1. Going Down Below

If you speak to someone in the Spalding area and they say they are “going down below” they are not referring to a trip to Australia, or even a sex act, but rather a boat trip on the Wash.

The trip, most popularly over the years performed on a Lineham family fishing boat, was a regular recreational activity. Initially the phrase “going down below” also referred to accessing the Wash by road onto the marshes and mud flats.

The earliest reference to “going down below” I have found are the words of “an Excursionist” in 1876:

To the uninitiated the words “Going Down Below” will convey no intelligible meaning. They seem to suggest the idea of descending into a mine, moving from the deck of a ship to the cabin, passing from a drawing-room to the cellar, going down a hill to the plain at its foot, or plunging headlong to the bottom of the sea. Nothing of this kind is, however, intended by the phrase as here employed. To “go down below” is, according to the local interpretation , nothing more or less than to go to those extensive flats or marshes by the sea, that are covered by the high tides, but at other times are left high and dry. Thousands of acres are thus alternatively sea or dry land. This spot is a favourite resort of holiday makers, when free and unrestrained they may enjoy themselves, and frolic and romp to their hearts content; and large numbers during the summer months avail themselves of the privilege. Thank God there are still not a few such spots to be found, sacred to mirth, snug junketing parties, and social picnics, that have hitherto escaped the fangs of the Inclosure Commissioners, and greedy grasping land owners. It does one’s heart good to see a family group, or a select company of friends. Away from the smoke and hurry and noise of the town, thus enjoying life, banqueting on good things under the broad canopy of heaven; and then sporting like fawns on Nature’s green and flower-spangled carpet, or gambolling like naiads in the water:-

Merry companions of the bird and bee

With unconstrained step and spirits free

These, gentle reader are amongst the pleasures to be enjoyed “down below”. The approach to this “half-wet, half -dry” region is either by road or river, as may suit the taste or convenience of the excursionist. On a recent visit we chose the road, as affording better opportunities for seeing the country, and noting the progress of the harvest operations; and not a little of the enjoyment of the day was derived from these sources. We thus found “going “ down below almost as pleasant as “being” down below. To see the fields of waving corn, the reapers busy everywhere, the orchards full of tempting fruit, the herds and the flocks quietly feeding, and all nature smiling and glad around us, made our hearts glad also. After a pleasant drive through these varying scenes of beauty, we reached our destination, and found “one great wilderness around us spread”, intersected by creeks and gullies like the lines on a map. 

A suitable place for encampment being selected, we unyoked and sent back our horses, to the house of entertainment for man and beast, which stands at the entrance to the marsh, there to be taken care of till the time should arrive for our return journey. The carts were then tilted up, and the various cloths, shawls, etc., we improvised a kind of gipsy tent, and there we were, as the sailors say, all snug and taut. Breakfast was our next care. A fire was lighted, the kettle set-on, bags, baskets, and parcels opened, and a goodly array of savoury viands spread out before us. And then “it would have done any man’s heart good to see the merriment that took place as we banqueted on the grass under our tent.”

I may say here, once for all, that something like this process was repeated at dinner time, and again just before  our departure for home, and with appetites sharpened by exercise, and the breeze from the sea, we did ample justice to these meals. The intervals between were occupied with rambles over the marshes, bathing and various sports and pastimes. On the whole, the day was spent very happily, and has left behind only pleasant memories. To those who love simple pleasures, a day spent “down below” is truly enjoyable.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods

There is a rapture on the lonely shore

There is society, none intrudes

By the deep sea, and music is its roar. [1]

Thus the “Excursionist” paints a picture of “going down below” that is akin to the Jack Vetriano painting The Singing Butler where a couple dance on the beach whilst their maid and butler each hold open umbrellas. Or perhaps it is akin to the pic-nics of Enid Blyton’s Famous Five as they sat down to sandwiches, home-made cake and lashings of ginger beer.

By the twentieth century the phrase “going down below” mostly referred to a boat trip. In 1903 the local branch of the Buffalo’s paid for a children’s trip “down below” by steam boat from Spalding.

