Paddock’s forced seclusion in Derby Gaol, although it appears to have had a favourable effect on his violence of temper, did not diminish his readiness to play the “rubber game” with Poulson; inasmuch as we find him articled to meet his old antagonist on the 14th of February, 1854, to try a final appeal, with £200 deposited to abide the issue.
Paddock at once went into assiduous training in company with Tom Sayers, at Mr. Patton’s, mine host of the “Old Hat,” Ealing; and Poulson did the same at the Neptune Inn, Hove, near Brighton, under the guidance of Jerry Noon; it being thought advisable to fix his training quarters far from the too friendly visits of his Nottingham admirers. Poulson was, on this occasion, backed from Caunt’s, Paddock from Alec Keene’s. As this battle was arranged for the London district, a trip per Eastern Counties rail was agreed on. By the time named, half-past eight, the crowd in the neighbourhood of the Shoreditch station gave evidence that something unusual was on the tapis, hundreds of East-Enders surrounding the terminus to catch a glimpse of the heroes of the day. The first to show was Harry Poulson, who entered the station accompanied by Jerry Noon, Callaghan, of Derby, and a dozen of Nottingham friends; he looked hard as nails, bright-eyed, smiling, and confident, and in rare preservation for an old’un, 37 summers having shone on his nob. He was soon followed by the Redditch champion, attended by Tom Sayers, Alec Keene, and Mr. Hibburd (one of his principal backers). Both men now began to distribute their colours to the voyagers on the platform, and, from the numerous handkerchiefs of both designs which were seen knotted round the throttles of the ticket-holders, the sale must have been satisfactory. At a quarter before nine the bell rang for the start, and although the town air was foggy, no sooner were we well on our way than the sun of St. Valentine shone out brilliantly, the hoar-frost deposited overnight vanished, and the pairing birds chirruped their courting notes from every hedge and thicket. The commissariat, under the care of Dan Pinkstone, occupying a saloon carriage, was first-class, as in an after-part of the day we had occasion to prove. The train sped merrily; and at a quarter-past eleven o’clock all disembarked, in high spirits, at the appointed station, Mildenhall, where the veteran Commissary and Tom Callas formed the lists in double-quick time, and the men soon after made their appearance. Poulson was attended by Jemmy Welsh and Jerry Noon, and Paddock esquired by Jemmy Massey and Jack Macdonald, to our thinking the best of all seconds of the present day. On shaking hands Paddock offered to back himself for “an even tenner,” which Poulson accepted; but the backers of Paddock in this “the rubber game” stood out for odds, and so little business was done. At length, umpires and a referee being chosen, at half-past twelve the rival pugs, stood up for
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—On the men throwing themselves into attitude their appearance was carefully scanned; the enormous development of muscle on Poulson’s arms and his blade-bones excited astonishment among the Londoners, who now saw him stripped for the first time. Still they were confident in the man of their adoption, for Paddock was indeed in robust health, and appeared to have so much the superiority in length and height that they now laid evens on him. No time was lost in sparring or in striking attitudes; Poulson at once dashed in, made his right on Tom’s ribs, and directly after on his mouth. Paddock was with him, and a shower of half-arm hits followed, each getting pepper on the left side of the nut until both were down.
2.—Poulson went to work without delay, and began by pounding away with his right; Tom did not flinch, though he got it on the nose heavily, and then on his potato trap, from which the first vintage of the season was instantly perceived. (First blood for Poulson, amid cheers from the Nottingham lads.) Paddock slipped down.
3.—Paddock, first to the scratch, led off with his left and gave Harry a tremendous crack on the forehead, Poulson returning almost a counter-hit on Tom’s left cheek. This led to a slogging rally, in which Poulson again visited Paddock’s cheek, while the latter tapped the claret from Harry’s left eyebrow, and Poulson fell.
4.—Paddock again led off, and just reached Poulson’s right eye, Poulson was with him, and some sharp counters took place, Paddock catching it on the nozzle from Poulson’s left, while Tom retorted with a swinging crack on Poulson’s left ear. They now broke away, but soon returned to work; Paddock let fly right and left viciously at Harry’s frontispiece, when Poulson countered him steadily on the snout and forehead. Poulson was first on the ground.
5.—Paddock again opened the ball with a sharp rap on Harry’s cheek, but the latter retorted with such a sounding rib-bender that it was heard all round the ring. Soon after Tom landed a little one on Poulson’s right brow, cutting it, and producing the crimson. Both now banged away at close quarters, and in the end both came down.
6.—Both sparred for wind; indeed, the fighting had been very fast; some random shots were exchanged, the men closed, and rolled down together.
7.—Paddock let go his left, but it went clean over Poulson’s cranium. A second shot reached his forehead, but for this Tom caught a smasher on the mouth, that drew the Oporto copiously, and seemed for a second or two to puzzle Tom seriously. However, he went in, and more yard-arm to yard-arm cannonading followed; no quarter was given or asked for, but at the end of the ding-dong Paddock was down with the worst of the hitting.