Haunted Isle of Sheppey Read online

  A few years later, whilst walking along the same stretch of beach, Sir Robert was once again confronted by the cackling hag who mocked him. In a fit of rage, the knight kicked the ground but received a nasty cut from a sharp object. The splinter turned out to be a shard of bone from the buried skull of Grey Dolphin and a few days later the wound became infected and Sir Robert de Shurland eventually died of blood poisoning.

  Despite its strange and bloody history, my favourite legends about the island concern its reputed ghosts and ghouls. Just like a modern-day Charles Igglesden, I’ve not only scoured the archives but also the hedgerows and marshes in reference to this ancient isle in search of creepy and curious tales of things that go bump not just in the night, but the daytime too. Surprisingly, ghost stories attached to the island are not that easy to come by, but that’s not so unusual when one looks at the vast marshlands which sprawl across the landmass.

  Ghosts are likely to intrigue the minds of mankind for thousands of years to come, but it’s unlikely we’ll ever prove their existence. However, I feel it is my aim to chronicle many of these local tales – some known, some unknown – and collate them so that when I too have passed over to the other side, historians, ghost hunters, and members of the public alike can flick through them by the light of a flickering candle. Do remember, however, that many of the places where these spirits are said to haunt are private property, and that some of the stories must be taken with a pinch of salt, as some are certainly vaguer than others. With ghosts it’s simply about the mystery and the fun of investigating them – although I’m pretty sure that should you see one, especially if you are of a sceptical nature, it becomes a whole new ballgame. For now, however, I present to you Haunted Isle of Sheppey; a collection of some of my favourite local tales. I’m sorry I could not fit every spook tale from the island in. But let us not dither; and so with haste grab your coat, scarf, gloves and trusty torch and let us head forth across the marshes, into the night.

  Neil Arnold, 2014

  The Author

  Neil Arnold is a full-time monster hunter, folklorist and author of many books including Haunted Maidstone, Haunted Ashford, Haunted Chatham, Haunted Rochester, Haunted Bromley, Haunted Tunbridge Wells, Paranormal Kent, Shadows in the Sky: The Haunted Airways of Britain, Shadows on the Sea: The Maritime Mysteries of Britain, Monster! – The A-Z of Zooform Phenomena, and Mystery Animals of the British Isles: Kent. He runs regular ghost walks around Rochester and Blue Bell Hill.

  ‘There are, it is true, few places so interesting as Sheppey, but why, apart from its history? Just because its scenery is so weird, its surroundings so outlandish.’

  C.G. Harper

  1

  SHIVERS AT SHEERNESS

  Situated close to the mouth of the River Medway, the town of Sheerness, known for its docks, can be found on the north-west corner of the island. Henry VIII ordered the construction of a fort at Sheerness to prevent enemy ships entering the River Medway to lay siege upon Chatham Dockyard. One of the strangest, non-ghost-related stories to come from the town emerged from the late 1950s when a local resident was attacked by a honey bear whilst he slept. The animal, which the man had been keeping as a pet, had been locked in the bathroom but was released by accident by his wife. The victim of the attack suffered deep scratches to his head, face and hands and told the local press that the incident was ‘bizarre in the extreme’. The honey bear was taken in by London Zoo.

  This Old House etc.

  The Old House at Home is not the name of some creaking Gothic mansion, but the title of a public house situated in Sheerness High Street. The pub dates back to the seventeenth century and it is said to be haunted by an unseen presence that likes to move items of furniture. The pub website speaks of ‘inexplicable noises on the stairs’, but every time such a clamour is reported and then investigated, no one can actually be found within the vicinity to explain the racket. A couple of years ago an investigative team visited the Castle Tavern in Sheerness to conduct paranormal research. The team were following up a report made by a barmaid who claimed that upon entering the gloomy basement she’d been hit on the back of the head by a barrel top, even though no one else was in the area. On a creepier note it has been claimed by owners that on certain nights whilst sleeping they are attacked, and at times thrown out of bed. Such a terrifying experience nods to fictional horror films such as Paranormal Activity, but the reality is far more frightening. In numerous buildings across the island, ranging from pubs to houses, staff and residents have reported waking up of a night unable to move, at times sensing a presence in the room and then a crushing weight upon their chest. This is often known as sleep paralysis, but cannot simply be explained by someone being stressed, overly tired, or having eaten too much cheese, as in some cases witnesses have described seeing a shadowy figure or something akin to an old, decrepit hag-like woman in the room.

