In the meantime, on the other side of the Atlantic, things had well nigh tended to prevent the consummation of the wishes of the Fancy. John Heenan and his quondam opponent Morrissey had got to loggerheads, and Heenan proposed to fight Morrissey a second time before fighting Sayers. Through the timely diplomacy of Mr. Wilkes, however, the difficulty was solved, by Morrissey promising to give Heenan another chance, in either England or America, for his own sum, should he prove fortunate enough to defeat our Champion. With this promise the “Boy” was forced to be content, and after innumerable hair-breadth escapes from warrants out against him for an alleged breach of the peace, he succeeded (again thanks to the good management of Mr. Wilkes) in getting on board the “Asia,” which brought him to this country, landing at Liverpool on the 16th of January, 1860.
Thenceforward all went serenely and smoothly; the whole of the deposits were made good, and the 17th of April, 1860, was waited for with feverish expectation.
Though it was made known to those who invested their gold in the ticket for “there and back,” that the start must be made as early as four o’clock, this had no effect in diminishing the number of those who resolved to be “thar,” as our Yankee visitors expressed it.
The scene at Owen Swift’s and Harry Brunton’s, where tickets were obtainable, beggars description, the rush was terrific, and many were entirely unsuccessful in getting tickets at all. Nat Langham’s, Alec Keene’s, and other sporting houses were also crammed, but there was not the same difficulty in carrying on the business of the landlord as at the first houses named, where at one time trade was at a standstill. Many of the frequenters of the sporting hostelries evidently determined to make a night of it in order to make a certainty of being up betimes in the morning, and that they carried their intentions fully into effect was plainly visible in their countenances on their emerging into daylight. The more prudent ring-goers, however, took time by the forelock, and early ensconced themselves in their beds until the summons to be up and doing should arouse them.
The scene at London Bridge Station was one of continual bustle for at least an hour before the time appointed for the start, and, judging from the early arrivals, all seemed impressed with the necessity of taking time by the forelock. The precincts of the station reminded us of the crush on the Derby Day, but the effect was far more striking from the circumstance of its being a “midnight flitting.” The company’s arrangements, however, were such as to meet the pressing requirements, and the travellers by the late trains from the provinces, and those who had postponed the purchase of their tickets until the last moment were enabled to provide themselves with the necessary passport at the last moment. Two monster trains were prepared, and as early as half-past three the first, which consisted of thirty-three carriages, was so full that the non-arrival of the men, both of whom were accommodated at private lodgings close by, alone delayed its departure. The Champion arrived first, and his fresh, brisk, and natty appearance indicated a good night’s rest, and especial pains with his toilette. He was soon followed by Heenan, who seemed to wish to avoid recognition, and instantly proceeded to a compartment reserved for him and his seconds. The tickets were then collected, and at twenty minutes past four they started on their journey. By this time night had cast off her sable mantle, and day dawned with that peculiar tint which foretold the brilliant sunny weather with which the expedition was favoured. Throughout the whole of the metropolitan district, which extends for fifteen miles from London, the police, both mounted and on foot, and all armed with cutlasses, were on the look out on each side of the line even at this early hour, but the speed at which the train proceeded at once satisfied those watchful guardians that the mill was never intended to take place within their bailiwick, after leaving which scarcely a soul was to be seen beyond husbandmen proceeding to their daily avocations.
Great preparations were made to “stop the mill” further down, both on the Dover and Brighton lines; but they were unnecessary, as the travellers turned off at Reigate Junction on to the Guildford line, along which the train rattled at a good pace—we may say, “in peaceful serenity”—until within a short distance of the latter old-fashioned country town, where the first stoppage was made for water. In due course the journey was resumed, and in a short time the travellers entered the wild district where the military town of Aldershott is situated, the deserted appearance of which satisfied all that the “pilot” to whom the selection of the locale had been entrusted had made a “happy choice.” It was near seven o’clock when the first train discharged its living burthen at Farnborough station, after a most pleasant journey through one of the prettiest counties in England, which, illumined by a glorious sun, and shooting forth in vernal beauty, must have inspired all with feelings of intense gratification; whilst the Benicia Boy and the numerous Americans present must have been struck with the highly favourable contrast to the miserable pilgrimage which from all accounts preceded their representative’s last appearance in the Ring, when he fought Morrissey in America.
