tuesday, are perfectly satisfied with him. Of Tom Sayers we have only to say that he did not fight so well on this as on former occasions; and, as we think this was entirely owing to want of condition, we feel we are only doing him a favour in impressing upon him the necessity in future of leaving no stone unturned to retain that confidence which has been hitherto so implicitly placed in him.Thus ended the second attempt of the Broomes (Harry and Frederick) to wrest the belt from the great little Champion, but there were other “Richmonds” now in the field. Bob Brettle, of Birmingham, could not persuade himself that he was unable to interpose a check to the victorious career of the hardy Tom. Bob had his own reasons, too, for believing in his chance. He had tried conclusions with the Champion with the gloves, and felt assured he had the best of it; and in this, perhaps, he was not far wrong, for it was pretty generally known that Tom was much more at home with his digits in nature’s habiliments, and in a four-and-twenty-feet ring, than when they were muffled in horsehair in the sparring-school. The backers of Tom at first laughed at Bob’s propositions, but he declared he was in earnest, and went so far as to say they would wish they had let him alone before they had done with him. After much palaver Sayers offered to stake £400 to £200, but Brettle then required the belt to be thrown in. This, of course, was rejected, Tom considering that as holder of that trophy he was only bound to defend it on even terms. Brettle was extremely loth to give up his chance for the belt, but still he did not think it equivalent to the extra £200 which Sayers had offered to stake, and eventually he waived all pretensions to the “ornamental,” and closed the bargain on the chance of obtaining the “useful,” which would have sufficed to purchase a belt of double the mere intrinsic value.At the meeting at Owen Swift’s, where the articles were finally ratified, a friend of the Champion’s treated the match with such ridicule that he ventured to suggest the probability of Bob being licked inten minutes, whereupon Brettle, in the heat of the moment, offered to bet £100 to £10 against such a contingency. “Make it £200 to £20,” said Tom’s friend, “and it’s a bet.” “Done,” said Bob, and the money was staked in the hands of Alec Keene. All these preliminaries were adjusted before the second fight for the Championship in April between Tom Sayers andBill Benjamin, it being stipulated that Tom should name a day after that event was decided.At Tattersall’s, on the previous Monday, September 18th, the event seemed to attract as much attention as the speculations on either of the great handicaps, and in the yard a regular ring was formed, where betting, or offers to bet, went on very briskly. The backers of Tom commenced by offering 5 to 2, at which some few investments were made, but the Brums soon opened their mouths for longer odds, and would take no less than 3 to 1, and at this price again money was laid until the Sayersites in their turn held back, and speculation left off at offers of 5 to 2. In the evening, at the sporting houses, 3 to 1 might have been got in some few instances, and a sanguine admirer of Tom’s actually laid 4 to 1, but we believe he was a solitary specimen.For at least a month, Mr. John Gideon, one of the most earnest backers of Sayers, had been on the look-out for a scene of action which might be reached with ease and comfort, and which, at the same time, should be so situated as to be beyond the reach of the rough and ready attendants at boxing matches, whose presence is anything but desirable, and also tolerably safe from the too-prying eyes of the powers that be, who do not love a mill, and who will in the most unaccountable manner interfere with the pleasures of the Fancy, on the ground that a friendly boxing-match is a breach of the peace. A few consultations with other managers of excursions, and a considerable expenditure of time and trouble, ended in the perfect success of Mr. Gideon’s arrangements, and not only did he carry the expedition to a triumphantdénouement, but ensured the utmost comfort to all the travellers. Of course the profits of the expedition were equally divided between the backers of both men, and the figure being tolerably high, and the company unusually numerous, there is no doubt each realised a handsome sum. Owing to the distance to be travelled, a very early start was found absolutely necessary, and seven o’clock being the hour named, the “lads wot loves a mill” had to be early afoot; and many there were who having, as usual, devoted the first two or three hours of the morning of the 20th of September to “seeing life,” found some difficulty in opening their eyes in their very first sleep to enable them to get to the starting-post in time. Many a one started breakfastless, and many were the wistful glances cast at the victualling department under the able charge of Mr. Dan Pinkstone, an old and well-known caterer, long before the end of the journey was attained; but as the train could not be stopped there wasof course no chance of an issue of stores from the commissariat until the goal was reached—a field near Ashford, in Kent, being thechamp closfor combat.The train comprised thirty-six carriages, every one of which had at least its full complement of travellers, and many were over-full. The start was effected by a quarter before eight, and with the aid of two powerful engines a rapid and pleasant journey was effected to the scene of action, on entirely maiden ground, some sixty miles from the Metropolis, which was reached shortly after ten o’clock. The vast multitude lost no time in clearing out from the carriages, and a pioneer, who had gone on ahead the previous evening, placing himself at the head of the army, proceeded, closely followed by the veteran Commissary and hisposse comitatus, to the proposed scene of action. No time was cut to waste in preparing the lists, which were in readiness before eleven o’clock. While these preliminaries were being arranged, a brisk business was carried on in the sale of inner ring tickets, and our readers may judge of the class of spectators and their number when we tell them that the sale realised a sum of £54 10s. for the benefit of the P.B.A. This done, Billy Duncan and his constables proceeded to clear out the ring, and experienced the usual difficulty in persuading the company to seat themselves at a sufficient distance from the enclosure. All were naturally anxious to be as close as possible, and accordingly had seated themselves in compact rows, those in front close to the ropes. The consequence was, that all were crowded together, and many were scarcely able to get a glimpse of the ring. And now as we have brought the menen face, we will say a few words concerning Tom’s antagonist, as we do not purpose to devote space to him in a separate Memoir.Bob Brettlewas born at Portobello, near Edinburgh, in January, 1832, and was therefore, six years younger than Tom Sayers. On the present occasion he just turned the scale at 10st.4lb., and did not appear in any way too fleshy. By calling he was a glassblower, and it was while he was engaged in one of the larger establishments in the hardware districts that he first became connected with theP.R.His first essay of which we have any record was with Malpas, of Birmingham, whom he fought for £50 a side, on the 14th of February, 1854. There were 80 rounds, principally in favour of Bob, but eventually there was a claim of foul on his part. A wrangle took place; the referee gave two decisions, and ultimately the stakes were drawn. Brettle’s next encounter was withold Jack Jones of Portsmouth, for £100 a side, on the 21st of November, 1854. Jack had only been out of the hospital a few weeks, and was in anything but condition; but still he had the best of the mill, Brettle resorting to the dropping system. Forty-nine rounds were fought in 105 minutes, when darkness came on, and as neither man was much punished, the referee ordered them to fight again on the following Saturday. On that day Jones was at the appointed place, but Brettle did not show, and it being discovered subsequently that he had been apprehended, either through the kind offices of his friends or by his own negligence, the stakes were awarded to Jones. After this Bob was idle until the 20th of November, 1855, when he defeated Roger Coyne, of Birmingham, for £25 a side, in 49 rounds and 48 minutes. Then came his match with Sam Simmonds, for £200 a side, which took place near Didcot, June 3rd, 1856, and was won by Bob very easily in 13 rounds and 16 minutes.Another year, or rather more, elapsed before Bob made another essay, his next opponent being Job Cobley, dubbed by his patron Baron (Renton) Nicholson, “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” whom he fought for £100 a side, August 4th, 1857. Here Bob’s greater weight and superior strength enabled him to take a decided lead, and Job, finding it too hot to be pleasant, resorted to dropping, and finally lost the battle by falling without a blow in the 47th round, at the expiration of 90 minutes.On the 25th of January following, Brettle met Bob Travers for £100 a side at Appledore, when, after fighting 42 rounds in 65 minutes, the police interfered. An adjournment took place to the following day, when they met again at Shell Haven, and after fighting 100 rounds in 2 hours and 5 minutes, Bob Travers, who had, like “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” found the earth the safest place, was decided to have lost the battle by falling without a blow.Bob’s only subsequent encounter was with Jem Mace of Norwich, who, as may be seen in our next chapter, met him, for £100 a side, on the 21st of September, 1858, and at the end of two rounds and three minutes, although with none the worst of it, hid his diminished head, and declined to have any more. This was Bob’s last appearance prior to the present, and it was imagined by most people that he would retire from the Ring, but the temptation of a turn at the Champion was too great for him, and induced him to try a flight at the top of the tree. It is difficult to understand whence he got the confidence to match himself against Sayers, unless it was from his supposed superiority with the gloves—in the case of Tom Sayers an unusuallydelusive test. This brings us to the eventful 20th of September, 1858, and the ring at Ashford.So soon as all were seated a cap was seen to fly over the heads of the dense mass, and in a second Bob Brettle, aided by his seconds, Alec Keene and Jem Hodgkiss, of Birmingham, was seen elbowing his way through the crowd. He was vociferously cheered on all hands, and his good-humoured mug brightened up with a broad grin of delight at the hearty welcome. Tom Sayers was not long behind him, and as he entered on the scene, attended by Jack Macdonald and Harry Brunton, he too was greeted with a tremendous ovation, which he acknowledged in a becoming manner, and then shook hands good-humouredly with his opponent. The spectators now began to make their final investments, and several bets of 3 to 1 were made and staked to considerable amounts. The last, however, that we heard was £25 to £10 on Sayers. After the lads had completed their toilettes Brettle came forward and offered to take £150 to £50 from Tom, but the Champion declined, as his money was all on. Bob then held up the note and offered to take the same odds from any spectator, but silence was the only reply, and he had to return the flimsy to his “cly.” Tom’s colour was a very handsome blue and white stripe, with blue border; and Bob’s a dark blue, with a white star. Brettle’s boots having been examined by Tom’s seconds, it was found that the spikes were beyond the regulation length, and had to be filed, but this was so inefficiently done that they were still far too sharp and long for the purpose for which they were intended. Had Sayers’s seconds done their duty resolutely they would have shown them to the referee, who doubtless would have ordered a still further curtailment, but Tom personally requested them to make no bother about it, as, in his own words, he “could give all that in.”
