Alec was now matched for £50 a-side against the renowned Bishop Sharpe, and a gallant fight was anticipated. Bishop Sharpe was well known as nothing else but a good man; he had beaten all his opponents, the tremendous Gipsy Cooper three times. Nevertheless, in the opinion of the judges of boxing, the Bishop did not rank as a scientific fighter; he, however, was the favourite, five and six to four. Reid stood well in the sporting world; nay, so much so that it was expected that Alec would prove a second Jack Randall.
On Thursday, December 11th, 1824, a long procession of London travellers crossed the ferry at Hampton, and the ring was formed on the classic Hurst of Moulsey. The Commissary-General, with the ropes and stakes, made a pretty twenty-four feet inner square, and a spacious circular enclosure marked the outer ring. The combatants peeled, the colours were tied to the stakes, a bird’s eye on a red ground for Reid, a yellowman for Sharpe. Oliver and Ben Burn attended upon Reid, Josh Hudson and Dick Curtis on Sharpe. The men shook hands, and then came
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Reid was in fine condition, and Sharpe looked hardy and well. Scarcely, however, had the men held up their hands, than surprise was expressed at the careless style of Reid. He stood so slovenly and with so open a guard that Sharpe at once went in and hit him slightly, when Reid stepped back and went down suspiciously. Opinions that “Mr. Barney” was not far off were freely expressed, Reid’s style was so unlike his former displays.
2.—Oliver said to his man as he went up, “If you don’t mean to fight, say so, and I’ll leave the ring.” Reid laughed and manœuvred about. Sharpe again forced the fighting. A few exchanges took place, to the advantage of Sharpe, and Reid was again on the grass. While sitting on his second’s knee Reid complained of sickness. “He’s coming it,” said Curtis. “No,” said Reid, “no such thing.” Ben Burn angrily said “he would not be second in a cross,” and left the ring.
3.—“Why don’t you fight?” asked Oliver. Reid could not or would not. He received a flush hit in the mouth, and first blood was claimed. Reid down, and the ring broken in. Oliver left the roped enclosure.
4, and last.—Reid came up at the call of “time,” amidst great confusion. There were a few exchanges, and again Reid went down in his own corner. “You have won,” cried Sharpe’s backers. “Don’t leave the ring yet,” said Josh Hudson to Sharpe.
Remarks.—A curious conclusion was come to. Reid declared he was ready to go on, but his seconds had deserted him. At Hampton he maintained that he had no idea of fighting “a cross,” and that no one had even dared to propose such a thing to him. Our opinion is, in the absence of all direct evidence, that Reid was “hocussed,” by whom was never ascertained (he himself always asserted this to be the case), and that his temporary stupefaction went off before his arrival at Hampton. The referee not having been appealed to on the ground there was no decision. Accordingly, Tom Cribb, who was stakeholder, returned the money to the backers of each man, and all bets were drawn. Pierce Egan has half-a-dozen pages of incoherent persiflage upon this mysterious affair, cut from his own paper, from which little definite can be gathered.
Reid was now certainly under a cloud of dark suspicion. Yet a few friends were found who matched him for £100 against Jubb (the Cheltenham Champion), a boxer who had recently beaten Price (the Oxford Champion) in off-hand style, and whose friends were anxious to measure him with a London pugilist. The men met accordingly in Worcestershire, near Stow-on-the-Wold, on the 4th of June, 1825.
Benford, in Oxfordshire, seventy-one miles from London, was the place named, but on the morning bills were posted in the town signed by the magistrates of three counties, Oxford, Berks, and Gloucester, warning all persons against attending any fight within those counties, and ordering all constables, &c., to take the principals and seconds into custody as contemplating a breach of the peace. Worcestershire now seemed the only open point, and off went all hands to Icombe, a village on the borders, two miles from Stow-on-the-Wold, and ten or so from Benford. At half-past two in the afternoon Reid skied his beaver, Jack Randall and the Laureate Fogo acting as his esquires. Jubb soon followed, attended by Bill Eales, the scientific, and a provincial friend named Collier. On stripping both men looked well. Jubb had the advantage in weight, length of reach, and height, yet the London division laid odds on Reid at five to four when the countrymen would not take evens.