  The Old House at Home public house in Sheerness.

  Sadly, those who’ve investigated the pub have only photographed what researchers tend to call orbs – which are apparently peculiar anomalies that seem to appear in a majority of photographs, especially when taken by digital cameras. Are such orbs ghostly manifestations or mere light, moisture or dust anomalies and camera glitches? In 2007 a Sheppey resident who had set up a security camera alongside his home got a surprise the following day when he watched the footage the CCTV had captured: he saw a weird, white orb-light object drift in front of the house and down the side alley. Those who viewed the film argued that the weird sphere may have been an insect or dust particle but such anomalies could well explain old reports of what are termed as will-o’-the-wisps or even UFOs (unidentified flying objects).

  Blue Town, which can be found at Sheerness, has its origins in the small hulks situated in the estuary in which the dockyard workers used to reside. The workers then went on to build small cabins which were painted a blue-grey colour (according to legend the paint used had been stolen) and over time this area became a small community centred upon such blue dwellings. Sadly, according to the Sheppey Website, these living conditions were even worse than the original hulks, with many of the workers dying from malaria due to the swarms of mosquitos which came off the marshes (although in 2002 a scientist dismissed such rumours). Those who perished were buried in a small island off Queenborough which became known as Deadman’s Island, with the website confirming that, ‘it’s still checked regularly to make sure the diseases are gradually dying away’.

  Blue Town – the haunt of a ghost or two.

  Intriguingly Deadman’s Island has one of Kent’s most bizarre ghost stories attached to it. In 1950 two intrepid journalists, Frederick Sanders and Duncan Rand, took the brave step in exploring Deadman’s Island. To them, tales of the remote area were rife with rumour that, two centuries previously, Napoleonic soldiers taken prisoner by the British were buried at the spot, many having died as a result of plague. However, when Sanders and his colleague were ferried to the mist-enshrouded location, they believed that something monstrous had been present. Several coffins lay strewn about the place and the skeletons which were exposed were bereft of skulls, leading the explorers to believe in the existence of some ethereal hellhound which, to quench its bloodthirsty nature, had slurped up the brains of its victims. According to Sanders the legend of the giant, salivating ghostly black dog had been whispered for many years, with reports stating that the beast prowled the marshes of a night in search of food. Despite a search of the area in an attempt to find the skulls, Sanders could only state, ‘we found many broken coffins and hundreds of bones, but no skulls’. Despite their fanciful resolutions as to the culprit, they came across no demonic skull-cracking hound either.

  The journalists were marooned at Deadman’s Island for the night, and at one point mistook wooden spikes driven into the mud at an area called Smugglers’ Gut for the ghosts of slain warriors. A few hours in the thickening pea-soup fog had clearly made Sanders and Rand prone to hallucination and so with three trusty f
lashes of a torch, they signalled for the ferryman to return and on black waters, transport them to safety.

  Blue Town’s Heritage Centre, situated at No. 69 High Street, was once rumoured to have been haunted by a phantom. Members of staff have reported seeing the top half of a spirit and believe its incomplete appearance may have been connected to the alterations made to the floor levels. However, one of Blue Town’s little-known reputed hauntings dates back to the early part of the twentieth century. I’ve always been intrigued by old newspaper reports that have been gathering dust over the years, especially as they are often written in such dramatic, convoluted fashion, so for now I’d like to share with you the story of the ‘Supposed ghost at Blue Town’ which appeared in the Guardian & East Kent Advertiser of 20 October 1906. I record the tale of the ‘Strange Rattlings in the Dark’ in its entirety, as follows:

  Deadman’s Island was said to be the prowling ground of a bloodthirsty phantom hound. (Illustration by Simon Wyatt)

  Blue Town Heritage Centre.

