20.—Eales tottered to the scratch; but Scroggins gave him another cross-buttock as if a child had been opposed to his strength.
21.—The strength of Eales was quite reduced as to effective punishment; he, nevertheless, evinced good bottom, and did more than might have been expected from one so nearly beaten. Scroggins laid himself open, but Eales was too weak to turn it to account. In falling, Scroggins went down on him.
22.—It was now a horse to a hen, and Scroggins threw his man with apparent ease.
23.—Eales, to the astonishment of the spectators, once more appeared at the mark; but it was all up with him, and, by way of a quietus, Scroggins put in so tremendous a hit under his right ear that he was floored like a shot. He could not come again. The battle lasted twenty-two minutes.
Remarks.—Scroggins, in defeating a scientific boxer like Eales, completely astonished every amateur present. It was singular to observe the severity of his blows, and the punishment he administered to his opponent, though a man four inches taller than himself. Indeed our little hero was confidence itself. He assured his friends previous to the battle, that he would win it and nothing else. As an in-fighter, Eales had decidedly the best of his opponent; but his distances were so incorrect at times in out-fighting that numerous blows were thrown away. Some of the partizans of Eales attributed his loss to a severe hurt received on the back part of his head, in falling violently against the stakes; but the general opinion was that he lacked stamina to resist the finishing qualities of his antagonist. Eales was the heavier man, weighing eleven stone and half a pound. The bets never varied from the commencement of the fight; Scroggins was the favourite throughout. It was altogether a sharp contest, but a great deal of time was consumed in struggling to obtain the advantage in throwing. Notwithstanding the great superiority Eales had in standing over his opponent, united with his first-rate skill, he could not prevent Scroggins from going in. The admirers of science were much disappointed at the defeat of Eales.
From the success Scroggins had met with in his boxing career, and the numerous patrons of the art who rallied round him, he was enabled to commence publican. He accordingly opened the Waterman’s Arms, at Stangate, Lambeth, for the entertainment of the sporting world. His house in summer time was then pleasantly and attractively situated, commanding a view across the Thames, a part of the venerable Abbey, and Westminster Hall, with the old St. Stephen’s, and the Houses of Parliament, destroyed by fire in 1836. The name of John Scroggins, in large letters, at the top of the premises, might be seen from the other side of the river, operating as an inducement, not only to sporting characters, but to many an old shipmate of the Argo to call and give our hero a friendly turn. He did not want for company of every description. Peers and costermongers all contributed to make the pot boil; and, though Scroggy could not boast of the eloquence of a Cicero, yet he never suffered any of his customers to depart without receiving a ready answer. Life, in a variety of shapes, was to be seen under the roof of this little caterer for the public. In another part of his dwelling, the “saloon” was not the least importance in the picture. In ruder hands it was merely a skittle ground, but, under the taste and judgment displayed by “Scroggy,” it assumed a new and prominent feature. A gallery was now added to it, in addition to its being boarded over for the accommodation of spectators, and embellished with chandeliers. Every Tuesday night it was opened as a school for the art of self-defence; and here this remnant of the Olympic games was conducted with characteristic spirit to overflowing audiences. Scroggins himself usually appeared as a first-rate actor, assisted by several professionals, in most of these performances, to explain and render the art attainable. Here many a novice was floored for his temerity, by way of initiation, and as a sort of preparatory step to a better acquaintance with the practice and use of the gloves. The “tip” for admission was upon a reasonable scale, a single sixpence, and liquor to its estimated value was allowed. The sporting dinners given by Scroggins were excellent; and the Waterman’s Arms generally afforded amusement to those persons who were disposed to take a peep at the fun and frolic there exhibited, under the management of this comic hero of the ring.
Four months had scarcely elapsed when Scroggins again made his appearance in the prize-ring, but under very different circumstances. Having in his last combat defeated one of the most scientific boxers of the day, he was now called to enter the lists with a complete stranger, and a mere novice. It appears that Whittaker, from Denbigh in Yorkshire, an oilman by trade, had criticised the milling talents of Scroggins rather freely in company; which criticism resulted in a battle between them. The sum contended for was fifty guineas a side, and so much confidence did the Oilman feel upon entering the ring with Scroggins (notwithstanding his name was a sort of terror to pugilists in general), that he put down thirty-two guineas of the stakes out of his own pocket. Scroggins viewed Whittaker with so much indifference that he thought he had merely to take off his coat and win the fight. On Tuesday, the 9th of January, 1816, the fistic heroes met to decide this trial of skill at Moulsey Hurst. The Oilman was understood to be a clever and determined boxer, and so much interest was excited in the sporting circles that upwards of ten thousand persons witnessed the battle. The odds were two to one upon Scroggins, who was seconded by Oliver and Clark; Whittaker was attended by Cribb and Richmond. The men shook hands, and at one o’clock the set-to commenced:—
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The amateurs expected more of a smashing than a scientific fight; Scroggins thought so little of his adversary, that he went to work sans ceremonie, but hit short with his left hand; the Oilman, in return, planted a slight nobber. The combatants fought their way into a rally, and some sharp blows were exchanged, at the end of which the claret was seen trickling down Whittaker’s face (no variation in the betting).
2.—The Oilman seemed full of pluck and eager for battle. Scroggins again hit short, but Whittaker improved on the opening, and made a sharp left-handed blow. Some desperate milling occurred; no want of spirit on either side. In closing much struggling took place, when the Oilman got away, but was ultimately sent down.