No time was lost in choosing the spot for the ring, which was quickly and well formed by the veteran Tom Oliver and his son, in a meadow adjoining the railway, situate on the borders of Hampshire and Surrey, and within half-a-mile of the Farnborough Station on the South Western line. By this time the second train had reached its destination, and the crowd could not have numbered fewer than twelve hundred persons, both of high and low degree, though compared with former mills the present “congregation” must unhesitatingly be pronounced the most aristocratic ever assembled at the ring side. It included the bearers of names highly distinguished in the pages of Burke and Debrett; officers of the army and navy, members of Parliament, justices of the peace, and even brethren of the cloth; whilst the muster of literati on behalf of the leading metropolitan journals, and the most popular periodicals and miscellanies—to say nothing of the editorial and pictorial staffs of our American contemporaries, Wilkes’s Spirit of the Times and Frank Leslie’s Illustrated News—gave quite a new feature to the gathering, and evinced at the same time the overwhelming interest and excitement this national rivalry had created throughout both hemispheres. The sale of inner-ring tickets (raised to 10s. each on this occasion) produced a large revenue to the Pugilistic Benevolent Association, and Billy Duncan’s speculation in chairs must have been a most successful one, judging from the demand for those conveniences, by means of which the spectators were enabled to “see the fight” with comparative comfort.[29]
JOHN CAMEL HEENAN.
Appearance of the Men.—All being in readiness, and the immense crowd disposed in tolerable order by the exertions of those of the ring-keepers who chose to do their duty, Tom Sayers appeared at the ring-side, and having deposited his hat within the ropes, quickly followed it himself, attended by his old pal, Harry Brunton, and the accomplished Jemmy Welsh, as seconds. The Benicia Boy was not long in following his example, attended by Jack Macdonald and his trainer, Cusick. Tom looked as dapper and well set up as ever, and was full of smiles. “The Boy” (aged 26), whose attire was not quite so fashionable, was also all on the broad grin. They eyed one another curiously for a few seconds, this being, it must be recollected, their first meeting, and then advancing, shook hands most cordially together, each regarding the other with evident friendly feeling. The warmth of the greeting appeared to give great satisfaction to the surrounding multitude, who cheered vociferously. The men conversed for a few minutes, but of course the subject of their interview did not transpire. Umpires and a referee having now been appointed, the signal was given to prepare for the combat. The first ceremony, that of tying the colours to the stakes, was then proceeded with, and no time was cut to waste in doffing their upper toggery. Each had taken the precaution to put on his boots and drawers previous to entering the ring, so that the usual tedious process of lacing the men’s boots was dispensed with. In Heenan’s case, however, there would have been no necessity for this, as his boots were of fashionable make, with elastic sides. He was the first to appear in buff, and a single glance was sufficient to show that his condition was all that could be desired by the most fastidious. Tom’s mahogany bust was quickly after bared to the gaze of the multitude, and here, too, was evidence of strict attention to his work. They had a last rub from their seconds, and now advanced to give the final friendly shake. This was the time to get a fair idea of their respective proportions, and in size it really looked a horse to a hen. Heenan stood full four inches and a half over Tom, and had an immense advantage in length. Every muscle on his broad back, his shoulders, and arms, was well developed, and gave evidence of enormous power. His legs were rather light, but still there was no lack here of wire and activity. His skin was exceedingly fair and transparent, and shone like that of a thorough-bred. His mug was hard, and looked older than we expected, his cheek-bones being very prominent, and now that they had been denuded of much that was superfluous, his tout ensemble was far more like that of his brother professional than on his first interview with us. Tom looked brown and hard as nails: his well-knit frame seemed fitter that we have seen it for years. He looked visibly older even than when he fought Brettle, but, considering what he has gone through, this is not to be wondered at. The only points in which there appeared any advantage on his side were in his loins and his legs, which were cast in a decidedly stronger mould than those of his towering opponent. The contrast between them was far greater than between Tom and the Tipton Slasher, and taking into consideration the fact that the advantage in age on this occasion was t’other way, Tom’s work seemed indeed cut out. That he had the remotest doubt as to the result we do not for an instant believe. He smiled confidently, and had evidently made up his mind to do or die. Heenan seemed to have an equally decided opinion as to the termination of the battle, and, to use an expression of his own countrymen, he was “all thar.” He won the toss for corners, and, of course, placed himself with his back to the sun; and, in addition to this, he had the advantage of being on slightly rising ground, so that Tom had all the way through to fight up hill. The usual ceremony was now gone through by the seconds and men. Time was called at twenty-nine minutes past seven, and they commenced