Myths and Legends of Our Own Land — Volume 09 : as to buried treasure

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Charles M. (Charles Montgomery) Skinner

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The Project Gutenberg EBook of As To Buried Treasure and Storied Waters, Cliffs, And Mountains, by Charles M.SkinnerThis eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it,give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online atwww.gutenberg.netTitle: As To Buried Treasure and Storied Waters, Cliffs, And Mountains Myths And Legends Of Our Own Land,Volume 9.Author: Charles M. SkinnerRelease Date: December 14, 2004 [EBook #6614]Language: English*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AS TO BURIED TREASURE ***Produced by David WidgerMYTHS AND LEGENDS OF OUR OWN LAND By Charles M. SkinnerVol. 9.AS TO BURIED TREASUREANDSTORIED WATERS, CLIFFS, AND MOUNTAINSCONTENTS:AS TO BURIED TREASUREKidd's TreasureOther Buried WealthSTORIED WATERS, CLIFFS, AND MOUNTAINSMonsters and Sea-SerpentsStone-Throwing DevilsStoried SpringsLovers' LeapsGod on the MountainsAS TO BURIED RICHESKIDD'S TREASURECaptain Kidd is the most ubiquitous gentleman in history. If his earnings in the gentle craft of piracy were frugallyhusbanded, he has possibly left some pots of money in holes in the ground between Key West and Halifax. Thebelief that large deposits of gold were made at Gardiner's Island, Dunderberg, Cro' Nest, New York City, ConeyIsland, Ipswich, the marshes back of Boston, Cape Cod, ...

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OMFY TOHUSR AONWD NL ELAGNEDNDS By Charles M. SkinnerVol. 9.AS TO BURIED TREASUREDNASTORIED WATERS, CLIFFS, AND MOUNTAINSCONTENTS:AS TO BURIED TREASUREKOitdhde'rs BTrueriaesdu rWeealthSTORIED WATERS, CLIFFS, AND MOUNTAINSMonsters and Sea-Serpents

Stone-Throwing DevilsLStoovreiresd' LSepraipnsgsGod on the MountainsAS TO BURIED RICHESKIDD'S TREASURECaptain Kidd is the most ubiquitous gentleman inhistory. If his earnings in the gentle craft of piracywere frugally husbanded, he has possibly left somepots of money in holes in the ground between KeyWest and Halifax. The belief that large deposits ofgold were made at Gardiner's Island, Dunderberg,Cro' Nest, New York City, Coney Island, Ipswich,the marshes back of Boston, Cape Cod,Nantucket, Isles of Shoals, Money Island, OceanBeach, the Bahamas, the Florida Keys, andelsewhere has caused reckless expenditure ofactual wealth in recovering doubloons and guineasthat disappointed backers of these enterprises arebeginning to look upon—no, not to look upon, but

to think about—as visionary. A hope of gettingsomething for nothing has been the impetus tothese industries, and interest in the subject is nowand then revived by reports of the discovery—usually by a farmer ploughing near the shore—ofan iron kettle with a handful of gold and silver coinsin it, the same having doubtless been buried forpurposes of concealment during the wars of 1776and 1812.Gardiner's Island, a famous rendezvous forpirates, is the only place known to have been usedas a bank of deposit, for in 1699 the Earl ofBellomont recovered from it seven hundred andeighty-three ounces of gold, six hundred and thirty-three ounces of silver, cloth of gold, silks, satins,and jewels. In the old Gardiner mansion, on thisisland, was formerly preserved a costly shawl givento Mrs. Gardiner by Captain Kidd himself. Thisillustrious Kidd—or Kydd—was born in New York,began his naval career as a chaser of pirates,became a robber himself, was captured in Boston,where he was ruffling boldly about the streets, andwas hanged in London in 1701. In sea superstitionsthe apparition of his ship is sometimes confusedwith that of the Flying Dutchman.At Lion's Rock, near Lyme, Connecticut, a part ofuhipso tnr einatsruurdee irss uunnldeesr s gtuhaeryd roefc iat ed eScmriopnt utrhea tw shpilreingsdigging for the money.iCnthoa,r loens eI snliagnhdt,, bnye aar cMoilmfopradn, yC foronnme tchtiactu tt,o wwna st hdautg

