44 and last.—Fisher came to the scratch much distressed, and Scroggins again milled him down. On time being called, Fisher could not rise from his second’s knee, being very faint and rather sick, upon which Scroggins was declared the conqueror. The battle lasted forty-one minutes.
Remarks.—Fisher must be pronounced a good man, and had he fought more at the head he might have been able to have given a better account of the battle. His mug was a little battered, but in other respects he did not exhibit severe marks of punishment. He attributed his loss to the very heavy falls he experienced more than to the blows he encountered, and walked from the scene of action without any help. Scroggins fought under disadvantage; but the confidence he possessed was truly astonishing. He urged that he could beat all the light weights, and entertained an idea that six men in the whole kingdom did not exist who could conquer him. He was much inebriated, and the danger he was likely to experience by losing a chance in his ensuing fight with Turner, seemed not in the least to operate on his mind. Though the above conquest was not an easy fight, he was as anxious to bet upon himself as the most interested looker-on, offering terms almost on every round. He was more beaten about the face than his antagonist.
It was now decidedly two to one, and in many instances the odds were still higher throughout the sporting, that Scroggins would add another laurel to his wreath, in his second combat with Turner, on the 10th of June, 1817, at Sawbridgeworth, Hertfordshire, but the smiles of fortune abandoned our hero, and, for the first time in his life, he found himself in defeat. (See p. 377.)
The only consolation Scroggins experienced, after his mind had overcome the shock was attributing his loss to an accidental blow he received upon the throat in the third round, and which swelled so rapidly as almost to deprive him of the power of breathing; nothing could satisfy his wounded feelings but another opportunity to retrieve his lost laurels. Turner, without hesitation, agreed to accommodate him, and Scroggins was so confident of victory, that he put down the principal part of the money himself, to make the stakes £150 a-side, the combat to take place on Tuesday, October 7, 1817. But the charm was broken—the invincibility of Scroggins, in the sporting world, was at an end—no longer a winning man his defects were too prominent to be overlooked. A material falling off was observed at his benefit and he was altogether so much reduced that the odds on the third contest were seven to four against him.
During the time allowed for training, Scroggins, as on a former instance, unmindful of the necessity of paying attention to his health, in an inebriated moment had an accidental turn up with Bob Gregson at Belcher’s. In this skirmish he went down, and sprained one of his legs so severely that he did not recover from its effects for upwards of a month; but, to make amends for this indiscretion, so much did he fancy this match, that he sold his house, quitted the character of a publican, and became a private individual, “in order,” as he observed, “to be more able to keep to his training.”
His third battle with Turner was fought at Shepperton October 7, 1818 (which, as well as the former, will be found under the Memoir of Turner, p. 382). Notwithstanding his professed contempt for regular training, Scroggins appeared in the ring in better condition than his opponent. It was evident to every one present that Scroggy strained every point to win; and it is but common justice to remark, that his character as a boxer rose higher, in every point of view, on that day than in any of his previous battles.
Poor Scroggy’s course was now a downward one. He had survived his fame; and, never heeding the cautions of prudence, he paid the penalty, which men in every profession, pugilism by no means excepted, must pay for disregarding her dictates.
He was successively defeated by Jack Martin, the opponent of Randall, (see p. 398), at Moulsey, on the 18th of December, 1818, after a game fight of sixty-five rounds, in two hours and two minutes; by Josh. Hudson, at the same place, August 24, 1819, in eleven rounds, occupying eighteen minutes; and twice by David Hudson, the first time in May, the second in July, 1820.
Scroggy, however, was still game, and ready for anything. Determined as he himself said, “to lick somebody afore the year was out, pervising he could get backers,” Jack looked in on the 30th of November, 1820, at a “spread” given at Randall’s in Chancery Lane, by sundry patrons of the fistic art. Spring, Purcell, Randall, Turner, Martin, Phil. Sampson, Harry Holt, and others, were among the guests, and the patter turned on battles past and matches to come. A swell observed, that “if he could be got into condition, he should like to see a mill between Holt and the Old Tar, on account of the contrast of their styles.” Holt expressed his approbation of the proposal, and six weeks was mooted as the period. Jack, always rough and ready, replied, “Why, as to that there matter, ’tain’t no match between me and Holt; I can lick him like a babby. I never was so ill with a cold in all my born days; but as to time, why I’ll fight him any time you like, even now, bad as I am.” Holt returned Scroggins thanks for his candour; but, in return, thought Scroggins would have no chance; “however,” concluded Cicero, “far be it from me to aggravate the gentlemanly sort of man’s impatience: I too think, if it can be managed, there’s no time like time present.” “I’m ready,” retorted Scroggins; “but the winner shall have the whole of the purse.” “And I am agreeable,” replied Holt. Ten guineas were quickly posted, and the usual preparations were made for the contest. Turner and Martin seconded Scroggins; Purcell and Sampson were for Holt. Spring was time-keeper. Five to four on Scroggins on one side of the room, and five to four on Holt among the other party.
THE FIGHT.