THE SECRET CAVE OF FLYING MOUNTAIN

THE HIDDEN PIRATE CAVE OF FLYING MOUNTAIN
published in Bar Harbor Times - April 30, 1964

Legend has it that pirates were chased up into Somes sound and stashed their treasure away in a hidden cave.  This newspaper article states that today no one seems to know of this hidden cave, yet the cave does exist, as it is mentioned in an article by Rev. Oliver H. Fernald in a 1883 issue of the Mount Desert Herald.  Dr. Fernald knew that area well as he was born in Southwest Harbor in 1835.    He was a man deeply interested in the areas history, and he collected stories and ledgends of the islands early years.  The cave of Flying Mountain he named "groto of Mount Desert."
The entrance to the cave, he wrote, is located where Flying Mountain "juts into Somes Sound," and at its boldest shore - at low tide the water there gurgles and swirls as if swallowed up in some unseen well-hole, only to be rolled out again with a new impluse.  He writes that the entrance is five feet below the low tide mark and that the passageway arches upward up into the mountain and once up in the mountain the cave opens into four chambers.
The Indians of the island knew of the cave and went there from time to time in order to hide.  It was the indians who showed how to locate the hidden cave to the French Jesuits who established a colony at Fernald Point in 1613.
Over the years that followed the location of the cave became lost over time, but its location was once again discovered by two boys out lobster fishing along the Sound.  No one believed the boys had discovered a hidden cave and locals never checked out their story.
Legend says a smuggler learned of the cave and used it to store away his loot, which was not of gold nor coins.  The name of the smuggler was Capt. Lebion, and he smuggled tea and such things between Boston and Nova Scotia and headed to the cave when being pursued by the law out of boston.  a small narrow stream of water trickles through the cave, the water making its way down into the cave below from an opening if the cliff above the cave, and the water is said to be fresh enough to drink while hiding away in the cave.
I came upon this story in an old newspaper and thought I would share it.  A photo of the cave was pictured but the photo was so poor you could not make anything out in it.




For further research, I found that the The Southwest Harbor Historical Society has a reference to this cave,  Citation
Spiker, LaRue, “Flying Mountain Cave Once Pirate and Smuggler Resort.,”




UPDATE;
I found this newspaper article, but in my opinion it is a "story" spun around some facts of the day, as this is the only account of this cave having an above water wooden door with a secret narrow path.  The writer did have knowledge of some of the more believable parts of the actual story, for instance he knew about the under water entrance, that it is about five feet under water at low tide, the action of the water above the cave entrance, and about the two boys who rediscovered the cave one afternoon while out looking for lobsters.  He seems to have woven a good tale around what little was known of the cave, in my opinion, but you can read the old story and decide for yourself.

