Brewster, Bradford, Clyfton, Robinson, and three others were imprisoned in Boston’s Guildhall. I stooped through one of the small, grilled cell doors to enter a space approximately six by eight feet. Given the prison conditions of that age, the men’s month of detention here must have been a squalid experience. A spiral staircase leads from the cells up into the oak-panelled Magistrates Court where, contrary to expectations, the prisoners received a lenient hearing. The magistrate sentenced them to appear at the Assize Courts in Lincoln, where I found, ironically enough, an interesting Magna Carta exhibit.

In the early 17th century the bustling port of Boston supported a growing population of Separatist sympathizers. The most notable of these, Bishop John Cotton, eventually became head vicar of Boston, Massachusetts. Stained glass in the parish church of St. Botolph’s commemorates his departure for the New World. Visitors should not leave the area without first going up the Boston Stump. The dizzying ascent leads to views overlooking this ancient market town and into the neighbouring countryside liberally studded with windmills.

After their release, the Pilgrims, deprived of land, homes, and livelihood, decided once more to flee to Holland. In 1608 they contracted another Dutch ship to transport them. The men walked to the departure point while the women travelled by barge down the River Trent. At the rendezvous, disaster struck again. After most of the men had boarded, they saw a group of armed men coming to arrest them. The Dutch captain, fearing arrest, set sail, leaving the women and children behind to face arrest alone. The authorities took them into custody, but, realizing they had little to gain by holding harmless women and children, they eventually granted them permission to emigrate.

The Separatists’ exact point of departure is unknown. William Brewster’s diaries simply refer to a tidal creek somewhere on the coast between Grimsby and Hull. The small town of Killingholme, near Immingham, claimed the Pilgrims fled from Killingholme Creek, which no longer exists. It was drained a couple of decades ago, when a petrol company built a refinery here.

A memorial stone stands in Immingham, carved from rock brought from Plymouth, Massachusetts. After I had visited the simple stone attesting to the Pilgrim’s tenacity, I drove to a lookout near Alkborough. I sat there and gazed at the fertile flatlands of the Trent Valley below me and, appropriately, looked to the west, the direction of the Pilgrims’ final destination.

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This article was written by Chris Sharp and originally appeared in the August/September 2001 issue of British Heritage. For more great articles, subscribe to British Heritage magazine today!

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