The battle had lasted for an hour and forty-two minutes. The Slasher wept bitterly when Sayers came over to shake hands. He had staked every penny he had on the fight, and was, besides being beaten, utterly ruined. “Something” was done for him afterwards, so that he was able to take the inevitable inn and spent the rest of his days in comparative comfort. He answered the final call of “Time” in January, 1881.
CHAPTER XX
The Last Great Prize-Fight
TOM SAYERS AND THE BENICIA BOY
The fight between Tom Sayers, Champion of England, and Heenan, the giant American, was about the last conspicuous affair with bare knuckles fit for place in any history of the Prize-Ring. There were, no doubt, good bye-battles, but there is no record of them as such. From first to last, in the oldest days of all, just as to-day, we look to championship contests for representative form—and seldom find it. One or both of the champions may be as good men as it is possible to find, but the show that they put up when pitted against each other is frequently poor when compared to the performance of a couple of “unknowns.” But this battle, viewed from various angles, was a good one.
Tom Sayers, Champion of England, was challenged by the American, Heenan, who came over with a bevy of supporters. The fight was arranged to take place on Tuesday, April 17th, 1860; but the utmost secrecy had to be preserved in order to avoid the police.
The following paragraph appeared in The Times for April 2nd (This was before the days of sensational and prominent headlines, and the reader had to search for the news which interested him):—
“The Forthcoming Prize-Fight.—Hertford, Saturday. This afternoon Colonel Archibald Robertson, chief constable of the Hertfordshire Police Force, made application to the justices assembled in petty session at Hertford for a warrant to apprehend Thomas Sayers, the ‘Champion of England,’ and John Heenan, the American pugilist, in order that they might be bound over to keep the peace....”
The gallant colonel failed to apprehend the delinquents, and at 4 a.m. on the great day an enormous special train steamed, under sealed orders, as it were, out of London Bridge Station, carrying about a thousand people, which number was more than trebled on the field of battle. This was at Farnborough, near Aldershot. The actual meadow was cunningly chosen, for it was practically surrounded by double hedges and ditches, and was a difficult place to come at in a hurry: the idea in the minds of the organisers being that if any body of men did try to interfere, due notice would be given of the fact to the principals and officials.
The fight began at 7.25 in the morning. A twenty-four foot ring was formed. The men shook hands, and tossed for corners, Heenan winning and naturally choosing the slight advantage of the higher side in a gently sloping space and a position which put the sun in his antagonist’s eyes. The American was the first to strip, and was seen to be an enormous fellow, 6 feet 2 inches in height, with very long arms, a fine deep chest, and perfectly trained. He combined with these magnificent proportions much grace and freedom of movement. Sayers had a good look at his man, nodded his head quietly, and then stripped himself. He was only 5 feet 8 inches. His chest was not specially broad or thick, nor did his arms give the appearance of unusual development. Only his shoulders suggested where his wonderful hitting power came from. But he was a hard little man, and he, too, was in perfect condition. On the face of it, and to those spectators who were unacquainted with Sayers’s previous performances or the history of the Ring (with its records of Tom Johnson and Jem Belcher), it appeared once again to be an absurd match. Heenan towered over his man and seemed to be about twice his size in every dimension.
They took up their positions, and laughed at each other as they moved round, each man to his right in order to avoid the other’s right hand. Then Heenan led and just reached Sayers’s mouth, getting a hard reply which, amidst loud applause, drew first blood. They sparred for a little longer and then closed, when Sayers, as they used to say in these days, “got down easily.” A man was not allowed by the rules to go down without a blow, except in a close, in order to avoid punishment.