The Politically Incorrect Guide to the British Empire (8 page)

Launched in 1654, the Western Design was, on the whole, a miserable failure (and landed Admiral William Penn and General Robert Venables some months in the Tower of London; for, like a James Bond villain,
Cromwell did not take failure lightly), but it provided action for a young soldier named Henry “Harry” Morgan. It also brought the English Jamaica (in 1655), which might have seemed but a wee speck in the Caribbean, but was actually a crucial island base. It put the wind behind the backs of English pirates and privateers who preyed on Spain's ships and colonies.

We have little account of Morgan's early years in Wales, England, and Jamaica. Of his early life, Morgan said only that he “left school too young” to be an expert in law (though he tried, as a respectable buccaneer, to stay reasonably within it), and was “more used to the pike than the book.”
¹
We also know that Morgan later sued and won a judgment against a man who claimed Morgan had been an indentured servant.

He was not a sailor either (though Jamaica's governor would give him the rank of admiral). He was a soldier, and it seems certain that after the conquest of Jamaica he was kept busy fighting Spanish guerrillas in the mountains. His public life began with the restoration of the monarchy to England under Charles II. Under the new royalist governor in Jamaica, Lord Windsor, the army was converted into militia units and in 1662 Henry Morgan appears as a captain in the Port Royal Regiment. Its first mission: attack Cuba.

Charles II, being a Catholic-leaning Anglican, did not have Cromwell's burning desire to pillage Spanish churches, smash their images of the Virgin Mary, take axes to their altars, desecrate their Eucharists, and steal their golden chalices and crucifixes. But as king, he gained a quick appreciation of the value of England's New World holdings (or “foreign plantations,” as they were called), and demanded “free commerce” between the English plantations and the “territories belonging to the King of Spain”—by force if necessary.
²

As in the day of Drake, so in the day of Morgan, the Spanish refused to acknowledge that anyone else had a right to be in the New World, and trade had to be run through Spain's strict bureaucratic channels. Nevertheless, many Spanish outposts in the New World, however much they feared the English Vikings, engaged in sometimes elaborately concealed trade with the English, French, and Dutch.

But because Spain did not concede Jamaica to England—insisting that it, like all other New World territories, belonged to Spain
³
—Cuba remained a serious threat to Jamaica's security. Jamaica's Spanish rebels had been supplied from Cuba, and it was decided that giving Cuba the old Francis Drake treatment would prove England's seriousness about insisting on free trade with Spain's colonies. The attack was to be made by Commodore Sir Christopher Myngs. Myngs was popular in Jamaica because he was a friend of the buccaneers (though a professional navy man, the Spaniards considered him an out and out pirate). He was skilled and brave, as were the soldiers, like Captain Morgan, he brought with him—and their raid on Santiago de Cuba in October 1662 was a roaring success. At the cost of only six men killed they captured six ships and enormous quantities of loot, and blew Santiago's fortress to smithereens.

Myngs returned to action in January 1663, sailing for an attack on the Mexican port of Campeche. It too was successful, though at a much higher cost. Myngs himself was badly wounded while leading the landward attack, and thirty of his men were killed.

In 1664, Jamaica's new governor, Sir Thomas Modyford, declared peace with Spain. Morgan was not of a mind to listen—even if his uncle Edward was now lieutenant governor.
⁴
Morgan was apparently ignorant of the order—at any rate while he was at sea—clutching the paper that made him a fully commissioned privateer, and thus free to raid the Spanish Main. While Uncle Edward, a colonel, was commissioned to attack the Dutch Caribbean islands (as part of the Second Anglo-Dutch War of 1665 to 1667),
Morgan raided Mexico with four of his fellow captains. With fewer than two hundred men, Morgan's raiders roamed the coast of Central America, sacked inland towns, and came home bearing immense spoils of war and incredible stories of profitable adventure—stories that established Morgan as a true leader of men. While Morgan's exploits were diplomatic embarrassments, such embarrassments were easily ignored when they were so popular and so useful for Jamaica's treasury. Morgan and his men were heroes, reminders of the glory of Good Queen Bess and Sir Francis Drake. He was promoted a colonel in 1666, charged with Jamaica's defense, and had by this time married Uncle Edward's daughter and used his wealth to become a planter. He was a respected man.

In 1667, Governor Modyford suspected the nefarious Spaniards might invade Jamaica—though Spain was at that moment at war with France, not England. Still, it seemed like a good excuse to commission Morgan to seize a few Cuban Spaniards for questioning. It is a tribute to Morgan's reputation that he soon had seven hundred men ready to sail—not just Englishmen, but a polyglot crew of buccaneers and pirates. Together they stormed the town of Puerto Principe, where Morgan's men outfought regular Spanish soldiers and sacked the town with all due diligence; it yielded, however, paltry rewards.

Morgan, undaunted, decided that an attack on Panama would be a nice way to round out his voyage. His associated French pirates demurred and retired to their lairs at Tortuga or elsewhere. Morgan pressed on, raiding Portobello, an inland town that was caught utterly unaware, his buccaneers again proving doughtier fighters than the Spanish regulars. Having reduced the town and robbed it of all that was worth robbing, Morgan demanded its ransom from the president of Panama. The
presidente
notified Morgan that
he did not negotiate with corsairs and that he was on the march to defeat him. To this Morgan replied,

This was a nobly stated bit of effrontery because of course “the King of England, my master,” had no idea Morgan had annexed the town on his behalf (indeed His Majesty had signed a treaty of peace with Spain). But Morgan was as good as his word. The Spaniards, finding they could not relieve Portobello, ransomed it.

Morgan returned to Port Royal and organized his largest expedition yet—a thousand freebooters to attack Cartagena. With them was a thirty-four-gun frigate, HMS
Oxford
, sent by the Duke of York (the future King James II) for Jamaica's defense. It was to be the flagship for Morgan's new expedition. Unfortunately, during the rollicking New Year's revels to welcome the year 1669 and celebrate their plan of attack, its powder magazine exploded killing virtually everyone on board, more than two hundred men, leaving only ten survivors—among them, Morgan.

Such an accident was bound to dampen even Captain Morgan's undaunted spirit; desertions followed. With his reduced force, Cartagena was out of the question, but an assault on Maracaibo, Venezuela, was not. Warned of his approach, the Spaniards abandoned—but booby-trapped—the fort that guarded the inlet that led to the town. Morgan's men found the slow-burning fuse that was meant to send them and the fort to destruction. The town of Maracaibo was also abandoned, but Morgan's men scoured the area, rounded up captives, and tortured them to find where their valuables were hidden. If Morgan's experience is anything to go by, torture works; his men meted out the same treatment to the
citizens of the nearby town of Gibraltar. But as Morgan prepared to lead his men back into the Caribbean a note arrived from a Spanish admiral. He had three Spanish warships blocking the inlet, and the fort guarding the inlet had been regarrisoned—its guns would be leveled directly at Morgan's ships. The admiral had come “with orders to destroy you utterly and put every man to the sword” unless Morgan and his men were prepared to surrender and give up their loot.