In the last round, on “time” being called, both men came ready to the scratch; when Caunt prepared for his rush, Bendigo slipped back, and fell on his nether end, “without a blow.” This all his friends ascribed to a slip, but Molyneaux, the second of Caunt, cried “Foul!” and claimed the battle, evidently anxious to save his man from the “fire.” An appeal was immediately made to the referee, who seemed to be a stranger to the laws of the Ring; and on being enlightened as to the fact of “going down without a blow” being deemed “foul,” he decided that Bendigo had so gone down, on which Molyneaux instantaneously threw up his hat and claimed the battle.
An indescribable row followed, the friends of Bendigo declaring he had gone down from accident, owing to his substitute shoes being without spikes. Bendigo was indignant, and ready to fight, but it was all U.P. Wharton would not throw a chance away, and took his man out of the ring, while Bendigo seized the colours, and in turn claimed a win.
The scene that followed beggars description. Caunt, who was conveyed to his carriage, was brought out to renew the fight; but this he declined, and being placed on a horse, he was pulled off, and but for the protection of his friends would have been roughly handled. He had to walk to Selby, whence he was conveyed back to the “Hawke Arms,” where his wounds were dressed and every attention paid him. He was dreadfully punished, but still strong and vigorous.
The fight lasted one hour and twenty minutes.
No sooner had the astute “Morocco Prince” snatched his verdict, and got his man away, as he was entitled to do, than we discovered, on reentering the ring—from which we had been glad to retire during the disgraceful disorder that followed the appeal—that the umpires had never been asked if they differed as to the “foul” at all; in fact, Bendy’s umpire declared he had been separated from the referee and shut out of the ring in the confusion, so that the issue depended upon the judgment of the referee, who, in such an uproar, added to his inexperience, had indeed a most difficult duty to fulfil. Of course, according to the then new practice, a lawyer’s letter was immediately posted to the stakeholder warning him not to part with the stakes until the matter had been thoroughly sifted, as both parties claimed them.
It must be admitted that Bendigo, in the course of this battle, exhibited extraordinary powers of punishment; his hits were terrific, as Caunt’s condition after the battle testified, his head and body being dreadfully shattered, but still, from the specimen thus afforded, we should not regard Bendigo as a fair stand-up fighter; he was shifty, and too much on the get-away-and-get-down system. With Caunt, however, it must be admitted there was every excuse for this course, for with four stone extra to cope with in weight, and six inches in height, it required no common nerve and caution to escape annihilation. Caunt, who claims the “Championship,” is anything but a well-scienced man; he hits at random, and has no idea of self-defence. His great attributes are game and strength, which he possesses in a pre-eminent degree. Throughout the fight there was not a single knock-down blow, which, when Caunt’s length and weight are considered, is the strongest evidence that the big one lacked the gift of hitting at points, or, as John Jackson expressed it, “judging time and distance accurately.” When we look back at the recorded battles of Mendoza, Jackson, Dutch Sam, Gully, and Randall, and remember the fights of Spring, Crawley, and Jem Ward, the pretensions of Caunt to the Championship must point the moral of the Ring’s decline. Pulling, hauling, squeezing, and hugging, the grand offensive manœuvres of Big Ben’s style of boxing, would have been scouted as a disgrace to all but pitmen, navvies, and provincial “roughs.”
Bendigo, after the battle, proceeded to Selby, where he remained for the night. He appeared little the worse for the encounter, so far as hitting was concerned. The only marks of punishment were a flush under the right eye, a swelling under the left ear, some marks of hits on the lower part of the right shoulder-blade, and sundry excoriations and abrasions of the cuticle, bearing full evidence of the severe squeezing and scrapings on the ropes inflicted by the Bruin-like hugs of his huge antagonist. To us Bendigo expressed his readiness to meet his giant opponent “anywhere, anyhow, on any terms—to-morrow, next week, or next month, anything to accommodate the big chucklehead”—which, as we afterwards knew, was Bendy’s uncomplimentary but characteristic epithet, not only in speaking of, but in personally addressing, his gigantic rival.
Much correspondence of the “’fending and proving” order followed this debateable conclusion. Mr. Lockwood, the referee, however, declared his adherence to his “decision that Bendigo went down without a blow,” and thereupon the stakeholder handed over the battle money to Caunt, with the observation:—“The referee’s decision must be upheld, and if in his judgment Bendigo went down (he says, ‘in fact, fell to avoid’), then, whatever might have been his chances—and it is admitted he had the best of the battle—Caunt is entitled to the stakes, and pro tem. to the title of ‘Champion.’” The next week Bendy was as good as his word, for articles were entered into for a third meeting, for £100 a side, to come off on the 30th of July; but when £40 a side had been deposited, a forfeit took place, under the following circumstances:—
The “Deaf ’un,” as Jem Burke was usually called, had returned from America, in the height of his popularity, and his challenges to “any man in or out of England,” especially “Mister Bendy,” proved too strong a “red herring” across the trail for the Nottingham hero to resist, so he forfeited £40 cash down, to grasp at what proved, for a time, a fleeting shadow, as the Deaf ’un, after his challenge and its acceptance, went on a Parisian tour (see the Life of Bendigo, ante, [p. 12]); and it was not until Shrove Tuesday (Feb. 12th), 1839, that Bendigo and Burke had their “cock-shy,” at Appleby, and Bendigo thereafter received a much disputed “belt” from Jem Ward at Liverpool.
The remainder of 1838, and the whole of 1839, passed without Caunt sporting his colours in the lists. In August, 1840, we find our old friend Ned Painter, at Norwich, and honest fat Peter Crawley, in London, made the channels of the challenges of Brassey and of Caunt. Ned Painter writes thus, on the last day of July:—