Chapter III: Tom King (champion) (2)

Fortunately the ring forces when concentrated were strong enough to exclude most of the undesirables from the platform; still some few managed to penetrate the ranks of the officials, and by their presence caused considerable annoyance, although the force of ring keepers was sufficiently strong to prevent their attempting any combined mischief. At length at seven o’clock the whistle sounded, and we were off for the appointed spot, where two vessels were found in waiting, and on board these the travellers, nearly 300 in number, at once repaired. It was now suggested that it would be well to try and get the fight off on the spot, instead of going further afield, where the Bobbies might be in force. This recommendation was accepted with promptitude, and while the Corinthians were luxuriating in a hot and comfortable breakfast on board, provided in admirable style by their old caterer, Dan Pinxton, the ring was pitched, and soon after eight all was in readiness. Through the exertions of Billy Duncan and his pals such admirable arrangements were made for the comfort of the inner ring ticket-holders that all were seated without difficulty, and, so far as we could perceive, the whole thing was carried out in a manner to reflect the highest credit on all concerned. As soon as the office was given by Fred Oliver the men approached the magic circle; Mace being the first to drop his castor within the ropes. He was attended by his old opponents Bob Brettle and Bob Travers, while King, who was somewhat behindhand, was waited on by Bos Tyler and Macdonald. Both men were welcomed with loud cheers from their partisans, which each acknowledged in a suitable manner. There was a good deal of lively betting at 6 and 7 to 4 on Mace, and his backers, we believe, would have gone on to any extent at that figure. A brisk business was done by the sale of inner ring tickets, but by no means to the extent we have known on former occasions. The sum received was nearly £37. Among the spectators were Tom Sayers, Heenan, and many other fistic celebrities, who eyed the tourney throughout with curiosity. And now the men stand up, approach each other and grasp hands, then separate; the seconds retire to their corners, and all eyes are fixed upon them as they upraise their daddles, and square their elbows for

THE FIGHT.

ROUND 1.――The moment so fraught with interest and
excitement to the partisans of the belligerents had now
arrived; the busy and careful work of the seconds was
at last completed to their entire satisfaction, and the
men were delivered at the scratch. While their
toilettes were being arranged, the “making ready” had
been eagerly watched by all with almost breathless
silence. As Jem turned to face his opponent, he gave a
momentary glance at the sky, whose dull, cheerless
aspect was anything but calculated to enliven the
combatants. Both advanced to the scratch with that
firm, confident step which denotes the action of
well-drilled practitioners. Perhaps the first thing
that riveted the attention of the spectators, as the
men stood front to front, was the striking difference
in height that existed between them. It had been
confidently stated Mace had never been in better
condition; certainly as he stood thus confronting his
antagonist there was nothing in his appearance that
even the most fastidious could for a moment find fault
with, and in all things he looked a far superior man to
what he did at their former meeting. In weight Jem,
when he last poised the beam, pulled down 11st. 4lb.,
and with inward confidence beaming in his every look,
he stated it was impossible for a man to feel better,
and this assurance there can be no doubt had great
weight with his admirers, many of whom from
over-caution had waited for this “opinion” from Mace
himself before they had ventured to “put it on.” If
condition of itself could alone endow a man with the
requisite “resin” to tune the first fiddle in such a
grand pugilistic overture, Tom might well put the thing
down as a “certainty,” for it must be admitted he was
all the most critical could desire, and spoke of the
result with a confidence devoid of anything in the
shape of braggadocia. The moment the men had been “set”
by their seconds, there was perceptible that twitch and
shrug of the shoulders which denote a disapproval of
the morning air. Jem having put up the prop in proper
order drew from range, and of his position it may be
said the skill of the master was at a glance displayed,
for he was well covered at all points. Tom also stood
remarkably well, and although by some good judges he is
stated to be a little too fine about the loins, and by
no means deep set enough in the jaw and neck, yet we
think it was conceded by all impartial persons that he
looked a most formidable opponent. Mace, as he
manœuvred, looked at his man with a sharp, penetrating
glance, as though he was mentally summing up “the
King’s affairs.” The result seemed satisfactory, for
Jem gave one of his well-known jerks of his nob, as
much as to say, “Tom, I intend to give you another
dressing.” King smiled at his man, as to intimate, if
he really imagined he was capable of dressing him again
he would oblige by being quick about it, as there
needed something in the shape of excitement to warm up
the system. After a little sparring, Mace drew from
range and dropped his mauleys, and then with his right
rubbed his breast and arms. King imitated his action,
as he felt numbed about the arms, and thought it
necessary to do the burnishing to promote the
circulation. Jem, with a cautions step, drew into
range, and then by way of a feeler slightly let go the
left, but Tom, who was decidedly quicker on his pins
than we had found him in any of his preceding battles,
got well away with the back step, thus showing that
these efforts on the part of his opponent to draw out
his guard were not likely to be successful. As Mace
broke for the purpose of getting from distance, King
dashed at him in a most impetuous manner, and missed
administering a fine right-handed shot from the
fore-arm. Mace, as Tom came on for the purpose of
forcing the fighting, retreated, but just opposite the
referee and umpire the men closed, when Jem, finding he
was likely to get in an awkward position, ducked his
head and went down, King looking at him. Both men were
loudly cheered, and as there was just a shade of
commotion among those who formed the uprights of the
outer circle, Professor Duncan, attended by the
“faculty,” promptly administered a mild dose of his
efficacious remedy for disorder――the “syrup of
whips”――and the cure was instantaneous.