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—When the men appeared at the scratch, which they did in the midst of perfect silence, there was a visible contrast in their physical powers. The Novice stood well over Sayers, his muscles were larger and better developed, and altogether he looked, as he undoubtedly was, the heavier and more powerful man. His attitude at first was good, and led one to suppose he had studied under a good master. His condition was perfect, there not being a superfluous ounce about him. Tom looked rather fleshy about the chest and shoulders, but in such weather it was perhaps a fault on the right side. His attitude was the same as ever—cool, calm, and collected. He eyed his adversary with steadiness, and there was the same unmistakable glance of confidence always to be seen on his mug. He had clearly made up his mind to let the Novice make the first move, and tried several dodges to draw him out. The Novice, although evidently nervous, sparred and feinted like an accomplished boxer for a brief period, and at length tried his left, but Tom stopped him with nonchalance, and returned quickly with the left on the nozzle, and then on the mark a sharp crack. The Novice stood his ground, and now succeeded in stopping Tom twice, and returning, but very slightly, on the cheek. Tom next delivered his left and right at close quarters, on the cheek and jaw, and the Novice dropped. He was conveyed to his corner, and the look of dismay upon his countenance as he glanced around was perfectly ludicrous. It was at once patent to all that he knew nothing of the business he had undertaken, and that the contest was virtually over, for directly his guard was broken through he appeared to have no resources. He could not use his legs, and his arms flew about like the sails of a windmill, so that Tom was able to put in both hands perfectly at his ease. The celerity with which he brought his right into play thus early in the fight was remarkable.2.—The Novice did not “smile as he was wont to smile,” but seemed to be on the look-out for a place of secure retreat. Tom walked quietly up, led off with his left and was stopped, but the Novice missed his return. Tom then popped his left very heavily on the mouth, knocking his opponent clean off his pins, and filling his potato trap with ruby. The Novice lay as if undecided for a second, and then, turning over, got gradually on his pins, and his seconds took him to his corner. He shook his head several times, and appeared extremely undesirous of encountering another of Tom’s heavy shots, but, on time being called, Harry y Broome pushed him forward, and he went reluctantly to the scratch, Massey, in disgust, having declined to have any more to do with him.3.—Sayers, evidently bent on making short work of it, quickly went to work left and right. Benjamin tried to rally with him, but beyond an accidental touch on the lip, did not reach him. Tom planted heavily on the mouth and jaw, drawing more ruby, and down went the Novice all abroad. He lay in the middle of the ring, and nothing could persuade him to come to “time.” Broome then threw up the sponge, and Tom Sayers was once again proclaimed the conqueror, and still champion, insix minutes and a half, the battle—if battle it could be called where it was all one way—being the most bloodless we ever witnessed. The Novice, on being asked to account for his cutting up so badly, said he was hit very hard in the mark in the first round, and not expecting to be hit there, it had made him very sick and incapable of exerting himself. Further than that he knew not. His easy defeat struck dismay into all his friends, and the look of surprise and contempt cast upon him by Jemmy Massey was a study for an artist. Both men at once left the field of action, and repaired on board the boat, where they lost no time in resuming their warm wraps, and taking other means to infuse a little of that caloric into their systems which had been subtracted therefrom during their brief exposure to the outward air.Remarks.—We question whether it is not an insult to the understanding of the reader to offer any remarks upon this singular exhibition of incapacity upon the part of the would-be champion. Of Tom Sayers we have nothing more to say than he did what he was called upon to do with the utmostnonchalance, and that he performed his task even easier than he had all along anticipated. The Novice did not exhibit a single point which would entitle him to be called even an “outsider.” From the time that he was foiled in his very first move he cannot be said to have even “tried.” All his senses seemed to have left him, and, as far as we were able to judge, the only predominant thought in his mind was how to escape from the dilemma in which he had been placed, with the least damage to himself. Doubtless he was hit very heavily, but still he had not received even half enough to justify him in crying “a go,” had he meant winningat all hazards. That he must eventually have been beaten by such a man as Sayers, barring an accident, is a positive certainty, and that he exercised a sound discretion in not submitting to further punishment is equally true; but that he has done more than heap ridicule upon himself and those who brought him out, by his miserable performance, is a proposition not to be disputed for a moment. How such a judge of fighting as Harry Broome could have made the mistake he did we cannot understand, but the task of bringing out a candidate for the Championship once undertaken by a man of his known “talent,” it is easy to understand how the public were induced to come forward and take the long odds offered on Sayers. Among the deceived was the renowned Jemmy Massey, who, liking the appearance of the man, and being led on by the reports of Harry Broome as to his man’s cleverness and gluttonous qualities, took the odds of 2 to 1 to a considerable amount. The whole affair was carried out from first to last in a quiet and orderly way, and there was no fault to find with the partisans of either man for either unseemly language or noisy demonstrations. All that was required to render it a model fight was a little more devil and resolution on the part of the loser. The battle money was handed to Tom Sayers at Owen Swift’s, “Horse Shoe” Tavern, Tichborne Street, on Wednesday evening, January 13th, when he was again adorned with the Champion’s belt, which, according to rule, was deposited with the stakeholder to abide the event of his next battle for the permanent possession of the trophy.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—When the men appeared at the scratch, which they did in the midst of perfect silence, there was a visible contrast in their physical powers. The Novice stood well over Sayers, his muscles were larger and better developed, and altogether he looked, as he undoubtedly was, the heavier and more powerful man. His attitude at first was good, and led one to suppose he had studied under a good master. His condition was perfect, there not being a superfluous ounce about him. Tom looked rather fleshy about the chest and shoulders, but in such weather it was perhaps a fault on the right side. His attitude was the same as ever—cool, calm, and collected. He eyed his adversary with steadiness, and there was the same unmistakable glance of confidence always to be seen on his mug. He had clearly made up his mind to let the Novice make the first move, and tried several dodges to draw him out. The Novice, although evidently nervous, sparred and feinted like an accomplished boxer for a brief period, and at length tried his left, but Tom stopped him with nonchalance, and returned quickly with the left on the nozzle, and then on the mark a sharp crack. The Novice stood his ground, and now succeeded in stopping Tom twice, and returning, but very slightly, on the cheek. Tom next delivered his left and right at close quarters, on the cheek and jaw, and the Novice dropped. He was conveyed to his corner, and the look of dismay upon his countenance as he glanced around was perfectly ludicrous. It was at once patent to all that he knew nothing of the business he had undertaken, and that the contest was virtually over, for directly his guard was broken through he appeared to have no resources. He could not use his legs, and his arms flew about like the sails of a windmill, so that Tom was able to put in both hands perfectly at his ease. The celerity with which he brought his right into play thus early in the fight was remarkable.
2.—The Novice did not “smile as he was wont to smile,” but seemed to be on the look-out for a place of secure retreat. Tom walked quietly up, led off with his left and was stopped, but the Novice missed his return. Tom then popped his left very heavily on the mouth, knocking his opponent clean off his pins, and filling his potato trap with ruby. The Novice lay as if undecided for a second, and then, turning over, got gradually on his pins, and his seconds took him to his corner. He shook his head several times, and appeared extremely undesirous of encountering another of Tom’s heavy shots, but, on time being called, Harry y Broome pushed him forward, and he went reluctantly to the scratch, Massey, in disgust, having declined to have any more to do with him.
3.—Sayers, evidently bent on making short work of it, quickly went to work left and right. Benjamin tried to rally with him, but beyond an accidental touch on the lip, did not reach him. Tom planted heavily on the mouth and jaw, drawing more ruby, and down went the Novice all abroad. He lay in the middle of the ring, and nothing could persuade him to come to “time.” Broome then threw up the sponge, and Tom Sayers was once again proclaimed the conqueror, and still champion, insix minutes and a half, the battle—if battle it could be called where it was all one way—being the most bloodless we ever witnessed. The Novice, on being asked to account for his cutting up so badly, said he was hit very hard in the mark in the first round, and not expecting to be hit there, it had made him very sick and incapable of exerting himself. Further than that he knew not. His easy defeat struck dismay into all his friends, and the look of surprise and contempt cast upon him by Jemmy Massey was a study for an artist. Both men at once left the field of action, and repaired on board the boat, where they lost no time in resuming their warm wraps, and taking other means to infuse a little of that caloric into their systems which had been subtracted therefrom during their brief exposure to the outward air.
Remarks.—We question whether it is not an insult to the understanding of the reader to offer any remarks upon this singular exhibition of incapacity upon the part of the would-be champion. Of Tom Sayers we have nothing more to say than he did what he was called upon to do with the utmostnonchalance, and that he performed his task even easier than he had all along anticipated. The Novice did not exhibit a single point which would entitle him to be called even an “outsider.” From the time that he was foiled in his very first move he cannot be said to have even “tried.” All his senses seemed to have left him, and, as far as we were able to judge, the only predominant thought in his mind was how to escape from the dilemma in which he had been placed, with the least damage to himself. Doubtless he was hit very heavily, but still he had not received even half enough to justify him in crying “a go,” had he meant winningat all hazards. That he must eventually have been beaten by such a man as Sayers, barring an accident, is a positive certainty, and that he exercised a sound discretion in not submitting to further punishment is equally true; but that he has done more than heap ridicule upon himself and those who brought him out, by his miserable performance, is a proposition not to be disputed for a moment. How such a judge of fighting as Harry Broome could have made the mistake he did we cannot understand, but the task of bringing out a candidate for the Championship once undertaken by a man of his known “talent,” it is easy to understand how the public were induced to come forward and take the long odds offered on Sayers. Among the deceived was the renowned Jemmy Massey, who, liking the appearance of the man, and being led on by the reports of Harry Broome as to his man’s cleverness and gluttonous qualities, took the odds of 2 to 1 to a considerable amount. The whole affair was carried out from first to last in a quiet and orderly way, and there was no fault to find with the partisans of either man for either unseemly language or noisy demonstrations. All that was required to render it a model fight was a little more devil and resolution on the part of the loser. The battle money was handed to Tom Sayers at Owen Swift’s, “Horse Shoe” Tavern, Tichborne Street, on Wednesday evening, January 13th, when he was again adorned with the Champion’s belt, which, according to rule, was deposited with the stakeholder to abide the event of his next battle for the permanent possession of the trophy.
After this victory Tom appeared in a fair way to rest upon his laurels, but soon, to his astonishment, as well as every one else’s, it was announced that Tom Paddock had recovered, and did not intend to let the belt pass without a struggle. He issued a challenge to Sayers, in which he intimated that, it being dead low water in his exchequer, he was as poor as a church mouse, and that unless Tom would extend him the hand of charity, and meet him for £150 a side, instead of the stipulated £200, the darling wish of his heart could not be gratified. He thought he could win the belt, and hoped Tom would not let a paltry £50 stand between them and prevent a friendly mill. Sayers, like a “brick” of his own laying, promptly responded to the call, and intimated that the meeting would afford him the highest gratification. With such an old pal he could not allow the paltry “rag” to stand in the way. The match was at once made, and came off on the anniversary of Tom’s fight with the Slasher—viz., on the 16th of June, 1858. After some narrow escapes from police pursuit and persecution, the two Toms met on a place selected as “maiden ground,” at Canvey Island.
And here the phrase, “the two Toms,” tempts us to a brief digression. The baptismal name of “Tom” has, indeed, furnished more than its calculable proportion of Champions of the fistic Ring; and hence we have pictured on a previous page the “three Toms” whose deeds made their names, in the first three-quarters of the present century, among admirers of pugilistic prowess, “familiar in men’s mouths as household words.” This curious pre-eminence of name may be further extended; for though the Christian name of John, the familiar Jack, and the royal one of George (during the reign of “the four Georges”) twice outnumbered theToms, yet Tom Johnson, Tom Paddock, Tom Sayers, and Tom King—theultimus Romanorum—make up the mystic number of Seven Champions bearing that designation, while Jack Broughton, John Jackson, and John Gully are the only three to be credited to the far more numerous family of “Johns.”
