discovered that Meldrum had received a dangerous wound penetrating to
his thigh, and that several of his officers and men had been killed.
Meanwhile, at the gateway, the first success of the assailants had been
checked at the foot of the Grand Tower or Keep, for at that point the
rush of drab-coated and helmeted men was received by such a shower of
stones and missiles that many stumbled and were crushed on the steep
pathway. Not even Cromwell's men could continue to face such a
reception, and before very long the Governor could embrace his wife in
the knowledge that the great attack had failed.

At last, on July 22, 1645--his forty-fifth birthday--Sir Hugh was
forced to come to an agreement with the enemy, by which he honourably
surrendered the castle three days later. It was a sad procession that
wound its way down the steep pathway, littered with the debris of
broken masonry: for many of Sir Hugh's officers and soldiers were in
such a weak condition that they had to be carried out in sheets or
helped along between two men, and the Parliamentary officer adds rather
tersely, that 'the rest were not very fit to march.' The scurvy had
depleted the ranks of the defenders to such an extent that the women in
the castle, despite the presence of Lady Cholmley, threatened to stone
the Governor unless he capitulated.

Three years later the castle was again besieged by the Parliamentary
forces, for Colonel Matthew Boynton, the Governor, had declared for the
King. The garrison held out from August to December, when terms were
made with Colonel Hugh Bethell, by which the Governor, officers,
gentlemen, and soldiers, marched out with 'their colours flying, drums
beating, musquets loaden, bandeleers filled, matches lighted, and
bullet in mouth, to a close called Scarborough Common,' where they laid
down their arms.