Haunted Isle of Sheppey

by Neil Arnold

According to a press report from March 1975 the house is described thus: ‘Even in daylight it’s spooky, but night-time’s flitting shadows can be unnerving.’ The main ghost of the building is described as a ‘… lady of easy virtue who met her end at the hands of a butcher … her body is supposed to have been found in the alleyway alongside the Town House, but perhaps it is the tale of the sea captain without a ship who continues to walk the bridge (in other words, the top landing) which has most significance.’ The spectre is said to wander aimlessly, dragging his feet. Such is the weight of the weary sea captain that from downstairs one can see the floorboards creaking and the ceiling lights swaying.

  Mr Witts reported, ‘I was prepared to dismiss the stories as rubbish, but after working on the house for a year I’ve mixed feelings. Admittedly, it makes me feel stupid, but on one occasion not so long ago, I was so terrified I locked myself in a room.’

  Town House (left) with Town Villa on the right – both supposedly haunted houses.

  But what sort of horror could cause an ex-merchant seaman to become afraid of his own house?

  Mr Witts was quick to add, ‘I was alone in the house fixing ceiling tiles when suddenly I saw a dark shape loom across the landing followed by a definite creaking of floor boards. I was so scared I scrambled down the steps, locked myself in the library and kept my back to the door.’ Despite fleeing in terror from the supposed spirits Reg certainly felt no animosity towards them, stating, ‘Neither of us feel there is anything sinister about the place but there is a definite atmosphere’, to the extent that Reg’s daughters, Kerry and Kyra, had to sleep in their rooms with the light on.

  When Reg had his creepy encounter he was rather embarrassed to tell his wife but when he finally plucked up the courage to speak to her she responded, ‘I’ve been terrified by shadows in the breakfast room, and strange noises on the top landing.’

  The River Swale, haunt of a spectral vessel and its rugged sea captain.

  The huge house was said to have boasted some eleven bedrooms and to have been built as the local mayor’s residence, and because of its history the Witts were keen to stay, with Reg adding, ‘It is a beautiful old house with plenty of space to move around in. It would take more than a ghost to frighten us away.’

  When Reg began working on the building he was adamant that the house would have to keep its character, with only the door to the Guildhall being bricked up. Whether such renovations caused the ghostly activity we will never really know, but Reg concluded that, ‘Even if we had a dozen ghosts [in] clanking armour, a few headless horsemen and knights we wouldn’t want to move – we love it here.’

  Interestingly, when I visited Queenborough in the autumn of 2013 I bumped into a chap who was washing his car just a few yards from the Town House. I told him that I was writing a book on local ghosts and he commented:

  There was once said to be a ghost of a little girl in the Town Villa which sits next to the Town House. It was rumoured that the girl – dressed in old-fashioned clothing – haunted the top floor where there used to be a salon, and customers would often comment about the pretty little girl on the stairs but upon investigation staff could find no one. She really spooked a few people that I knew but I don’t know if people still see her now that it’s a house.

  Returning back to the alleged sea captain spectre of the Town House, it’s also worth noting that the River Swale is sometimes said to be haunted by a phantom vessel. Could it be the same boat which ran aground in a creek near Oare – a small village on the other side of the Swale – known for its haunted pub, The Shipwright’s Arms which just happens to be haunted by a sea captain?

  4

  SUPERNATURAL LEYSDOWN

  The town of Leysdown, also referred to as Leysdown-on-Sea, gets its name from the Saxon ‘leswe’ meaning pasture, and ‘dun’ denoting hill. In Domesday Book Leysdown is referred to as Legesdun. The town is known for its amusements and arcades. In 1750 the remains of an elephant jutting out of the clay were discovered by a Mr Jacob.

  Leysdown’s coastal waters are said to be haunted by a ghostly fisherman.

