"Well, Sir John," said the King, "this act of yours is unparalleled, and will, I fear, lead to dismal consequences, and I cannot do less than proclaim and proceed against you as a traitor; but I will give you an hour to decide." He then retired, and, on his return, found the Governor inflexible in his refusal to admit him, excepting with a following of not more than twenty persons, upon which he caused a herald to proclaim him a traitor, and all who abetted him guilty of treason, shouting, "Fling the traitor over the walls! Throw the rebel into the ditch," after which he retired to Beverley, and spent the night there. The following morning he sent a messenger with a promise of pardon for the past, and his favour for the future, if Sir John would open the gates to him, and when he received a negative answer he returned to York. The King then sent a complaint to Parliament of Sir John's conduct, who replied that he had done quite right, and that his proclamation of him as a traitor was a flagrant breach of the privilege of Parliament.
As the King could not obtain admission to the town by persuasive means, he resorted to force, and laid siege to it, and the Parliament sent an additional force of 2,000 men to maintain the defence. About this time, Lord Digby, a Royalist, was captured and brought into Hull, who, in repeated conversations with Sir John on the evils he was bringing upon the kingdom, half persuaded him to admit the King; but eventually he resolved not to betray his trust. Nevertheless he facilitated the escape of his lordship, and this was what first caused him to be viewed with suspicion by the Parliament. Soon after, the King went into the Midlands, and set up his standard at Nottingham, leaving the siege of Hull in the hands of Lord Newport, and the civil war commenced in earnest. Captain Hotham, a dashing and dare-devil officer, left Hull with a small force, had a brush with and was defeated by Glemham, on the Wolds; frightened Archbishop Williams from Cawood, who fled to Wales, and never saw his diocese again; disputed the passage of the Tees with Newcastle, and again at Tadcaster against an overwhelming force; and assisted Sir T. Fairfax in the capture of Leeds.
By various instrumentalities, the Hothams, father and son, had now veered round from the Parliamentarian to the Royalist side. The younger had met the Queen when she landed at Burlington, kissed her hand, and promised obedience to the King's will; and the elder had been in correspondence with Newcastle, and had undertaken to deliver up Hull on the 28th of August. But all this had come to the ears of Parliament, and measures were at once taken to frustrate his intentions. Orders were sent to Thomas Raikes, the Mayor, Sir Matthew Boynton, Hotham's brother-in-law, and Captain Meyer, commander of a vessel of war in the Humber, to arrest him and his son, and send them up to London, and they lost no time in the matter. Captain Meyer landed one hundred men, who seized the citadel and the block-house, and they placed a watch round Sir John's house. Captain Hotham they captured without difficulty, and placed in security during the night, and at daylight went to Sir John's house to take him, but found he had effected his escape.
Too old a soldier to be caught in a trap like that, and too old in strategy not to be able to devise means of extrication from a peril, he, having learned from his spies what was passing, and seeing that matters were coming to a crisis, determined upon flying to his house at Scorborough, which was fortified and able to stand a short siege. He eluded the watch by passing out by a private door at the back, and made his way, by obscure lanes and streets, to Beverley Gate. When he arrived there he was saluted by the guard, who knew nothing of the order for his arrest, and, assuming a lofty unembarrassed bearing, he ordered the gate to be opened and six of the guards to follow him to Beverley. He was immediately obeyed, and, securing a horse, he rode off in the direction of Beverley; but as soon as he had purposely outridden his attendants, he turned to the right, through Sculcoates, towards Stone Ferry. His pursuers meanwhile learnt what had passed at the gate, and rode after him along the Beverley road. They overtook the six guards, who informed them that Sir John could not be more than a few furlongs ahead on the road, and they spurred on towards Beverley without overtaking the fugitive.
Sir John's house lay three or four miles beyond Beverley, on the west of the river Hull, and as he knew it would be dangerous to pass through the town, he resolved to cross the river and proceed along the eastern side, and re-cross it when he had passed Beverley. Unfortunately, when he came to Stone Ferry, there was no boat, and the river was running too rapidly to allow of swimming his horse across; he therefore hastened on to Wawn Ferry, hoping to cross there, but the fates seemed to be against him; there was no boat there either, and the hazard was too great to attempt reaching the opposite bank by any other means. He paused for a few minutes, thinking over what course he should pursue. There appeared to be nothing for it but to make a bold dash through Beverley. It was true that the town was held by the Parliamentarians, but they might not have heard of the events which had transpired in Hull. Besides, there was no alternative, and putting spurs to his horse's flanks, he soon came in sight of the towers of Beverley Minster. He entered the town by Queensgate, and passing along the streets with an air of indifference, came to the Market-place, which he found occupied by a troop of 700 or 800 men, with his nephew, Colonel Boynton, at their head. With an assumed nonchalant air, he saluted his nephew, and ordered a company of the men to follow, which they were preparing to do, when the Colonel, who had been made acquainted with his treachery, came up, and seizing his horse's bridle, said, "Sir John, you are my prisoner. I respect you as my kinsman, but I must, although with the greatest reluctance, pass by all tender respect, and arrest you as a traitor to the Commonwealth." Sir John, seeing that resistance was useless, replied, "Well, kinsman, since such is your will I must be content and submit," but, espying a lane close by, he clapped spurs to his horse and galloped down it, followed by his nephew, shouting "Down with the traitor; knock him down;" and a soldier, striking him with the butt end of his musket, brought him to the earth, bleeding and almost senseless. By a strange coincidence, he was confined for the night in the same house where the King had slept after his discomfiture at the gates of Hull. The following morning he was taken to Hull, placed on board Captain Meyer's vessel, and, with his son, immediately conveyed to London. On the 3rd of December they were arraigned at the Guildhall for treason, the Earl of Manchester presiding, and were sentenced to be executed on the last day of the year. The House of Lords, desirous of pardoning him, reprieved Sir John for three days; but the Commons would not listen to it. Captain Hotham was beheaded in due course before his father, which some said was a piece of concerted malice, that he might not die a baronet, which he would have done had his father suffered first.
On the 2nd of January, Sir John was brought out upon Tower Hill and mounted the scaffold, accompanied by the Rev. Hugh Peters and other ministers and friends. He met his fate bravely and like a soldier, and before laying his head on the block, addressed the people, saying—"Gentlemen,—I know no more of myself but that I deserve this death from God Almighty, and that I deserve damnation and the severest punishment from Him. As for the business of Hull—the betraying it from the Parliament—the ministers that have all been with me and gave me good counsels, I thank them. Neither was I any ways guilty of it. That's all I can say to that act," etc., etc.
It will be seen that he was no orator, and did not give utterance to his ideas in a very clear and coherent manner. The speech of his son, three days previously, was very superior, both in matter and manner.
After Peters had addressed the crowd, putting Sir John's sentiments in better language, the unfortunate baronet placed his head on the block. His head was stricken off by the headsman, and his mutilated remains were buried in the church of All-Hallows, Barking, the liturgy being read at his funeral, although it had been abolished by Act of Parliament.
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