so he cried for quarter; and being reassured that he would be indemnified for the five bob, and “leave the ring without a stain on his character,” as the police reporters have it, he was appeased, pocketed the affront (and the five shillings), and straightway, with assistance, returned to his chariot (a South Mimms farmer’s cart), in charge of his true-blue stakes, his ditto beetle, staples, tent-pegs, and neatly-coiled cordage. As for Tommy Roundhead, after calling the gods to witness his readiness to do battle, he waxed less pugnacious, and quickly “lost stomach for the fight” when he was told the victorious party (to which his principal and he belonged), had a dinner waiting at the “Blue Boar,” of which he was invited to partake. The rain had now come on again, and as Apollo was appeased, no one cared to expose himself any longer to the anger of Jupiter Pluvius, and all who had the means, got as quickly housed as possible; the pedestrians plodding their weary way through slush and mire to their humble homes, the equestrians rattling home to their more luxurious domiciles.
Hampson challenged the Deaf’un to fight for £50, within 30 miles of Liverpool, but the affair fell through.
The Deaf’un now came out with a challenge to any 12-stone man and upwards (bar Jem Ward), dating from Reuben Martin’s, in Berwick Street. This was promptly answered on the part of Birmingham (Welsh) Davis, who declared his £100 ready, if necessary. The match was, however, made for £50 a side on December 16th, 1830, “to fight within four months.” In Bell’s Life of December 26th, 1830, we read, à propos of a discussion of the merits of heavy weight exhibitors at the benefits at the Fives Court, and the sparring of Ned Neale, Young Dutch Sam, Tom Gaynor, &c. “The Deaf’un was transformed into a swell, but had not lost his civility, as do too many of his calling. He was never known to utter an oath or an offensive word to any one, and has established the character of a good-natured, well-meaning fellow.” Of how few men in most positions in life could this be written truly!
February 22nd, 1831, was the day, and Baldwin having won the toss for Davis, named Knowle Hill, near Maidenhead, the spot where he (White-headed Bob) beat George Cooper. Baldwin had forgotten that Sir Gilbert East had “departed this life,” and that his place was filled by an anti-millarian justice. Davis, with Arthur Matthewson and Perkins, the Oxford Pet, reached Maidenhead on Monday, and there also arrived Jem Burn, Reuben Marten, Burke, cum multis aliis. At an early hour Tom Oliver and Fogo were on the move to Knowle Hill with their matériel, when they spied three mounted men in the distance. “My mind misgives me sore. By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes!” quoth Fogo. The horsemen approached. “S’help me,” said Tom Oliver, “they’re beaks to a sartinty; I don’t like the Jerusalem cut of the first one.” And Tom was right. Up rode Sir Maurice Ximenes. “My good men,” said Sir Maurice, “if you don’t want to get into trouble you’ll clear out of both Berkshire and Wilts. Myself and these two gentlemen have determined to suffer no breach of the peace in our jurisdiction. Go back at once to your party and tell them so.” Tom
Scratched his left ear, the infallible resource
To which most puzzled people have recourse.
“In course, yer worshup,” said the Commissary, “nobody would think of goin’ agenst yer worshup’s orders.” And he turned the head of his nag towards whence he came, muttering something very like a witch’s prayer for the Semitic nose and Israelitish carcase of his worship. All now were in motion for the Bush Inn, Staines, and, arrived there, Shepperton Range, in Co. Middlesex, was decided on. Burke, Reuben Marten, Stockman and company were on the ground in good time, but Davis was delayed by the overturning of his post-chaise between Windsor and Egham, through the clumsiness of his driver. It was, therefore, full two o’clock before he arrived, when no time was lost in preliminaries. Burke was seconded by Stockman and Reuben Marten, Davis by Harry Jones and Perkins. The colours being tied to the stake, and umpires and referee chosen, at the cry of “Fall back! Fall back!” and the crack of the ringkeepers’ whips, all settled themselves down, and the men began
THE FIGHT.
Round 1.—Both men set to in good form, and covered their vulnerable points well. Davis looked brown, strong, and hardy, his trade of a coachsmith being one well calculated to promote muscular development. The Deaf’un was paler than usual, though he looked bright and confident. There was a sly looseness about the Deaf’un’s action that seemed intended to induce the Brum to go in. Davis tried a nobber with the left, but Burke got away smiling. More shifting and Davis let go his right at the Deaf’un’s ribs, and his left at his head; the former Burke caught on his elbow, the latter got home sharply, and exchanges followed. The Deaf’un broke away, counter-hits and a close, in which the Deaf’un gained the fall. A most determined first round, with as much fighting as half a dozen first rounds of our modern sparring professors.
2.—Davis bleeding from the nose and a cut on the left cheekbone. The Welshman got on a heavy smack on the Deaf’un’s eye, which twinkled and blinked again. Burke shook his head and hemm’d twice or thrice. “He don’t like it,” cried Harry Jones, “do it again.” Davis tried to do so, but was stopped neatly. Mutual stopping and shifting, until the Deaf’un balanced accounts by a straight’un on Davis’s left ogle that seemed to electrify him for the instant. Both men now got at it ding-dong. Davis staggered once or twice from the heavy hits, but recovered and went on again. At last Burke drove Davis into his corner and hit him down. (First knock down for the Deaf’un.)