  The Phantom Fisherman

  Chronicler Charles Igglesden wrote of an interesting haunting at Leysdown stating that at one point a famous fisherman, who was fishing with nets off Leysdown – during a time when it was prohibited to do so – was caught by a bailiff. In panic he shot his captor but to avoid being executed for his crime he jumped into his boat and fled. However, once out at sea off Leysdown, he jumped into the foaming waters and drowned. It is said that on the anniversary of his death the phantom fisherman appears, from the shoulders up, in the water. Those fortunate (or should I say unfortunate?) enough to have seen the spectre remark that he is snagged in a fishing net. Sadly no date is given for the suicide, meaning that those who hope to see the ghost could be waiting a long time on the beach. Igglesden concludes his tale, saying that ‘no one ever saw the ghost but other believers argued that the spook only appeared when the wind was at a certain spot’.

  Leysdown seems rather reticent to give up any of its ghostly history, if it has any to offer. This is no surprise when one discovers that the area isn’t much more than a few holiday homes and marshland.

  5

  WEIRDNESS AT WARDEN BAY

  Warden (often referred to as Warden Bay) can be found situated next to Leysdown-on-Sea. It is a small holiday village facing the sea. At the point where the cliffs are inaccessible it is known as Warden Point.

  Warden Manor

  Warden Manor is a delightfully old building dating back to the sixteenth century (although a story which appeared in the Times Guardian of 14 July 1972 stated that the manor ‘dates back to the tenth century’ whilst another report in the Times Guardian of 22 July 1977 states ‘thirteenth century’!) which, during the Second World War, became a convalescent home and then afterwards a monastery which housed more than fifty monks. Over the years many buildings have fallen into the sea off Warden Bay due to cliff erosion but thankfully Warden Manor still stands. The manor was once part of Warden Court and according to the Sheppey Website was ‘given to Sir Thomas Cheyne by King Henry VIII’.

  It was once believed that beneath the manor wind several tunnels which would have possibly, if rumours are believed, wormed their way to Shurland Hall or a local public house, although this hasn’t been verified. Centuries ago the shorelines of Sheppey would have been used by smugglers and so these tunnels may have acted as ideal places to conceal contraband, and such passageways may have provided ideal escape routes for a criminal or two. It’s no real surprise that Warden Manor is said to be haunted by a number of spooks, including a woman dressed in old-fashioned attire. Mysterious figures, possibly those of smugglers, were also once rumoured to haunt the area, although smugglers were often known to invent ghostly tales in order to keep prying eyes away from their illegal stash. The main spectre said to haunt the manor is that of one John Sawbridge, who, a few centuries previous resided there and who was believed to have led a smuggling gang. The spectre of Mr Sawbridge would make quite an arresting sight, for it is said to appear on horseback galloping through the trees on blustery nights. Sawbridge, although never allegedly apprehended for his crimes, was said to have died after taking a fall from his horse one night. He wasn’t found until the next day, by which time his injuries had worsened resulting in his death the following day.

  Warden Manor – one of Sheppey’s oldest houses.

  On 9 September 2012 Chrissie Daniels, writing for Kent News, reported that Warden Manor was up for sale. Former owners Mr Fred Lardeaux, and his wife Vivienne knew all about the resident spectre. According to a snippet from the Gazette & Times from the late 1980s, Mr Lardeaux had sat up one night hoping to spot the ghost, but sadly dropped off. The couple never did see the reputed spectre, according to sources, despite having a number of less notable experiences, including strange voices and smells. Mind you, that Times Guardian article from 22 July 1977 does mention that Fred did have an encounter with ‘his ghostly nam
esake “Fred the Savage”’, although there are no details of this experience. The article goes on to mention another ghost at the manor however – that of a woman named Jenny, ‘wife of Delamark Banks’; she is said to prowl the nursery on dark nights. The report concludes that ‘Jenny (known to some as Sawbridge) lost a child at birth and died shortly afterwards. Still she returns to mourn her grief.’

