Tag Archives: The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan

The Strategy of a Privateer and a Pirate| Review of “The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan” by Robert Hough (2015) House of Anansi Press

Morgan

We were all raised on the classical stories of pirates. They were fantastic tales that kept us spellbound with concepts of adventures on the high seas brisk with sword fights to find buried treasure. But must the stories end because we have matured into adulthood and our heads are now filled with serious facts and reason. Robert Hough doesn’t think so and he has given us adults the book The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan to rationally spellbind us.

Page 1-2

The judge was a drunk bastard, all right – swaying in his tall-backed chair, that gin-rosin smell wafting off him, his nose a mound of headcheese run through with purple thread. I wasn’t surprised. The world was filled with people who couldn’t bear to be in their own company, and it made no difference if you were rich or poor, loved or loathed. Sometimes, there was only one thing for it.

“I didn’t do it!” I pleaded. “It was an honest game, Your Honour, no foolery or nothing, just a friendly match between men! I’m an upstanding sort, see . . . ”

“I see nothing of the kind, Mr. Wand. As far as I can tell, you’re as slick as an oiled weasel. and you’ve a choice to make. A dozen years in Newgate or deportation to the Isle of Jamaica. The choice is yours. You’ve ten seconds before I decide for you.”

Ten seconds? I didn’t need three seconds. No one survived twelve years in Newgate, not unless you belonged to someone, and even that was no protection against typhoid or madness. On the other hand, Jamaica’s best-known town, a devil’s warren called Port Royal, had a reputation I’d heard about in seamy rat-run taverns, and from the sounds of it I’d fit right in. There was another sorry fact to consider: my pitted face was known by constabulary types all over England, which was making it harder and harder to ply my ignoble trade.

“Jamaica,” I said.

He slammed his gavel and was on to the next.

I was twenty years of age, and up for pretty much anything.

Hough has told the story of Henry Morgan through the eyes of Benny Wand. Wand is a thief and chess player whose actions in 1664 find him deported to Jamaica. There Wand joins up with the infamous Captain Henry Morgan to raid Spanish enclaves in the New World. Wand shows his ability in “hustling” chess games to earn a bit of extra coin. One day he is called upon to visit Morgan and they engage in a game.

Page 102-103

“Good game,” I said. “That was a brilliant gambit, like.”

Yet instead of turning all red and grinny, as if he’d just bedded an earl’s daughter. Morgan studied the board. His chin was in his slender hand, the muscles in his face gone tight as wire. Those grey eyes, knifing through space – he couldn’t take them off the board. He was calculating, thinking, drawing his conclusions. In fact, he looked just the way he had at Villahermosa, staring out over pink bubbling waters. Inside, I felt all wrong.

He looked up. “You ever throw a game with me again Mr. Wand, I’ll have you in the stocks for a fortnight. Do I make myself clear?”

I said nothing. Couldn’t believe it. I’d never met a posh bugger who liked the game more than the idea of winning. It’s the reason none of them are any good at it – it’s just the win they want, their self-regard stoked.

But not Morgan. Not him.

“This time I’m white,” he said as he reset the pieces. A moment later he moved a pawn to queen’s fourth, again warning I’d better give him my best game. We played three more times. Like I said, he was a good player – better than good, even – though no match for someone born with an understanding that on every board there lies a glorious truth and it’s your job to reveal it. Fact was, I heard music when I played chess. When I was getting at that truth, it was like birdsong. When I was crapping it, it was rusty pots clanging together. It was a hammer striking metal. It was a hippo blowing farts from a sackbut.

In two of the games, Morgan stayed with me, through the last was a rout. He lost each game by growing restless and launching attacks that would’ve worked with the burghers he was used to playing but not with me.

“So,” he said when we were done. “You’re a professional.”

There is the right mixture of research and imagination here to make this both an enlightening and entertaining read. We get an understanding of history, planning, politics and even human nature through the thoughts of Wand to appeal to our intellect but we also get the a sense of adventure and emotion too to thrill us. In short the plot has the right amount of strategy and swashbuckling.

Pages 214-215

We marched back through dense jungle and found the dried creek bed we’d left a day earlier. Here we turned right and marched to the edge of the jungle and waited for orders.

Morgan sent a few men into the trees. They came down with branch scrapes on their faces, though they all agreed Panama was a few miles off and beyond that a blue bank of ocean. We trudged through light woods dotted with streams. Around noon the trail opened at the top of a plateau. Down below was a green plain about a mile wide and a mile deep and beyond that was the city.

Course, they were waiting for us, fifteen hundred or more Spaniards on horseback, all in rows. Morgan took this in, jaws gnashing. Beyond the enemy was the city, which looked like Portobello though bigger: it had the same square with a church and lanes leading away, the only difference being there was a square beyond that and another square beyond that as well. My eyes roamed, looking for weakness, and I knew Morgan was doing the same.

“Wand,” he said while pointing. “Do you see it?”

“The hill? Yeah, I do.”

Though the Spaniards had covered the right and centre of the plain, off to one side was a large rise where their horsemen were fewer. Separating this hill from the rest of the plain was a dip in the land; if we stormed that hill via that dip we might draw the enemy to engage us there. And once they were there. And once they were there, it wasn’t hard to imagine all those Spanish horses gumming up and being more hindrance than help. On foot, we’d more easier than them, and if enough of our number weren’t felled, we might even take the hill. From there we could storm the city, flintlocks blazing, murder in our souls, the best part being our plan just might work.

Robert Hough has certainly matured tales of the high seas in his book The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan. It is both enlightening and entertaining read and one worthwhile to enjoy.

