| Summary: | Down The Hatch. DOWN THE HATCH - By Captain Barnacle Many ships in the Alaska trade are idle in the winter time but many of the men that man them are not. Consider the fleet of the Alaska Steamship Company, a total of twenty-one vessels, of which fifteen are tied up at the West Seattle moorings and six are in active service at present. Floating side by side they sway gently to the sweel of passing liners but there are no plumes of steam in answer to passing signals nor columns of smoke from the funnels. To the first glance the liners are deserted, apparently forgotten, until, with the awakening of the intensive seasonal activity in Alaska, they are called back to carry their heavy loads of supplies and transport the thousands who find work and wage in the Northern territory during spring and summer. Only An Illustion But they are not forgotten and the deserted appearance is only illustion. Down in the depth of the hulls men are working. Machinery must be overhauled, painting renewed -- a thousand and one tasks that keep a large force busy every winter, either on the vessels themselves or in the big machine shops and shoreside plant of the company. And all of the ships are not idle throughout the off season either. There are changes, as vessels in active service drop in for overhaul and refitting, while tose which have been through the process take their places. Many well known liners in this fleet of ships. Here are the Yukon, Aleutian, Mt. McKinley, Dorothy Alexander, Northwestern, Victoria, Alaska -- all passenger carriers that at one time or another have been the temporary homes of many thousands of Alaskans or tourists visiting the last frontier, and all awaiting the call. Didn't Have The Password. An occasional eagle is all right with Chuck Taylor, No. 1 waterfront fisherman, but when they perch in the trees around his cabin by the dozen or so, he thinks the matter should be taken up with the Audubon Society or the Mother Aerie or something. Chuck is just back from a fishing trip up the Skagit, where he maintains a comfortable lodge, well fitted out with the necessitites to successful fishing trips, considering the exposure, danger of getting wet and the like. And he found the vicinity literally swearming with big bald-headed eagles. "It gives one a sort of queer start to walk under a tree with a dozen of these big birds roosting thereon," he said. "They sort of hunch up their shoulders and peer down, like a judge on the bench, looking over the court room. Made me feel like either giving the password or pleading extenuating circumstances."
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