Mike Curtain was matched against Jones for a trifling stake, and in October, 1824, Battersea Fields being again the scene of action, Jones defeated him in seventy-five minutes.
After the disappointment with Young Dutch Sam and Lenney, at the “Old Barge House,” March 25th, 1825, Harry Jones fought a horse-keeper, nicknamed Captain Corduroy. The battle, which is fully reported in “Boxiana,” lasted twenty minutes, when the Sailor Boy was hailed as victor.
The following report, from the pen of a distinguished littérateur, then on the staff of the Morning Chronicle, gives a lively picture of an extemporised fight of the period:—
“Old Oak Common, six miles from London, on the Harrow Road, and formerly the scene of many a sturdy battle between men of high pugilistic character, was, on Thursday, September 8th, 1825, honoured by the presence of a select assemblage of the mobocracy, to witness a subscription mill between Harry Jones, the Sailor Boy, and a Westminster champion, well known by the poetical appellation of ‘Tommy O’Lynn,’ but whose name in the parish books stands as Jemmy Wilson. Jemmy, it seems, had long been the drake of the walk in Duck Lane; and in the various rencontres in which he happened to be engaged with the heroic youths of that neighbourhood he invariably came off with éclat. This circumstance rendered him a great favourite among the ‘donkey dragoons,’ of which he is a member; and they determined, when an opportunity offered, to afford him the means of distinguishing himself in a way which might do honour to the school from which he sprang. This opportunity happily occurred at the ‘Coopers’ Arms,’ in Strutton Ground. A large party being assembled over their ‘pots of heavy’ in that place of social resort, some remarks were made on the want of diversion among the operative classes of society, while the nobs were pickling their carcasses on the seashore. Various proposals were made for a day’s fun. Some were for ‘grabbing a bull,’ and taking him out for an airing, a recreation not then obsolete; others were for a dog-fight, and more for a duck-hunt; but to all these there were objections; and Mr. Martin’s Act was mentioned as an ugly bar to such exhilarating amusements. At last a mill was suggested, as more congenial to all their feelings; and the Sailor Boy being present, it was resolved that he and Tommy O’Lynn should have a ‘shy’ for a subscription purse. Both men were agreeable, and Thursday was fixed for the outing. The hat went round at the moment, and about five pounds were collected, which, with what might be contributed on the ground, was considered a tolerably fair prize. At an early hour on Thursday morning the lads were on the move, and the avenues leading to the Harrow Road presented a lively succession of donkey equipages, while the banks of the Paddington Canal, and the fields from the Uxbridge Road, were covered with groups of motley characters, all directing their steps towards the appointed spot. At one o’clock the assemblage was very numerous. Among the throng we noticed many Westminster celebrities, particularly Bill Gibbons and Caleb Baldwin. The former was present merely as an amateur, while the latter, with a jar of ‘blue ruin’ (copiously diluted from the neighbouring canal), endeavoured to enliven the spirits of his patrons, and to furnish the pockets of his own inexpressibles. A long list of the Boxing School was likewise on the ground, Tom Oliver acting as master of the ceremonies, stakeholder, and otherwise dictator of the day.
“The Sailor Boy was early on the ground, having been brought in prime style by Tom Callas and a couple of his friends in a ‘one-horse shay.’ He looked well, and was confident of winning. Tommy O’Lynn was said to be at a public-house on the Harrow Road, under the care of a ‘gemman’ whose delicacy was such that he did not wish his name to be mentioned, and was therefore described as the ‘Great Unknown.’ At two o’clock notice was sent to the ‘Great Unknown’ to bring his man, and in a short time he arrived with his shay-cart, drawn by his celebrated trotter, and was received with as cordial a cheer as if he were Sir Walter Scott or the Right Honourable George Canning, of which honour he seemed deeply sensible, and ‘blushed like a bone-boiler’—which, we believe, is the profession to which he belongs.
“All being in readiness the ring was beaten out and a commodious area formed.” The men soon made their appearance on opposite sides of the ring, throwing in their ‘castors’ with mutual good humour. On stripping, the Sailor Boy was evidently the heavier and stronger of the two, and the odds were announced at seven to four in his favour. Tommy O’Lynn was regularly got up for the occasion. Unlike his great ancestor, Brian O’Lynn, who, as history informs us, ‘had no breeches to wear,’ he advanced in all the pride of a new pair of tape-bound flannel drawers, high-low shoes, and new cotton ‘calf-covers.’ On pulling down his knowledge-box by the forelock of its thatch, he was rapturously welcomed by the cry of ‘Tommy for ever!’ while the ‘Great Unknown’ whispered in his ear the words of the favourite Scotch song—
‘Now’s the time and now’s the hour,
See the front of battle lour.’
Tommy grinned a grin, and prepared for action. He was attended by Charlsy Brennan and Young Gas, while the Sailor Boy claimed the kind offices of Alec Reid, and that bright ornament to gymnastics and lyrics Frosty-faced Fogo.”
THE FIGHT.