2.――At the call of “Time,” both men, with the eagerness
of swimmers for the first plunge, rushed simultaneously
from the knees of their seconds, and threw up their
hands at the scratch. After toeing the mark each again
drew back from range, and began rubbing himself,
looking meanwhile at each other like two game-cocks.
Mace then led with the left, but did not get it home,
as King got well from range. Tom now dashed at his man,
and delivered the left on the top of the head, and put
in another from the fore-arm on the mouth, which had
the effect of producing a slight show of the crimson.
(“First blood,” as on the former occasion, for Tom.)
Jem, after getting home slightly with the left and
right on the face, closed with his man, when, finding
he was likely to get into an awkward position, he
slipped from him and got down, there being so far not
much harm done on either side, King fighting with
remarkable fairness; his opponent decidedly more crafty
and shifty, though, as Jack Macdonald said, “We’ll give
him all that in.”

3.――Jem was the first from his corner, but no sooner
did the busy seconds of King see that his antagonist
was on the move than they gave the office, and with
that impetuosity of action so characteristic of him, he
at once advanced to the scratch. After shifting,
changing position, and taking fresh ground, King went
dashing at his man for the purpose of forcing the
fighting, and, getting partly over Jem’s right
cross-guard, planted the left on the right cheek, and
with a wild, slinging round hit from the right also got
home on the side of the knowledge box. Mace, in the
counter-hitting, administered one with his stinging
left on the jaw, when, as Tom was not to be kept out,
they closed. In the struggle for the fall King got his
right arm round his man, and they went down near the
referee in a curious, awkward fall, Mace, who had his
head bent down, hitting the top part of it against the
ground. It was imagined by many at the moment that Jem
might have received some severe harm, but they were
soon convinced to the contrary, for when the men had
become disentangled and Jem with his usual agility had
righted, he looked up with a broad grin, as much as to
say, “Don’t be uneasy, I’m all right.” There was in the
excitement again a slight manifestation of pressure in
“Court,” the “special jury” being the least bit
inconvenienced, but Duncan, as head usher, brought up
his efficient corps to point, and the weight of this
legal element was on the instant sufficient to restore
matters to their proper balance, and the business of
this admirably kept ring went on as smoothly as ever.

4.――While the combatants were in their corners every
movement of their seconds was watched with the utmost
minuteness, and it was a treat to observe in what fine
order they sent them up to the mark. Tom was the first
to present his towering height at the scratch, but was
almost on the instant met by his opponent. Bos Tyler
pointed at Mace, in a good-humoured manner, as much as
to intimate Jem had had some of the burnishing powder.
Mace feinted with the left, but, finding he could not
get in with artistic effect, he did not let it go
freely from the shoulder. Tom, for the purpose of
taking better range, followed up and with the left got
home on the right cheek, and also put in one from the
right. As Mace broke to get away, Tom hit out with both
mauleys, but did no execution, as Mace threw the left
off well with the right guard. After slight sparring
and manœuvring Tom led the left, but it was not sent
sufficiently well in to be effective, nor did he meet
with any better success in following up with a wild hit
from the right, for Jem drew well out of range. On
again coming to distance, King worked with his right
arm backwards and forwards, as though he intended to
let it go, but did not. As Jem shifted Tom followed,
when Mace got home a fine left-handed hit on the jaw.
The combatants in the most spirited manner fought
across the ring, Mace administering some of the cayenne
with both mauleys. In the close both struggled for the
fall, when Tom got from his man and went to grass in
his own corner.

5.――Mace was the first to come from his corner, but he
had not long to wait before Tom faced him. Both men
were considerably pinked, and their physiognomies now
possessed more touches of beauty than are to be found
in their photographs in George Newbold’s collection of
celebrities. Jem, as he came from his corner, bent his
head forward, as though he was mentally debating in
what new manner he should try to get well at his man,
who by the rapid style in which he had been fighting,
had given proof that he was a dangerous antagonist.
King, the instant he had put up his hands, went dashing
to force the fighting. With the left he administered a
stinger on the right cheek, and followed up with a half
round hit from the right. Mace, as his opponent rushed
at him to close, drew out, but Tom, not to be denied,
followed up, when, in a rally, Jem pegged away with
both mauleys, left and right, with astonishing
rapidity, doing a great deal of heavy execution. In the
close they struggled for the fall, when Mace threw his
man in clever style, near the ropes. (The friends of
Mace were in ecstasies, and long odds were offered on
their pet.)

