With the disposal of our antagonists so easily at the end, we began our
second innings with more sanguine expectations than could have been
imagined from our previous prostration.
"Black had better go in as first man along with you, Hardy, and see what
he can do," our captain said.
The two accordingly went to the wickets at the beginning of the innings;
and there they remained without giving a single chance until the
conclusion of the day's play, when the stumps were drawn at seven
o'clock in the evening.
Young Black had scored by that time no less than eighty off his own bat,
and Hardy forty-one, after being in to their own cheek exactly as long
as the Inimitables' whole innings lasted. It was glorious, one hundred
and eighteen without the loss of a wicket, and the bowling and fielding
must have been good, as there were only seven extras all that long while
our men had been in. Why, that placed us thirty-one runs to the good at
the close of the first day's play. Who would have thought it?
The next morning play began as punctually as on the first day, and the
crowd to witness the match was even greater than before, many coming now
who had stayed away previously, expecting our wholesale defeat in one
innings; and "young Ebony," as Black was called affectionately, and
Prester John resumed their places at the wickets amidst the tremendous
cheering from the whole of the hamlet and twenty miles round.
The bowlers of the Inimitables were on their metal now if they never
were; but they bowled, and changed their bowling, in vain, for young
Jemmy Black continued his brilliant hitting without any cessation, while
Prester John remained on the defensive, except some very safe ball
tempted him, until our score turned the two hundred in our second
innings.
Prester John here retired by reason of his placing a ball in short-
slip's hands; but on our captain taking his place and facing Black, the
run-getting went steadily on until we were considerably a hundred over
our antagonists. Young Black had not given a chance, save one close
shave of a run out, when he got clean bowled for one hundred and fifty-
one. Fancy that; and off such first-class bowling, too!
It was as much as Hardy and I could do to prevent him being torn in
pieces by the excited spectators, who rushed in _en masse_ when he
abandoned the wicket he had defended so well, his face all the time
expanding into one huge grin, which appeared to convert it into all
mouth and nothing else.
Sidney and I, and one or two others, scored well, although nothing like
what our two champion stickers had done; and the whole of our second
innings terminated for two hundred and eighty-eight runs, thus leaving
the Inimitables no less than a hundred and ninety-one to get to tie us,
and one more to win. I fancy that was something like a feather in the
cap of the Little Peddlington Cricket Club, although it was all owing to
young Jemmy Black, whose bowling, when the Inimitables went in to make
their final effort, was on a par with his magnificent batting. We had
finished our second innings just before lunch time; so immediately after
that meal the great travelling team, who were going to do such wonders
when they came to annihilate the Little Peddlingtonians--I can't help
crowing a little now it is all over--went to the wickets to finish the
match, or spin it out, if they could, so that it might end in a draw.
Young Black was all there, however, and so was I, too, for, whether by
his example or what, I know not, I never bowled so well before or since
in my life. Really, between us two, and the efficient assistance of our
fieldsmen, who seemed also spurred up to extra exertions, even Charley
Bates and Tom Atkins distinguishing themselves for their quickness of
eye and fleetness of foot, the Piccadilly Inimitables got all put out
long before time was called, for the inglorious total of our own first
innings--fifty-nine. Hurrah!
We had conquered by a hundred and thirty-two runs, and licked the most
celebrated amateur club in England. It would be a vain task to try and
recount our delighted surprise, so I'll leave it alone. Thenceforward
the rest of the chronicles of the Little Peddlington Cricket Club are
they not written in gold? At all events, I know this, that we never
forgot what happened to us in that ever-memorable match, with only "Our
Scratch Eleven."