On Tuesday, September 5th, 1826, after Bishop Sharpe had defeated Alec Reid, at No Man’s Land, in Hertfordshire, to make up a third battle, for a subscription purse, Jones, always ready to earn a pound or two, and Pick, a Bristol lad, equally anxious to obtain a small slice, stood up on the shortest notice. Dick Curtis and Young Dutch Sam seconded Harry Jones, and Bayley and Gipsy Cooper acted as seconds for Pick. Twenty-seven rounds were contested. In every round Jones took the lead, and ultimately he was declared the conqueror. Pick had not the slightest chance, and was severely punished. The Sailor Boy had scarcely a mark upon him. Jones won the battle in thirty minutes.
The Sailor Boy at this period was hardly ever out of “action.” At Fidgett Hall, one mile and a half from Newmarket, after Larkins had defeated Abbot, a second fight took place for a purse of five pounds, between Harry Jones and Reuben Howe, on Tuesday, November 28th, 1826—the former well known in the London circles, the latter a bustling, boasting yokel, weighing a stone and a half more than Jones. Howe was seconded by two of his own pals, and Jones by Oliver and Fogo. Thirty-one rounds were fought in thirty-four minutes, during the whole of which Jones took the lead both in hitting and throwing, and won the fight almost without a scratch. No man could have polished off a customer in a more workman-like manner. The defeat of Howe was much relished by the chawbacons, as he was a complete bully among his companions, and being thus “taken down a peg” probably tended to improve his manners.
After Peter Crawley had defeated Jem Ward, at Royston Heath, Cambridgeshire, on Tuesday, January 2nd, 1827, Harry Jones entered the ring with Gybletts for a subscription purse. In the course of ten minutes Jones was defeated. It was considered no match. The blunt was divided between them. Gipsy Cooper seconded Gybletts, and Ned Stockman and a pupil of Israel Belasco’s attended upon the Sailor Boy.
The second battle between Larkins and Abbot, for fifty pounds a-side, according to the articles, was to have been decided on Tuesday, March 13th, 1827, within sixty miles of London; but as many things happen between the “cup and the lip,” the “authorities” interfered, and Larkins and Abbot slept in whole skins that night. After some little murmurings by the disappointed crowd “that there is no certainty in this here life,” Peter Crawley arrived, and added to their discomfiture by avowing it was the intention of Larkins to forfeit on account of illness.
The little fight, as it was termed, now became the interesting topic of the day; and Jones and Raines started for a new piece of ground, followed by a string of vehicles of every description, hundreds of horsemen, and toddlers out of number. The road had a pleasing appearance, by the bustle, life, and activity, for several miles; the turnpikes napped lots of blunt by the change; and the pot-houses met with a variety of unexpected customers. But the principal part of the toddlers who were compelled to ride Shanks’s mare were beaten to a stand-still long before the grand halt took place at Chesterford. During the rapid motion of the “gay throng” several upsets occurred; but the Fancy were too game to complain of broken panels, or being canted over the necks of their horses, contenting themselves with the old saying that “worse accidents occur at sea.” At Chesterford a parley ensued about making the ring, and “Haydon Grange” was named as a place beyond the possibility of an interruption. But the crowd, who had already been over twenty miles of ground, were too much fatigued to undertake another of ten, and preferred chancing it; accordingly the stakes were knocked into the ground without delay, in the parish of Chesterford. An outer ring was immediately formed by the carriages, and the combatants called for. Raines appeared first, and threw up his nob-cover, waited upon by Stockman and a hackney dragsman nicknamed Whipaway, while Peter Crawley and the Poet Laureate officiated as seconds for the Sailor Boy. This time Fogo did not show himself habited as a collegian, although his toggery bespoke the outline of a “Fellow Commoner” who had not decidedly taken his terms, although he was upon “terms” with the ancient tribe of costermongers. He wore his “beaver up” when he was recognised by the M.A.’s, and received the nod from them as a student of Brasen-nose. The colours were tied to the stakes—the Sailor Boy the favourite.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—The Sailor Boy was in prime twig; in fact, he never was, in any of his preceding mills, anything like in such good condition. His arms were peculiarly fine, and attracted the general notice of the spectators. Raines did not appear so muscular a man as his opponent, but nevertheless his frame was manly, and he exhibited great strength. The Sailor Boy was in no hurry to commence the attack, and some minutes elapsed before any attempt at hitting was made. Jones made play, but Raines stopped well. A pause. The Sailor Boy, rather furious, was going to work, but was again well parried by Raines. It was observed by the London amateurs that Raines had evidently improved in his knowledge of the science. In setting-to with the gloves the Sailor Boy had always had the best of it. Several minutes passed, and the stopping system was adopted by Raines, until the Sailor Boy went in, and slashed away like a new one. In closing fibbing was attempted on both sides. Jones broke away cleverly, and milled his opponent down. “First blood!” from the friends of Jones. Raines was piping a little, and the Sailor Boy received shouts of applause from his “larned” friends belonging to the “Univarsity.”