6.――Tom in the first two or three rounds had
unquestionably had a shade the best of it, from the
style in which he had gone dashing at his man, and the
quickness he had displayed. Mace did not exhibit that
steadiness in his practice he afterwards did. Now,
however, that Jem had got the true measure of his man
there was a total change in his tactics, and the manner
in which he now fought proved that he was in all
respects superior to the “big-’un” in science. Both, on
presenting themselves at the mark, bore evidence of
having been by no means idle, for Jem was swelled about
the ivories in a very conspicuous manner, while King,
from the appearance of his left peeper, gave
unmistakable proof of having been warmed up; he was
likewise slightly bleeding from the nose. Still there
had been no serious damage done on the part of either.
After some little manœuvring, the combatants changing
and shifting position, King dashed at his antagonist in
his usual style, getting home left and right on the
head. Mace met his man as he came with the rush on the
milling suit, and, in one of the finest rallies that
could be witnessed, the combatants fought right across
the ring; there was something delightful to the
admirers of boxing in Jem’s style of fighting his man
with both hands, left and right, at the nob. These
blows were delivered with a rapidity that was quite
electrifying, being sent ding dong, straight home, so
that Jem was all over his man in an instant, the blows
making an impression as though Tom had been stamped
with a couple of dies. Tom was by no means idle, but
also pegged away at his man with the left on the head
and the right on the body in merry fashion. In the
close they got on the ropes, when Jem for the moment
touched the top cord with his right hand, but Tom
having shifted his position, the men struggled for the
fall, when Tom, as a termination to this well-fought
round, was under.

7.――As the battle progressed, so did it increase in
interest, for there was a marked speciality about the
manner in which it was being fought that could not
possibly fail to enhance its importance among the
admirers of bold and genuine boxing. There can be no
disputing, both men had been from the commencement
fighting remarkably well, and the battle, as will be
seen, had already presented two striking and prominent
features; for though, until Jem had thoroughly got the
measure of his man, King had in the opening bout been
considered to have a slight lead, yet the style in
which Mace was now performing was sufficient to
convince all that there had not been the slightest
mistake made in his merits as regards milling
excellence. The combatants came simultaneously from
their corners. Tom, as he stood at the scratch, opened
his mouth and rubbed his hands, and then, on again
putting himself into position, drew out and retreated
to his own corner, Mace following. Both, as they again
drew to range, steadied themselves, and in a fine
counter with the left got well home, Jem doing
execution on the snout, Tom on the top part of the
cranium. Mace, on breaking, got to the ropes, when, as
Tom came boring in to close, he slipped from the
embrace of the young giant and got down.

8.――From the manner in which the tints had been rubbed
in it was apparent the colours had been well worked up,
though this was much more conspicuous on Tom’s dial
than his opponent’s, for King’s left peeper had a small
lump on the side of it, while the nose and mouth looked
a good deal puffed. Tom, as usual, taking the
initiative, lunged out the left, but did no execution,
as he was not well to distance. Mace, after King had
opened with this wild hit, took up fresh position, and
in doing so, as he was followed by his antagonist, he
hit the back part of his head against the stake. As Tom
pressed in, Jem pulled himself together, and after some
fine left-handed counter-hitting, in which Mace
delivered very heavily on the middle of the head, they
closed and went down, Mace through the ropes. The
battle had now lasted 22 minutes, and it had been
nothing but downright hard fighting and no mistake.

9.――King made another dash at Jem, “on hostile thoughts
intent,” and got home apparently a hot-’un on the right
eye, but there was no sign of injury, evidently owing
to Jem’s excellent condition. Jem instantly returned a
severe prop on the dial with the left, and then
countered a second effort on the part of King, who
essayed his right. Tom, desperate, now dashed in with
headstrong determination, and bored his man through the
ropes, to the delight of the Kingites, who, however,
declined to take 6 to 4, freely offered by the backers
of Mace.

10.――Mace, the instant the signal was given, came forth
with the utmost alacrity to renew the struggle. King,
as an opening to the attack, lunged out the left, and
administered a telling spank on Jem’s right jaw; and
then, as Tom came dashing on, the men fought in a fine
two-handed rally right across the ring, when King got
his man’s nob for an instant in the right arm lock, and
pegged away in the fibbing beautifully. Jem, like a
good tactician, extricated himself; and after some
severe milling, in which Mace got in the most telling
manner on his man’s mouth, cheek, and nose――going, in
fact, all over the dial with his clenched digits in a
rapid and surprising manner――the men closed at the
ropes right opposite to the umpire and referee, when
Jem got his man in position, and gave him a fair
back-heel fall. Immense cheering for Mace.

11.――King’s left eye looked worse than ever, while his
good-looking mug was knocked out of all symmetry.
Nevertheless he was again first to begin the attack,
and in leading got home the left on the right cheek,
following it in with one from the right on the side of
the pimple. Jem, who timed his man beautifully,
administered another tremendous left-hander on the
mazzard, when Tom’s nob, from its effect, went waving
back. On the instant, however, he pulled himself
together and dashed in to renew the struggle, when Jem
met him, and delivered a tremendous left-hander on the
nose, which produced a copious flow of blood. As Mace
took fresh ground Tom again dashed in, and they fought
a regular ding-dong, slogging give-and-take to a close.
Tom, with his usual style of bending his head slightly
forward, went dashing at Jem, and got more than one
straightening prop. They again fought in regular
ding-dong to a close, when Tom, while receiving Jem’s
props on the dial, made use of the right once or twice
in a very efficient manner on the body, upon which Mace
got from his man and went down. The referee here called
the attention of Tom’s seconds to the fact that their
man had struck Jem while he was down, which was true;
but Mace was just on the go, and King could not help
the hit, which was evidently unintentional, and no harm
was done.

