Before the departure of the train, the Slasher, accompanied by Johnny Broome, arrived at the station, and the proposed renewal of the battle on the ensuing day, at twelve o’clock, was discussed. Broome foresaw the difficulty in which he would be placed to afford due information of the whereabouts to some of the Slasher’s backers who had gone to London, and who were more desirous than ever of witnessing the termination of the contest. At his request, to which Spring did not object, it was settled that a meeting should take place the next day at four o’clock, at the house of the referee, to arrange this important point. The Slasher was unusually bounceable, and asked Spring if he was disposed to add a hundred to the stakes. A reply in the affirmative was instantly given, but the challenge evaporated, and nothing more was done. The arrival of the up-train put an end to discussion. All were soon embarked, and away they were whisked to Shoreditch. Freeman arrived at the “Castle” about half-past nine, where an immense crowd greeted his return; and the Slasher, in the same way, could scarcely obtain ingress to the domicile of Johnny Broome of which he is, just now, the “Rising Sun.”
The next day Spring attended, at the time appointed, at the place of rendezvous, but Broome did not make his appearance till an hour after. In the interim, with a view to give each man sufficient time to resuscitate his energies, the referee appointed the following Thursday, between twelve and one o’clock, for the renewal of the combat; the “whereabouts” to be communicated to the backers of each in time to enable them to reach their destination without inconvenience. On the next morning both men went back to their training quarters to prepare for the coming struggle. An earlier day could not have been named without interfering with the arrangements for the mill between Maley and M’Grath, which was fixed for the ensuing Tuesday between London and Manchester.
On Wednesday evening Freeman left London in company with Caunt, Spring, and his trainer, and put up at “The Bull” at Royston, his movements being kept a profound secret. Broome, for some reason, would not take his man to Royston, but preferred travelling, with a few friends only, by an early Eastern Counties train to Bishop Stortford, and thence posting to Littlebury, Essex, the appointed place for meeting, though it was privately arranged that Cambridgeshire should be the locus in quo the affair was to be finished off. That quietness, and therefore secrecy, was pretty well observed, we may note that on Wednesday night there were only eight strangers in Royston, and five only in Littlebury, including Dick Curtis. The Commissary, and his assistant, Broome, having given the “office” for Bishop Stortford, a goodly number of the London division came down by later trains, and the demand for drags, post-horses, or indeed anything on wheels or four legs, became astonishing. Broome, Slasher, and party arrived at Littlebury in a carriage with four posters in more than good time.
Meantime, Freeman and his friends remained quietly at Royston, and it was not until Thursday morning that the Commissary received a despatch, directing him to have the ring formed, before twelve o’clock, at Triplow Heath, Cambridgeshire, on the spot where Bungaree and Sambo Sutton last fought—eight miles from Littlebury and three from Royston—where, it was added, Freeman would be present at that hour. Word of these arrangements was to be sent to Broome. All this was strictly attended to, and the ring was accordingly formed without interruption. Thus all looked well; but just before twelve o’clock, up rode Mr. Metcalf, a neighbouring magistrate, who by “some chance” had got “a letter,” and who, quitting his “toast and ale,” thought it wise to interfere. He at once said the fight must not take place on that spot, and a courier was sent forward to apprise Freeman of the ominous interruption. Freeman had come in sight of the ring at the moment, and a general halt took place, a small cavalcade having been formed by a few of the right sort, who had posted by way of Ware and Buntingford to Royston, and a respectable troop of mounted yeomen. A consultation immediately took place, and Haydon Grange, within two miles of the spot, in the neighbouring county of Essex, over which Mr. Metcalf was said to have no jurisdiction, was selected. Thither the materiel was quickly transferred by the Commissary and his assistants, and by one o’clock all was again “in apple-pie order” on the top of a hill, and on a spot particularly eligible for the purpose. Care was taken to provide for the due direction of the Littlebury divison, and a gentleman provided with Spring’s stop-watch kindly remained on Triplow Heath to note the time of the Slasher’s arrival, to prevent any mistake as to the road he was to take. This gentleman remained till after one o’clock, but no Slasher appeared, although all those who had come by the same train trotted briskly forward to the new location. Other scouts were left, but it was nearly two o’clock before any tidings were heard of the absentee. The ring being perfect, all were impatiently deploring the loss of time, during which the fight might have been