  There could be a number of ghosts, mounted on equally spectral horses, rumoured to haunt the Sheppey cliffs. Some of these shades could be the ghosts of revenue officers who plummeted to their deaths over the cliffs whilst on horseback in pursuit of those elusive smugglers who had hidden in nearby thickets. It is possible that due to the overwhelming darkness on certain nights, the pursuers – whilst charging through the wilds atop the cliffs – did not see the sudden drop just yards ahead. By the time they did it was too late and they fell to their deaths. It is said that even over the last few years people have heard the sound of horses’ hooves galloping around outside Warden Manor and yet no animal or rider has revealed itself in the flesh. Some claim that the spectral horse is one of the island’s most reliable spirits, in that it makes itself known on 18 December every year.

  The rear of Warden Manor.

  Warden Manor is full of passageways, hidden rooms and secret tunnels.

  More recently it was recorded that a man working in the manor had a frightening experience when he observed a ghostly old woman dressed in old-fashioned attire that drifted across the room and disappeared through a wall. The frightened witness was rather hesitant to speak of his episode but one day plucked up the courage to tell the caretaker of the building. The caretaker wasn’t too surprised and replied that he’d become rather accustomed to hearing so many ghostly tales attached to the house.

  Some of the unusual poster-like artwork on the old walls of Warden Manor.

  During a crisp autumnal day I visited Warden Manor with my wife. We were welcomed by the new owners, Elsie and Brian, who had taken on the empty, rather dilapidated manor as a project and were hoping to restore it to its former glory and eventually live there. It was an absolute privilege to be shown inside, around all those dusty nooks and crannies and empty rooms. The manor is an absolute joy to behold; even through the cobwebs, every secret door and dark corner seemed to ooze history. I asked the couple just how old the manor really is and they replied, ‘Records seem to date back to about 1540 but it’s probably older than that – over the years it has been used as a holiday camp which was run by a charitable trust called Toc H as well as a small hospital and convalescent home.’

  Old fireplace at the manor. The floorboards in front of it could well hide a secret tunnel.

  We were shown the boarded floor said to hide secret subterranean passageways and also experienced a wealth of rooms where soldiers were once stationed during the wars. There were even plaques on the walls to signify where certain people had stayed, including someone identified only as the ‘Unknown Warrior’. In the past some of these rooms were given themes and had a variety of names such as Zebra, The Ark, Elephant, Lion, The Orient Express and Little Orient. Some of the wallpaper had been stripped from some of the rooms, revealing intriguing poster-like designs. In the past it was said that a rhyme had been written on one of the walls, reading, ‘Here we serve the Warden hags, casting spells in paper bags; Curse on you witches all, who made poor Vic drive through the wall.’

  This verse, accompanied by a sketch of a witch on a broomstick, would have been in reference to former manor owner Vic Martin, who had pranged his vehicle.

  Upstairs we marvelled at the many small rooms and the adjoining outbuilding erected by the monks who had left just years before, along with several holy garden remnants. Brian told me, ‘One of the monks named Mario was a caretaker to the building when the Order had left, and he spoke of strange things happening in the house.’

  I was keen to find out more about the reputed ghosts, and the couple continued:

  We’ve heard of the stories, and just a few decades ago a cleaner was said to have fallen down a shaft in the manor and died and some claim they have seen her. Mario [the monk] told us that ‘if you ever see the ghostly woman, don’t be afraid of her …’ but we’ve never really seen anything. Maybe because we are applying some tender loving care to the building the alleged ghosts are happy!

  However, after walking through the labyrinth Elsie did mention that on one occasion she had been inside the house filming with her camcorder, when she heard a deep male voice say something in an indecipherable language. When one considers just how many different people have stayed in and visited the manor, it’s no wonder that such a glorious building holds so much energy.

  My wife and I eventually left Elsie and Brian to their project and wished them well, although I did tell them to keep me up to date should anything spooky happen.

  Haunted Hotel

  Warden Bay Hotel, situated on Jetty Road, was once believed to be haunted. A Mr Paine, writing on the Voices of Leysdown website, commented that in the 1950s his sister-in-law had worked at the coffee shop stationed within the hotel. She told Mr Paine that the hotel was meant to have been haunted by an old man, although she never saw the wraith. However, writer Peggy Martyn Clark was quick to add her two-penny worth to the legend of the hotel:

  An unusual plaque on the door of one of Warden Manor’s rooms..