12.――Another splendid rally in this round, Mace again
in a telling manner doing execution with both mauleys,
but evidently forced back by King’s irresistible
advance. The men, who had fought right across the ring,
closed in Mace’s corner, when Jem got down, Tom falling
on him. During this round the referee had several times
to caution the seconds, who, in a most reprehensible
manner, followed their principals as closely as
frequently to be in the way of the combatants.

13.――The men again went to work in a spirited and
determined manner. Jem, with his left, got well home on
the front of his man’s dial, and jumped back; when Tom,
with his right, administered some sounding spanks on
the ribs. As Jem broke to get away, King followed him
up, and Mace went down to end the round.

14.――Mace commenced operations by getting well in range
and delivering a pretty left-hander full on the nose,
knocking Tom’s head round as though it had been shaken
off its connections; nevertheless Tom again tried to
force the fighting, when, after some merry exchanges,
they closed, and in the fall went down together in the
centre of the ring. King’s friends cheered him
heartily, as he fully deserved.

15.――Some sharp fighting, rather in favour of Mace,
who, in the end, went down in the hitting, and King
fell over him.

16.――Tom dashed in viciously, and after a fine exchange
of compliments, in which each did execution, they
closed, and Jem, who had had the best of the exchanges,
fell under.

17.――Tom again forced the fighting, but though he
delivered with his left, he was a little too round with
his right to be effective. Mace, after countering with
his antagonist, and getting well home with the left in
the middle of the head, and following up at half
measure with the right, got cleverly away from his man.
As Jem took fresh position, Tom followed him up, and
the men in a rally fought to the ropes. In the close
both got under the top rope, and fell nearly out of the
ring.

18.――Such a certainty was the battle looked upon by
some of Jem’s admirers that Johnny Gideon here offered
£30 to £5 on him, but there were no takers. Indeed,
Tom’s umpire, a good judge, said that, bar accident,
Mace could not lose. After some more severe fighting,
in which Mace again delivered in a telling manner on
Tom’s dial with both mauleys, Tom made a slip in
getting from his man, and fell on his knees. On the
instant the game fellow recovered his perpendicular,
and as Jem noticed this he beckoned him to renew the
round. King was willing, but his well-skilled seconds,
seeing the fast work he was doing, refused to allow
him.

19.――It now seemed “all over, but shouting,” to the
partisans of Mace, who called out any odds, without
response. As the men came up it was easy to see that
Jem, thinking himself already victorious, was anxious
to finish off the business, lest the appearance of the
police, which had been rumoured, should rob him of his
conquest at the last moment. He worked in with both
hands in weaving style to get well to distance, and as
he took up his position he got into a slight hollow of
the ring. Jem, who had repeatedly tried to land a
clipping cross-counter with his right, had just opened
himself for the purpose of trying it on, when Tom, who
stood firmly to his guns, met him with one of the most
tremendous hits we ever saw. It was a cross-counter on
the left cheek with his right hand――a blow that seemed
to go all over Jem’s face with crushing effect. Jem,
bleeding from the mouth and nose, reeled and staggered
from the effect of this visitation, and then, to the
consternation of friends, fell in the middle of the
ring all of a heap. So sudden a change in the aspect of
affairs had hardly ever been witnessed in the memory of
the oldest ring-goer, and Jem’s seconds were working
with a zeal which told how serious was the position.
Down came the odds. “The Champion’s licked,” said
twenty voices in a sort of stage whisper, and all eyes
were strained in the direction of the busy group in
Mace’s corner.

20.――King walked up to the scratch, watching the
referee with ill-concealed anxiety to hear the call of
“Time.” When, however, that functionary had twice
repeated his summons, Mace, who had by no means
recovered from the settler he had received, came
unsteadily from his corner. Tom walked up to him, and
Mace tried a wild delivery with his left, Tom retorted
with a hot blow on the nose, and Mace, in getting away,
went down close to the referee’s seat like a lump of
lead. There was now the greatest commotion and
excitement all round the ring. It was now as clearly
King’s victory as it had previously been Mace’s.
Brettle and Travers worked with a will, doing for their
man everything possible, and he gallantly seconded
their efforts, resolutely refusing to allow them to
throw up the sponge.

21 and last.――Before Mace left his corner Tom was
waiting for his man, and no sooner did Mace come up
than King went to him, and, with a slight push on the
head, sent him down. Jem, who was weak and exhausted,
and who had the right side of his phiz swelled in an
extraordinary manner from the effects of King’s
right-hander, was now clearly _hors de combat_, and his
friends, seeing he had not the remotest chance of
winning, threw up the sponge in spite of his protests.
This token of defeat was hailed with loud shouts by
Tom’s friends, who were, of course, doubly delighted at
the bravery and good fortune of their man, and they
crowded enthusiastically round King to hail him as the
last addition to the roll of brave men who have borne
the proud title of Champion of England. The battle
lasted exactly thirty-eight minutes.

REMARKS.――There can be little question as to the fact
that King’s decisive victory was more immediately due
to the tremendous hit to which Mace laid himself open
by his over-eagerness to plant what he considered a
sort of _coup de grace_ on his gallant adversary. His
skill in administering, as well as avoiding punishment,
had given him an apparent best, but he had not reduced
the courage and confidence, nor exhausted the strength
of his dangerous antagonist. The “hit” that King “had
left in him,” was, as Jem found to his cost that day,
worth the Championship of England. That this is no
disparagement of King’s victory all must admit, and a
more gallant display of skill and bravery could not
have been witnessed in any day present or past. King’s
fairness of style in the finish of several rounds, when
the lead trembled in the balance, shone conspicuously,
and was warmly acknowledged by the spectators.