The first to shy his wide-awake into the ring was Tom Paddock, who was loudly cheered. He was attended by Jemmy Massey and that accomplished master of the art Jack Macdonald, and looked as red as beet-root, and as strong and healthy as though he had never in the course of his life assisted at the ceremony of turning off the gas. His demeanour was the same as ever, that of extreme confidence, and the smile on his mug was more that of one who had merely come out to enjoy a little gentle exercise than of a candidate for honours preparing to meet the Admirable Crichton of theP.R.There was, however, nothing of bravado about him; he merely took the affair as a matter of course, which would soon be over. He was not kept many minutes before he was joined by his opponent, who, attended by Bill Hayes and Harry Brunton, was also received with a complete ovation of applause. Tom, like his brother Tom, also looked in rude health, but his good-tempered mug struck us as if anything too fleshy, and in this we were confirmed when he stripped, for it was then apparent that he was some three or four pounds heavier than he should have been under such a tropical sun. The lads shook hands good-humouredly, and while they were completing their half-finished adornments, the betting round the ring was of the liveliest and heaviest description: £25 to £20, £50 to £40, and similar odds to smaller sums upon Sayers were offered and eagerly accepted in all quarters, and it was as much as the stakeholder could accomplish for some time to collect and enter the names and amounts of perhaps some of the heaviest investments for many years.
We feel it incumbent upon us here to perform an act of justice to Alec Keene, which speaks volumes for his kindness of heart, and without which our account would be incomplete. After the men had been fighting about twenty minutes, Alec, who had followed the belligerents in a tug from Gravesend, made his appearance on the ground, and, finding that things were not going altogether smoothly with Tom Paddock, at once betook himself to his corner, offered him the hand of fellowship, and throughout the remainder of the fight stood by him, to afford him the benefit of that experience and advice which he is so capable of imparting.
THE FIGHTRound 1.—Both came grinning to the scratch, and manœuvred for a brief space for an opening. Paddock looked, as usual, big and burly, but it was evident he was no longer the active, fresh man we had before seen. His mug was more marked with age, and there was a dulness about his eye we never remember in former days. His condition was good and he was in good health, but still he looked only Tom Paddock in name. Sayers was more fleshy than he should have been, but this was the only fault to be found with him. His eye was as bright and clear as a hawk’s, and the ease of his movements was a picture to behold. His attitude was, as usual, all readiness for a shoot or a jump. Paddock, instead of rushing, as had been expected, steadied himself, and felt with his left for an opening. It was not long before he attempted it, but Sayers stopped him easily. He made a second attempt, and Sayers stepped back, shaking his noddle and laughing. After a little sparring, Paddock tried again, and got on Tom’s brow, but not heavily. Again they dodged, and at length two counter-hits were exchanged, each getting on to the proboscis. After this Paddock again reached Tom’s nozzle rather sharply, but was stopped in another attempt. Another bit of cautious sparring eventually led to very heavy exchanges, in which Sayers left a mark on Paddock’s left cheek, and napped a warm one over the right peeper, slightly removing the bark, and giving Paddock the first event. Several rapid passes were now made on both sides, but they were evidently mere trials to find out what each intended. After a pause Sayers tried his favourite double, which he succeeded in landing on Paddock’s cheek, but not very heavily. More sharp exchanges followed, the advantage being with Sayers, until they both retreated and stood to cool themselves, the heat being intense. After a few seconds thus employed, they again approached one another smiling, and after a dodge or two they exchanged slight reminders on the side of the nut, broke away, and then got at it again, when heavy counter-hits were exchanged, but Sayers was first, and inflicted a cut on Paddock’s left brow, calling forth the juice in abundance. Paddock landed on the cheek, but not heavily. After this slight exchanges with the left took place, and they again stood, Sayers awaiting the onslaught, and Paddock puzzled. At last the latter dashed in, and was easily stopped twice in succession. He rushed after Sayers, who ducked under his arm, and, as Paddock turned round again, nailed him very heavily over the left peeper, renewed the supply of carmine, and then got out of harm’s way. Paddock, nothing daunted, dashed in, but Sayers stopped him most beautifully, and then, putting in his double, got well on the old spot. Paddock once more bored in, and was neatly stopped, but, persevering with his usual gameness, heavy exchanges ensued, all in favour of Sayers, who was as straight as a die, and got heavily on the left cheek and brow. Paddock, wild, rushed after him; Sayers ducked, and then planted his left on the left cheek, another hot one, and then on the snout, renewing the ruby. As Paddock bored in, he made a cannon off the cushion by putting his double heavily on the mark and nose without a return, and Paddock then rushing after him, bored him down. This round lasted fifteen minutes, and at its conclusion the backers of Sayers offered 2 to 1—an offer not accepted by the Paddock party, who looked indigo. It was patent to all good judges even thus early that Paddock was only Paddock in name, and that all the steel was out of him; and he has since informed us that he felt tired and worn out, and that he had no chance from this time. His gameness, therefore, in persevering so long and so manfully against his own conviction is the more commendable.2.—Both came up grinning, but while Sayers was almost scatheless, Paddock’s mug showed that Sayers had been there. Paddock, nothing daunted, rattled in, and got on to the top of Tom’s nob. Sayers returned, but not heavily and sharp counter-hits followed, Sayers on the damaged ogle, and Paddock on the left cheek. After this, Sayers got home his dangerous right on the side of Paddock’s nob, and the latter fell.3.—Paddock seemed slow, while Sayers was as fresh as a daisy; Paddock attempted to lead, but was very short. He, however, stopped Tom’s return. Heavy exchanges followed, Sayers receiving on the left cheek, and getting heavily on Paddock’s damaged squinter. Paddock, nothing daunted, made several desperate efforts, but Sayers got away with the greatest ease, and at length, as Paddock persevered, he once more countered him on the old spot, drawing more of the red port, and stopped Paddock’s return. Twice again did Sayers repeat this visitation, and get away from Paddock’s kindly intentions. Sayers then tried to lead off, but was well stopped. He made another attempt, and lodged his favourite double on the mark and nose, and then stopped Paddock’s return. Paddock now endeavoured to force the fighting, but Sayers danced away under his arm, came again, and, as Paddock rushed in, delivered a tremendous left-hander on the cheek, by the side of the smeller, drawing more home-brewed from the fresh cut. Paddock, angry, made several desperate efforts, but was well-stopped. At length they got close, and in the heavy exchanges, Sayers got his right heavily on the side of the nut, and received on the mouth. Paddocknow dashed in, and although Sayers pinked him on the nose and eye, he persevered until he forced Sayers down.4.—Paddock’s physog. seemed a good deal out of the line of beauty, while Sayers had scarcely a mark. Paddock still smiled, and attempted to lead, but the dash and vigour we remember of yore were all gone; his blows seemed but half-arm hits, and did not get near their destination. Almost every time Sayers stopped him with ease, and at last, as Paddock came boring in, he met him heavily on the cheek, producing another streak of cochineal. Still did Paddock persevere but only to be nailed again, and to have the Red Republican once more called forth. After this he got home on Tom’s chest, and then on the cheek, but the blows lacked vigour. Exchanges ensued, in which Paddock removed the bark from Tom’s sniffer, and turned on the main, but it was not a material damage. After a rest, in which both piped for wind, they again got at it, and a tremendous rally took place, in which Sayers was straightest and heaviest; he, however, got a hot’un on the mouth, which drew the Badminton. This was a tremendous give-and-take round, and Paddock caught it heavily on the left side of his nob, while Sayers received chiefly on the hardest parts of his cast-iron canister. In the end Paddock was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of the Sayers party.5.—Paddock made two ineffectual attempts to deliver, each being short, after which Sayers missed his favourite double. He then stopped Paddock’s one, two, and exchanges followed, in which Paddock reached Tom’s chin, and received with interest on the damaged cheek. Again did they deliver left and right, and Paddock drew more gravy from Tom’s sucker. Paddock rattled to it, but Sayers countered heavily on the snorer, again calling forth the ruby; he, however, napped one on the kisser, which must have shaken his false ivories. After this they piped for wind, the perspiration oozed from every pore, and they were evidently both tired. Paddock retired for a wipe, and after a pause Sayers went to him, and Paddock, seeing this, rushed in but Tom danced away, followed by Paddock, who eventually got a reminder on the cheek, and Sayers, in getting away from the return, fell.6.—Sayers feinted and dodged until Paddock came to him, when Tom got home a very hot one on the snuff-box, turning on the vermilion galore. Paddock, wild, dashed at him to deliver the right, but Sayers getting quickly out of mischief, the blow fell on the stake, and evidently caused the poor fellow intense pain. He was not cowed, however, but followed Sayers, who fell, and Paddock’s umpire appealing, the referee desired Sayers to be cautious.7.—Paddock slow, came up cautiously, and after a few dodges, led off, but was short, and received a reminder on the beak from Tom’s left. Sayers then got heavily on the mark with the left, and stopped the return. This led to heavy exchanges, in which Paddock received on the nose, and lost more juice, while Sayers only got it on the brow. Paddock tried again and again to lead off, but Sayers danced away, or ducked under his arm, and each time nailed him heavily on the nose or left cheek, and, finally, Paddock fell weak.8.—Paddock’s left peeper was now completely closed, and the left side of his knowledge-box much swollen. He was sent up very clean, however, and again tried to lead off, but Sayers was too quick for him, and got away. Still did the gallant Paddock persevere, but Sayers stopped him with ease, and returned on the damaged visual organ very heavily. Paddock again dashed in, but was short, his blows lacking vigour; and Sayers returned on the mark. Again and again did Paddock make an onslaught, but there was none of the vigour of the Paddock of former days; he was repeatedly stopped with ease, and Sayers caught him again and again on the mark and damaged chop. At last they got close together, and Paddock succeeded in knocking Sayers off his pins by a heavy right-hander on the whistler, which inflicted a severe cut, and drew the carmine (loud cheers for Paddock, who had thus won the two first events).9.—The blow in the last round had evidently shaken Sayers, who was slow to the call of time, and came up with a suspicious mark on his potato-trap. Paddock tried to follow up his advantage and incautiously went in, when Sayers met him with a beautiful left-hander on the snout, which sent him staggering, and put an end to his rushing for the time. This enabled Sayers to recover a little, and then, as Paddock afterwards came in, he made another call on the cheek, and got cleverly away from the return. Paddock followed him up, and heavy left-handed exchanges took place in favour of Sayers, who afterwards stopped Paddock’s right twice in succession. Good exchanges ensued to a close, and Paddock got down, just escaping Tom’s right.10.—After slight harmless exchanges, they stood piping, until Paddock took the initiative, but Sayers danced under his arm, and, as he turned round, pinked him on the blind goggle, and then, putting in his double, renewed the home-brewed from the cheek. Paddock tried a return, but was stopped twice in succession, and then got another little ’un on the out-water. After some neat stopping on both sides, Sayers made another call on the cheek, then on the chest, and after sharp exchanges, as Paddock rushed after him, he slipped and fell, but obviously from accident.11.—Paddock at once rushed to close quarters, but found Sayers nothing loth; they struggled for a brief period, and in theend both fell, it being obvious that Sayers was the stronger man.12.—Paddock, who was piping and evidently fatigued, tried to lead off, but was miserably short. After a slight exchange they again closed, and, after a short struggle, Sayers threw and fell on his man, amidst the cheers of his admirers. One hour and two minutes had now elapsed.13.