 THE GROTTO OF MOUNT DESERT
An Old Time Mystery

Mount Desert Herald
Feb. 15, 1883

It may not be generally known that there exists a remarkable Grotto, or cave, on Mount Desert Island which has figured in the history of its people for the last two hundred and fifty years.  It is certain that the Grotto and its approaches were known to the Indians when Southwest Harbor was first frequented as a resort by the then adventurous English and French navigators in the early part of the seventeenth century.
When Father Biard and his pious band first visited Mount Desert and preached the Gospel of "good tidings," to the wild and savage tribes, the Grotto was even then famous as a hiding place among those untutored and war like men.
And when the (unreadable) colonists were being hunted out of the island, as the sportsman follows the deer it is supposed the friendly Indians guided them in their birch canoes to where the Flying Mountain juts into Somes Sound and at its boldest shore, showed them that mysterious spot, where at low tide the water gurgles and swirls as if swallowed up in some unseen well-hole only to be rolled out again with a new impulse.  Just here at the depth of five feet at low tide is found the mouth of the hidden caves.
The wary Indians carefully guided hither their freight of living souls, showed them the entrance to the unsuspected cave, while one of them dove beneath the waves, and soon his familiar voice is heard issuing from the crevices of the rocks above them, encouraging them to follow.  And there in the bossom of the mountain, above the level of the sea, with its only entrance below the waves was the grotto of Mount Desert - a weird, dismal abode, divided into four rooms with apertures sufficiently capacious to serve as doors.  Here it is supposed those weary colonists found shelter, repose, and safety during the long weeks that Argel and his blood thirsty followers scoured the mountains and vales of our island for their destruction.  Whethet this rendezvous was mentioned in the annals of those colonists, or is more probable, the fact has been handed down to our time by tradition, I am unable to say.  Of one thing we are certain, that the locality of the grotto and its place of ingress were lost for a century or more, and that its particular position, and entrance were again found by two lads by the sheerest accident.  While sculling leisurely along the low tide in quest of lobsters, one of them remarked the peculiar swirl of waters, and soon his keen eyes detected the mouth of the cave.  With the adaptation of the duck for land or water, he was soon divested of his clothing, and with a plunge downward made the discovery a verity and once more the grotto of Mount Desert was known to the world.  But knowledge without application avails little.  The boys were doubted, their story was never tested, and their tale, like the one I am now writing, was soon passed by as an idle myth.
It was this boy revelation, however, that reached the ears of a daring free-booter who was seeking for some place in which to deposit his ill gotten gains.  This man visited the locality, heard the tale of the boys, clandestinely examined the spot, and left the island as quickly as he came, being reputed to be a speculator.  I have not time to tell of the daring exploits of a noted pirate during the years following this visit, of his attack and capture of a Spanish man of war, carrying the pay roll of the spanish navy and having ten millions in gold on board, of his merciless tax on the merchantmen of all nations, of his wonderful ubiquity;  of his escape when discovered into a trap within the range of Moro Castle, Havana and finally of his assault on the British frigate Shannon, when lying in the Boston Bay;  of his repulse, the retreat, and the chase which was continued for three days and only ended by running into Southwest Harbor at nightfall.  A score of British boats followed him as far as Greening's Island when twilight deepened the night, and the patrol of the harbor was continued until day break, that they might secure their prize.  But with the day came disappointment, every crack, bend, and cove from Fernald's Point to Somesville was searched but no vessel appeared.
It is now supposed that finding escape impossible they discharged their gold and other valuables during the night into the grotto, carried their vessel out of the "deep hole" in the river beyond, where there is a line and a half of water, scuttled her, and then took to their hiding place.  A stray boat without marks or oars was all that remained to human view of the once dreaded "Scourge of the Seas."  This must of happened scores of years since, as even the tradition has failed to impress the generation now living on the island.
When next visited by a noble smuggler, the rooms had been squared, the floors leveled, and the whole abode taken on the proportions of comfort and elegance.  The lack of light has been remedied by bulls-eyes in the over hanging rock;  the little rivulet, that gave its incessant supply of water, had been made to gather in a deep stone trough, and the doorway had been constructed far up the inacessible mountain side, which was carefully filled, when not in use, with loose stones and concealed by overhanging bushes.  To the doorway there was a narrow footpath, winding along the steepy sides of the precipice, where the foot of the (unreadable) had never trod, and which one man with a trusty rifle could guard against (unreadable) foes.  So peculiar were the advantages thus placed in the way of this smuggler that while I write them my take must seem like a novel.
We now pass to the exploits of Capt. Le Blon who in his day figured as one of the greatest smugglers on the american coast.  Tea, upon which the duty was excessive, was in demand where ever offered for sale.  Le Blon, therefore, hired an outbuilding in a little cove north of Halifax Harbor, N.S., made his purchases by night of prominent merchants in that city, disposited his wares in the old fishhouse before mentioned, from where the good schooner Juno of Newbury Port, of which he was the captain, took in her cargo and without clearance or entry made her run to the home city, but if he saw breakers ahead, Mount Desert and the grotto were the rendezvous, and a successful voyage was scored.
Oftentimes a cargo of sugar was run in from the West Indies, and the offers of her owners grew (unreadable) with her crooked gains.  there was no lack of merchandise with (unreadable) as long as the juno was afloat under the captainy of le Blon.
On one of his trips fortune had favored him as before, until he entered Boston Bay, when the eagle eyed customs officers sighted their prize in the offing and manned their boat for the chase.  Le Blon was as lynx-eyed as his pursuers, but hoped to reach land at nightfall so as to evade theofficers of government and land his goods, a valuable stock of silks.
The wind, however, died out, and his pursuers gaining on him, he determined to throw up his hand and take to strategy.  Having on board a choice stock of wines and French brandy, he received  the officers of government on board with open arms, called them below and treated and feasted them to their  hearts content.
In the meantime his trusty mate had gagged the remainder of their crew, secured them in irons, quietly lifted the hatches and transferred the most valuable wares to the boats of the United States officers, slipped them astern in care of cometent men who made their escape to Newburyport;  and before morning, when the officers began to look about themselves they found that they were therved.
All that remained in the hold was the bodies of five of the crew of the ship "Northern Light,"  which had been drowned on the coast of France and which Capt. Le Bklon had kindly consented to take back to America for internment at their homes.
The baffled officers reveal and threatened but when they reached the wharf at Newburryport made no objection to the burial of the deed.  The coffins were taken in hearses and carried to a receiving tomb from which they were to be buried next day.
On the (unreadable) it appeared that the tomb had been sacked, the coffins robbed, not of corpses but of French brandy.  The store window of Job Saunders Esq. showed a fine assortment of French liquors next day.  In the meantime the Juno lay in the harbor in charge of the officers of the law awaiting orders from Boston.
Le Blon ever on the alert, engaged a crew of swimmers, boarded her at midnight and by stealth cut the cable, cleared the deck and was underweight quicker then I can write these lines.  The involuntary prisoners were landed at Cape Ann, but the career of the Juno was near its close.  Not long after she fell into the hands of the British squadron, it being wartime, and was carried to Provincetown as a tender.  But the ubiquitous Le Blon followed her and cut her out, ran the gauntlet of the fleet and delivered her to her owners in Newburyport.  Shortly after she was sold to eastern parties and laid her bones, nearly forty years ago at Mount Desert near the grotto that concealed her ill gotten treasure.
Alas!  Alas!  Why were not the gold hunters and their burden bearers immortal?  The Juno has gone, the old captain has paid the debt of nature, Job Saunders is dead, but the grotto remains.  Somewhere in the rocky fastnesses of Somes Sound is that hidden cavern.  As once of yore the place of ingress, the narrow pathway along the shelf of rocks and the concealed doorway have been forgotten, yet if the locality and ingress could be again identified what hoards of wealth would again the lucky discover.
Oh!  wonderful Mount Desert, when thou coukldst could not hide thy children in thy deep valleys and dense forests thou didst conceal them in thy bosom.  When will thy wonders cease?