  There has been hinted abroad a rumour to the effect that on a recent night, when creepy darkness was coming on, Blue Town had a remarkable visitor in the form of a ghost, but investigations into the affair have not led to the confirmation of the report. It seems true, however, that this neighbourhood has lately experienced something out of the ordinary, but the evidence to connect this with any ghost – be it Bill Bailey’s or anybody else’s – is microscopic, so microscopic in fact, that it really wants a lot of detecting. Some missiles have been thrown by an unseen hand after people going down the alleys, and the good people of Blue Town – those living in the Chapel Street part of it, we mean – at once jumped to the conclusion that it was the prank of a ghost. There have been strange and disconcerting rattlings in the passages, and poor souls, it is reported, have become terribly unnerved by them. They gazed upwards intently, but failed to see any apparition flitting about the housetops. They looked all about them with piercing eyes, but no ghost confronted them. They felt no wonderful touch of a mysterious hand, and the strangeness of it all seems to have temporarily unsettled them. What could it all mean? What Machiavellian hand could have been at work?

  The report continues, in suspenseful manner, stating:

  Much as the disturbed folk pondered over the matter in their agitation they could only think of one thing – the ghost. They appeared to have become too superstitious to attribute the hideous rattlings on the stone to the work of anything else but a ghost. But this story about the Blue Town ghost has proved to be all a myth, and only existed in the imagination of the people. We do imagine strange things sometimes, especially when the liver is out of condition! But listen to what rumour spread. It is an amusing story and must be taken with the proverbial pinch of salt. Rumour circulated it about that this apparition was fairly playing ‘high jink’ with the denizens of Blue Town, startling them out of their wits almost. They became possessed with strange feelings, wondering what mad prank the ghost would be up to next. Old women trembled like an aspen leaf and point blank refused to leave the innermost part of their homes until some self-possessed soul, after much effort, succeeded in persuading them that there was no danger in venturing out.

  Chapel Street, Blue Town.

  ‘Why, bless me,’ this kindly person is declared to have said. ‘I’ve been out and about as usual and no ghost has come up to me.’ Such words as these are enough to make anybody take fresh courage and they are reported to have had a sort of magical influence over these frightened old women. The smiles which had previously credited them with happy-looking faces returned and their countenances beamed again with old-time radiancy! They ventured out once more but this time with a suspicion of timidity which suggested that the ghost had not entirely left their minds. But lo! The poor creatures soon had their peace of mind disturbed again. One of them, on venturing out as above stated, decided to take advantage of the opportunity of doing a bit of shopping. Rumour says that, among other articles she purchased some tinned meat (whether American or not rumour does not tell us) for the ‘old man’s supper’. She started hurrying home with it, and on proceeding down the entry leading to the back of her home a quantity of oyster shells followed in her wake. They were, it is said, hurled down the passage with sufficient force to set up a startling noise. They seemed to have startled the poor woman, anyhow, for rumour says down went ‘hubby’s’ supper on to the cold stone, and indoors rushed the wife, considerably frightened. But who aimed the oyster shells?

  And so to the gripping conclusion!

  That was a mystery at the time but it has since been cleared up. Then rumour has told us that other people in Blue Town have met with a similar experience, the only exception being that stones were thrown in their cases instead of oyster shells, the ghost having probably run out of the latter? Such then is the pretty story told by rumour. But rumour is wrong about the ghost for despite the untiring observations of all the quidaunes who assembled on the spot and kept careful vigil not the least sign of a ghost presented itself to them. Moreover it has since been ascertained that all this throwing of oyster shells and stones was the work, not of a ghost, but a real, living man out for a lark, a foolish lark no doubt. He concealed himself from view, and as people entered the passage he hurled the missiles after them and so startled the people. But his game has now been stopped. The Blue Townites are now in their normal state of composure and so ends the story of the pseudo-ghost.