—Paddock, whose mug was all shapes but the right, and whose remaining goggle glared most ferociously, rushed in and missed. Sayers, in getting back, fell, and there was a claim of foul; Massey and Macdonald, according to the custom of modern seconds, neglecting their man, and rushing to the referee. There was not the slightest ground for the claim, Sayers evidently having fallen from pure accident; but the usual complimentary remarks were offered by the card-sharpers and other blackguards, whose only interest was, perhaps, the value of a pot of beer depending on the result, and who were proportionately anxious to win, tie, or wrangle rather than lose their valuable (?) investments. After some time the ring-keepers succeeded in clearing these gentry away, and inducing Macdonald and Massey to return to their duty; and the referee having said “Fight on,” the battle proceeded.14.—Paddock, to whom the delay had afforded a short respite, dashed in, caught Sayers on the cheek, closed, and both fell.15.—Sayers feinted, and got on to Tom’s nozzle, drawing more claret, and, in getting away from a rush, crossed his legs near the stakes and fell.16.—Paddock, who was evidently fast getting worn out, at the instigation of his seconds dashed in, as if to make a final effort to turn the scale; he let go both hands, but was short, and Sayers once more pinked him on the swollen smeller. Paddock still persevered, and more exchanges, but not of a severe description, took place, followed by a breakaway and a pause. Again did they get at it, and some heavy counter-hitting took place; Sayers well on the mouth and nose, and Paddock on the brow and forehead. Paddock then rushed in and bored Sayers down at the ropes. (Another claim of foul disallowed.)17.—Paddock, desperate, rushed at once to work; and they pegged away with a will, but the punishment was all one way. At last they closed and rolled over, Sayers being top-sawyer. In the struggle and fall the spikes in Sayers’s boot in some way inflicted two severe wounds in Paddock’s leg, and Massey declared that the injury had been committed on purpose; but this every one who saw the fight was convinced was preposterous. Even supposing it was Sayers’s spikes, it was evidently accidental, but so clumsily did they roll over that it is not impossible that it was done by the spikes in the heel of Paddock’s other boot, which spikes were much longer and sharper than those of Sayers. The idea of Sayers doing such a thing deliberately when he actually had the battle in hand is too ridiculous to admit of a question.18.—Paddock rushed in and caught Sayers on the side of the head with his right, and they closed and pegged away at close quarters until Sayers got down.19.—The in-fighting in the last round had told a tale on Paddock’s nob, which was much swollen, and the left eye was now beginning to follow suit with the right. At last they got close, and both fell, Paddock under. Massey made another claim that Sayers fell with his knees on Paddock, but it was evidently an attempt to snatch a verdict.20.—Paddock tried to make an expiring effort, but was wofully short, and Sayers countered heavily with the left on the damaged cheek, then repeated the dose with great severity, staggering the burly Tom, who, however, soon collected himself, and once more led off, but out of distance. He then stood, until Sayers went to him, popped a heavy one on the nose, and the right on the cheek, then closed at the ropes, where he fibbed Paddock very heavily, and both fell, Paddock under.21 and last.—Paddock came very slowly to the scratch, evidently without the ghost of a shadow of a chance. He was groggy, and could scarcely see; the close quarters in the last round had done their work, and any odds might have been had on Sayers. Paddock tried a rush, but, of course, Sayers was nowhere near him, and as he came again Sayers met him full on the right cheek, a very heavy hit with his left. It staggered poor Tom, who was evidently all abroad, and all but fell. He put out his hands, as if to catch hold of Sayers to support himself, and the latter, who had drawn back his right hand to deliver the coup de grace, seeing how matters stood, at once restrained himself, and seizing Paddock’s outstretched hand, shook it warmly, and conducted him to his corner, where his seconds, seeing it was all over, at once threw up the sponge, and Sayers was proclaimed the victor in one hour and twenty minutes. Paddock was much exhausted, and it was some time before he was sufficiently himself to realise the fact that he had been defeated, when he shed bitter tears of mortification. That he had any cause for grief beyond the fact that he was defeated no one could say; indeed if ever man persevered against nature to make a turn it was he, for notwithstanding the constant severe props he got whenever he attempted to lead, he tried it on again and again, and, to his praise be it said, took his gruel with a good temper exceeding anything we have ever witnessed on his behalf during the whole of his career. As soon as possible after the event was over, the men were dressed and conveyed on board the vessel, where Paddock received everyattention his state required; but it was long before he recovered from the mortification he felt at his unexpected defeat. Sayers in the meantime went round among the spectators, and made a collection for him amounting to £30.Remarks.—Although the above battle tells its own tale, our account would not be complete unless we appended a few remarks, not only upon the contest itself, but also on the general management and other concomitants. From the very commencement it was obvious to us that the fight was out of Tom Paddock. All the devil and determination for which he had been so famous had completely left him, and he was almost as slow and ineffective as the old Tipton. True, he left no stone unturned, and never once flinched from the severity of the punishment administered to him. He took all that Sayers gave with apparent indifference, and although it was obvious his powers of delivering had departed, his extraordinary gifts as a receiver of punishment were fully equal to his olden reputation; and, as we have before remarked, his good temper exceeded anything we have ever witnessed on his part. It was supposed by many that had he not injured his right hand by the blow delivered upon the stake he would have done better; but, as he used that mauley afterwards so effectually as to floor the Champion, and as he admitted to us that he felt his cause to be hopeless previous to that accident, such speculations go for nought. That both his daddles eventually became much swollen and innocuous is true, but that he could have turned the tide in his favour had this not have been the case, we do not believe. It was not the mere hardness of the hammer that was wanting, but the steam for driving the hammer was absent. The principal cause of regret was that he should have been induced, after his severe illness, to try conclusions with one so much fresher, and, as it turned out, stronger than himself; but, however much his physical powers had declined, it was all along evident that his old spirit of daring everything was as strong in him as ever. From the first moment he entered the ring he did all, and more than all, that could be required of him to make a turn in his favour, but in vain. As may be gathered from our account, he once or twice seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it was very short lived. Enough, however, was done by him to convince us that had he been the Paddock of five years ago, the chance of Tom Sayers retaining his proud position would have been anything but “rosy.” The collection made for Paddock proved the estimation in which his gallantry was held by the spectators.Sayers, throughout the contest, fought with that extraordinary judgment of time and distance which so much distinguished him during the last few years of his career; and from the first it was apparent that any diffidence he might have displayed in his mill with the Slasher had completely disappeared. He abstained, to a considerable extent, from the harlequinade which he displayed in that encounter, and often stood and fought with his ponderous opponent with steadiness and precision. He fell down, it is true, three times, but only on one of these occasions could it be fairly said that it was not accidental, and even then we do not believe that it was a wilful act, especially as it was clear that the tumbling system was farthest from his thoughts, and his great desire was to keep Paddock on his legs.
THE FIGHT
Round 1.—Both came grinning to the scratch, and manœuvred for a brief space for an opening. Paddock looked, as usual, big and burly, but it was evident he was no longer the active, fresh man we had before seen. His mug was more marked with age, and there was a dulness about his eye we never remember in former days. His condition was good and he was in good health, but still he looked only Tom Paddock in name. Sayers was more fleshy than he should have been, but this was the only fault to be found with him. His eye was as bright and clear as a hawk’s, and the ease of his movements was a picture to behold. His attitude was, as usual, all readiness for a shoot or a jump. Paddock, instead of rushing, as had been expected, steadied himself, and felt with his left for an opening. It was not long before he attempted it, but Sayers stopped him easily. He made a second attempt, and Sayers stepped back, shaking his noddle and laughing. After a little sparring, Paddock tried again, and got on Tom’s brow, but not heavily. Again they dodged, and at length two counter-hits were exchanged, each getting on to the proboscis. After this Paddock again reached Tom’s nozzle rather sharply, but was stopped in another attempt. Another bit of cautious sparring eventually led to very heavy exchanges, in which Sayers left a mark on Paddock’s left cheek, and napped a warm one over the right peeper, slightly removing the bark, and giving Paddock the first event. Several rapid passes were now made on both sides, but they were evidently mere trials to find out what each intended. After a pause Sayers tried his favourite double, which he succeeded in landing on Paddock’s cheek, but not very heavily. More sharp exchanges followed, the advantage being with Sayers, until they both retreated and stood to cool themselves, the heat being intense. After a few seconds thus employed, they again approached one another smiling, and after a dodge or two they exchanged slight reminders on the side of the nut, broke away, and then got at it again, when heavy counter-hits were exchanged, but Sayers was first, and inflicted a cut on Paddock’s left brow, calling forth the juice in abundance. Paddock landed on the cheek, but not heavily. After this slight exchanges with the left took place, and they again stood, Sayers awaiting the onslaught, and Paddock puzzled. At last the latter dashed in, and was easily stopped twice in succession. He rushed after Sayers, who ducked under his arm, and, as Paddock turned round again, nailed him very heavily over the left peeper, renewed the supply of carmine, and then got out of harm’s way. Paddock, nothing daunted, dashed in, but Sayers stopped him most beautifully, and then, putting in his double, got well on the old spot. Paddock once more bored in, and was neatly stopped, but, persevering with his usual gameness, heavy exchanges ensued, all in favour of Sayers, who was as straight as a die, and got heavily on the left cheek and brow. Paddock, wild, rushed after him; Sayers ducked, and then planted his left on the left cheek, another hot one, and then on the snout, renewing the ruby. As Paddock bored in, he made a cannon off the cushion by putting his double heavily on the mark and nose without a return, and Paddock then rushing after him, bored him down. This round lasted fifteen minutes, and at its conclusion the backers of Sayers offered 2 to 1—an offer not accepted by the Paddock party, who looked indigo. It was patent to all good judges even thus early that Paddock was only Paddock in name, and that all the steel was out of him; and he has since informed us that he felt tired and worn out, and that he had no chance from this time. His gameness, therefore, in persevering so long and so manfully against his own conviction is the more commendable.
2.—Both came up grinning, but while Sayers was almost scatheless, Paddock’s mug showed that Sayers had been there. Paddock, nothing daunted, rattled in, and got on to the top of Tom’s nob. Sayers returned, but not heavily and sharp counter-hits followed, Sayers on the damaged ogle, and Paddock on the left cheek. After this, Sayers got home his dangerous right on the side of Paddock’s nob, and the latter fell.
3.—Paddock seemed slow, while Sayers was as fresh as a daisy; Paddock attempted to lead, but was very short. He, however, stopped Tom’s return. Heavy exchanges followed, Sayers receiving on the left cheek, and getting heavily on Paddock’s damaged squinter. Paddock, nothing daunted, made several desperate efforts, but Sayers got away with the greatest ease, and at length, as Paddock persevered, he once more countered him on the old spot, drawing more of the red port, and stopped Paddock’s return. Twice again did Sayers repeat this visitation, and get away from Paddock’s kindly intentions. Sayers then tried to lead off, but was well stopped. He made another attempt, and lodged his favourite double on the mark and nose, and then stopped Paddock’s return. Paddock now endeavoured to force the fighting, but Sayers danced away under his arm, came again, and, as Paddock rushed in, delivered a tremendous left-hander on the cheek, by the side of the smeller, drawing more home-brewed from the fresh cut. Paddock, angry, made several desperate efforts, but was well-stopped. At length they got close, and in the heavy exchanges, Sayers got his right heavily on the side of the nut, and received on the mouth. Paddocknow dashed in, and although Sayers pinked him on the nose and eye, he persevered until he forced Sayers down.
