116.—Orme on his knees, and Langham down anyhow, in a weak rally.
117th and last.—Langham sent out his left; Orme stepped back; Langham again hit out. He evidently did not perceive what was before him, and coming forward, from his own blow, fell on both knees and his hands. His seconds ran up to him, but it was all over. Orme stood in his corner for a few seconds, when time was called, to which the Leicester man was yet deaf, walked slowly across the ring, and taking the hand of his brave, fallen adversary, tried to muster an expression of admiration at his bravery. The sponge had before gone up from Langham’s corner, and thus, at the close of two hours and forty-six minutes, was brought to a decision one of the gamest battles the modern annals of the Ring can boast.
The shades of evening were closing in as the voyagers got on board their respective steamers, many more, as is usual on such occasions, extending their patronage to the “men’s” peculiar boat on the upward voyage than came down by that conveyance; for the very obvious reason that as the voyage both ways was paid at starting, the disagreeable ceremony of paying would be insisted on, while having once got down by a Gravesender, tug, or other cheap conveyance, the homeward-bound voyage could be effected gratis. It was nearly midnight when the “Queen of the Thames,” working against tide and a head wind, reached London Bridge; the voyage being shortened by many an anecdote of brave battles in bygone days, with which all agreed the present mill might well bear a comparison.
Orme now rested for a year upon his well-earned laurels, when once again Aaron Jones, who during the interval of two years had, so rumour averred, wonderfully developed and immensely improved in the art, sought to reverse the verdict given against him in December, 1849. Aaron had, moreover, in the interim fought Bob Wade (the Dover Champion), a 12st. man, whom he defeated at Edenbridge, Kent, in one hour, in which forty-three punishing rounds were contested.
Monday, May 10th, 1852, was the fixture, instead of the customary Tuesday; the moving reason thereto being that the Turfites, among whom were Jones’s prominent patrons, might attend another “ring” at Newmarket on the latter day. On Jones’s improvement the Sporting Oracle thus delivered itself: “When Jones first contended with Orme he was a youth of eighteen, weighing 11st. 2lbs., and too young to bear the wear and tear of a long encounter. He has now increased in height and weight, stands 6 feet in height, and will draw a trifle over 12st., besides having materially improved in the pugilistic art.” At the last deposit of £10 a side, making up the stakes to £200, which took place on Tuesday last at Mr. Prior’s, “Nag’s Head,” South Audley Street, Jones had the call in the betting, his friends being West-enders and ready to back their own “stable.” As the rendezvous was in the vicinity of Newmarket, and a trip per Eastern Counties rail the mode of reaching the field of arms, we were glad, on presenting ourselves at the Shoreditch terminus at eight o’clock, to see at “the meet,” not only a large number of the Corinthian patrons of the Ring, whose faces we have for some time missed from such gatherings, but many of the ex-professors of the art—Owen Swift, Adams, Jem Burn, Shaw, Dan Pinxton, Jemmy Gardner, Alec Keene, Harry Milbourn, &c., &c. At a little before eight Jones arrived at the station, accompanied by the lively Bob Fuller and Alec Keene; the former being his trainer and the twain his selected seconds for the fistic duello. Jones looked remarkably bright and well, indeed, as Bob expressed it, he was “as fit as a fiddle,” and “would take a great deal of beating.” Orme did not put in an appearance at Shoreditch, but it was quickly made known that he had departed overnight for the neighbourhood of Newmarket, where he was awaiting the arrival of the “London particulars.” At a few minutes past eight the whistle sounded, and off we went, understanding that Chesterford, where we were told Orme awaited us, was our calling-place, and thence we should be conveyed to Mildenhall. This was a judicious ruse, but, as we shall presently see, failed in the trial. On arriving at Chesterford, however, our steam-steed merely took a drink of water, and sped on its way to Six Mile Bottom, on the Newmarket line. We must confess that we were a little staggered, knowing what we did of the Cambridge authorities, that the “managers” should have chosen their ground within that shire, and we argued that as one of the men had been training near the racing metropolis the watchful blues had doubtless an eye upon his movements.