2.—The claret appeared slightly on Jones’s lips when he arrived at the scratch. The Sailor Boy fought well—that is to say, cautiously. Raines he looked upon as an ugly customer, although a tolerably good-looking fellow in person. The latter made several good parries, but did not try to plant any hits. Jones put in a heavy bodier with his left hand. A pause, “Go to work,” was the cry, and “Why don’t you, Mr. Poet Laureate (Fogo), put them together?” Jones planted a facer. (“Bravo!”) Raines made a blow, but the Sailor Boy was on the alert, and nothing was the matter. Exchange of blows passed between them, and the fighting was rather sharp, until they closed. In struggling for the throw Jones got his man down, but Raines threw him over, and the Sailor Boy rolled out of the ring. The Sailor Boy was decidedly the favourite with the Euclids, the Virgils, and the Homers. But the “drag and tumbler” sort of folk rather fancied Raines, and the odds were offered upon him by a few of them.
3.—The lads were just now upon their mettle, and the fight had become interesting to the whole assembly of Greeks, Latins, and yokels; in fact, all classes of society were in high glee. Raines got away from mischief, but not out of trouble. At this instant a gent stepped into the ring and made his way up to Peter, saying: “If you are the director of this sort of thing, I must insist that you desist. It is a breach of the peace!” Peter, mild as a lamb and polite as a Chesterfield, observed, touching his tile to the man in authority, “I hope, sir, you do not mean to stop the sport? You do not intend to be so cruel? But if it is your wish, why, why, ——. The second degree is now made out,” said Peter; “this interruption, after the fight has commenced, is harder than the first baulk! Such an occurrence has not happened for the last twenty years.” A noble lord, upon a fine prad, in the shape of a beak, in an agitated tone of voice, added: “Do not come into Essex; I will not permit it. You will therefore do it at your peril!” In this dilemma the Greeks, the Roman-y’s, the mathematical admirers of the angle hitting of Harry, put forth all their lexicon of gammon to the unrelenting beaks, not to make three or four thousand gentlemen look like fools; but it was all U-P. “The Fancy,” exclaimed the hero of the Brasen-nose, “have now acquired the third degree,” on hearing the member of the Upper House say, “Beware of pitching your tents in Essex.” “It is the hardest thing I ever heard, in my whole history of prose and poetry, not to let the mill be finished anywhere to-day. I shall remember him in my next epic.” Singing psalms to a dead neddy would have been of the same service! The gents belonging to the Bench retired outside of the crowd, and a ring court-martial was held for twelve minutes, upon the propriety of “to mill or not to mill,” when it was unanimously determined “that the fight between Harry Jones and Raines was no go.” Thus, after the “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,” in the words of Shakespeare, it proved to be “Much Ado about Nothing”—the spectators out of humour and ill-natured, the nags tired, “Home, Sweet Home,” a long way off, and the rain coming down nicely.
The ground was cleared in a few minutes. The stakes were drawn on the part of Raines, but his backer offered to increase the sum to £25 a side, so satisfied was he that Raines would have proved the conqueror.