4.—Paddock’s physog. seemed a good deal out of the line of beauty, while Sayers had scarcely a mark. Paddock still smiled, and attempted to lead, but the dash and vigour we remember of yore were all gone; his blows seemed but half-arm hits, and did not get near their destination. Almost every time Sayers stopped him with ease, and at last, as Paddock came boring in, he met him heavily on the cheek, producing another streak of cochineal. Still did Paddock persevere but only to be nailed again, and to have the Red Republican once more called forth. After this he got home on Tom’s chest, and then on the cheek, but the blows lacked vigour. Exchanges ensued, in which Paddock removed the bark from Tom’s sniffer, and turned on the main, but it was not a material damage. After a rest, in which both piped for wind, they again got at it, and a tremendous rally took place, in which Sayers was straightest and heaviest; he, however, got a hot’un on the mouth, which drew the Badminton. This was a tremendous give-and-take round, and Paddock caught it heavily on the left side of his nob, while Sayers received chiefly on the hardest parts of his cast-iron canister. In the end Paddock was down, amidst the vociferous cheers of the Sayers party.
5.—Paddock made two ineffectual attempts to deliver, each being short, after which Sayers missed his favourite double. He then stopped Paddock’s one, two, and exchanges followed, in which Paddock reached Tom’s chin, and received with interest on the damaged cheek. Again did they deliver left and right, and Paddock drew more gravy from Tom’s sucker. Paddock rattled to it, but Sayers countered heavily on the snorer, again calling forth the ruby; he, however, napped one on the kisser, which must have shaken his false ivories. After this they piped for wind, the perspiration oozed from every pore, and they were evidently both tired. Paddock retired for a wipe, and after a pause Sayers went to him, and Paddock, seeing this, rushed in but Tom danced away, followed by Paddock, who eventually got a reminder on the cheek, and Sayers, in getting away from the return, fell.
6.—Sayers feinted and dodged until Paddock came to him, when Tom got home a very hot one on the snuff-box, turning on the vermilion galore. Paddock, wild, dashed at him to deliver the right, but Sayers getting quickly out of mischief, the blow fell on the stake, and evidently caused the poor fellow intense pain. He was not cowed, however, but followed Sayers, who fell, and Paddock’s umpire appealing, the referee desired Sayers to be cautious.
7.—Paddock slow, came up cautiously, and after a few dodges, led off, but was short, and received a reminder on the beak from Tom’s left. Sayers then got heavily on the mark with the left, and stopped the return. This led to heavy exchanges, in which Paddock received on the nose, and lost more juice, while Sayers only got it on the brow. Paddock tried again and again to lead off, but Sayers danced away, or ducked under his arm, and each time nailed him heavily on the nose or left cheek, and, finally, Paddock fell weak.
8.—Paddock’s left peeper was now completely closed, and the left side of his knowledge-box much swollen. He was sent up very clean, however, and again tried to lead off, but Sayers was too quick for him, and got away. Still did the gallant Paddock persevere, but Sayers stopped him with ease, and returned on the damaged visual organ very heavily. Paddock again dashed in, but was short, his blows lacking vigour; and Sayers returned on the mark. Again and again did Paddock make an onslaught, but there was none of the vigour of the Paddock of former days; he was repeatedly stopped with ease, and Sayers caught him again and again on the mark and damaged chop. At last they got close together, and Paddock succeeded in knocking Sayers off his pins by a heavy right-hander on the whistler, which inflicted a severe cut, and drew the carmine (loud cheers for Paddock, who had thus won the two first events).
9.—The blow in the last round had evidently shaken Sayers, who was slow to the call of time, and came up with a suspicious mark on his potato-trap. Paddock tried to follow up his advantage and incautiously went in, when Sayers met him with a beautiful left-hander on the snout, which sent him staggering, and put an end to his rushing for the time. This enabled Sayers to recover a little, and then, as Paddock afterwards came in, he made another call on the cheek, and got cleverly away from the return. Paddock followed him up, and heavy left-handed exchanges took place in favour of Sayers, who afterwards stopped Paddock’s right twice in succession. Good exchanges ensued to a close, and Paddock got down, just escaping Tom’s right.
10.—After slight harmless exchanges, they stood piping, until Paddock took the initiative, but Sayers danced under his arm, and, as he turned round, pinked him on the blind goggle, and then, putting in his double, renewed the home-brewed from the cheek. Paddock tried a return, but was stopped twice in succession, and then got another little ’un on the out-water. After some neat stopping on both sides, Sayers made another call on the cheek, then on the chest, and after sharp exchanges, as Paddock rushed after him, he slipped and fell, but obviously from accident.
11.—Paddock at once rushed to close quarters, but found Sayers nothing loth; they struggled for a brief period, and in theend both fell, it being obvious that Sayers was the stronger man.
12.—Paddock, who was piping and evidently fatigued, tried to lead off, but was miserably short. After a slight exchange they again closed, and, after a short struggle, Sayers threw and fell on his man, amidst the cheers of his admirers. One hour and two minutes had now elapsed.
13.—Paddock, whose mug was all shapes but the right, and whose remaining goggle glared most ferociously, rushed in and missed. Sayers, in getting back, fell, and there was a claim of foul; Massey and Macdonald, according to the custom of modern seconds, neglecting their man, and rushing to the referee. There was not the slightest ground for the claim, Sayers evidently having fallen from pure accident; but the usual complimentary remarks were offered by the card-sharpers and other blackguards, whose only interest was, perhaps, the value of a pot of beer depending on the result, and who were proportionately anxious to win, tie, or wrangle rather than lose their valuable (?) investments. After some time the ring-keepers succeeded in clearing these gentry away, and inducing Macdonald and Massey to return to their duty; and the referee having said “Fight on,” the battle proceeded.
14.—Paddock, to whom the delay had afforded a short respite, dashed in, caught Sayers on the cheek, closed, and both fell.
15.—Sayers feinted, and got on to Tom’s nozzle, drawing more claret, and, in getting away from a rush, crossed his legs near the stakes and fell.
16.—Paddock, who was evidently fast getting worn out, at the instigation of his seconds dashed in, as if to make a final effort to turn the scale; he let go both hands, but was short, and Sayers once more pinked him on the swollen smeller. Paddock still persevered, and more exchanges, but not of a severe description, took place, followed by a breakaway and a pause. Again did they get at it, and some heavy counter-hitting took place; Sayers well on the mouth and nose, and Paddock on the brow and forehead. Paddock then rushed in and bored Sayers down at the ropes. (Another claim of foul disallowed.)
17.—Paddock, desperate, rushed at once to work; and they pegged away with a will, but the punishment was all one way. At last they closed and rolled over, Sayers being top-sawyer. In the struggle and fall the spikes in Sayers’s boot in some way inflicted two severe wounds in Paddock’s leg, and Massey declared that the injury had been committed on purpose; but this every one who saw the fight was convinced was preposterous. Even supposing it was Sayers’s spikes, it was evidently accidental, but so clumsily did they roll over that it is not impossible that it was done by the spikes in the heel of Paddock’s other boot, which spikes were much longer and sharper than those of Sayers. The idea of Sayers doing such a thing deliberately when he actually had the battle in hand is too ridiculous to admit of a question.
18.—Paddock rushed in and caught Sayers on the side of the head with his right, and they closed and pegged away at close quarters until Sayers got down.
19.—The in-fighting in the last round had told a tale on Paddock’s nob, which was much swollen, and the left eye was now beginning to follow suit with the right. At last they got close, and both fell, Paddock under. Massey made another claim that Sayers fell with his knees on Paddock, but it was evidently an attempt to snatch a verdict.
20.—Paddock tried to make an expiring effort, but was wofully short, and Sayers countered heavily with the left on the damaged cheek, then repeated the dose with great severity, staggering the burly Tom, who, however, soon collected himself, and once more led off, but out of distance. He then stood, until Sayers went to him, popped a heavy one on the nose, and the right on the cheek, then closed at the ropes, where he fibbed Paddock very heavily, and both fell, Paddock under.
21 and last.—Paddock came very slowly to the scratch, evidently without the ghost of a shadow of a chance. He was groggy, and could scarcely see; the close quarters in the last round had done their work, and any odds might have been had on Sayers. Paddock tried a rush, but, of course, Sayers was nowhere near him, and as he came again Sayers met him full on the right cheek, a very heavy hit with his left. It staggered poor Tom, who was evidently all abroad, and all but fell. He put out his hands, as if to catch hold of Sayers to support himself, and the latter, who had drawn back his right hand to deliver the coup de grace, seeing how matters stood, at once restrained himself, and seizing Paddock’s outstretched hand, shook it warmly, and conducted him to his corner, where his seconds, seeing it was all over, at once threw up the sponge, and Sayers was proclaimed the victor in one hour and twenty minutes. Paddock was much exhausted, and it was some time before he was sufficiently himself to realise the fact that he had been defeated, when he shed bitter tears of mortification. That he had any cause for grief beyond the fact that he was defeated no one could say; indeed if ever man persevered against nature to make a turn it was he, for notwithstanding the constant severe props he got whenever he attempted to lead, he tried it on again and again, and, to his praise be it said, took his gruel with a good temper exceeding anything we have ever witnessed on his behalf during the whole of his career. As soon as possible after the event was over, the men were dressed and conveyed on board the vessel, where Paddock received everyattention his state required; but it was long before he recovered from the mortification he felt at his unexpected defeat. Sayers in the meantime went round among the spectators, and made a collection for him amounting to £30.
Remarks.—Although the above battle tells its own tale, our account would not be complete unless we appended a few remarks, not only upon the contest itself, but also on the general management and other concomitants. From the very commencement it was obvious to us that the fight was out of Tom Paddock. All the devil and determination for which he had been so famous had completely left him, and he was almost as slow and ineffective as the old Tipton. True, he left no stone unturned, and never once flinched from the severity of the punishment administered to him. He took all that Sayers gave with apparent indifference, and although it was obvious his powers of delivering had departed, his extraordinary gifts as a receiver of punishment were fully equal to his olden reputation; and, as we have before remarked, his good temper exceeded anything we have ever witnessed on his part. It was supposed by many that had he not injured his right hand by the blow delivered upon the stake he would have done better; but, as he used that mauley afterwards so effectually as to floor the Champion, and as he admitted to us that he felt his cause to be hopeless previous to that accident, such speculations go for nought. That both his daddles eventually became much swollen and innocuous is true, but that he could have turned the tide in his favour had this not have been the case, we do not believe. It was not the mere hardness of the hammer that was wanting, but the steam for driving the hammer was absent. The principal cause of regret was that he should have been induced, after his severe illness, to try conclusions with one so much fresher, and, as it turned out, stronger than himself; but, however much his physical powers had declined, it was all along evident that his old spirit of daring everything was as strong in him as ever. From the first moment he entered the ring he did all, and more than all, that could be required of him to make a turn in his favour, but in vain. As may be gathered from our account, he once or twice seemed to gain a slight advantage, but it was very short lived. Enough, however, was done by him to convince us that had he been the Paddock of five years ago, the chance of Tom Sayers retaining his proud position would have been anything but “rosy.” The collection made for Paddock proved the estimation in which his gallantry was held by the spectators.
