Tom had now reached the very pinnacle of his fame, for among the not very extensive range of big ones then in the field—Harry Poulson, Aaron Jones, the Tipton Slasher, and Tom Paddock had fallen beneath his punishing arm, while Harry Broome, having struck his flag to Tom Paddock, and Harry Orme (who had also retired) surrendered to Harry Broome—there was a clear title made for the Little Wonder, Tom Sayers, the first ten-stone Champion.
This state of things seemed likely to leave Tom to enjoy in otium cum dignitate the laurels of his many hard-fought days. The year 1858 grew old, when once more “an Unknown” was talked of, who would be backed to try conclusions for the £400 and belt against the redoubted Tom. Again these rumours came from the head-quarters of the erewhile Champion, Harry Broome, in the Haymarket; and to the astonishment of every one who recollected the “lame and impotent conclusion” which, sixteen months before, marked what was supposed to be the first and last appearance within any ring of Mr. Bill Bainge (Benjamin), that worthy was named as the man for the coming fight.
It was urged by himself and his friends that he did not have fair play in his training for his former battle; that he was very far from well on the day of fighting; that these drawbacks, coupled with his novelty of his position in entering the ring for the first time, and going through the ceremony of peeling, &c. before the assembled throng, had quite unnerved him, and rendered him almost oblivious as to what had actually taken place. The weather, too (it was January, and bitterly cold), had a great effect on him, his frame not being accustomed to the exposure in a “state of buff;” and besides all this, he himself asserted that the suddenness and severity of the punishment he received was something that had more paralysed than hurt him. He had felt ever since that a stigma attached to his name, which he felt conscious was not deserved. He believed himself at heart to be no coward, and, being anxious to vindicate himself, he had begged his backer to give him an opportunity of clearing his character, and that gentleman, believing his version of the case to be true, had kindly granted him a new trial. Of course, when Sayers heard of the challenge he was nothing loth, feeling, as he did, certain of victory, while further calculating that what he considered such an easy job would bring him six months nearer to the retention of the belt as his own private property, he threw not the slightest difficulty in the way of settling preliminaries, and articles were signed and delivered at once.
The men did not go into training immediately, as they had nearly six months before them, but Benjamin took every opportunity of gaining such knowledge as might assist him in his undertaking, and acting under the advice of an experienced ring-goer, he lost no time in securing the services of “ould Nat Langham,” whose judgment could not but prove of the greatest assistance. Liberal offers were made to Nat to go down to Shirenewton, where Benjamin was resident, to take the entire management of him, but Nat rightly judged that his own business was such as to require his presence; he, therefore, contented himself with an occasional run down for a couple of days, when he enforced upon his pupil some of his own peculiar style of practice in many a heavy bout with the mufflers. As he could not undertake the whole training, however, Nat recommended Bill’s backer to send a retaining fee to the bold Bendigo, whose country habits, sobriety, vigilance, and judgment he knew could be depended upon, and the appearance of his protégé on the day of battle proved that his confidence had not been misplaced, for his whole bearing was the very perfection of condition. Bendy, however, had a corporation of most Daniel Lambert-like proportions, no doubt much increased by good living, in which he had indulged while superintending his new pupil, and was therefore a curious choice for the trainer to a candidate for the championship.
As to the gallant Tom, he occupied the next four months after the articles were signed in starring it about the country, and exhibiting himself, his cups and his belts, to hosts of admiring friends. He took a benefit here, a benefit there, and a couple of benefits in one week somewhere else, and so on, and was everywhere so well received, that he must have returned to town, prior to his going into work, with a perfect sack full of “shiners.” He further announced at these gatherings his retirement from the Ring, which he had already fixed for June, 1860, when the belt would become his private property.