At the giving up of the stakes, on the Thursday night week, King once again announced his intention of not contesting the Championship. This was generally understood as owing to obligations of another description in which a “ring” also had a part, and not a few of Young Tom’s intimates drank a toast to his matrimonial felicity, in the old formula of “The single married, and the married happy.”

A curious telegraphic contretemps, which may serve as a caution to the over-clever, occurred on this occasion. Mr. William Wright, of Fulwood’s Rents, who was at this period an immense authority, had arranged with his London clerks that, to prevent surreptitious use of the earliest intelligence, for which he had incurred a large outlay, his telegram would give the losing man as winner, and they were to read it and manifold it accordingly. Having therefore sent off, at the earliest possible moment, “Mace beat King,” with the number of rounds, &c., the telegraph clerk on the spot, thinking he knew to the contrary, innocently set the message _right_, and, out of kindness, sent over the wire, “King beat Mace;” whereon the clerks dutifully followed their instructions, and the wrong result was extensively circulated to clubs, subscribers, &c., and for some hours a bewildering uncertainty prevailed.

The Young Sailor, however, had excited too great an interest in the public mind to be allowed to sink quietly into oblivion. He had distinctly stated that he did not seek the distinction, if distinction it was, of the Championship, and he resigned the belt into the hands of the Editor of _Bell’s Life_. Heenan, however, having made some good friends among gentlemen of the turf by his civility, intelligence, and good conduct, intimated to several of these, that if there was any “big one” desirous to try conclusions with him, he was ready to make a “quiet match” for not less than £500, and he had friends who would make it £1000 if required. This was formally communicated to the Editor of _Bell’s Life_, with a wish that no bouncing or offensive challenge should be inserted. The Editor at once put these facts in circulation in proper quarters, and the proposition, like most American notions, “a big thing,” made some of Tom King’s friends prick up their ears. Mace was engaged “two deep,” and moreover was not “their man.” A conference was held at Owen Swift’s, to which Tom King was invited, and he, with ready gallantry, declared the opportunity was most inviting and welcome. Money was forthcoming on both sides, and as both sides meant business, the paper subjoined was soon formulated――

“ARTICLES OF AGREEMENT entered into this 17th day of March,
1863, between John Camel Heenan and Thomas King. The said
John Camel Heenan agrees to fight the said Thomas King a
fair stand-up fight, according to the new rules of the ring,
by which the said John Camel Heenan and the said Thomas King
hereby agree to be bound. The said fight shall be for the
sum of £1,000 a side, and shall take place on the 8th day of
December, 1863, within 100 miles of London. In pursuance of
this agreement, £100 a side are now deposited in the hands
of Mr. John Coney, who shall transmit the same to the Editor
of _Bell’s Life_, who shall be final stakeholder; the second
deposit, of £50 a side, shall be made at Mr. W.
Richardson’s, “Blue Anchor,” Shoreditch, on Thursday, March
26; the third, of £50 a side, to be made on April 9; the
fourth, of £50 a side, on April 23; the fifth, of £50 a
side, on May 7; the sixth, of £50 a side, on May 21; the
seventh, of £50 a side, on June 4; the eighth, of £50 a
side, on June 18; the ninth, of £50 a side, on July 2; the
tenth, of £50 a side, on July 16; the eleventh, of £50 a
side, on July 30; the twelfth, of £50 a side, on August 13;
the thirteenth, of £50 a side, on August 27; the fourteenth,
of £50 a side, on September 10; the fifteenth, of £50 a
side, on September 24; the sixteenth, of £50 a side, on
October 27; the seventeenth, of £50 a side, on November 5;
and the final deposit, of £100 a side, on November 26, at
Mr. W. Richardson’s, “Blue Anchor,” as above, when the men
shall mutually agree to the place of fighting. The said
deposits to be made between the hours of eight and ten p.m.
on the days and at the houses named; either party failing,
to forfeit the money down. The houses at which the deposits
shall be made shall be named by each party alternately, and
to be made in London. The place of the next deposit to be
named as the staking of the previous one, Heenan having to
name the place of the third deposit. The men to be in the
ring between the hours of ten a.m. and one p.m. on the day
named, or the man absent to forfeit the money. But, in the
event of magisterial interference, the referee shall decide
the next place and time of meeting, the same day, if
possible. The expenses of the ropes and stakes shall be
borne mutually. Mr. Dowling, the Editor of _Bell’s Life in
London_, to be referee. Two umpires to be chosen on the
ground; and, in case of dispute between them, the decision
of the referee to be final.

“In pursuance of this agreement, we hereunto attach our names――

“JOHN CAMEL HEENAN.
“CHARLES BUSH, for Thomas King.
“Witness: H. A. REED.”