commenced, continued, and perhaps concluded. During this unfortunate lapse offers were again made to take 2 to 1 there would be “no fight,” and some who had passed Broome on the road reported that he had declared he did not intend to be in the ring till two o’clock. Spring claimed forfeit, on the plea that the Slasher was not at the place first appointed between twelve and one, according to articles; but the referee refused to admit this claim, on the ground that the ropes and stakes had been removed, and Freeman had not thrown his castor within them. Had it been otherwise he would have had no hesitation in agreeing that the claim would have been well founded. At last the agreeable intelligence was received that Broome had arrived, and he entered the ring out of breath, asserting that he had been detained for the want of post-horses, but that he was at Triplow Heath at seven minutes before one—a statement which the gentleman who remained on the Heath to meet him positively denied. He then said that he had only been told the place of fighting on the morning before. Still the Slasher did not appear; and two o’clock having arrived, Spring said he would only give five minutes more, and should then consider Freeman was entitled to the money if the Slasher did not arrive. Within the time specified Slasher was brought slowly to the field of battle, having, according to Broome’s account, taken from seven minutes to one to five minutes after two to come very little more than two miles. Cheerfulness succeeded wrangling, and all looked well for the gratification of the throng, who had come far and near to witness the battle. Umpires were chosen, privilege tickets distributed, the ring effectually cleared out, and Freeman threw his tile into the arena—an example which all anticipated the Slasher was about to follow—when to the dismay of everybody, in marched Captain Robinson, the superintendent of police, who had ridden a steeplechase across the country, attended by an orderly. This authority emphatically announced that he had warrants for the apprehension of both men, and would not permit the peace to be broken, adding it was not wise to attempt such amusements in a county in which the character of the new police for vigilance was at stake; but worse than all, to secure obedience to his behest, he called upon Tom Spring and Tom Oliver, in the name of her most gracious Majesty, to assist him in the discharge of his duty! This was indeed a settler; and to watch the physiognomies of the two Toms on finding themselves thus suddenly metamorphosed into constables would have given food for speculation to the most astute student of Lavater. “Blow my dickey!” exclaimed the Commissary, “so I’m to act as a special, am I?” “This bangs Bannagher!” said Spring, looking as black with his right eye as if he had knocked it against Caunt’s fist. Parley, however, was out of the question, for Captain Robinson said his own reputation as well as his appointment were at stake. A belief existing that Captain Robinson would be content with preserving the peace of his own county, Essex, a resolution was formed to try Cambridgeshire once more. “Bock agin, Sandy,” was the cry; and away went the pioneers of the Ring through the lower part of Royston, on the road towards Bedfordshire, where fresh ground was sought. But a new beak was started from his lair on the road, in the form of a Royston banker, who peremptorily said it should be “no go.” Some disposition arose to question this gentleman’s authority in Cambridgeshire; but all argument was at an end on the arrival of Captain Robinson with his assistants. He plainly told the assemblage that it was in vain for them to attempt getting the fight off in Hertfordshire, Essex, Cambridgeshire, or Bedfordshire, for he was empowered to act in all, and must stick by them till night if they remained. This was conclusive. “To the right about,” was the word, and away all returned to Royston. There was some talk of stopping all night, to fight the first thing in the morning, to which the Slasher said he was agreeable; but a gentle whisper having been given that if the belligerents stopped longer in that neighbourhood the warrants might be enforced against them, a general retreat was ordered, and away the Cockney division scampered—Broome, with the Slasher, back to Chesterford, from whence they had had their last relay of horses—and Spring, Freeman, and friends, by Buntingford to London. All were too late for the trains, and thus many remained on the road all night, while others did not reach “the village” till a late hour. Again were hundreds collected in front of Spring and Broome’s houses to know the result, among whom conflicting accounts were afloat till the authentic courier arrived and diffused fresh dissatisfaction.
The chances, changes, and fortunes of this incongruous match were thus sung in some contemporary verses, of sufficient merit to warrant their preservation.
THE UNFINISHED FIGHT OF THE AMERICAN GIANT
AND THE TIPTON SLASHER.
Freeman, of giant frame! to thee a welcome warm we gave,
When wafted to the British shores across the Atlantic wave;
In harmony we saw thee move with gallant champion Caunt,
As muscular as Hercules, and tall as John of Gaunt.