May 28th 1914 saw the Welland Trustees, responsible for managing the river, its drainage and navigation, take its annual trip “down below” described as follows. In the piece are hidden names of the trustees whose misadventures are described as the trip went beyond the marshes and mud-flats and remained on the water:

We English are said to take our pleasure sadly. Truer word was never uttered as you would have found if you had accompanied the Welland trustees  and their friends on their trip “down below” last Friday.

You are expected to regard it as a serious business journey. The trustees with that fine sacrifice to duty which characterises them, had dragged themselves away from their wives and families to look at the buoys and beacons in the mouth of the river, and they asked their friends to come and help them look at them. You have to stand at the side of a ship and gaze at them as you pass. A lot did – unnecessarily, one thought. They also considered it part of their duty to look at the fish and even to feed them. But that’s a story which will come in a minute or two.

As I say, it is a serious trip – a sort of solemn rite. You don’t expect them to starve as they do their duty; a few dry biscuits and some dry ginger beer are provided. Mr. Barker and his staff were on board to see it.

They went out with the morning tide from Fosdyke about eight o’clock – five and fifty of the finest and choicest spirits of Spalding and district.

The sun kissed the blue waters and they sparkled like the spirits of the brave boys within, on the “Lizzie and Annie” which Messrs G.F.Birch and Son had kindly placed as the disposal of the trustees, clove them innocently and a sweetly as the heart could wish under her hundred horse power diesel engines.

All went merry as a marriage bell until they turned Spurn Head – horribly suggestive name.

They had their meeting – unusually short – they played and they sang. Just before turning Spurn Head they lunched of course on their dog biscuits and dry ginger.

A popular doctor was telling his friends over the cigars about his travels by water – the yachting trips which had never caught him on the Little Mary. Suddenly his face sickled o’er wi’ the pale coat of thought. He excused himself and took a look at the beautiful jellyfish. They were entrancing and he leaned over the side admiring them for the next five hours, so lost in contemplation that he never finished the yachting story or said another word, save a few muttered gurgles.

A cross wind was gently playing with the boat – she sidled playfully in its caresses. Another visitor turned rather more White than usual. He joined the doctor in throwing odds and ends to the happy fish.

“There go the strawberries and cream” he muttered sadly as he wiped his brow and viewed the horrid waste – “it’ll be the trifle next.” And trifle sure enough it was.

He dragged himself away from the friendly fish a few hours later to look at the dainty tea. In a few minutes he was back – he wouldn’t miss the jellyfish for worlds. “Those are my four shrimps”, he confided to his neighbour.

Meanwhile others had been attracted to the spot. A genial young farmer who lives beside the water formed an attachment for one of the awning props and clasped it to his bosom for three solid hours, while he contemplated his excellent lunch.

In the early afternoon the water fascinated twenty-five of the fifty-five visitors. There they were at the side in uneven rows making a most painstaking inspection, doing their duty like man and heroes.

The newly-bitten sauntered along at first just to ask their friends how they were, but dignity quickly went out with other things, and in five minutes they didn’t care who knew it, - even the Pick of the bunch didn’t.

Between times they raised their heads to pass on pallid jokes. Oh it was a rollicking time. Some of those that survived got on the Captain’s table playing dominoes. The gentlemen who were doing their duty at the side viewed it as a personal slight that they were not joined in the doing of it, and took the opportunity, at intervals of leisure, to sit on the lights and shout out the air with the object of compelling their friends to join the ranks. In one case it was a close shave.

What a rush for the quay at Fosdyke! It was ungrateful to the “Lizzie and Annie” which had really behaved beautifully; in a boat less up to date much more bread might have been cast on the waters. [2]

This account of “going down below” possibly has more in common with the account given to me by my father who described his family trip with the Linehams from Fosdyke “down below”. They went out on the Wash and raked up some cockles that were cooked and eaten on the boat. On the way out a good many were sick whilst his mother and sister (my grandmother Edna and Aunty Gwen) happily munched on cream cakes!

[1] Lincolnshire Free Press 22.8.1876

[2] Free Press 3.6.1914