The match made, each man at once proceeded to make trading capital out of it by travelling the provinces, and this at first led to a belief that the match would never come to anything, but was merely got up for this purpose. On the other hand it was asserted, that the match was sure to come off, but the result had been cut and dried; that the backers of the men intended to make a trading speculation out of the “Special” which was to convey the belligerents to the scene of action. It was known that a sum of more than £1000 had been divided between Sayers and Heenan out of the profits of the train for their match, and the supposition was, perhaps, not unnatural that £500 would be very good interest upon £100 for a few months, setting aside the off chance of something else turning up into the bargain. As the day approached for the men to go into training fears as to the affair not being genuine quickly subsided, and in racing circles the match created much interest, numerous bets of 6 to 4 being laid on the Benicia Boy, whose appearance at Newmarket during the October Meetings fully justified the confidence reposed in him. Heenan took his breathings almost entirely at Newmarket in company with his own brother Jem, and Macdonald, but required very little, if any, looking after. His feats as a pedestrian during his work were something extraordinary, six miles and a “bittock” did he generally turn in ordinary walking, and many a spin and a tie up did he give to some of our crack jocks, among whom are to be found no mean specimens of fair toe-and-heel walkers. Jack’s spins at the top of his speed, too, not a little astonished the Browns, and we have been credibly informed he could on a pinch do his quarter in 56 seconds――not bad for a 14 stone man, standing nearly 6 feet 2 inches. When stripped his frame was a model for a sculptor. Every muscle was developed to a gigantic size, every tendon and sinew was distinctly visible; and, taken altogether, we doubt whether such a specimen of a Hurculean frame has been witnessed in the British P. R. for very many years. That Heenan possessed every confidence in himself may be gathered from the fact that some three weeks previously he sent a message to the stakeholder, requesting him to state that if he did not lick King the public ought to stigmatise him as the greatest impostor who ever entered the Ring. The Editor tells us that he declined to insert this statement at the time, as not being fair to either party, and considering that should the result justify the observation it would be time enough to make it when the battle was over. Heenan, as may be recollected, was born in 1834, at Troy, United States, of Irish parents. His fighting weight on stripping on the present occasion was, as near as possible, 14 stone 2lb.

As the time of battle drew near the difficulties of a mode of transit to the ground increased. One after another refusals of accommodation were returned, the powers and authorities having experienced the disorders which seemed inseparable from the gathering of such a crowd as had now made it a custom to gather on such an occasion. During Saturday, Monday, and Tuesday, the offices of the sporting newspapers, to say nothing of the “houses of call” for sporting men, were besieged by questioners; but beyond the fact that tickets at three sovereigns a head were procurable, no definite tip was to be had.

Tuesday evening was a night of festivity at all sporting pubs. The public fully believing that on the following morning the mill would come off, and all being agog to get the necessary tip. It was not until well into the small hours that many would believe that Wednesday was not the day. The same scene was repeated on Wednesday, with the exception that delay had doubled the excitement, and the houses, which on Tuesday were crammed, were on the following night well nigh overwhelmed, and the ordinary business could scarcely be transacted. At Owen Swift’s much anxiety was expressed as to whether a bet of £600 to £400 appointed to be put down the night before the fight would really be forthcoming, certain half-sceptics pinning their faith on this ceremony as calculated to prove the genuine nature of the match. It was also expected it would materially affect the betting, many considering that the staking would show such confidence on the part of King’s backers as would justify his being backed for money.

On our arrival at London Bridge Station a few minutes before five in the morning, we found that the “rasping” division had dwindled away to an insignificant few. The fact is, the busy tongue of rumour had sent them so often to the various stations on a Will o’ the Wisp errand, that the detrimentals were completely tired out, and, after the lesson of Tuesday and Wednesday nights, without anything turning up, they denounced the whole affair as “a sell,” and stayed at home. Never was a secret of such a kind better kept, and the wide-awakes who “knew the exact spot to a yard,” found themselves neck deep in the mire, after a fashion they little calculated on; the cut-purse family wiping the frosty icicles from their noses in the west, when they should have been looking out for squalls in the South Eastern horizon. The delightful result was that the congregation of the fistic art passed through the thin dark line of worn and weary snapper-badgers. The arrangements of the legitimate “conveyancers” were most excellent; everybody was comfortably “taken in and done for,” whilst the presence of the ring-constable volunteers set the foot of authority down with a crash upon all attemps at “rigging the market.” In fact, one might have thought that he was going to see an early ploughing match, whilst the “Yahoo” business didn’t rise as high as the song of an old tea-kettle. Indeed, that ugly element was wise in the course it was constrained to adopt; had it done otherwise there was force enough present to have brought every atom of it to grief. Both the men reached the ground in good time, and both had their fair quantity of supporters, who would persist in blocking up each carriage door, so that the entrance of a breath of air was almost next to an impossibility.

The train consisted of thirty carriages, in each of which, to use a theatrical phrase, there was not standing room. We were “horsed” by two powerful engines, and, at about a quarter past six glided out of the station without the least confusion, and with the greatest regularity. The morning stars were just beginning to show signs of that glimmering faintness which indicates the approach of daybreak. Once the train got in motion, not a sound was to be heard save the outburst of some occasional hearty laugh at the jocularity going on inside. But even this was of the mildest possible character, and there was an entire absence of that reprehensible boisterous outpouring which has too often awoke the slumbering people along the route, filling their half-dreamy imaginations with the horror that the Philistines were upon them. We were more than half afraid that the new plan of paying at the doors would have been productive of the direst confusion, but our apprehensions were agreeably dispelled.