had learned of Kidd's visit to it—and what couldKidd be doing ashore unless he was buryingmoney? The lid of an iron chest had beenuncovered when the figure of a headless mancame bounding out of the air, and the work wasdiscontinued right then. The figure leaped into thepit that had been dug, and blue flames poured outof it. When the diggers returned, their spades andpicks were gone and the ground was smooth.Monhegan Island, off the Maine coast, contains acave, opening to the sea, where it was whisperedthat treasure had been stored in care of spirits.Searchers found within it a heavy chest, which theywere about to lift when one of the party—contraryto orders—spoke. The spell was broken, for thewatchful spirits heard and snatched away thetreasure. Some years ago the cave was enlargedby blasting, in a hope of finding that chest, for anold saying has been handed down among thepeople of the island—from whom it came theyhave forgotten—that was to this effect: "Dig sixfeet and you will find iron; dig six more and you willfind money."On Damariscotta Island, near Kennebec, Maine, isa lake of salt water, which, like dozens of shallowones in this country, is locally reputed to bebottomless. Yet Kidd was believed to have sunksome of his valuables there, and to have guardedagainst the entrance of boats by means of a chainhung from rock to rock at the narrow entrance,bolts on either side showing the points ofattachment, while ring bolts were thought to have

bmeaernki ndrgi vtehne fsopr otths e wphuerrpeo tshee ocf hteyisntsg bwueonyt sd, otwhun.sThis island, too, has been held in fear as hauntedground.Appledore, in the Isles of Shoals, was another sucha hiding-place, and Kidd put one of his crew todeath that he might haunt the place and frightensearchers from their quest. For years no fishermancould be induced to land there after nightfall, fordid not an islander once encounter "Old Bab" onhis rounds, with a red ring around his neck, a frockhanging about him, phosphorescence gleamingfrom his body, who peered at the intruder with awhite and dreadful face, and nearly scared him todeath?A spot near the Piscataqua River was anotherhiding-place, and early in this century the groundwas dug over, two of the seekers plying pick andspade, while another stood within the circle theyhad drawn about the spot and loudly read theBible. Presently their implements clicked on an ironchest, but it slid sideway into the ground as theytried to uncover it, and at last an interruptionoccurred that caused them to stop work so longthat when they went to look for it again it hadentirely disappeared. This diversion was theappearance of a monster horse that flew towardthem from a distance without a sound, but stoppedshort at the circle where the process of banningfiends was still going on, and, after grazing andwalking around them for a time, it dissolved into.ria

Kidd's plug is a part of the craggy steep known asCro' Nest, on the Hudson. It is a projecting knob,like a bung closing an orifice, which is believed toconceal a cavern where the redoubtable captainplaced a few barrels of his wealth. Though it is twohundred feet up the cliff, inaccessible either fromabove or below, and weighs many tons, still, aspirates and devils have always been friendly, it maybe that the corking of the cave was accomplishedwith supernatural help, and that if blasts or prayersever shake the stone from its place a shower ofdoubloons and diamonds may come rattling after it.The shore for several hundred feet around DightonRock, Massachusetts, has been examined, for itwas once believed that the inscriptions on it werecut by Kidd to mark the place of burial for part ofhis hoard.The Rock Hill estate, Medford, Massachusetts,was plagued by a spectre that some thought to bethat of a New Hampshire farmer who was robbedand murdered there, but others say it is the shadeof Kidd, for iron treasure chests were found in thecellar that behaved like that on the PiscataquaRiver, sinking out of sight whenever they weretouched by shovels.Misery Islands, near Salem, Massachusetts, weredug over, and under spiritual guidance, too, forother instalments of Mr. Kidd's acquisitions, butwithout avail.It takes no less than half a dozen ghosts to guard

