Strong apprehensions were entertained that Neale, by reducing himself so much below his fighting-weight, would weaken his frame, and give his more youthful antagonist an advantage over him (apprehensions which were fully justified by the result). Neale, however, did not participate in this feeling, and, after a sparring tour, he set out for his training quarters, at Milford, where, by constant labour, he gradually got off his superfluous flesh, and, a few days before fighting, was five pounds under the stipulated weight. This was certainly carrying the point too far, and although Ned himself said he never was in better health, he was forced to confess he did not feel so strong as when his weight was greater. In point of spirits and confidence, it was impossible that he could have been in better form, and he booked winning as a certainty. He left Milford on Saturday, and proceeded direct by mail to Ludlow, where he arrived on Sunday afternoon, under the convoy of a gallant Captain, and the Portsmouth Dragsman, the well-known Will Scarlett. It is needless to observe that such a journey so near upon the approaching struggle was not consistent with strict prudence, but such was Neale’s estimate of his opponent, and such his reliance on his own physical powers, that he treated the remarks on this subject with levity, and fancied the laurels of victory already entwining his brow. Young Sam, who trained first at Staines, was not less attentive to his duties. He was known to be in tip-top condition, and as sleek and active as a deer; showing at the same time a confidence in his carriage not less obvious than that of Neale. He said his game had been doubted, but the approaching combat would show whether these doubts were well or ill founded. He, more wisely than Neale, left London with his backers and friends on Friday, slept at Worcester, and reached Bromfield, near Ludlow, on Saturday, and there remained till the morning of fighting. He was attended by Dick Curtis and some of his favourite pals, who lost no opportunity of reminding him of those qualifications which he had so often shown to advantage, and which, in fact, had obtained for him the character of one of the prettiest fighters of the day. In point of age there was but little difference, Sam being twenty-two, and Neale twenty-five. In the course of Monday the town of Ludlow was all bustle and gaiety, and the certainty that no apprehensions were to be entertained from the officiousness of the beaks gave universal satisfaction.
The ground chosen for the lists was admirably suited for the purpose, and was situated upon the top of a hill, in Ludford Park, within a hundred yards of the adjoining county of Hereford. The ring was formed under the direction of Tom Oliver and his secretary, Frosty-faced Fogo, in their very best style, and was encompassed by an extensive circle of wagons, which were liberally contributed by the farmers in the neighbourhood, who behaved like trumps on this occasion, and were heart and hand in favour of the game.
On Tuesday morning the men were “up with the lark,” and having taken their customary walks, laid in a few strata of mutton chops, and other belly furniture, after which they submitted to the titivation of their respective barbers, who turned them out as blooming as a couple of primroses, and looking as well as the most sanguine hopes of their friends could have desired. As the day advanced, the crowd thickened, and all betook themselves to the ring-side. By twelve o’clock upwards of 5,000 persons were assembled. The weather partook of the varied character of April—alternate showers and sunshine—but, on the whole, was favourable.
At half-past eleven o’clock the men went to scale, and were both found within their weight, Sam about 2lbs., and Neale full 4lbs., but neither was weighed to a nicety. Neale, when stripped, looked extremely thin, and excited the surprise of many who had seen him in the same town a few weeks before in the full proportion of thirteen stone, and it was evident that his admirers became less sweet upon his chances, for the odds of two to one, which had been freely offered on the night before, received a sudden check, and few were found to offer them.
Immediately after the weighing had taken place, the £100 promised to the men was placed in the hands of a gentleman chosen by both, and thus the good folks of Ludlow honourably performed their part of the contract.
Soon after twelve o’clock Neale and his friends set out for the ground in a barouche and four, all sporting the blue bird’s-eye; while Sam, also in a carriage and four, displaying a bright yellowman, with a scarlet border, and a garter in the centre, surrounding the letters D.S., and bearing the Latin inscription, “Nil desperandum,” was close at his heels.
At ten minutes before one Sam entered the lists, attended by his backer and Phil. Simpson and Dick Curtis, who was very lame, as his second and bottle-holder. He was as gay as a lambkin, and remarked, as he paced backwards and forwards, “It has been said that I am not game, but the issue of this battle will prove whether this imputation is well or ill-founded. I have made up my mind to take a bellyful, and let him who first says ‘hold!’ be written down a coward.” There was nothing of foolish bravado in his manner, but his demeanour was such as betokened a man who felt the importance of the stake he had to play for, and the consciousness that he should have his work to do. His friends immediately offered to take £100 to £50, but there was no “done” in the case. Sam was loudly cheered on his arrival, and a similar compliment was paid to Neale, who soon approached, attended by Tom Spring and Harry Holt. He was the picture of health and good humour, and it was pretty clear that the last thought which found place in his breast was the apprehension of defeat. He shook hands with Sam, and offered to bet £5 each on first blood, first knock-down, and the battle, but this was no go. All was now fixed attention. The ring was admirably kept throughout under the superintendence of the Fair-play Club Whipsters. The toss for choice of position was won by Curtis for Sam.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On coming to the scratch, the frames of the men were open to general criticism. Sam was admirably proportioned and had a decided advantage in height and length of arm over his opponent. His muscles, too, were well developed, and we must say that a finer looking young fellow of his weight, age, and inches, has never entered the ring. Neale also looked well, and his broad shoulders and muscular arms betokened strength and vigour; but, taking him downwards from the waist, he was much thinner than he appeared in his former battles. Each threw his arms up, ready for attack or defence. Mutual feints were made for an opening, but both were on the alert. Sam poised himself on his left foot ready for a shoot, and kept working for mischief, but Ned stood well to his guard. At last Sam broke ground and planted his left slightly. Ned was with him, right and left, and rushed to a close. Sam stepped a little back, and jobbed him right and left as he came in. Ned grappled for the throw, when Sam caught him round the neck, and fibbed with great quickness. Ned stopped this game by seizing his arm, and endeavoured to get his favourite lock, and give him a cross-buttock, but Sam was too much on the qui vive, kept his legs well away, and at last both went down at the ropes, Ned under.
2.—Again did each manœuvre for an opening, and show his readiness for defence by throwing up his guard when assault was offered. At length Ned rushed in, and planted his right on Sam’s head. Sam returned as quick as lightning, when Ned rushed to the close, and another trial for the fall took place, during which Sam fibbed slightly, and at last got Ned down.