On the rugged eastern cliffs of Clogherhead, County Louth, the Irish Sea has bitten deep into the land — carving a dark, echoing cavern known to locals as The Red Man’s Cave.
Over thousands of years, the relentless waves hollowed out this great chamber, and old tales claim that tunnels once stretched beneath the cliffs, linking hidden coves along the coast.

These lonely shores have long been cloaked in secrecy. Centuries ago, smugglers used the cliffs and caves of Clogherhead as safe havens — bringing ashore tobacco, tea, silk, and brandy under the cover of night. The Red Man’s Cave, perilous to reach and well-concealed by the crashing sea, was the perfect place to hide forbidden cargo.

Yet the cave’s name, locals say, was not born from contraband — but from blood. Two very different legends attempt to explain why.

The Clergymen’s Hiding Place

The first story reaches back to the 1640s, when Cromwell’s army was sweeping through Ireland. As the brutal siege raged in nearby Drogheda, a band of Catholic clergymen fled north along the coast in search of refuge. They found shelter in the great sea cave at Clogherhead.

By day they hid in the darkness. By night they ventured onto the rocks to breathe the salt air, their loyal dogs keeping watch. But one stormy night, a vessel carrying soldiers landed nearby. Hearing the barking echo from the cliffs, they followed the sound — straight into the cave. What happened next, it’s said, stained the rock forever. The soldiers slaughtered every man and every dog inside. Their blood ran across the stone, seeping into the cracks and colouring the walls red for eternity.

On stormy autumn nights, some say, the echo of dogs baying in the dark can still be heard — rising and rising until, all at once, it stops. No historian has ever verified the massacre, yet it may have been lost amid the many horrors that marked Cromwell’s campaign along Ireland’s east coast.

The Tale of Captain Redman

The second story belongs to the age of smugglers. Long ago, a seafarer named Captain Redman sailed from Spain, his ship heavy with contraband bound for the Irish coast. But death followed his voyage — crewmen began to die, one by one, under mysterious circumstances. When only a few survived, the captain steered for the shelter of Clogherhead and anchored by the cave. The survivors lit fires, waiting for the storm to pass. But the deaths did not stop. Each morning, another man lay cold beside the flames.

Fear turned to suspicion — and suspicion to rage. The remaining sailors accused Captain Redman of murder, claiming he was killing his own men to keep their profits for himself. In their fury, they turned on him. They killed their captain, cut off his head, and fixed it upon a pike at the cave’s mouth — a grim warning to any who might betray them. Some say the mutineers went mad. Others say the storm swallowed them whole.

From that night onward, a ghostly headless figure in a seafarer’s coat was seen wandering the cliffs at dusk — and on the wind, a faint whistle would rise, jaunty at first like a sailor’s tune, before slowing… and fading into the roar of the sea.

No record confirms the existence of Captain Redman or his doomed crew, yet both tales endure as part of Louth’s coastal folklore. Some locals insist that the cave’s name comes not from blood, but from the red seaweed that clings to the rocks. Others swear that strange sounds can still be heard within the cave when the wind blows just right — echoes of the sea… or something else entirely.