He sacked Panama, was arrested, taken to London, knighted, and sent back to run Jamaica
The Morgan Arms holds a 4.5 from thirteen hundred and forty-nine people, charges twenty to thirty pounds, and if the man in the name is Henry Morgan, his career is the single most instructive thing in this survey.
He was a privateer
Which means he held a commission – a licence from the Crown to attack Spanish shipping and settlements, and keep a share.
Which is state-sponsored piracy, and the only difference from the ordinary kind is a piece of paper and a cut for the government.
And he sacked Panama
In 1671. One of the great feats of arms of the age, and one of the more brutal ones.
He crossed the isthmus with a substantial force, took the city, and it burned.
And there was one considerable problem with it.
England and Spain had signed a peace treaty.
Which Morgan may or may not have known about – the communications were slow, and he claimed he did not – and which made the whole thing an enormous diplomatic embarrassment.
So they arrested him
And brought him to London, in disgrace, to answer for it.
And then they knighted him
Which is the punchline, and it is entirely true.
Because the political weather in London changed – relations with Spain deteriorated again – and a man who had proved he could burn a Spanish city was suddenly, once more, an asset.
So he was knighted by Charles II.
And sent back to Jamaica as Lieutenant Governor.
Where he was, among other duties, responsible for suppressing piracy – and he did it, and he hanged former colleagues.
Which is the finding
Eight postcodes and a thousand and one hundred and seventy-three articles.
A state will forgive almost anything from a man who knows something it needs – and will hang him the moment he becomes inconvenient.
Captain Kidd also held a commission, and his backers were also at the very top of government – and when it became embarrassing, they abandoned him, and he was hanged at Execution Dock, twice, because the rope broke.
Morgan was useful. Kidd was not.
That is the entire difference between them, and it is not a moral one.
And he sued
Which is the last thing, and it is superb.
Because a book was published describing his atrocities – and Morgan, by then a knight and a governor, sued the publishers for libel.
And he won.
A man who had burned a city, in peacetime, against the express terms of a treaty, successfully sued a publisher for describing it – because by then he was a knight and a governor, and the law was his.
The Prat’s editorial desk regards this as the most complete demonstration in eight postcodes that the difference between a pirate and an admiral is a piece of paper and a change in the weather.
And the rum is not his
Which is the small correction, and it is worth making.
Because the rum brand carrying his name was created in the twentieth century, in Puerto Rico, by people with no connection to him whatsoever.
He did not make rum. He did not own a distillery.
They bought a dead man’s reputation because it sold – and the reputation they bought was the one he had sued a publisher for.
Verdict
Excellent pub, strong number.
Carys Evans is a prolific satirical journalist and comedy writer with a strong track record of published work. Her humour is analytical, socially aware, and shaped by both academic insight and London’s vibrant creative networks. Carys often tackles media narratives, cultural trends, and institutional quirks with sharp wit and structured argument.
Her authority is reinforced through volume, consistency, and reader engagement, while her expertise lies in combining research with accessible humour. Trustworthiness is demonstrated by clear labelling of satire and an ethical approach that values accuracy and context.
Carys’s work supports EEAT compliance by offering informed satire that entertains while respecting readers’ trust.
