A converted coffee warehouse beside Execution Dock, named for the privateer-turned-pirate hanged nearby in 1701 – twice, as the rope broke the first time
Captain Kidd carries a 4.3 across 3081 reviews, and it earns a close look from the Prat’s desk. It is named after a man hanged a few yards from its beer garden, and it wears that grisly heritage with cheerful, ship’s-hold enthusiasm.
Wapping High Street (north bank)
The Captain Kidd stands at 108 Wapping High Street, on the north bank beside the old Execution Dock – a geographic stray in this south-bank survey, caught by the scrape’s reach. We flag the bank plainly; the piratical history is too good to leave out.
The making of a legend
The history desk finds Kidd’s afterlife more interesting than his crimes. In life he was a fairly ordinary privateer undone by shifting politics; in death he became the archetype of the buried-treasure pirate, his name attached to legends of hidden gold from Long Island to the Indian Ocean and woven into the piratical imagination ever since. Almost none of it is true, and the treasure has never been found – but the story was too good to die on the gallows.
The privateer who crossed the line
William Kidd was a Scottish sailor who operated in the 1690s under a royal letter of marque – a licence to attack enemy shipping on the crown’s behalf. The line between such state-sanctioned privateering and outright piracy was, as the history desk notes, as thin as a sheet of paper, and Kidd was judged to have crossed it. Arrested and shipped to England, he was tried for piracy and murder, found guilty on all charges, and hanged at Execution Dock on 23 May 1701. The affair was botched: the rope broke on the first attempt, and he had to be strung up a second time. His tar-covered body was then gibbeted over the Thames at Tilbury Point for three years, a warning somewhat undercut by the legends of buried treasure that made him famous forever after.
Four hundred years of the gallows
Execution Dock, on the north bank off Wapping High Street, was where the Admiralty hanged pirates, smugglers and mutineers at the low-water mark, leaving the bodies until three tides had washed over them. It was in use for more than four centuries, until the last hanging in 1830. The pub’s own riverside yard is claimed by some accounts to sit close to the spot; the exact location is disputed, but the atmosphere is not.
The pub today
The building became a pub only in the 1980s, having been a coffee warehouse, and is now a Samuel Smith’s house, Grade II listed, laid out inside like the hold of a ship, with a large archway entrance, three floors and a terrace over the river. A symbolic noose hangs by the door, and, if you are lucky, a resident ginger cat patrols the premises. It holds a 4.3 across more than three thousand reviews.
Verdict
A 4.3 across three thousand-plus reviews is a solid score, earned on riverside views and gleeful piratical atmosphere. A pub that turns a botched pirate hanging into a nautical theme, complete with a noose at the door and a ship’s-hold interior, is the history desk’s kind of dark fun – and it teaches every visitor the genuinely instructive tale of how easily a privateer became a pirate. Order a drink, eye the noose, and stay firmly on the right side of the letter of marque.
Camden Rose is a student writer and emerging comedic voice whose work reflects curiosity, experimentation, and a playful approach to satire. Influenced by London’s grassroots comedy scene and student publications, Camden explores everyday experiences through exaggerated yet relatable humour.
Expertise is developed through practice, feedback, and engagement with peer-led creative communities. Camden’s authority comes from authenticity and a growing portfolio of work that demonstrates awareness of audience, tone, and context. Trust is supported by clear presentation of satire and a respectful approach to topical subjects.
Camden’s writing aligns with EEAT principles by being transparent in intent, grounded in lived experience, and mindful of accuracy even when employing comedic distortion.
My therapist says use comedy avoiding difficulty. Validates.
The thing about London is it’s spent three hundred years being satirised and somehow we’re not bored of it yet.