12.—Tom did everything in his power to win; but his blows were nothing like finishing ones, and Brown had the best of it. Shelton received an ugly visitation to his victualling office, and went down exhausted. Any odds, but no takers.
13.—The fight was drawing to a close, Brown taking the lead in every round. Shelton put in a nobber, but Brown seemed to say, “If you cannot hit me harder, it is no go.” Tom received such a tremendous one in his mouth that he went down as if shot. Five to one; in fact, it was a hundred to one that Brown must now win off-hand.
14.—The old story, so often told, but so little heeded by fighting men, was evident. Shelton was full of pluck, as to mind and heart, but his legs trembled, and he staggered like a drunken man; he made play with his right, planted a facer, and got away. The danger was out of Shelton, and Brown, in order to put an end to the battle, went to work. Tom opposed him like a trump, till he napped a shutter-up-shop on his throat, which floored him. The head of Shelton reached the ground so violently that it bounded like a ball. (“It’s all over,” was the cry; the brandy was administered, but it was of no use.)
15, and last.—Shelton answered the call of “time.” On toeing the mark, Brown let fly on the side of Tom’s head, and he measured his length on the ground. Shelton was “hit out of time,” and Josh gave in for him. Tom, on recovering himself a little, said, “No, I will fight!” He, however, was so weak and exhausted that nature would not second his efforts. Time, fifteen minutes.
Remarks.—Shelton, on coming to himself, said “he was ashamed of having been licked in so short a time”—fifteen minutes. Shelton was not disgraced by the defeat. He showed himself a brave man, and never flinched from his opponent; but overmatched by strength and youth, he found it out too late. Brown fought better than was expected. His confidence increased. Spring offered to back him against any one for £500 a-side. Brown, for a big one, was extremely active on his legs, stopped well, hit hard, and did not want for courage or science.
Brown lost no time in claiming the belt, as may be seen by the subjoined:—
“BROWN’S CHALLENGE AND CLAIM TO THE CHAMPIONSHIP.
“To the Editor of the ‘Weekly Dispatch.’
“Sir,—Permit me to announce, through the medium of your paper, that my benefit will take place on Tuesday, the 28th of March, when I shall be prepared to make a match with any man in England for from three to five hundred pounds a-side, or as much more as may be desired. Jem Ward, or his friends, will probably avail themselves of this opportunity to prove their sincerity when they did me the favour of soliciting my attendance in London; but should their courage have been cooled I shall be glad to make a match with Peter Crawley or Tom Cannon. Should the London Ring decline the challenge, I beg leave to say that I shall lay claim to the title of Champion, which has so long remained in doubt.
“I am, Sir, yours respectfully,