It was the smell of pipe smoke that first drew a Cowes man's attention to the old sailor leaning against the fence near the sailing club at Gurnard. Ken, who later emigrated to California, was fishing down on the beach when he noticed the old man looking out to sea.

Ken called out a greeting, but in reply the old salt just vanised into thin air, taking his old clay churchwarden's pipe with him but leaving behind that faint but distinctive whiff of tobacco.

This encounter created a haunt trail that destabilized Ken. When he returned to his home, just at the entrance gate, he saw the same old man again. He raised his voice to shout but couldn't; He lost his voice instantaneously. The old man vanished again, but this time leaving behind with the stench of tobacco. People smelt tobacco on him wherever he went and yet i don't take it. This was mysterious, till date, the ordeal still torments me.

He wishes he could find the old man again, maybe he could talk him into being merciful.