Mixed up with this encounter was a contemptible and ridiculous feud, provoked and maintained by certain East-enders, who, taking umbrage at what they considered the upstart assumption of Johnny Broome, and also prompted by bitter jealousy at his success with the better order of Ring patrons, sought by fair or by foul means to disparage the name of Broome, and to defeat the pretensions of his younger brother. We quote the contemporary report:—
“The unfortunate issue of the meeting is to be attributed to the gross irregularities and unjustifiable outrages of the parties assembled to witness the affray, who, regardless of all attempts to preserve an outer or even an inner ring, rushed close to the ropes and stakes, which were broken and levelled with the ground, and were at length reduced to such a state by the intrusion of the multitude that it was utterly impossible for the men to continue their contest; and the referee having withdrawn, both retired from a scene which, we regret to say, is but a repetition of similar misconduct in all parts of the country. This species of misconduct has more to do with the downfall of the Prize Ring than any other cause to which we can refer. We shall endeavour to describe the proceedings of the day, and must leave it to the members of the Ring itself who mean to preserve their ‘order’ to adopt some plan hereafter by which similar evils may be prevented.”
It must be borne in mind that by the articles neither of the men was to exceed 10st. 5lbs., and that they were to meet at Peter Crawley’s on the Monday for the purpose of going to scale. At Peter’s they did meet, and were each 1lb. within the stipulated figure, both looking remarkably well and equally confident. Rowe returned to his training-quarters, at Mitchell’s Green, about three miles from Greenhithe, Kent, and Harry Broome remained in London, to be prepared for his embarkation in the morning. The “Nymph,” Woolwich steamer, was patronised upon this occasion, as upon many former expeditions of a similar sort, and received on board a goodly muster of the friends of the men on Tuesday morning, at Hungerford, London Bridge, and Blackwall. She was not, however, without her opponents, and another large steamer named the “Nelson,” as well as the “William Gunston” tug-boat, by the cheapness of their fares, succeeded in obtaining a very extensive patronage from the “rough-and-ready” customers both from the East and the West, but more especially from the former, the great nursery of Rowe’s early pretensions.
Harry Broome embarked at Blackwall, and it was considerably after ten o’clock before the “Nymph” led the way to the field of battle, tardily followed by her two rivals, the “Nelson” having got aground under London Bridge, to the infinite terror of her passengers, who began to apprehend that they had invested their three “bobs” each without the chance of obtaining a view of the mill for their money. Luckily, however, they ultimately got off; and from the delay which took place in arranging the preliminaries for the battle, they arrived in time not only to reach the field, but to increase, and perhaps create, the confusion which subsequently prevailed. The marshes below Greenhithe were selected for the encounter, and here the Commissary executed his operations with his customary despatch. By twenty minutes after one the lists were prepared, but upwards of half an hour elapsed before the combatants made their appearance, and by this time more than 1,000 persons had assembled, including not only the crews of the flotilla, but a large accession from the inhabitants of the surrounding district, who, from Rowe’s training in the neighbourhood, and from the frequent visits of Peter Crawley and his friends, became fully apprised of the treat which was in store: a species of foreknowledge which likewise reached a magistrate in the neighbourhood, who, before the fight was half over, arrived on the ground accompanied by some dozen policemen. The impolicy of the men approaching the intended locality of their fight previous to the mill is manifest, and the present instance confirmed the justice of our remark. In this case, however, from the terrific confusion which prevailed, neither magistrate nor policemen ventured to get within the vortex, the chance of a broken head being infinitely more apparent than the probability of a respectful reception. His beakship, consequently, contented himself with directing his aides-de-camp to take down the names of as many active members of the P.R. as they could obtain.
We will now endeavour to describe, as well as the buffetings to which we were exposed will permit, “the mill,” its progress, and final interruption. Shortly before two o’clock Harry Broome and Rowe arrived at the ring; the former accompanied by his brother, Jack Hannan, and Sam Simmonds; the latter by Peter Crawley, Jem Turner, and Young Sambo. The ground was hard and the weather cold, but the breeze was somewhat tempered to the “shorn lambs,” and not quite so piercing as it had been the day before. The prospect of the commencement of business produced a great deal of bustle among the ring-keepers, who endeavoured to beat out those who had not paid for the privilege of the posts of honour; but this was found to be a task of no common difficulty; in fact, it was soon seen, from the conduct of the majority, that they were not persons disposed to be governed by the rules of courtesy or fair play. Among the betting fraternity Harry Broome had become the favourite, and was backed at 6 to 4, at which price he backed himself on board the boat on his passage down. As in the match between Maley and Merryman, Tom Spring was again persuaded to take upon him the office of referee—a kindness which he had much reason to regret, as the issue will show. All being in readiness, at the given signal the men were stripped of their upper crusts, and amidst the cheering exclamations of their respective partisans, shook hands and threw themselves into attitude. Their colours were, blue bird’s-eye for Rowe, and blue with a divided white spot, and the initials “H. B.” in the centre, for Broome.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—We have already described the condition of the men, and certainly on their stripping there was nothing to induce us to recall our judgment. Broome had a little the advantage in height and length, but whatever advantage he possessed in this respect was counterbalanced by the superior muscular development of his opponent. Broome smiled cheerfully, while Rowe displayed the steady phiz of “a sage from the East.” After a few dodges by way of feelers, Rowe tried his left twice in succession, but was stopped. Harry then led off with his left, catching Rowe slightly on the mouth. This brought them to a sharp rally, in which blows were exchanged. Broome popped in his left at the body, immediately closed, and succeeded in throwing his man.
2.—On coming up Broome rushed to his man, put in a slight blow on his mouth with the left, closed, and after a short struggle both were down.
3.—Harry led off with his left, which got home on Rowe’s whistler; slight exchanges to a close, when both were again down. (On Rowe reaching his corner, we fancied we discovered a tinge of blood on his lips.)
4.—Rowe, on going to the scratch after one or two feints, sent his left well home on Broome’s conk from which the purple fluid instantly flowed in profusion. Rowe again made his left, this time under Harry’s eye, from which the claret also spurted. They then rattled to a close, when some sharp in-fighting took place, Broome catching Rowe on the skull with his right, in a sort of round hit, which evidently injured the thumb-joint, as he shook it as a dog would his sore paw, and they fell together.