On casting a quiet running glance through the interior of each carriage, before we started, we found the genuine patrons of our national manly “trial by battle” in very strong force indeed. We heard one and all join in a universal chorus of satisfaction at the way in which we had been “got off.” On and on we rolled through the fair county of Kent, and as the grey dawn of morning rose eastward on our track the mild fresh breeze played upon our half-sleepy faces, waking us up to a sense of life and activity that was as agreeable as it was invigorating. The morning was beautiful and mild, and away now to our left the bright blue-tinged light of early day could be seen breaking gently and softly, widening and lengthening as it imperceptibly spread over the landscape in a manner that would have excited the admiration of a Gainsborough or a Creswick. Still on and onward we go through deep cuttings and over high embankment; anon the iron horses slacken their speed, and the next instant the reverberating sounds of our whirling wheels tell us that we are passing through the bowels of mother earth. On emerging from the tunnel into open country our ears were saluted with voices that unmistakably marked the owners as denizens of the aristocratic regions west of Regent Street. Speculation made itself heard, and 6 and 7 to 4 on the Benicia Boy seemed to be the chorus of the song. Just as we could distinguish houses and buildings sufficiently, the train glided noiselessly into Reigate Junction, where we were “regaled” by the sight of a strong covey of early “blue birds” belonging to the Surrey County Constabulary. It is needless to say that they were not there on our invitation. We considered them more free than welcome, and following the prudent and time-honoured example of those philosophic predecessors of theirs, Masters Dogberry and Verges of blessed memory, we stole ourselves out of their company with all possible alacrity and despatch. A thin white frosty veil of mist floated over the landscape as we again got in full swing, whilst the leaden coloured clouds as they lay heavy and motionless overhead gave us cause for grave anxiety, but, as our fears were rising to an uncomfortable grade on our nervous thermometer, in we rushed to another tunnel. When we issued forth we made a series of weatherwise surveys all round us, and were joyed to find the dark curtain lifting evenly and gradually up on our right, whilst on the opposite side bright broken patches encouraged our most earnest hopes, Another turn of the steam valve, and away we sped at over forty miles an hour; wood and dell, hamlet and village, cottage and mansion flew by like the magic of the kaleidoscope, and the question of our journey’s end took the place of other topics for the moment. A few miles further on and we shot by Tunbridge Wells. By this time we could see that the “bold peasantry” were discussing their breakfast, but as we rattled on at the rate of a mile a minute and a half, we did not take particular notice of what they ate. At length we drew up in a secluded and well-selected spot, where we got out, yawned, stretched ourselves, and gulped in the sharp morning air most voraciously. On account of the extreme softness of the ground it was some time before a decent place could be found. At this hour, about a quarter past nine o’clock, the sun was shining out as magnificently as on a fine May morning, and as we toiled some mile and a half up a steep clayey hill, the “stuff” was taken out of many. At length a chosen spot was taken possession of, and the ring pitched in a field at Wadhurst, near Frant, below Tunbridge Wells. King first dropped in his castor, amid loud cheers, accompanied by Jerry Noon and Bos Tyler, and was immediately followed by Heenan, who was similarly received, being esquired by Jack Macdonald, and, for the sake of theatrical effect, Tom Sayers. Colours were now unfolded on both sides, and the combatants began to dress. The choice of ground was won by Heenan, and then came the referee. Some wrangling here took place in respect to that functionary, during which the betting went on with offers at 40 to 20, &c., on Heenan, but there did not seem to be any takers. Confusion now became the ruling element, wasting away precious time on the top of a hill that could be seen for twenty miles around. There were the men and their seconds ready, while the referee was expected to come from the clouds. Three quarters of an hour was spent in this way before matters were finally closed, and the referee originally proposed was ultimately agreed to. The men then began the important duty of the toilet, and in the hands of their respective valets that operation was soon completed. The ring was then cleared, and the men showed themselves ready in battle array. Heenan was the first to exhibit, mid the loud cheers of his admirers, and was instantly followed by King, for whom another salvo rose up from the throats of his party. Exactly at ten o’clock the men were delivered at the scratch, shook hands, and prepared to commence

THE FIGHT.

ROUND 1.――As the men advanced towards the centre of the
ring the first glance seemed to show how great were the
physical advantages of Heenan, who looked quite the
stone heavier man he really was――King being
comparatively a fair-skinned stripling; but a closer
inspection revealed a jaded appearance. He looked
clumsier altogether than when he fought Sayers. King,
on the contrary, was as well as ever he could be, and
there was a bloom and healthfulness about him, which
spoke not only of steady training, but of an unvitiated
constitution. He had not altogether the cut of a
professional pugilist, but would rather be described as
a fine, fresh, good-looking young countryman. The men
threw themselves into attitude, and opened the round
with a little sparring, but there was a hurried, not to
say nervous, manner about each of them, which indicated
that the scientific display would not be very
prolonged. Heenan led off once or twice, but was not
close enough. King was equally out of distance in
trying to return. At last they got nearer, and
exchanged good counter-hits. A couple more heavy hits
were given, and King was drawing back to take up fresh
ground, when Heenan plunged desperately at him, and got
his left arm round his neck; the impetus of his rush
carrying them both to the ropes. Here Heenan sought to
fix his man in the dangerous manner he had practised
with Sayers, but King’s strength enabled him to wrench
himself up, and, locked together, they wrestled back to
the centre of the ring. Here Heenan hung upon his man,
squeezing him tightly, and trying to force him down.
King, whose arms were at liberty, hit him heavily about
the body left and right, until he fell, dragging Heenan
with him, but the Yankee was uppermost. (The referee
here entered the ring and cautioned Heenan as to his
“hugging” system, which was certainly an unsightly mode
of attack.)