From the very first Tom held this match extremely light, and had expressed the most entire confidence, a confidence which at one time during the fight now under description we thought was very near proving his downfall, from the fact of his having split on the same rock which has proved fatal to many a good man and true under similar circumstances. We allude to neglect of training. The first portion of Tom’s exercise, which did not extend over more than seven weeks, was taken, as on former occasions, in the neighbourhood of Tunbridge Wells, but about a month later he removed to Rottingdean, another favourite locality of his, for the purpose of sea bathing, and it was during his stay at this place that his practices were anything but conducive to high condition. During his so-called training, Tom, instead of the usual walking, running, &c. was repeatedly seen on horseback in full career after the harriers which meet in the neighbourhood, and during these gallops his falls were anything but few and far between. Had the champion, by an unlucky purl, dislocated a limb or sprained an ankle or a wrist, what a pretty pickle his backers would have been in, and how he would have cursed his own folly! His backers’ money would have been thrown away, his belt would have been forfeited, and he would have had to recommence his career of three years as its holder, in addition to losing the confidence of those who were behind him. As it was, on entering the ring, the general remark was that he was too fleshy, and there were signs of a protuberance in the neighbourhood of his bread-basket which told an unmistakable tale. Many a brave fellow has suffered severely for this reckless despising of an adversary, and has thereby lost a position which he has never been able to regain.
The rumours and speculations anent this match were of the most extraordinary character. Tales of deep-laid conspiracies to rob the public—such as it has never been our ill fortune to see put into practice during our career as chroniclers of this truly British sport—were rife. The croakers and slanderers, who always look at the dark side of the picture, and by listening to the statements of those who attempt to decry the ring by blackening the characters of its members, are always ready to see “a barney” in every match, could not be persuaded to believe that Tom Sayers had far too high a notion of himself to listen to any suggestions on such a subject; and that, even admitting, for the sake of argument, that his principles might give way (which we were confident they would not), his pride and vanity were such as to forbid the supposition. While on the subject of “barneys” we may be permitted to remark, that such occurrences are much more common in the imaginations of some would-be knowing ones, who are literally know-nothings, than in the actual practice of the P.R.; and that we firmly believe, and we state it earnestly and seriously, that there is far less of this kind of thing in the doings of the members of the Prize Ring than in almost any other sport. Besides these rumours about “Mr. Barney,” there were whisperings that Benjamin was in reality an extraordinary good man, and that the winning of the former fight by Sayers was purely a piece of accidental good fortune. How these various “shaves” were received by the general public and by the cognoscenti may be best gathered from the fact that as the day approached no one would take less than 4 to 1 about Benjamin winning, and that many persons laid 5 to 2 that Sayers would win in a quarter of an hour. The betting on the whole, however, was small in amount, the cause no doubt being the preposterous odds demanded, which, as the backers of Sayers said, was actually buying money.
Shortly after eleven o’clock Tom Sayers modestly dropped his castor over the ropes, and then as modestly crept under them himself. He was attended by Jerry Noon and Harry Brunton, and was received with enthusiastic cheers. He had wisely donned his milling boots and drawers, and had therefore only to remove his outer shell. After an interval of five minutes he was followed by Benjamin, who made his entrée in an equally unpretending way. He also was well received. He was waited on by the Bold Bendigo and Jack Macdonald. At this time there were several offers to bet £20 to £5 on Sayers, but there were no takers. Despatch being the order of the day, no time was lost by the men in preparing for action. Benjamin, like Sayers, had taken the precaution to make ready beforehand, so that a very few minutes sufficed to strip and tie the colours in their appropriate places. Sayers sported a pink and white striped brocaded silk of the richest description, while Benjamin adhered to the old-fashioned blue and white spot. By twenty-three minutes past eleven o’clock, under a burning sun, the men were delivered at the scratch and stood ready for hostilities amidst the most profound silence. Benjamin appeared in perfect health and condition; he had a smile of confidence on his mug, and he stood well up in a fearless manner, presenting a wide contrast to his début on the former occasion. He stood well over Sayers, whose height is only 5 feet 8½ inches, and struck us as decidedly the more powerful man. Although Tom was evidently too fleshy, there was a dash and calm self-possession about him which denoted the more accustomed boxer. He moved about in a business-like way, and evidently had no fears for the result.
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Benjamin stood well on the defensive, and there was much in his position to remind us of his mentor, Nat Langham. He fixed his eye on Tom, and sparred for a short time to see what could be done. His whole bearing, indeed, was such as to call forth a general remark that he was a different man. Tom dodged in and out in his usual style, evidently trying for his favourite double, but Benjamin was ready. At length Tom dashed in, and delivered his left on the cheek, but was beautifully countered on the smelling bottle, and Benjamin had the honour of gaining “first blood” from that organ, a success which was hailed with much cheering from the Taffies. Sayers seemed pricked at this, and making his favourite dodge, he popped the left on the body and then on the left cheek, knocking Benjamin off his pins, thus gaining the second event, and equalizing matters.