This great match made, Randall went into training on his favourite spot, Hampstead Heath; where he was rather under the eye and superintendence of a gallant Colonel, his patron, it being contiguous to that officer’s residence. He took up his abode at Bob Pilch’s, the Horse and Groom, Hampstead, which was a centre of attraction for the fancy, it being only a toddling distance from the town.
On the side of Turner, his friends were equally attentive and alert, and a “game” dinner was given to the amateurs on Tuesday, November 24, 1818, at the Chequers Inn, Brentwood, Essex, preparatory to the grand combat. It was a numerous and most respectable meeting. A livelier dinner was never witnessed; the cloth was covered from one end to the other with hares, pheasants, partridges, and venison, served in the highest style of culinary perfection; the table was also surrounded by live game, of the true British breed, not to be equalled in any other part of the world: Oliver and Purcell on one side, Turner and Richmond upon the other. The harmony was of the richest quality, and “the heroes of the ring” were toasted by the company. Turner returned thanks for the mention that had been made of his former exertions, and observed, with much modesty and candour, “that he would win if he could; but if he lost the match, he trusted that the amateurs would not have to complain that he had not done everything to give them satisfaction.”
In consequence of the death of Queen Charlotte, this great match was put off, by the consent of all parties, till Saturday, December 5. This circumstance tended, if possible, to increase the sporting anxiety upon the event. The day being altered, it was thought expedient by the backers, to prevent any misunderstanding, to give publicity to the following:—“It may be necessary to inform those who are not thoroughly acquainted with the rules of betting, that, on account of the above day being altered, all bets that have been laid since the match was made are off, unless agreed by the parties to be on; but all those bets which were laid before the match was made, stand good.” It was even betting at Tattersall’s on the Monday previous to the fight. This circumstance was attributed to the Welsh feeling upon the subject: five to four was difficult to be got at. The contest being a “war” question, the Stock Exchange dabbled considerably upon the event. When the challenge was first given by Randall, and received by Turner, the odds were seven to four and two to one on Randall; but this seemed rather to arise from the impetuosity and confidence of his friends, than from a due estimate of his merits. Consideration soon reduced the odds to five to four, then twenty-one to twenty, and at length only Randall for choice.
Even betting followed; and at last Turner’s friends, who had been upon the reserve, began to show out, and actually offered five to four the other way. This change was attributed to a report that Randall had got a cold in his neck, and was under the necessity of having leeches applied to reduce the tumour which arose in consequence. Turner’s father, it appears, had offered to take the odds against his son to any amount, and actually produced the blunt for a few hundreds, in order to prove his sincerity. The spirit of the Ancient Briton was up, and we understand that he was instructed by his friends in Wales to support the national glory. Tom Belcher had £200 sent up to him from Wales, to bet as he thought proper upon Turner.
The little hero on his leaving Brentwood, dined at Belcher’s, in Holborn, on Thursday, and in the course of the evening set off for Croydon, where he slept that night. He seemed in high condition and good spirits, and expressed a perfect confidence of success. Randall also shifted his quarters from Hampstead, and approached the scene of action. He was equally sanguine.
On Friday morning the bustle among the fancy was great. Post-chaises, gigs, carts, buggies, wagons, and every description of vehicle, were called into requisition; and, in the course of the day the road towards Croydon presented a motley assemblage of persons of all ranks. Many, too, who could not muster the means of other conveyance, depended upon their pedestrian abilities, and set out on foot. Every horse on the road was engaged, and hundreds were forced to take up their lodgings under circumstances of no ordinary privation; indeed it was considered but a trifling sacrifice, when compared with the pleasure to be derived from being present at the fight.
On entering the ring, which was pitched on Crawley Downs, Turner was waited on by Tom Owen and Bill Richmond, Randall by Tom Oliver and Blake. Odds six to four on Randall. Little time was lost, and at one o’clock they shook hands, and threw themselves in position for
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—It is impossible to describe the anxiety impressed upon the countenances of the spectators on the combatants shaking hands. The attitudes of both men were interesting to the admirers of pugilism, and neither of them seemed wanting in condition. They eyed each other with the acute precision of fencing masters, and seemed positively almost to look into each other’s hearts. It was dodging, dodging, and dodging again; and five minutes had elapsed before a blow had been made, touching the toes of each other all the time. At length, after some feints, Turner hit first, when the prime Irish boy laughed and got away. The latter, however, was not long in making a return, and he gave Turner a jawer and a ribber, but not heavily. More feints and dodging. Turner hit short with his right hand, when Randall rushed in and went to work. He tried to fib his opponent upon his old favourite system, and a severe struggle took place for the throw. Both down, but Turner undermost.
2.—The same caution was manifest on both sides on commencing this round, and long sparring again occurred. Randall gave a bellier, and got away; he was not long in repeating it, and adding a facer. Long sparring. Turner endeavoured to give a tremendous hit with his left hand, but Jack was wary, and jumped back two yards. Very long sparring; in fact, it appeared so tedious to those who are admirers of downright milling, that many persons called out, “When shall we get home?” Turner, with much dexterity, put in a good hit between Randall’s guard. (Great applause. “Go it, Neddy.”) The latter gave two facers, and plunged his way to work. The finish of this round was truly severe, fibbing and struggling till both went down. Twenty minutes had elapsed.