The one-armed team scored 42 runs in their first innings but there had been a great commotion while they were batting as a press of would-be spectators broke down a gate and some fencing to get in.
A band provided music for the occasion and the cricket players were additionally rewarded with a glass of grog and a fee of ten shillings.
It was held at Peckham Rye in the grounds of the Rosemary Branch tavern, which hosted many sporting events and pastimes.
The match was for the benefit of one of the one-armed men and the players were mostly locals but one was a well-known musical barber and dancer from Essex, who bowled for the one-legged team.
He described the spectacle as "painfully wonderful and ludicrously horrible":[11]The one-legged men were pretty well with the bat, but they were rather beaten when it came to fielding.
But then, again, there was a thickset, sturdy fellow, in a blue cap, of the "one-leg" party, who, though he had lost one foot, seemed to run and walk almost as well as ordinary people.
Then, again, on the "one-leg" side, there was an ostentatious amount of infirmity in the shape of one or two pale men with crutches, yet everybody appeared merry and good natured, and determined to enjoy the game to his heart's content; while every time a player made a run, before the dull beat of the bat had died away, there was a shout that made the Peckham welkin ring again, and all the crutches and wooden legs beat tattoos of pure joy and triumph.
And when the musical and Terpsichorean barber rattled the wickets or made the balls fly, did not the very plates in the refreshment tent dance with pleasure!...
Now, a lad who lost his leg when a baby, as a bystander told me, took up the bat and went in with calm self-reliance, and the game went forward with the usual concomitants.
What is a blow on the knuckles to a man who has lost a leg or an arm, who has felt the surgeon's saw and the keen double-edged knife?