Sayers, throughout the contest, fought with that extraordinary judgment of time and distance which so much distinguished him during the last few years of his career; and from the first it was apparent that any diffidence he might have displayed in his mill with the Slasher had completely disappeared. He abstained, to a considerable extent, from the harlequinade which he displayed in that encounter, and often stood and fought with his ponderous opponent with steadiness and precision. He fell down, it is true, three times, but only on one of these occasions could it be fairly said that it was not accidental, and even then we do not believe that it was a wilful act, especially as it was clear that the tumbling system was farthest from his thoughts, and his great desire was to keep Paddock on his legs.
Tom had now reached the very pinnacle of his fame, for among the not very extensive range of big ones then in the field—Harry Poulson, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and Tom Paddock had fallen beneath his punishing arm, while Harry Broome, having struck his flag to Tom Paddock, and Harry Orme (who had also retired) surrendered to Harry Broome—there was a clear title made for the Little Wonder, Tom Sayers, the first ten-stone Champion.
This state of things seemed likely to leave Tom to enjoyin otium cum dignitatethe laurels of his many hard-fought days. The year 1858 grew old, when once more “an Unknown” was talked of, who would be backed to try conclusions for the £400 and belt against the redoubted Tom. Again these rumours came from the head-quarters of the erewhile Champion, Harry Broome, in the Haymarket; and to the astonishment of every one who recollected the “lame and impotent conclusion” which, sixteenmonths before, marked what was supposed to be the first and last appearance within any ring of Mr. Bill Bainge (Benjamin), that worthy was named as the man for the coming fight.
It was urged by himself and his friends that he did not have fair play in his training for his former battle; that he was very far from well on the day of fighting; that these drawbacks, coupled with his novelty of his position in entering the ring for the first time, and going through the ceremony of peeling,&c.before the assembled throng, had quite unnerved him, and rendered him almost oblivious as to what had actually taken place. The weather, too (it was January, and bitterly cold), had a great effect on him, his frame not being accustomed to the exposure in a “state of buff;” and besides all this, he himself asserted that the suddenness and severity of the punishment he received was something that had more paralysed than hurt him. He had felt ever since that a stigma attached to his name, which he felt conscious was not deserved. He believed himself at heart to be no coward, and, being anxious to vindicate himself, he had begged his backer to give him an opportunity of clearing his character, and that gentleman, believing his version of the case to be true, had kindly granted him a new trial. Of course, when Sayers heard of the challenge he was nothing loth, feeling, as he did, certain of victory, while further calculating that what he considered such an easy job would bring him six months nearer to the retention of the belt as his own private property, he threw not the slightest difficulty in the way of settling preliminaries, and articles were signed and delivered at once.
The men did not go into training immediately, as they had nearly six months before them, but Benjamin took every opportunity of gaining such knowledge as might assist him in his undertaking, and acting under the advice of an experienced ring-goer, he lost no time in securing the services of “ould Nat Langham,” whose judgment could not but prove of the greatest assistance. Liberal offers were made to Nat to go down to Shirenewton, where Benjamin was resident, to take the entire management of him, but Nat rightly judged that his own business was such as to require his presence; he, therefore, contented himself with an occasional run down for a couple of days, when he enforced upon his pupil some of his own peculiar style of practice in many a heavy bout with the mufflers. As he could not undertake the whole training, however, Nat recommended Bill’s backer to send a retaining fee to the bold Bendigo, whose country habits, sobriety, vigilance, and judgment he knew could be depended upon, and the appearanceof hisprotégéon the day of battle proved that his confidence had not been misplaced, for his whole bearing was the very perfection of condition. Bendy, however, had a corporation of most Daniel Lambert-like proportions, no doubt much increased by good living, in which he had indulged while superintending his new pupil, and was therefore a curious choice for the trainer to a candidate for the championship.
As to the gallant Tom, he occupied the next four months after the articles were signed in starring it about the country, and exhibiting himself, his cups and his belts, to hosts of admiring friends. He took a benefit here, a benefit there, and a couple of benefits in one week somewhere else, and so on, and was everywhere so well received, that he must have returned to town, prior to his going into work, with a perfect sack full of “shiners.” He further announced at these gatherings his retirement from the Ring, which he had already fixed for June, 1860, when the belt would become his private property.
From the very first Tom held this match extremely light, and had expressed the most entire confidence, a confidence which at one time during the fight now under description we thought was very near proving his downfall, from the fact of his having split on the same rock which has proved fatal to many a good man and true under similar circumstances. We allude to neglect of training. The first portion of Tom’s exercise, which did not extend over more than seven weeks, was taken, as on former occasions, in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge Wells, but about a month later he removed to Rottingdean, another favourite locality of his, for the purpose of sea bathing, and it was during his stay at this place that his practices were anything but conducive to high condition. During his so-called training, Tom, instead of the usual walking, running,&c.was repeatedly seen on horseback in full career after the harriers which meet in the neighbourhood, and during these gallops his falls were anything but few and far between. Had the champion, by an unlucky purl, dislocated a limb or sprained an ankle or a wrist, what a pretty pickle his backers would have been in, and how he would have cursed his own folly! His backers’ money would have been thrown away, his belt would have been forfeited, and he would have had to recommence his career of three years as its holder, in addition to losing the confidence of those who were behind him. As it was, on entering the ring, the general remark was that he was too fleshy, and there were signs of a protuberance in the neighbourhood of his bread-basket which told an unmistakable tale. Many abrave fellow has suffered severely for this reckless despising of an adversary, and has thereby lost a position which he has never been able to regain.
The rumours and speculations anent this match were of the most extraordinary character. Tales of deep-laid conspiracies to rob the public—such as it has never been our ill fortune to see put into practice during our career as chroniclers of this truly British sport—were rife. The croakers and slanderers, who always look at the dark side of the picture, and by listening to the statements of those who attempt to decry the ring by blackening the characters of its members, are always ready to see “a barney” in every match, could not be persuaded to believe that Tom Sayers had far too high a notion of himself to listen to any suggestions on such a subject; and that, even admitting, for the sake of argument, that his principles might give way (which we were confident they would not), his pride and vanity were such as to forbid the supposition. While on the subject of “barneys” we may be permitted to remark, that such occurrences are much more common in the imaginations of some would-be knowing ones, who are literally know-nothings, than in the actual practice of theP.R.; and that we firmly believe, and we state it earnestly and seriously, that there is far less of this kind of thing in the doings of the members of the Prize Ring than in almost any other sport. Besides these rumours about “Mr. Barney,” there were whisperings that Benjamin was in reality an extraordinary good man, and that the winning of the former fight by Sayers was purely a piece of accidental good fortune. How these various “shaves” were received by the general public and by thecognoscentimay be best gathered from the fact that as the day approached no one would take less than 4 to 1 about Benjamin winning, and that many persons laid 5 to 2 that Sayers would win in a quarter of an hour. The betting on the whole, however, was small in amount, the cause no doubt being the preposterous odds demanded, which, as the backers of Sayers said, was actually buying money.
Shortly after eleven o’clock Tom Sayers modestly dropped his castor over the ropes, and then as modestly crept under them himself. He was attended by Jerry Noon and Harry Brunton, and was received with enthusiastic cheers. He had wisely donned his milling boots and drawers, and had therefore only to remove his outer shell. After an interval of five minutes he was followed by Benjamin, who made hisentréein an equally unpretending way. He also was well received. He was waited on by the Bold Bendigo and Jack Macdonald. At this time there were severaloffers to bet £20 to £5 on Sayers, but there were no takers. Despatch being the order of the day, no time was lost by the men in preparing for action. Benjamin, like Sayers, had taken the precaution to make ready beforehand, so that a very few minutes sufficed to strip and tie the colours in their appropriate places. Sayers sported a pink and white striped brocaded silk of the richest description, while Benjamin adhered to the old-fashioned blue and white spot. By twenty-three minutes past eleven o’clock, under a burning sun, the men were delivered at the scratch and stood ready for hostilities amidst the most profound silence. Benjamin appeared in perfect health and condition; he had a smile of confidence on his mug, and he stood well up in a fearless manner, presenting a wide contrast to hisdébuton the former occasion. He stood well over Sayers, whose height is only 5 feet 8½ inches, and struck us as decidedly the more powerful man. Although Tom was evidently too fleshy, there was a dash and calm self-possession about him which denoted the more accustomed boxer. He moved about in a business-like way, and evidently had no fears for the result.
