The dawn of day produced a new cavalcade from all quarters. Carriages, post-chaises, and gigs kept pouring through the town all the morning in an almost uninterrupted line, reminding men of the days when Crawley Downs was the favourite resort of the Fancy. Many persons of distinction were among the motley assemblage, whose patronage, under the encouragement afforded by the Fair Play Club, was hourly increasing. The weather was as propitious as the most fastidious could desire; the sun shone with brilliancy, and every countenance seemed gladdened by the cheering prospect of a good day’s sport.
The Commissary was early on the ground, and formed the ring with his usual judgment. The whole was surrounded by wagons and other vehicles, which were drawn up three and four deep, and the most perfect regularity was preserved. As the hour of combat approached the throng came rattling in from every point of the compass, and the “yellowman” of Sam and the “blue bird’s-eye fogle” of Martin were everywhere sported. Tom Cribb and most of the old members of the P.R. were present, and we were glad to recognise in the circle many of those old Fancy mugs whose countenance in former days lent life to the scene.
At half-past twelve there were not less than ten thousand persons assembled. At this time the F.P.C. whips were put into the hands of twelve of the “Order of Regulators,” and the ring was immediately cleared of interlopers, all of whom, with a few exceptions, retired behind an outer ring of ropes, in which situation they remained throughout the contest.
At a quarter before one o’clock it was announced that both men were on the ground, and in a few minutes afterwards Sam entered the ring, attended by Dick Curtis and Jem Ward. He looked serious, and was a little pale, but still appeared well and confident.
In a few minutes afterwards Martin entered from the opposite side of the circle, attended by Tom Spring and Peter Crawley. He was received with loud cheers, and appeared in high spirits. He came forward with a smile on his countenance, as if, to use the words of an old toast, “the present moment was the most happy of his life.”
Martin paid but little attention to his antagonist, while Sam eyed him with a searching look, and, turning towards his friends, said, “It will be seen to-day whether fear forms any part of my composition.” On peeling, Martin showed a fine muscular pair of understandings, and had some good points upwards; but it was obvious that his frame was not in its prime. His breast showed marks of recent blisters as well as the bites of leeches, and the flesh about his collar-bone and ribs wanted that fulness and freshness which betoken good health. Sam was “all over right,” and was evidently in slap-up condition. Though not so well pinned as Martin, his upper works were symmetry itself, and the fine muscle of his shoulders and arms was visible at every move. At length, both men being ready, the toss for choice of position took place, and was won by Curtis. The men then went to the scratch, and shook hands slightly, and immediately threw themselves into position. Breathless silence prevailed, and the seconds retired to their corners. At this time the betting was twenty-five to twenty on Martin.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The men set to across the sun, with their sides to it, and each got close to the side of the ring. Sam had the higher ground, and made one or two dips or half plunges with his left, as if going to let fly; but Martin was steady, and held his arms well up to guard his nob. In this way they stood opposite each other for some seconds, when Sam again made a feint with his left. Martin immediately broke away, and veering round, got the upper ground, so that they, in fact, changed positions. Three minutes had now elapsed, when Sam hit out slightly with his right, but was stopped. He tried it again, and popped in his left and right with great force on Martin’s right eye and left cheek. Martin then rushed in to a rally, but was cleverly met by Sam with his left, and both hit away, Sam well in, and quick with his right and left. Martin slipped on his knees from the moist state of the ground, or from a hit in the neck, but was up in a moment. Sam, ready at all points, instantly plunged in to a close in the corner of the ring, and a desperate struggle ensued, each trying for the advantage, Sam hitting right and left at the body and head, while Martin grasped him round the neck. Sam cleverly disentangled his left hand, and delivered a slashing hit on his right eye; he then hit him with the right, and both still continued to struggle with all their force, Martin receiving some severe hits, but making no return; at last Sam threw out his leg, and catching Martin on his thigh, flung him over, and fell heavily on him. The ring was in an uproar, and all Martin’s friends in dismay. It was a fearful but decisive struggle in favour of Sam, for on Martin rising to his second’s knee his right eye was closed and dreadfully swollen, while his face exhibited other marks of Sam’s handiwork. Sam himself had not a mark. “It’s all over,” was the general cry—“Sam must win;” and, indeed, it was evident that Martin was quite abroad, as well as obviously distressed. The round lasted five minutes, and six and seven to four were freely offered on Sam, but no takers, for all were too much astonished to think of hedging.
2.—Both men came to the scratch with deliberation, and each seemed desirous of recruiting his wind, which was in full play from the violence of the previous struggle. Sam again poised himself on his left leg, keeping his head well up, and his fists ready for delivery. At length Martin, as if he considered something desperate was necessary, hit out with his right, but the blow fell short; he then rushed in, but was met cleverly by Sam with his left. Martin, quite wild, bored him to the ropes, but Sam, cool and steady, broke away and jobbed him with his right. Martin, rather abroad, now tried at the body, and rushed in with his head down—Sam again met him with his right, and closed, when he caught poor Jack’s nob under his right arm, and hit up with his left ultimately flooring him, and falling on his head. Three to one on Sam, and no takers.
3.—Sam cautious, and in no hurry to begin. Martin stood with his back close to the ropes, and many thought Sam ought to have gone in to finish. He seemed to think, however, he had the game in his own hands, and was evidently collecting his wind. At last he put in a fearful job with his right on Martin’s left eye, and again with his left on the nose, drawing claret in abundance. Martin broke away and took up fresh ground (Approbation). Both got to the corner of the ring, and again waited for Captain Wind-’em. Martin hit out with his left, but was neatly stopped, and Sam smiled; Martin then tried his right, but was short, and this was followed by another desperate rally, in which Sam’s deliveries, right and left, were precise and severe. His hitting was admirable, and style of attack beautiful. Quick as lightning Martin had it in the chops, without being able to make a successful return, and again in the throat. At last Martin closed for the fall, running in with his head down, and succeeded in getting Sam down, and falling upon him. (Ten minutes had now expired, and it was pretty evident the first round had taken the fight out of Martin).