32 to 40 and last.—It was never exactly safe to Abbot till in this round, when he again floored Johnny by a tremendous blow on the throat. Johnny was now quite senseless, and all attempts to bring him up to time were useless. Water was thrown on his face; but Abbot was pronounced the conqueror after one hour and twenty minutes had elapsed. Abbot was by far the worst punished. On Johnny’s recovering his recollection, he observed, “Who done that? Dang it, have I been in the Court of Chancery again? I don’t like that place; it makes a body so stupid. But I am ready to take another turn.”
Abbot entered the lists with a sturdy navigator, at the close of Hampton Races, 1820, for a small subscription purse. Abbot was seconded by Purcell and Brown, and the navigator by Shelton and West Country Dick. It was a good battle, and the navigator proved himself a very troublesome, dangerous customer. He stood over Abbot, and was also very strong, game, and would not be denied; but the superior science of our hero enabled him to win it cleverly in forty-five minutes.
Abbot, in a turn-up in Harper’s Fields, Marylebone, on Monday, June 5, 1820, defeated a Birmingham man of the name of Bennyflood, for a small purse, in the course of a few minutes, without a scratch upon his face.
Abbot fought Pitman for £5 a-side and a small purse, on Wimbledon Common, immediately after Brown and Curtis had left the ring, on Monday, August 28, 1820. The former was seconded by Randall and Callus, and the latter by Bill Cropley and Joe Norton. This was a hammering fight for thirty minutes, occupying twenty-seven rounds. Pitman was a game man, and reminded the spectators of Pearce, denominated the Game Chicken, but it was only in appearance. Pitman was beat to a stand-still. Abbot retired from the contest with a slight scratch under his left eye, but received some ugly thumps upon his head.
We now come to Abbot’s most remarkable ring exploit. A dispute with Tom Oliver led to a hasty match, in which ten guineas a-side were posted; but it was thought absurd, and a forfeit on the part of Abbot fully expected. But time rolled on and the day fixed, Tuesday, November 6, 1821, came, with both men in the same mind; and the fancy received the intimation that Moulsey was the chosen champ clos. At one o’clock, Oliver, attended by Ben Burn and Bill Gibbons, threw in his hat; and shortly afterwards, Abbot, attended by Scroggins and Tom Jones, answered the signal of defiance. Seven to four, two to one, and in some instances three to one on Oliver were called out, without takers. The colours—dark blue for Oliver, light blue for Abbot—were tied to the stake, and the men stood up.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On shaking hands it was expected that Oliver would immediately go to work and spoil his opponent; but, instead of that, Oliver thought he had a mere plaything in opposition to him, and did nothing. Some attempts at hitting were made on both sides, but without effect, when Abbot ran in and Oliver held him in his arms and got him down. (Shouting for joy, and Oliver for any odds.)
2.—Abbot trembled very much on placing himself in attitude at the scratch. Oliver planted a slight nobber and got away. A pause. Abbot received another small taste, when he rushed in and pulled Tom down. (Shouting and laughing, “It can’t last long.”)
3.—Abbot still shaking, yet he tried to plant his right on Oliver’s nob, but the latter got away. Oliver hit short. In closing, Abbot hung on the ropes; but Oliver seemed wanting in strength to do execution. Abbot at length broke away and showed fight, till they both went down, Oliver uppermost. (Six to one, but no takers. “Oliver can’t lose it,” was the general expression round the ring.)
4.—Whether it was owing to the recollection of what Oliver had once been in the prize ring could alone be answered by Abbot himself, but his nervous trepidation was evident. Abbot, however, made a heavy right-handed hit on his opponent’s mouth which produced the claret. Some slight exchanges occurred, and, in a struggle for the throw, Oliver fell on Abbot in rather an awkward manner; but not wishing his opponent should entertain a bad opinion, Oliver said, “I beg your pardon; I could not help it.” “Book that,” said one of the time-keepers to the writer of this article, “as it serves to show the fancy it is a gentlemanly fight.”