*****

Link to Robert Hough’s website

Link to House of Anansi’s website for The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan.

 

“Writing is so completely isolating and lonely that I need to be able to step into a crowded street when I step away from my computer.” | Q&A with writer Robert Hough

Morgandiego

The beauty of doing this blog is that it helps me keep track of writers I enjoy. And there are a lot of them whom I have enjoyed reading but whose recent works I haven’t been aware of. (And I will spare you all the lament of me being trapped in suburbia or news about books not being accessible as they once were. ) When I saw that Robert Hough was doing a series of discussion on his book, The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan, I thought “Great, he has a new work out.” Hough promptly corrected my error and informed me about a few other developments in his life as you can read in the following Q&A.

*****

1) First off, can you give an outline of The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan?

 A two-bit, low-life, illiterate board game hustler forms an unlikely friendship with a marauding sea captain. Fireworks ensue.

2) Could you also give an outline of Diego’s Crossing? Was writing a novel for young adults different than novels for adults? What inspired your to write Diego’s Crossing?

A seventeen-year-old living in Northern Mexico is forced to smuggle drugs into the United States when his gangster brother is injured in an automobile crash. As for the inspiration, I was approached by a guy named Rick Wilks, who runs a YA press called Annick Press. He’d read my fourth novel, a Mexican tale called Dr. Brinkley’s Tower, and told me that he’d always wanted to do a YA novel that took place amongst the drug wars of Northern Mexico. Up for anything, I agreed, and found it pretty much like writing a novel for adults, albeit with less swearing. That being said, I was surprised what Annick let me get away with: Diego’s Crossing is scary as shit!

3) Your website states this is your fifth novel (including one novel for young adults) Has your writing changed much since you were first published? If yes, how so?

Actually, Henry Morgan is my fifth novel excluding my YA book. (Ie I’ve done six in total). I wouldn’t say my writing has changed that much. Right out of the gate, with The Final Confession of Mabel Stark, I started writing bawdy, picaresque, funny novels that are full of outlandish characters and absurd settings, but that slowly reveal a more sober reality as the novel progresses.  (My second novel, The Stowaway, and Diego’s Crossing have been exceptions to the rule.)  Which is not to say I found my voice right off the bat: the world doesn’t know about my fiction that was appropriately rejected before Random House took on Mabel Stark. Very few people get their first novels published, and I think it’s rarely helpful if they do.

4) Who are you favourites writers at the moment? What are you reading right now?

I’m often asked that, and usually I freeze up, so  I finally made a list of my five favourite novels. In no particular order, they are: The Thought Gang by Tibor Fischer, Memoir from Ant-Proof Case by Mark Helprin, Gould’s Book of Fish by Richard Flanagan, A Fraction of the Whole by Steve Toltz and The Buddha of Suburbia by Hanif Kureshi. I just finished reading The Book of Dave by Will Self, which I loved. Recently, I discovered that Irvine Welsh had written a sequel to Trainspotting called Porno, which I’m now just getting into: I’ll read anything with the characters Rent, Sick Boy, Spud and Begbie!

5) Do you have much of a book tour planned for The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan? If yes, are there dates/events that you are excited to be partaking in? Are public readings something that you enjoy doing?

Henry Morgan actually came out a year ago, so a lot of the publicity was done then.  That being said, I have a gig in Ottawa on the 13th and one in Toronto on the 17th. (Link for the Toronto gig here)  I hardly ever, ever read from my work, as I find literary readings dull. Instead, I usually talk about something, which people seem to prefer. A lot of the event organizers have come to the same conclusion, by the way: these days you’re often told that you’re not allowed to read

Hough2
Flyer for Robert Hough’s discussion on his book The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan occurring in Ottawa this Friday

6) Are you working on anything new right now? If yes, are there details you care to share?

 There are three questions that authors hate to answer: “Do you make a living?”, “Where do you get your ideas?” and “Are you working on anything?” You see, when you write a novel, for 90 percent of the process it’s not working. It’s only at the very end, when you get a magical synthesis of plot, character, tone and theme that it begins to sound like a real novel. So when you ask a writer what he’s working on, he or she immediately translates the question into, “hey, let’s talk about that huge thing you’re failing at, okay?”

7) You seem to have a bit of presence on both Facebook and Twitter. How do you like using those platforms? Does being on social-media sites like those help or hinder or writing at all?

 Ha! A ‘bit’ being the operative word!  I know of writers who spend all day on Facebook and Twitter; I’ve made, like, three tweets all year. I honestly don’t think social media helps that much. Yet I do think it’ll hurt you if you DON’T do it, if that makes any sense.

-7a) You have on your profile pictures what appears to be Igor from the television show
Hilarious House of Frankenstein. For many of us that was a iconic show from our childhoods. Was that for you too?

I always put up dummy avatars as well as phony information: for example, I didn’t attend the University of Ouagadougou, as my FB profile states. It’s my own little rebellion against the narcissism fostered by social media.

8) Your biographies have you listed as living in Toronto right now. How do you like living there? Does it’s cultural scene inspire you with your writing at all?

 I’m a life-long Torontonian, more or less (I spent some time in the suburbs when I was young). It’s not so much Toronto I like, but I do need a big city. Writing is so completely isolating and lonely that I need to be able to step into a crowded street when I step away from my computer. I really don’t understand writers who need a quiet farmhouse or forest cabin to work in: I’d get so absorbed in my work it would drive me out of my mind.

*****

Link to Robert Hough’s website

Link to House of Anansi’s webpage for The Man Who Saved Henry Morgan

Link to Annick Press’ website for Diego’s Crossing