Chapter I: Tom Sayers (champion).――1849-1860 (5)

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 every attention 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 enjoy _in otium cum dignitate_ the 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, sixteen months 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 appearance of his _protégé_ on 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 a brave 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 the P.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 the _cognoscenti_ may 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 his _entrée_ in 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 several offers 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 his _début_ on 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 now feinted, 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 ever saw――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 the P.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 in _ten 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 and Bill 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 triumphant _dénouement_, 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 was of course no chance of an issue of stores from the commissariat until the goal was reached――a field near Ashford, in Kent, being the _champ clos_ for 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 his _posse 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 men _en 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 BRETTLE was 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 the P.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 with old 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 unusually delusive 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.――On throwing off their blankets there was a
great disparity in the appearance of the men, much
greater, indeed, than would have been expected from the
slight difference in weight. Tom, whose condition was
superb, was broad-shouldered, thick-loined, and
muscular, the weight being just where it ought to be;
while Brettle looked narrow and round on the shoulders,
and had not the upright, firm bearing of the Champion.
In height, too, there appeared more than the actual
difference of a bare inch. Tom’s mug, of the two, was
fleshier than his opponent’s, but it looked hard as
nails. In point of age it was evident there was a
considerable difference in favour of the Brum, whose
fresh, fair skin and healthful country appearance
contrasted strongly with the Champion’s bronzed but
somewhat stale complexion. The wear and tear of fifteen
contests, and the gay life he had led, had evidently
left their mark. Each had a pleasant, good-humoured
smile on his phiz, but the Champion seemed to be more
at home than his adversary. Bob looked cunning and
shifty, walking round his man with a kind of crab-like,
sideway movement, and leering out of the corner of his
eye, evidently on the look-out to catch the Champion
tripping, and make a dash at him with his right. Tom
was awake, however, and though not moving far from the
scratch, stepped with his adversary, and contrived to
keep continually facing him. At length Bob, finding his
man so “fly” to his “little game,” dashed straight at
him, and let go the left, which caught Tom very
slightly on the nose. Tom nodded and smiled as much as
to say, “Wait a minute;” and Bob renewed his journey
round his man, who remained in the middle of the ring.
At length Brettle again dashed in, and exchanges took
place, in which Tom left his mark on Bob’s forehead,
the bump being of considerable size. Brettle retreated,
came again, and lunging out his left was prettily
countered on the mouth, from which “first blood” was
instantly visible, the blow being a hot ’un. Some neat
exchanges followed on the side of the head; they then
broke away, and, as Sayers followed his man, Bob ducked
his head, but Sayers caught him a sharp spank on the
proboscis, which led to counter-hitting, when Tom got
well on the forehead, and Bob fell. A claim of first
knock-down for Tom was made but disallowed, as Bob was
evidently getting down when the blow reached him.

2.――Bob’s nose and mouth showed that Tom had been
there; he, however, dashed in, and heavy exchanges took
place, Tom getting on to the left peeper and Brettle
the body. Brettle now broke away, and resorted to his
cunning peripatetic dodge, but Tom only grinned, turned
as he moved, and waited for him. At length Bob dashed
in, and got on the chest very slightly, Sayers
returning well on the kisser. Brettle, after another
pedestrian excursion, came again and let go the left,
which was stopped, and he again “walked round and
showed his muscle.” Tom stepped with him, and each
tried to draw the other, until Brettle at last let go
his left, and sharp exchanges followed on the cheek
with the left, and Sayers fell. A claim of knockdown
for Brettle not allowed, Tom being on the hop, and
partially slipping down.

3.――Sayers, on owning up, had a slight mark on the left
cheek, which caused the Brums to cheer vociferously.
Brettle, seeing it, made a dash to force the fighting,
but Tom stopped him by a straight one on the whistler,
and then closed. This led to some sharp but very wild
in-fighting in Tom’s corner, and at last Brettle was
down on his knees with all the worst of it.

4.――The Brum came up blinking with his left eye, which
had evidently got pepper in the last wild rally, and
seemed as if about to close. It was now discovered that
the ten minutes had just expired, and that his bet of
£200 was saved. He lost no time in getting to work, but
giving one or two sideway steps he dashed in, planted
his right on the ribs, and then one or two sharp
counter-hits were exchanged. While dodging and stepping
in and out, Brettle’s spikes came into dangerous
collision with Tom’s shin, and inflicted a serious
wound; Tom pointed to the injured spot and shook his
head, whereupon Bob apologised, assured him that it was
unintentional, and promised to be more careful for the
future. The wound was excessively deep, and only shows
the extreme danger of using such absurd spikes, which
are utterly useless to a man who intends really to keep
on his legs. Tom, after a little dodging, got heavily
on the nose, and counter-hits were exchanged, Tom
getting very heavily on the left peeper, and receiving
a hot one on the jaw, which knocked him clean off his
legs. (“First knock down” for Brettle, who was
enthusiastically cheered as he went to his corner.)

