Every so often I will share material extra to the main body of Marsh Fen and Town. In this case a colourful account of a boat trip "down below".
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 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. [1]
[1] Free Press 3.6.1914
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