Still going on my betters’ plan, all’s fish that comes to net,”
forgot one night—if ever he knew them—the privileges of the corporation of Windsor. He was detected, with a companion, fishing, contrary to Act of Parliament, within the preserved waters of the corporation, whereby a fine of £5 to “our Lord the King” was incurred. Tom demurred to swelling the royal exchequer by impoverishing his own: he put in “leg-bail,” and for a time migrated from ungrateful Windsor to live an exile at Newbury, whither he does not appear to have been pursued, for he was here known as the “milling bargee.” This was in 1814. We will therefore “hark back.”
Thus, in his early manhood, our jolly bargeman lived a life of labour, independence, and humble competency, and like
“The jolly miller who lived on the river Dee,
He work’d and sung from morn till night, no lark more blithe than he.”
Tom’s earlier practice with his bunch of fives appears to have been at wake, fair, race, or revel, with the military always abounding at Windsor and its vicinity, and with such “rough chawbacons” as, feeling strong in the spirit of fight, might offer themselves to his notice.
Tom’s first recorded engagement was with one Tom Anslow, a grenadier belonging to the Staffordshire militia, in the year 1809. Anslow was the crack boxer of his regiment, and the audacity of young “bargee” (Tom was nineteen years of age) was laughed at by the red-coats, for Anslow was fourteen stone in weight, and all six feet in height. The battle-money was three guineas a-side. Cannon, on the day, was a little under twelve stone, and stood five feet nine inches and a half. It was a desperate battle for thirty-two minutes, when the soldier gave in, and Cannon was carried off in triumph by his fellow-townsmen. “Boxiana” fills some pages with notices of casual fights with nameless men, on Eton Brocas, at Maidenhead, at Egham Races, and elsewhere, embellished with the usual lively skimble-skamble of the inventive author. The first time Cannon had to do with a “professional” was in this wise. At a raffle in Peascod Street, Windsor, Dolly Smith,[[41]] of Hammersmith, was present, and threatened to chastise Cannon for interfering in a dispute. “Although I know you’re a fighting man,” said Tom, “I will not be frightened into submission.” Dolly threw off his coat, and they adjourned to the street. After a smart turn-up, in which Cannon claimed best, they were interrupted. This led to a match for twenty guineas a-side, which came off in a field contiguous to Shirley Common, near Windsor, May 6, 1817. The battle proved a most determined one. The swell stage-coachmen—for Dolly was a horse-keeper, known on the Great Western road—sported their gold freely on their man, though there was a remarkable disparity in size and weight. Smith, who was a round-built sturdy fellow, measured only five feet five inches, and weighed eleven stone four pounds. Cannon stood five feet ten inches, and weighed thirteen stone. The men were in the ring as early as eleven o’clock, Dolly being esquired by the veteran Caleb Baldwin and Dick Whale; Cannon attended by a couple of stout countrymen. The battle was half-minute time. Six to four on Smith offered.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Neither combatant seemed disposed to waste much time in sparring, and they went to work sans cérémonie. Cannon from his height, length, and strength, seemed completely to overshadow his opponent, but “Dolly,” not in the least dismayed, planted two heavy body hits, and fought at half-arm gaily, till in closing both were down.
2.—Both on their mettle, and some sharp blows exchanged. Dolly manœuvred cleverly till he hit up through Cannon’s guard, and gave him such a teazer on the side of the head, that it seemed to electrify the “bargee’s” upper works. He seemed confused for a few seconds, then went in a rattler, and fought till both were down, Dolly first to earth.