THE FIGHT.Round 1.—Benjamin stood well on the defensive, and there was much in his position to remind us of his mentor, Nat Langham. He fixed his eye on Tom, and sparred for a short time to see what could be done. His whole bearing, indeed, was such as to call forth a general remark that he was a different man. Tom dodged in and out in his usual style, evidently trying for his favourite double, but Benjamin was ready. At length Tom dashed in, and delivered his left on the cheek, but was beautifully countered on the smelling bottle, and Benjamin had the honour of gaining “first blood” from that organ, a success which was hailed with much cheering from the Taffies. Sayers seemed pricked at this, and making his favourite dodge, he popped the left on the body and then on the left cheek, knocking Benjamin off his pins, thus gaining the second event, and equalizing matters.2.—Benjamin, nothing daunted, came steadily to the scratch, and, after a feint, let go his left, which was well stopped. He got away from the return, and after some sparring got home the left on the chest, and they got to close quarters, when the in-fighting was of a heavy description. Each got pepper on the nozzle and whistler, and Sayers also planted heavily on the side of Bill’s nob. In the close at the ropes Benjamin was forced down.3.—Both came up a good deal flushed, and each seemed blowing. Benjamin looked serious, and was rather cautious. Sayers, anxious to be at work, dashed in, and got home a very straight one on the proboscis, but Benjamin with great quickness countered him on the left cheek, just under the eye. This led to desperate exchanges, in which there appeared to be no best. At length Sayers caught his man round the neck, and holding him tight, pegged away with a will on his dial, and finally threw him heavily, his nob coming with some force against the stake.4.—Benjamin, desperate, at once rushed to work, and after some tremendous exchanges, each getting it on the left eye, Benjamin fell.5.—Sayers tried to lead off, but Benjy walked away, in obedience to his seconds. Sayers followed until they got close together, and a magnificent rally followed, in which Sayers drew the claret from Bill’s right brow, and also paid a heavy visit to the conk. Bill got on Tom’s left cheek, but his blows had not the precision and weight visible on the part of Sayers.6.—Benjamin was evidently shaken by the punishment he had received, which even at this early period was very severe. He sparred, and was evidently in no hurry. Sayers seeing this went to him, but was exceedingly wild in his deliveries. At last he got home on the bread-basket, but without effect, and Benjamin missed his return. Tom nowfeinted, and just reached Bill’s smeller, but it was a mere flyblow. He tried a body blow, and was well countered on the cheek and mouth. A close and in-fighting followed, in which both were very wild, but in which Tom again turned on the main from Benjamin’s nose. After a struggle both fell through the ropes.7.—Benjamin looked savage. He lost no time in dashing at his man, and a tremendous round followed. Sayers let go the left at the nose, but Benjy countered him straight and well with the same hand, opening a fresh bottle. Several tremendous counters with the left followed, Benjamin astonishing every one by his calmness, and by the precision with which he timed his hits. Each got pepper on the nose and eyes, and Sayers napped a nasty one on the middle of the forehead. Sayers now missed his left, and Bill returned well on the cheek. They broke away, and after surveying one another again went to it, and more heavy exchanges took place, in which Tom again turned on the main from Bill’s nasal fountain. Benjamin persevered, and again did they dispute the ground inch by inch. Both were blowing, and the confidence of Bill’s friends was looking up. It was plain both men meant to do all they knew in this bout, and that each felt that it was to be the turning point, one way or the other. Sayers now got heavily on the left eye, which began to close, while Bill caught him on the mouth. The fighting was tremendous, and the way Benjamin stood to his man was beyond all praise. Sayers now and then was extremely wild, and had Benjamin possessed more knowledge of the art the result might have been serious, for Tom was evidently tiring fast, but still the greater force of his hitting was evidently telling a tale. As hit succeeded hit Bill’s dial grew more slantindicular; but he was undaunted, and evidently had made up his mind to do or die. At length they got to close quarters, when some heavy fibbing took place, and both fell, Benjamin under.8.—Bill’s left eye was all but closed, the bump at the side telling of Tom’s powers of delivery. Sayers was much flushed, and puffing like a grampus; he lost no time, however, in going to work, evidently hoping to frighten his man. Benjamin was ready, and after some sharp exchanges in his favour, he retreated. Tom followed, and as Benjamin attempted to plant his left, Tom cross-countered him heavily with his right on the jaw, and knocked him off his pins. He was almost out of time, and it required all the exertions of his seconds to get him round.9.—Benjamin shook himself, and came up resolutely, but evidently much shaken. He sparred a little, and on Tom going in, he timed him neatly on the middle of the dial, but without much force. Again did Sayers try it with a like result, and Benjamin then dashed in, but was short. Sayers returned with great quickness on the bad eye, and poor Benjamin was again floored.10.—Benjamin struggled up gamely, although requested to give in; he held up his hands, and tried to counter with his man, but Tom with great neatness got well home on the good eye, avoiding the return, and Benjamin once more dropped. His seconds threw up the sponge, but the poor fellow broke from them, with an intimation that he was not licked, and wanted to prove he was no cur, and commenced.11th and last.—Benjamin tried to lead off, but it was evidently a mere flash in the pan; he missed and stumbled forward, when Tom gave him a slight tap on the nose, which sent him for the last time to grass. He was conveyed to his corner, and his seconds then declared he should fight no longer. Sayers went to him to shake hands, but Benjamin, who was all but blind, wished to commence another round. This, of course, could not be listened to, and the poor fellow was forced from the ring against his will, Sayers being proclaimed the winner in twenty-two minutes, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of his friends. Benjamin was much exhausted, and his punishment was as heavy as one generally sees in double the time. He took it, however, unflinchingly, never complaining from first to last; and on this occasion, although defeated, his most determined enemy (if he has one) cannot say he was dishonoured. Sayers also was much exhausted, but this arose not so much from his punishment, although in this respect he did not come off scatheless, as from his want of condition telling upon him in a battle which was disputed for some rounds with unwonted quickness and desperation.Remarks.—Having commented upon the want of condition of Tom Sayers, and having gone at some length into a description of this short but busy fight, it is unnecessary to trouble our readers with many remarks thereupon. That Benjamin succeeded in redeeming his character, and proving that he can receive punishment and struggle hard for victory when properly looked after, is not for a moment to be denied, but that he will ever make a star in the pugilistic horizon we do not for a moment believe. He is, at 34, too old to learn the rudiments of the business; at that age even the limbs of a practised boxer begin to get stiff, and it is therefore extremely improbable that those of a man trained to other pursuits can acquire that quickness and readiness so necessary to a finished pugilist. Had he begun some years ago, we think it not improbable, with such strength and activity as he possesses, he might have hoped to rank in the first division. The desperation with which he contested the seventh round—which was one of the sharpest and severest we eversaw—evidently showed what he might have done; but as it is we think, having fulfilled his mission and proved to his friends that he is composed of more sterling metal than they gave him credit for, the best advice we can give him is to shun for the future the attractions of theP.R., and devote himself to the duties of his station in his own country. We are glad for his own credit sake that he determined to undergo this second ordeal, and equally glad that he came out of it so successfully. It also gives us pleasure to know that he has good and staunch friends at his back, who having witnessed his performance on Tuesday, are perfectly satisfied with him. Of Tom Sayers we have only to say that he did not fight so well on this as on former occasions; and, as we think this was entirely owing to want of condition, we feel we are only doing him a favour in impressing upon him the necessity in future of leaving no stone unturned to retain that confidence which has been hitherto so implicitly placed in him.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Benjamin stood well on the defensive, and there was much in his position to remind us of his mentor, Nat Langham. He fixed his eye on Tom, and sparred for a short time to see what could be done. His whole bearing, indeed, was such as to call forth a general remark that he was a different man. Tom dodged in and out in his usual style, evidently trying for his favourite double, but Benjamin was ready. At length Tom dashed in, and delivered his left on the cheek, but was beautifully countered on the smelling bottle, and Benjamin had the honour of gaining “first blood” from that organ, a success which was hailed with much cheering from the Taffies. Sayers seemed pricked at this, and making his favourite dodge, he popped the left on the body and then on the left cheek, knocking Benjamin off his pins, thus gaining the second event, and equalizing matters.
2.—Benjamin, nothing daunted, came steadily to the scratch, and, after a feint, let go his left, which was well stopped. He got away from the return, and after some sparring got home the left on the chest, and they got to close quarters, when the in-fighting was of a heavy description. Each got pepper on the nozzle and whistler, and Sayers also planted heavily on the side of Bill’s nob. In the close at the ropes Benjamin was forced down.
3.—Both came up a good deal flushed, and each seemed blowing. Benjamin looked serious, and was rather cautious. Sayers, anxious to be at work, dashed in, and got home a very straight one on the proboscis, but Benjamin with great quickness countered him on the left cheek, just under the eye. This led to desperate exchanges, in which there appeared to be no best. At length Sayers caught his man round the neck, and holding him tight, pegged away with a will on his dial, and finally threw him heavily, his nob coming with some force against the stake.
4.—Benjamin, desperate, at once rushed to work, and after some tremendous exchanges, each getting it on the left eye, Benjamin fell.
5.—Sayers tried to lead off, but Benjy walked away, in obedience to his seconds. Sayers followed until they got close together, and a magnificent rally followed, in which Sayers drew the claret from Bill’s right brow, and also paid a heavy visit to the conk. Bill got on Tom’s left cheek, but his blows had not the precision and weight visible on the part of Sayers.
6.—Benjamin was evidently shaken by the punishment he had received, which even at this early period was very severe. He sparred, and was evidently in no hurry. Sayers seeing this went to him, but was exceedingly wild in his deliveries. At last he got home on the bread-basket, but without effect, and Benjamin missed his return. Tom nowfeinted, and just reached Bill’s smeller, but it was a mere flyblow. He tried a body blow, and was well countered on the cheek and mouth. A close and in-fighting followed, in which both were very wild, but in which Tom again turned on the main from Benjamin’s nose. After a struggle both fell through the ropes.
7.—Benjamin looked savage. He lost no time in dashing at his man, and a tremendous round followed. Sayers let go the left at the nose, but Benjy countered him straight and well with the same hand, opening a fresh bottle. Several tremendous counters with the left followed, Benjamin astonishing every one by his calmness, and by the precision with which he timed his hits. Each got pepper on the nose and eyes, and Sayers napped a nasty one on the middle of the forehead. Sayers now missed his left, and Bill returned well on the cheek. They broke away, and after surveying one another again went to it, and more heavy exchanges took place, in which Tom again turned on the main from Bill’s nasal fountain. Benjamin persevered, and again did they dispute the ground inch by inch. Both were blowing, and the confidence of Bill’s friends was looking up. It was plain both men meant to do all they knew in this bout, and that each felt that it was to be the turning point, one way or the other. Sayers now got heavily on the left eye, which began to close, while Bill caught him on the mouth. The fighting was tremendous, and the way Benjamin stood to his man was beyond all praise. Sayers now and then was extremely wild, and had Benjamin possessed more knowledge of the art the result might have been serious, for Tom was evidently tiring fast, but still the greater force of his hitting was evidently telling a tale. As hit succeeded hit Bill’s dial grew more slantindicular; but he was undaunted, and evidently had made up his mind to do or die. At length they got to close quarters, when some heavy fibbing took place, and both fell, Benjamin under.
8.—Bill’s left eye was all but closed, the bump at the side telling of Tom’s powers of delivery. Sayers was much flushed, and puffing like a grampus; he lost no time, however, in going to work, evidently hoping to frighten his man. Benjamin was ready, and after some sharp exchanges in his favour, he retreated. Tom followed, and as Benjamin attempted to plant his left, Tom cross-countered him heavily with his right on the jaw, and knocked him off his pins. He was almost out of time, and it required all the exertions of his seconds to get him round.
9.—Benjamin shook himself, and came up resolutely, but evidently much shaken. He sparred a little, and on Tom going in, he timed him neatly on the middle of the dial, but without much force. Again did Sayers try it with a like result, and Benjamin then dashed in, but was short. Sayers returned with great quickness on the bad eye, and poor Benjamin was again floored.
10.—Benjamin struggled up gamely, although requested to give in; he held up his hands, and tried to counter with his man, but Tom with great neatness got well home on the good eye, avoiding the return, and Benjamin once more dropped. His seconds threw up the sponge, but the poor fellow broke from them, with an intimation that he was not licked, and wanted to prove he was no cur, and commenced.
11th and last.—Benjamin tried to lead off, but it was evidently a mere flash in the pan; he missed and stumbled forward, when Tom gave him a slight tap on the nose, which sent him for the last time to grass. He was conveyed to his corner, and his seconds then declared he should fight no longer. Sayers went to him to shake hands, but Benjamin, who was all but blind, wished to commence another round. This, of course, could not be listened to, and the poor fellow was forced from the ring against his will, Sayers being proclaimed the winner in twenty-two minutes, amidst the enthusiastic cheers of his friends. Benjamin was much exhausted, and his punishment was as heavy as one generally sees in double the time. He took it, however, unflinchingly, never complaining from first to last; and on this occasion, although defeated, his most determined enemy (if he has one) cannot say he was dishonoured. Sayers also was much exhausted, but this arose not so much from his punishment, although in this respect he did not come off scatheless, as from his want of condition telling upon him in a battle which was disputed for some rounds with unwonted quickness and desperation.