2.――Both men were somewhat flushed about the head from
the previous round, and King appeared a little
distressed from the severe struggle. He was urged to be
first with his man, and led off directly he came to the
scratch. He got well home on Heenan’s head; the latter
countered, but without much precision, and some wild
but heavy exchanges took place with both hands, King
dealing the Yankee a severe blow on the mouth. Tom was
pressing his man, when Heenan made a dash at him, and
showing great superiority in strength, after a few
seconds of squeezing, threw him heavily, a very
dangerous fall, coming with all his weight upon him.
(_First blood_ was here given to King; Heenan’s lips
being cut and bleeding.)

3.――King seemed anxious to keep away from his man spar;
there was no doubt that he was already considerably
shaken by the severe falls he had received. Heenan
appeared more anxious to seize a favourable chance to
grasp his man than to hit him. After a moment’s pause
they got together, and lashed out heavily with the
left, each getting home. This led to some more
exchanges, desperately heavy, it is true, but made in a
wild style, and not like two finished boxers. Heenan
again plunged in, King meeting him heavily as he came,
but he grappled Tom, and again brought him down with
shattering force across the lower rope, which was
pressed to the ground. Luckily the ground was not hard.
(Unpleasant as was Heenan’s style of fighting, he was
considered to be getting the best of the battle, as
King evidently could not resist his rush and clinching
throw.)

4.――King’s left eye was marked with a mouse, but
otherwise he did not show much signs of punishment. The
rounds were all short ones, Heenan forcing his way in
upon King, a few slashing exchanges; then King was once
more caught in the hug, and thrown a desperate fall.
(Great disapprobation of Heenan’s style of fighting――if
fighting it could be called. His hugging and squeezing
was far worse than even in Sayers’s fight.)

5.――King was as ready at the call of “time” as his
antagonist, yet evidently felt the falls he was
receiving, and sparred a bit for wind. Heenan was
distressed also, and glad of a pause. They worked round
a bit until they got near, when King, with the
swiftness of lightning, dealt the Yankee a terrific hit
in the middle of the head with his right, almost
knocking him off his legs, and drawing streams of
claret from a cut on his mouth. It was nearly a
floorer, and on Heenan trying a return, King
cross-countered very heavily on the side of the head.
Heenan was for a moment at a standstill, and King led
off again, but was out of distance, and the Yankee
again “clinching”――we must borrow an Americanism which
expresses more than our word “closing”――succeeded in
once more putting on the “hug” and throwing King
heavily; though he pitched over him so far as to strike
the ground with his own head.

6.――The fighting had been wild enough before, but in
this round there was no attempt at precision or
steadiness. The men punched――or punched at――one another
wildly, King getting the best of what hitting did tell,
till Heenan closed, and, getting his regular grip,
flung King a burster.

7.――The men went to work directly they faced each
other, and in a slogging rally some really terrific
hitting was given and taken. They broke away, but only
for a few seconds, when they got together with more
tremendous exchanges, yet still to the advantage of
King, who allowed what little science was exhibited,
and hit straightest. By a desperate snorter with his
right, during this rally, he drew a fresh burst of
crimson. Heenan closed in the hitting, hugged his man
viciously, and then threw him one of the heaviest
cross-buttocks seen for many a day. It was a crusher,
and King lay for a few seconds until his seconds picked
him up and bore him to his corner.

8.――King, to the delight of his friends, came up
promptly; although he was piping a little, he seemed
marvellously little hurt by these continuous throws.
Heenan was ready to fight to improve his supposed
advantage, and the men exchanged stinging counters
directly they faced each other, and heavy exchanges
followed. Heenan dashed in as usual to seize his man,
but on this occasion he was foiled, for King caught him
in his arms; and, after a moment’s struggle, threw the
Yankee heavily and fell on him. (This was a fair,
unmistakable back fall and the cheering for King was
tremendous.)

9.――Heenan looked vexed as he came up; he had plainly
made up his mind to recover his wrestling superiority,
and tried for an opening. King was with him, and met
him left and right; then, getting away again, planted
on him with tremendous effect as he came in, catching
his man well in the middle of the head; and now and
then, in each of the rounds, giving a home hit on the
body. Heenan at last got in, squeezed his man savagely,
and again threw him a shattering fall.

10.――The wildest and fastest of fighting still
continued, in fact, the rally more resembled a
“turn-up” of two angry navvies than the tactics of
skilled boxers. The exchanges were of the severest
description, although most of the blows seemed given at
random. Heenan was wholly bent on throwing, and once
more hugged King and threw him.

11.――Heenan showed that the pace was telling on him,
and it was doubtful whether he was not taking almost as
much out of himself by his desperate struggles to throw
King, as he was out of King by the falls. He persevered
in his wrestling game, however, for hardly an attempt
was made at a blow in this round before he grappled
with King, and brought him over.