  There’s always some place that draws a person like a magnet. Warden Bay on the Isle of Sheppey does that to me. It has an atmosphere of long past writers; theatre folk and smugglers and ghosts. I first saw it many years ago, and time hasn’t robbed it of its remoteness. Then, I was a young journalist, tired through expending too much energy through over-zealousness and wanted somewhere to relax. Lunching at a club in Chelsea I asked my friend Marian Faberge if I could stay in her bungalow on the island. She was an exotic person. Gay, bohemian, taking life as she found it and she was grand company. She agreed, of course.

  At the time of Peggy’s visit there was no railway to speak of and so she travelled via bus from Sheerness to Warden Point and then walked uphill. She added:

  We paused on the hilltop, looking down on an unbelievable vista of beauty. The sea stretched out along a golden strand, while a sweep of green countryside fell away sheer to the edge. The silence was broken only by the cawing of gulls. There was but a handful of artistically designed bungalows. I held my breath at the wonder of it all. That evening we walked along the beach, past some fine Tamarisk trees, to the Warden Bay Hotel, almost on the sands. It was smallish and very odd … Once inside it seemed like another world. Lit only by oil lamps, the cosiness enveloped me. Then I saw the fireplace. It took up almost the end of the room, reaching to the ceiling. It was built of stone chunks. The stones are reputed to be from old London Bridge, brought down the Thames to build the spire of Old Warden church, long since fallen into the sea. They, apparently, were gathered at low tide, brought ashore and this lovely fireplace came into being. I watched the glow from huge logs of driftwood tossed on the wide hearth. I remember one sultry summer evening listening to Freddie Bamberger playing his Concerto for the left hand. No one moved. Everything was still while the lovely notes went out over the sea. At that time he was appearing with Pam at the Chatham Hippodrome and were guests at the hotel. I have never forgotten his playing. It was at that same piano a year or so later I saw the ghost. Most of the guests had gone for the night. I sat by the fire with Madame Fab, as she was affectionately called, finishing a nightcap. We were discussing Freddie Bamberger and his playing. I was telling her how he held me spellbound. As I spoke, I turned my head towards the piano and my sentence stopped almost before it had begun. I took a deep breath then said quietly, ‘there’s someone at the piano.’

  Marian didn’t turn. ‘It’s the Warden ghost, I suppose,’ she said airily.

  I believed my writer’s imagination was at work: that I was seeing things. I closed my eyes then opened them. It was still there, a faint image of a monk. In a moment of time I took i
n every fold of his habit, the way it hung over the stool and I watched a delicate hand move and draw it closer. Then the head turned and he smiled and was gone. I discussed it with no one. It was too vague and intangible. I didn’t wish to be thought crazy. Naturally, over the years the hotel has grown apace. Modernity has crept in, yet odd enough, the end by the fireplace remains unaltered. That some strange element is there cannot be disputed. Mr Moyes who bought the place talks about the ‘Funny Room’. Visitors feel a comforting presence, not knowing how to explain it, but I can still see the smiling monk sitting at that piano so long ago. Odd? Of course it’s odd. Odder still when you think that Warden Bay is still as it was when I first saw it. No shops, no promenade, but one hotel by the Tamarisk trees. A hotel with a story.

  The story of Warden’s ghost-infested hotel doesn’t end there however. In the 21 September 1962 issue of the Sheerness Times Guardian it was enquired if the ‘Poacher’s ghost’ is ‘still at hotel’, along with a description:

  The old hare-lipped poacher had a face as grotesque and uncouth as his personality. He didn’t know how to love. And no one loved him. All he had in the world was an old dilapidated cottage at Warden Bay – at the time called Frog’s Island – a half-starved brown terrier and an old clay pipe.

  It is this grim-faced fellow who is also believed to haunt the stretch of Warden Bay, according to the paper, ‘… about 70 years after his death’. The cottage which belonged to this chap was at the time part of the Warden Bay Hotel, run by Fred Moyes, as mentioned previously by Peggy Martyn Clark.