The Kings Arms, Deptford

A Ghost in the Dumb Waiter?

Deptford has never been short on strange tales. Its streets are layered with the footsteps of sailors, merchants, rebels, and rogues. But one story has persisted quietly through the years — the ghost said to haunt the Kings Arms, a centuries-old pub tucked along Church Street.
The Kings Arms was already listed in 19th-century trade directories, serving dock workers, shipwrights, and market folk near the bustling Thames. By all accounts, it was a classic local — a solid bit of Victorian brickwork, all dark wood, tiled floors, and low amber lighting in the evenings.
Pubs like this often gather stories as easily as they gather regulars, and the Kings Arms is no exception.
According to local lore, the ghost that haunts the Kings Arms is none other than a former landlord, a man who ran the place with a firm hand and a watchful eye. Nobody remembers precisely when he lived — and no official record has tied a name to the legend — but the story goes like this:
When a new landlord took over, the old spirit was not pleased.
Staff began noticing odd happenings. A pint left on the bar might suddenly tip over — or, more eerily, slide as if nudged by invisible hands. The dumb waiter, unused for years, would rattle or groan in the still of night. And then there was the bell.
It’s said the pub’s old service bell — long disconnected from anything practical — would sometimes ring on its own. Quiet evenings would be punctuated by that sharp, metallic chime, echoing down the hallway like a call from another time.
One of the best-known anecdotes repeats itself in pub folklore columns: one night, a glass slid clear off the counter and shattered on the floor. A barmaid swore no one had touched it. Another witness — a regular — claimed to have seen it “flicked” into the air.

Of course, skeptics have their theories:

• Uneven surfaces.
• Vibrations from traffic or the trains.
• Old fittings that creak and clang in drafts.
But others say it’s the ghostly landlord, making his opinion known.
The tale has found its way into several modern “haunted pub” lists and Halloween roundups. It’s simple, memorable, and rooted in real geography — the Kings Arms, Church Street, Deptford. That makes it the kind of local ghost story that clings to a neighbourhood for generations.
What makes it more mysterious is the lack of a clear record: no name for the landlord, no precise date for the events. Just whispers, a rattling dumb waiter, and a bell that shouldn’t ring anymore.
Many haunted pub stories are born from creaky buildings, tall tales told over a pint, and the delicious thrill of a good scare. The Kings Arms haunting seems to fit squarely in this tradition — half history, half legend.
But walk past the pub on a damp autumn night, when the air off the Thames is thick and the streets echo with your own footsteps, and it’s not hard to imagine that sharp ding of the bell cutting through the quiet.
Maybe it’s just old pipes and tired wood.
Or maybe, just maybe, the old landlord still wants to make sure things are being done properly behind the bar.

✍️ Sources: local folklore listings, Deptford pub directories (19th c.), Sunderland Echo Halloween feature, oral retellings. No primary documentation has been verified to date.

The Kings Arms, Church Street, Deptford, London.