what is hidden in Money Hill, on Shark River, NewJersey, so there must be a good deal of it. Someof these guardians are in sailor togs, some in theirmouldy bones, some peaceable, some noisy withthreats and screams and groans—a "rum lot," asan ancient mariner remarked, who lives near theirgraves and daytime hiding-places. Many heirloomsare owned by Jerseymen hereabout that werereceived from Kidd's sailors in exchange for apple-jack and provisions, and two sailor-looking men arealleged to have taken a strong-box out of MoneyHill some years ago, from which they abstractedtwo bags of gold. After that event the hill was dugover with great earnestness, but without otherresult to the prospectors than the cultivation oftheir patience.Sandy Hook, New Jersey, near "Kidd's tree," andtthhea t cplaoyi ntb,a anrkes souf stphee ctAetlda nhtiidci nhgig-phllaacnedss; bbauct kt hoefcairn or knoll called Old Woman's Hill, at thethoi gbhela snadisd,, ibs unt obt yh tahuen tsepdir itb yo f Kaid ddi'ss cmonetne, ntaes dusedsquaw. This spirit the Indians themselves droveaway with stones.At Oyster Point, Maryland, lived Paddy Dabney,who recognized Kidd from an old portrait onmeeting him one evening in 1836. He was goinghome late from the tavern when a light in a pinethicket caused him to turn from the road. In aclearing among the trees, pervaded by a pale shinewhich seemed to emanate from its occupants, astrange company was playing at bowls. A fierce-

looking reprobate who was superintending thegame glanced up, and, seeing Paddy's pale face,gave such a leap in his direction that the Irishmanfled with a howl of terror and never stopped till hereached his door, when, on turning about, he foundthat the phantom of the pirate chief had vanished.The others, he conceived, were devils, for many asea rover had sold himself to Satan. CaptainTeach, or Blackbeard, proved as much to his crewby shutting himself in the hold of his ship, where hewas burning sulphur to destroy rats, andwithstanding suffocation for several hours; whileone day a dark man appeared on board who wasnot one of the crew at the sailing, and who hadgone as mysteriously as he came on the daybefore the ship was wrecked. It was known thatKidd had buried his Bible in order to ingratiate theevil one.A flat rock on the north shore of Liberty Island, inNew York harbor, was also thought to mark theplace of this pervasive wealth of the pirates. Aslate as 1830, Sergeant Gibbs, one of the garrisonat the island, tried to unearth it, with the aid of afortune-teller and a recruit, but they had no soonerreached a box about four feet in length than abeing with wings, horns, tail, and a breath, thelatter palpable in blue flames, burst from the coffer.Gibbs fell unconscious into the water and narrowlyescaped drowning, while his companions ran away,and the treasure may still be there for aught we.wonkBack in the days before the Revolution, a negro

called Mud Sam, who lived in a cabin at theBattery, New York City, was benighted at about theplace where One Hundredth Street now touchesEast River while waiting there for the tide to takehim up the Sound. He beguiled the time by a nap,and, on waking, he started to leave his sleepingplace under the trees to regain his boat, when thegleam of a lantern and the sound of voices comingup the bank caused him to shrink back into theshadow. At first he thought that he might bedreaming, for Hell Gate was a place of such reputethat one might readily have bad dreams there, andthe legends of the spot passed quickly through hismind: the skeletons that lived in the wreck on Henand Chickens and looked out at passing ships withblue lights in the eye-sockets of their skulls; thebrown fellow, known as "the pirate's spuke," thatused to cruise up and down the wrathful torrent,and was snuffed out of sight for some hours by oldPeter Stuyvesant with a silver bullet; a black-looking scoundrel with a split lip, who used tobrattle about the tavern at Corlaer's Hook, and whotumbled into East River while trying to lug an ironchest aboard of a suspicious craft that had stolenin to shore in a fog. This latter bogy was often seenriding up Hell Gate a-straddle of that very chest,snapping his fingers at the stars and roaringBacchanalian odes, just as skipper Onderdonk'sboatswain, who had been buried at sea withoutprayers, chased the ship for days, sitting on thewaves, with his shroud for a sail, and shoving hillsof water after the vessel with the plash of hishands.

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