5.――On coming up there was no mark of Bob’s visitation
on Tom’s jaw, but the effect of Tom’s blows on
Brettle’s mouth and eye was very visible. His nose and
left eye were swollen, and the claret was still visible
from his mouth. (The backers of Tom offered 4 to 1, but
in only one instance was it taken――viz., by Bob
Travers, who invested “a tenner” on the Brummagem pet.)
Brettle, after a little queer manœuvring, rushed in
left and right, and got the latter on the body, but not
heavily. He looked serious, and walked round and round,
but finding Tom ready he tried a dash, succeeding in
landing the right on the body. Tom got heavily on the
forehead, and then, counter-hits being exchanged,
Brettle got slightly on the neck, and Tom, with his
right, caught Brettle very heavily on the left
shoulder, and Bob went down in Tom’s corner. Sayers ran
after Brettle as he was being carried to his corner,
with a curious look of anxiety and alarm on his
countenance, evidently thinking that he had inflicted
some dangerous injury. Finding, however, that the blow
had not had the serious effect he feared, he walked
smiling to his corner.

6.――Brettle came up looking very serious, and several
times led off left and right, but quite out of
distance. Tom then stepped in and tried his left, which
Brettle cleverly avoided, and then returned on the
chest. They quickly got to close quarters, and after a
sharp exchange on the neck, Brettle fell forward on his
hands in Sayers’s corner, Tom missing a terrific
upper-cut with his right as he fell.

7th and last.――Brettle missed several well-intended
lunges with the right, and then walked round the ring;
he came again, and tried the left with a similar
result. He kept hitting out of distance, as if afraid
of Tom’s right, which had already missed him so
narrowly. Again and again did he step in and out, and
as Sayers tried to catch him on the hop he would point
and grin; at last he got slightly on the chest,
receiving a little one on the cheek. Brettle retreated,
and then hit out with his left most furiously, but
missed, and Tom countered him heavily on the shoulder;
Brettle immediately put his right hand to his shoulder
as if in pain; he, however, shook himself together, and
tried to stand and prop his man with his right, but
from the expression of his countenance something
evidently was amiss, and on Tom’s approaching him he
got down in his own corner, apparently suffering
considerable pain. Solid Coates, his umpire, at once
went to his corner, and on inquiry found that he had
dislocated his shoulder, either by the force of his own
blow, or from the effect of Tom’s heavy counter; and
this being the case, of course he had no option but to
resign the victory to Tom Sayers, who was hailed the
conqueror in _fifteen minutes_. Tom at once went to
shake hands with his fallen foe, and then resuming his
clothes, quickly reappeared among his friends without a
mark to show that he had been fighting. A medical
friend who was on the ground quickly attended upon poor
Brettle, and lost no time in restoring his arm to its
position, and the poor fellow, more injured in mind
than body, was soon sufficiently recovered to enter
freely into conversation with his friends, many of whom
believed, and still believe, that he had to the full as
good a chance as Tom Sayers at the time so disastrous a
termination to the battle occurred. That this was so
is, of course, but a matter of opinion; our ideas on
the subject will be found in the remarks appended. That
Bob’s own opinion did not coincide with that of his
friends may be gathered from the fact that he
subsequently called upon us to state his intention of
retiring from the ring. He says he knows of no man of
his weight who is likely to try conclusions with him;
that he has no intention of again overmatching himself
as on the present occasion, and as he has a good
business in Birmingham, he thinks he can well afford to
leave fighting alone, at any rate as an active
professor of the art. In this resolve we think he is
perfectly right, and as he is a thoroughly honest,
upright young fellow, and of an excellent temper, we do
not doubt of his success.

Before closing this part of our account we should not
be rendering justice where it is due did we not mention
that Jack Macdonald, one of Tom Sayers’s seconds, on
finding the nature of Bob’s injuries, rushed to his
corner, and rendered very material assistance to the
surgeon in attendance in restoring the dislocated arm
to its socket.