I am Henry Morgan, a name that resonates through history as both buccaneer and knight, feared and revered. Born in 1635 in the village of Llanrhymny in South Wales, I hailed from a prosperous farming family. Restless and ambitious, I could not abide a quiet, monotonous life. Thus, I set my sights on the sea, yearning for the adventure and riches that the Caribbean promised.
The exact circumstances of my arrival in the West Indies are shrouded in mystery. Some claim I was "Barbadosed," kidnapped and sold into servitude in Barbados, a tale popularized by Alexandre Exquemelin, my surgeon in Panama. Yet, when these allegations reached my ears, I sued, forcing him to retract his version. More credible accounts suggest I joined Cromwell’s expedition under General Venables in 1654, which aimed to wrest the Caribbean from Spanish control.
I arrived in Barbados in 1655 as a junior officer, participating in the failed assault on Santo Domingo before we successfully captured Jamaica, a prize of strategic importance with its expansive natural harbour. Life on the island was arduous, plagued by disease and constant threats from the Spanish and Maroons. However, I thrived, forging a path through determination and sheer will.
By 1662, I commanded my first privateer ship, sanctioned by the British Crown to harry and plunder Spanish holdings. My initial triumph came in 1664, when, alongside other buccaneer captains, we ravaged the Yucatán Peninsula and sacked the wealthy town of Granada in Central America. The spoils enriched me and solidified my reputation as a formidable leader.
In Jamaica, I married my cousin, Mary Elizabeth, daughter of Colonel Edward Morgan, then Lieutenant Governor of the island. Our union cemented my status among the island’s elite. By 1665, I owned sugar plantations and enjoyed the favour of the new governor, Sir Thomas Modyford, who appointed me vice-admiral of the Jamaican fleet.
My most infamous raids began in 1668. Leading a fleet to Cuba, we easily captured Puerto Príncipe, but the meagre loot led many of my men to desert. Undeterred, I set my sights on Puerto Bello. Employing stealth, we approached the city under cover of night, taking two forts by surprise. The third fort, however, proved resilient until I used captured monks and nuns as human shields, compelling the defenders to surrender. The ransom and plunder from this raid were immense, solidifying my legend.
In 1669, I led another devastating attack on Maracaibo in Venezuela. My men, driven by greed and cruelty, tortured citizens to reveal hidden treasures. Such brutal tactics, though morally questionable, ensured our success and furthered my notoriety.
By 1670, I had amassed an army of 1,200 buccaneers and a fleet of 30 ships, setting my sights on the grand prize: Panama. We first captured the fort of San Lorenzo, then endured a gruelling march through the jungle to reach Panama City. Despite severe losses to hunger and disease, our resolve never wavered. Outnumbered but not outmatched, we overwhelmed the Spanish defenders, sacking the city and burning it to the ground. Yet, unbeknownst to me, England and Spain had signed a peace treaty, making my attack an act of piracy.
Upon my return to Jamaica, I was arrested and sent to England for trial. However, my influence and the value of my conquests for the English Crown saved me. Instead of punishment, King Charles II knighted me and appointed me Lieutenant Governor of Jamaica in 1674. I spent my later years in Port Royal, a city notorious as the pirate capital, where I engaged in politics, managed my plantations, and indulged in rum-fueled revelry with my old comrades.
My final years were marred by political rivalry with Governor Thomas Lynch, who sought to discredit me using Exquemelin’s damning book. Despite a successful libel suit and public retraction, my reputation remained tainted. Nevertheless, I was reinstated to the Jamaican Council in 1688, shortly before my death on August 25, 1688, from tuberculosis or perhaps acute alcoholism. My remains were interred in Palisadoes cemetery, later submerged by the catastrophic earthquake of 1692.