  Sadly (despite the suspense), a not-so spellbinding conclusion after all, but Sheerness still has its fair share of unexplainable events. Another reputedly haunted building located at Blue Town is the Royal Fountain Hotel, which has been turned into flats and can be found on West Street. The building was constructed in 1807 and often catered for wealthy visitors to the town, as well as army and naval officers. The Sheppey Gazette of 9 December 1982 announced that, ‘Lord Nelson’s love nest is up for sale’, commenting that the hotel ‘dates back to the seventeenth century’ and was ‘rebuilt in 1727’, although a blue plaque on the wall in Blue Town High Street states otherwise. The building ceased trading as a hotel in the early 1980s but was always said to have been ‘used as a secret meeting place by Lord Nelson and Lady Hamilton’. If the building was erected in 1807 (as stated on the plaque) this is unlikely, as Nelson died two years previously, in 1805. However, there may have been another coaching inn on the site previously – possibly called The Fountain. The report added that ‘the hotel was given its royal name after a visit by George II to the dockyard when he occupied a suite of rooms’.

  Nelson was said to have stayed at the hotel whilst waiting for one of his ships to be repaired. According to the paper, ‘in one of the rooms is a cot-bed used by Nelson on board H.M.S. Victory’ whilst in a neighbouring room, a four-poster bed which was once used by Lady Hamilton at her Queenborough residence was also added. At the time of its operation, the hotel attracted a number of visitors, many whom stayed the night in these beds. A former landlord named Alf Sheppard told the newspaper that, ‘they are the two most used bedrooms in the hotel. Everybody likes to sleep in Nelson’s bed. It’s a lovely bed. I’ve tried it myself.’

  Blue Town High Street.

  Sadly the hotel couldn’t merely survive on legends and it’s unlikely the alleged spirits still linger. The guesthouse has a spooky past, with several mentions years ago of weird noises and fleeting shadows; a chap who lived behind the hotel stated quite categorically that there was something untoward about the whole building. He mentioned that on occasion he’d heard the sound of a baby crying and that the stairs were often frequented by a woman dressed in old-fashioned clothing. Other residents in the block reported waking up in the dead of night, only to be greeted by the figure of a man standing at the end of their bed. The figure never reacts to those rousing from their slumber and after a short while fades slowly into nothing. Other rumours have circulated that a spirit, allegedly to have originated from the early eighteenth century, makes itself known in one of the flats by potterin
g about in an invisible kitchen and making itself a cup of tea. In 1978 Alf Sheppard and Olè Kuhlmann were partners in running the hotel. At the time Alf and Olè were keen to bring a bit of history back to Blue Town and felt that the hotel was a perfect way of keeping the past alive. Their aims were highlighted in the 29 September edition of the Sheerness Times Guardian, although their plans to ‘put the Royal Fountain back on the map’ sadly didn’t work out. Even so, Alf was all too keen to promote the ghostly activity, commenting that, ‘guests have sworn to the existence of something. Whether faulty door catches or sash chords are to blame, noises have been heard.’ Perhaps as a precaution, the newspaper added, ‘any wandering spirit would find a welcome in the winding corridors, the cobbled yard, bathrooms and kitchens. He or she is friendly!’

  The Royal Fountain Hotel. It has since been converted to flats.

  Mr Kuhlmann was a tad more sceptical regarding the alleged wraith, but did mention that if such a spook were evident, then he would not be afraid of it. More than thirty years previous to Mr Sheppard and Kuhlmann’s ownership, a woman named Gwen claimed to have had a frightening experience with the reputed spectre. She commented how the spirit was very real, saying, ‘Believe me, there is one, I’ve seen him,’ and that ‘the ghost made my blood run cold’. Gwen had been staying at the Royal Fountain in the 1950s when her encounter took place. She stated:

  It was more than thirty years ago when the clanking of his chains and the slamming of a car door heralded his arrival. He came into my room in a blinding white light. All around him was light illuminating his gaunt features which were heavily bandaged. He was tall and slim and came across the floor towards me and stopped stock still – just stood there with his arms folded – and disappeared as quickly as he came.