Remarks.—Having commented upon the want of condition of Tom Sayers, and having gone at some length into a description of this short but busy fight, it is unnecessary to trouble our readers with many remarks thereupon. That Benjamin succeeded in redeeming his character, and proving that he can receive punishment and struggle hard for victory when properly looked after, is not for a moment to be denied, but that he will ever make a star in the pugilistic horizon we do not for a moment believe. He is, at 34, too old to learn the rudiments of the business; at that age even the limbs of a practised boxer begin to get stiff, and it is therefore extremely improbable that those of a man trained to other pursuits can acquire that quickness and readiness so necessary to a finished pugilist. Had he begun some years ago, we think it not improbable, with such strength and activity as he possesses, he might have hoped to rank in the first division. The desperation with which he contested the seventh round—which was one of the sharpest and severest we eversaw—evidently showed what he might have done; but as it is we think, having fulfilled his mission and proved to his friends that he is composed of more sterling metal than they gave him credit for, the best advice we can give him is to shun for the future the attractions of theP.R., and devote himself to the duties of his station in his own country. We are glad for his own credit sake that he determined to undergo this second ordeal, and equally glad that he came out of it so successfully. It also gives us pleasure to know that he has good and staunch friends at his back, who having witnessed his performance on Tuesday, are perfectly satisfied with him. Of Tom Sayers we have only to say that he did not fight so well on this as on former occasions; and, as we think this was entirely owing to want of condition, we feel we are only doing him a favour in impressing upon him the necessity in future of leaving no stone unturned to retain that confidence which has been hitherto so implicitly placed in him.
Thus ended the second attempt of the Broomes (Harry and Frederick) to wrest the belt from the great little Champion, but there were other “Richmonds” now in the field. Bob Brettle, of Birmingham, could not persuade himself that he was unable to interpose a check to the victorious career of the hardy Tom. Bob had his own reasons, too, for believing in his chance. He had tried conclusions with the Champion with the gloves, and felt assured he had the best of it; and in this, perhaps, he was not far wrong, for it was pretty generally known that Tom was much more at home with his digits in nature’s habiliments, and in a four-and-twenty-feet ring, than when they were muffled in horsehair in the sparring-school. The backers of Tom at first laughed at Bob’s propositions, but he declared he was in earnest, and went so far as to say they would wish they had let him alone before they had done with him. After much palaver Sayers offered to stake £400 to £200, but Brettle then required the belt to be thrown in. This, of course, was rejected, Tom considering that as holder of that trophy he was only bound to defend it on even terms. Brettle was extremely loth to give up his chance for the belt, but still he did not think it equivalent to the extra £200 which Sayers had offered to stake, and eventually he waived all pretensions to the “ornamental,” and closed the bargain on the chance of obtaining the “useful,” which would have sufficed to purchase a belt of double the mere intrinsic value.
At the meeting at Owen Swift’s, where the articles were finally ratified, a friend of the Champion’s treated the match with such ridicule that he ventured to suggest the probability of Bob being licked inten minutes, whereupon Brettle, in the heat of the moment, offered to bet £100 to £10 against such a contingency. “Make it £200 to £20,” said Tom’s friend, “and it’s a bet.” “Done,” said Bob, and the money was staked in the hands of Alec Keene. All these preliminaries were adjusted before the second fight for the Championship in April between Tom Sayers andBill Benjamin, it being stipulated that Tom should name a day after that event was decided.
At Tattersall’s, on the previous Monday, September 18th, the event seemed to attract as much attention as the speculations on either of the great handicaps, and in the yard a regular ring was formed, where betting, or offers to bet, went on very briskly. The backers of Tom commenced by offering 5 to 2, at which some few investments were made, but the Brums soon opened their mouths for longer odds, and would take no less than 3 to 1, and at this price again money was laid until the Sayersites in their turn held back, and speculation left off at offers of 5 to 2. In the evening, at the sporting houses, 3 to 1 might have been got in some few instances, and a sanguine admirer of Tom’s actually laid 4 to 1, but we believe he was a solitary specimen.
For at least a month, Mr. John Gideon, one of the most earnest backers of Sayers, had been on the look-out for a scene of action which might be reached with ease and comfort, and which, at the same time, should be so situated as to be beyond the reach of the rough and ready attendants at boxing matches, whose presence is anything but desirable, and also tolerably safe from the too-prying eyes of the powers that be, who do not love a mill, and who will in the most unaccountable manner interfere with the pleasures of the Fancy, on the ground that a friendly boxing-match is a breach of the peace. A few consultations with other managers of excursions, and a considerable expenditure of time and trouble, ended in the perfect success of Mr. Gideon’s arrangements, and not only did he carry the expedition to a triumphantdénouement, but ensured the utmost comfort to all the travellers. Of course the profits of the expedition were equally divided between the backers of both men, and the figure being tolerably high, and the company unusually numerous, there is no doubt each realised a handsome sum. Owing to the distance to be travelled, a very early start was found absolutely necessary, and seven o’clock being the hour named, the “lads wot loves a mill” had to be early afoot; and many there were who having, as usual, devoted the first two or three hours of the morning of the 20th of September to “seeing life,” found some difficulty in opening their eyes in their very first sleep to enable them to get to the starting-post in time. Many a one started breakfastless, and many were the wistful glances cast at the victualling department under the able charge of Mr. Dan Pinkstone, an old and well-known caterer, long before the end of the journey was attained; but as the train could not be stopped there wasof course no chance of an issue of stores from the commissariat until the goal was reached—a field near Ashford, in Kent, being thechamp closfor combat.
The train comprised thirty-six carriages, every one of which had at least its full complement of travellers, and many were over-full. The start was effected by a quarter before eight, and with the aid of two powerful engines a rapid and pleasant journey was effected to the scene of action, on entirely maiden ground, some sixty miles from the Metropolis, which was reached shortly after ten o’clock. The vast multitude lost no time in clearing out from the carriages, and a pioneer, who had gone on ahead the previous evening, placing himself at the head of the army, proceeded, closely followed by the veteran Commissary and hisposse comitatus, to the proposed scene of action. No time was cut to waste in preparing the lists, which were in readiness before eleven o’clock. While these preliminaries were being arranged, a brisk business was carried on in the sale of inner ring tickets, and our readers may judge of the class of spectators and their number when we tell them that the sale realised a sum of £54 10s. for the benefit of the P.B.A. This done, Billy Duncan and his constables proceeded to clear out the ring, and experienced the usual difficulty in persuading the company to seat themselves at a sufficient distance from the enclosure. All were naturally anxious to be as close as possible, and accordingly had seated themselves in compact rows, those in front close to the ropes. The consequence was, that all were crowded together, and many were scarcely able to get a glimpse of the ring. And now as we have brought the menen face, we will say a few words concerning Tom’s antagonist, as we do not purpose to devote space to him in a separate Memoir.
Bob Brettlewas born at Portobello, near Edinburgh, in January, 1832, and was therefore, six years younger than Tom Sayers. On the present occasion he just turned the scale at 10st.4lb., and did not appear in any way too fleshy. By calling he was a glassblower, and it was while he was engaged in one of the larger establishments in the hardware districts that he first became connected with theP.R.His first essay of which we have any record was with Malpas, of Birmingham, whom he fought for £50 a side, on the 14th of February, 1854. There were 80 rounds, principally in favour of Bob, but eventually there was a claim of foul on his part. A wrangle took place; the referee gave two decisions, and ultimately the stakes were drawn. Brettle’s next encounter was withold Jack Jones of Portsmouth, for £100 a side, on the 21st of November, 1854. Jack had only been out of the hospital a few weeks, and was in anything but condition; but still he had the best of the mill, Brettle resorting to the dropping system. Forty-nine rounds were fought in 105 minutes, when darkness came on, and as neither man was much punished, the referee ordered them to fight again on the following Saturday. On that day Jones was at the appointed place, but Brettle did not show, and it being discovered subsequently that he had been apprehended, either through the kind offices of his friends or by his own negligence, the stakes were awarded to Jones. After this Bob was idle until the 20th of November, 1855, when he defeated Roger Coyne, of Birmingham, for £25 a side, in 49 rounds and 48 minutes. Then came his match with Sam Simmonds, for £200 a side, which took place near Didcot, June 3rd, 1856, and was won by Bob very easily in 13 rounds and 16 minutes.
Another year, or rather more, elapsed before Bob made another essay, his next opponent being Job Cobley, dubbed by his patron Baron (Renton) Nicholson, “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” whom he fought for £100 a side, August 4th, 1857. Here Bob’s greater weight and superior strength enabled him to take a decided lead, and Job, finding it too hot to be pleasant, resorted to dropping, and finally lost the battle by falling without a blow in the 47th round, at the expiration of 90 minutes.
On the 25th of January following, Brettle met Bob Travers for £100 a side at Appledore, when, after fighting 42 rounds in 65 minutes, the police interfered. An adjournment took place to the following day, when they met again at Shell Haven, and after fighting 100 rounds in 2 hours and 5 minutes, Bob Travers, who had, like “the Enthusiastic Potboy,” found the earth the safest place, was decided to have lost the battle by falling without a blow.
Bob’s only subsequent encounter was with Jem Mace of Norwich, who, as may be seen in our next chapter, met him, for £100 a side, on the 21st of September, 1858, and at the end of two rounds and three minutes, although with none the worst of it, hid his diminished head, and declined to have any more. This was Bob’s last appearance prior to the present, and it was imagined by most people that he would retire from the Ring, but the temptation of a turn at the Champion was too great for him, and induced him to try a flight at the top of the tree. It is difficult to understand whence he got the confidence to match himself against Sayers, unless it was from his supposed superiority with the gloves—in the case of Tom Sayers an unusuallydelusive test. This brings us to the eventful 20th of September, 1858, and the ring at Ashford.
So soon as all were seated a cap was seen to fly over the heads of the dense mass, and in a second Bob Brettle, aided by his seconds, Alec Keene and Jem Hodgkiss, of Birmingham, was seen elbowing his way through the crowd. He was vociferously cheered on all hands, and his good-humoured mug brightened up with a broad grin of delight at the hearty welcome. Tom Sayers was not long behind him, and as he entered on the scene, attended by Jack Macdonald and Harry Brunton, he too was greeted with a tremendous ovation, which he acknowledged in a becoming manner, and then shook hands good-humouredly with his opponent. The spectators now began to make their final investments, and several bets of 3 to 1 were made and staked to considerable amounts. The last, however, that we heard was £25 to £10 on Sayers. After the lads had completed their toilettes Brettle came forward and offered to take £150 to £50 from Tom, but the Champion declined, as his money was all on. Bob then held up the note and offered to take the same odds from any spectator, but silence was the only reply, and he had to return the flimsy to his “cly.” Tom’s colour was a very handsome blue and white stripe, with blue border; and Bob’s a dark blue, with a white star. Brettle’s boots having been examined by Tom’s seconds, it was found that the spikes were beyond the regulation length, and had to be filed, but this was so inefficiently done that they were still far too sharp and long for the purpose for which they were intended. Had Sayers’s seconds done their duty resolutely they would have shown them to the referee, who doubtless would have ordered a still further curtailment, but Tom personally requested them to make no bother about it, as, in his own words, he “could give all that in.”