On mentioning our misgivings, however, to some of the parties concerned, and expressing our surprise that so hazardous an attempt should be made, we were assured that it was all right, that there were no magistrates within call, and that the fight was certain to be settled without interruption. While waiting for the arrival of Orme, our fears for the result were verified to the fullest extent by the appearance of a body of Cambridge police, both horse and foot, evidently determined to spoil sport. It was now determined to go on to Newmarket at once to fetch Orme, who had prudently retreated into the town on finding that the enemy was in the field. At Newmarket it was stated that he had chartered a fly, and was about to proceed across country to Mildenhall. A despatch was instantly sent to recall him, and, after a delay of about half an hour, he made his appearance, looking big, brown, hardy, and confident. He immediately took his place in the train, and an inhabitant of the district having intimated that he knew a spot where there was no chance of interruption, consented to act as pilot, the train was once more put in motion, and taking its course up the old Newmarket line, which was at that time closed for general traffic, was brought to a standstill by the side of a field at Bourne Bridge, a place rendered memorable as the scene of the first contest between Mr. Gully and Gregson, in days long vanished, passed away. Here a debarkation was effected, and when all the voyageurs by train were collected there were certainly not more than two hundred persons present. These, by the time the ropes and stakes were pitched, were increased by the arrival of some dozen equestrians from Cambridge and Newmarket, anxious, no doubt, to enjoy a treat so seldom witnessed by the inhabitants of those celebrated universities for the education of man and horse; but, as will be shortly seen, their arrival on horseback defeated the object they had in view, as it served to put the blues upon the scent, and enabled them, before much business had been got through, again to put in their unwelcome appearance, and once more to send the “peace breakers” to the right about.
On the recommendation of “the pilot” the business of constructing the arena was set about with unusual celerity by young Fred Oliver and the veteran Tom Callas, under the superintendence of the ancient Commissary himself, and by a few minutes past one o’clock all was in readiness. A capital outer ring was formed, round which the “cheapsiders” took their stations, while comfortable straw hassocks were provided for the tenants of the inner circle who chose to pay the price demanded by those who had been so thoughtful as to provide such luxuries. Jem Burn, whose hind feet and legs were not sufficiently under his command to enable him to take up a position so close to mother-earth, was accommodated with a chair, around which were grouped several of his ancient patrons, and all appeared now to be satisfied that at length fortune was favourable, and that the mill would be brought to a conclusion without let or hindrance. Umpires and a referee were quickly chosen, and the men at once proceeded to their toilettes, Jones, as we have already stated, being waited on by Bob Fuller and Alec Keene, while Orme had for valets Jemmy Welsh and a “Jolly Butcher” from Southwark. On stripping, Jones confirmed the opinion we had formed in the morning, that he was as “fine as a star,” and as fit as Fuller could make him. Orme, on denuding himself of his outer rind, looked big enough and strong enough for anything. His skin, of a nut-brown tint, gave him altogether an appearance of hardihood which lead a spectator to infer that he was an adversary by no means to be sneezed at, even by those who considered themselves his superiors in the fistic art. It was clear, nevertheless, that he had not devoted quite as much time to his preparation as the nature of the encounter he had undertaken would have justified. There were indications of loose flesh about his ribs and chest which might have been well dispensed with. On inquiring his weight we were informed that he was about 11st. 8lb., being just 4lb. more than when he encountered Langham. Notwithstanding this exuberance of meat he looked remarkably well, was extremely confident, and “eager for th’ affray.” All being at length in readiness, the colours (blue for Orme, and yellow with blue border for Jones) were nailed to the mast—we mean, tied to the stake. Orme laid his adversary a bet of £25 to £20, which was duly posted. The men and their seconds shook hands—silence was proclaimed—“Time” was called (half-past one)—the seconds retired to their corners, and left the men at the scratch to commence
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On throwing themselves into attitude, which, as the dandies say, “is everything,” there was no very great display of artistic skill on either side. If anything, Jones’s position was the more graceful of the two; still he left his ribs totally unprotected, and held his hands much too far from his body to please our mind. Orme, on the contrary, held his arms, which loomed large and ponderous, closer to his corpus. He stood almost square, his thick, muscular legs seeming well calculated to support his enormous round shoulders, which resembled those of a miniature Atlas. Jones, after a dodge or two, feinted with his left, but Orme grinned and stepped back; Jones followed him up, when Orme stopped his further progress with a prop from his right on the side of the head. Counter-hits with the left followed without any mischief. Orme then swung round his right as if it was a sledgehammer, and caught Jones with tremendous force on the ribs under the left arm, in the region of the heart, where he left most unmistakable imprints of his knuckles, which never disappeared during the remainder of the battle. Jones returned slightly on the right ear, which led to a rally, in which Orme had the best of the hitting, again delivering a rib-bender with his right, removing the bark from Jones’s smeller, and drawing first blood with his left. A close, in which Orme held his man tight, and fibbed him on the nose and forehead until both were down in Jones’s corner.
2.—Jones led off with his left, reaching Orme’s cheek, and cleverly stopping the return. Counter-hits followed, Jones drawing claret from Orme’s mouth, catching it in return heavily on the cheek and chin. Some slogging hits were exchanged without any regard to science, and Jones at length slipped down.