The Dream Of An Alaskan
By E. Si Ifungerford
-x
When I first laid out the se
quence and substance of my let
ters to the ‘Alaskan ’ this one
was listed as one of an altogeth
er different character; merely
a reilerance of cold blooded
statistics and facts. Instead, I
find myself impelled, while my
impressions are fresh, to try to
relate a recent, rather unusual,
experience. My personal experi
ences are of course of no im
portance, but I thought that
this one, if properly related,
might carry a message.
A fpw days since, I rigged a
trolling line and went out to
try my luck with the king salm
on. There was nothing new or
strange about that. Having done
considerable along that line in
years past, I am no stranger to
the art. of stirring up an ash
breeze to furnish motive power
to tow a herring around by the
nose. In my recent venture,
which was of course confined to
the waters in front of town,
there was only one thing notice
ably different from former years.
The reward of my efforts! How
ever after exercising my wiles
for two days without tangible
reward, unless lame arms and
wrists might be so considered,
on the third day I struck the
right combination and my per
severence was finally reward
ed. Bing bing bing! just like
that and I had three fish in the
boat. They were small, but for
my purpose; canning and eat
ing, they were very satisfactory
and welcome.
I am very fond of salmon but,
unfortunately, so constituted
that an over indulgence in fresh
salmon does not always set well
cn my ’tummie! To this fact
coupled with a very delicious
roast of salmon for dinner, I
attribute my strange and un
usual experience. Of course
there can be no doubt that my
previous three days of musing
ever the fisheries problems of
Alaska and the scarcity of her
ring in the inland waters as
compared to former times when
the herring schools maintained
an inland water king salmon
fisheries, the frailties of a Com
missioner of Fisheries who is
deliberately intensifying t h i s
condition by supporting the
operation of stink plants and
various other angles to the same
question had seme influence
over my mental reactions, even
while asleep. I had and have no
excuse for dreaming the dream
that I did except the old saying
Dreams always go by con
traries.” In this instance at
least there certainly is founda
tion for asserting the truth of
this old saying, for never was a
dream more at variance with
conscious thought or bred by
expectation. But let us preceed:
The night of the big salmon
feed I went to bed, seemingly
perfectly normal. About two
o’clock in the morning I awoke
myself, my wife, and the chil
dren in the adjoining room,
from a sound slumber, by sit
ting up in bed and cheering at
the top of my voice. With as
sound a sleeper as myself this
is very unusual, but the strange
part as I look at it, is the fan
tastic dream which called forth
the unusual demonstration.
Here it is, as nearly as I can
remember it.
It seemed that I had been out
of town for some days and of
course out of touch with hap
penings. The vivid part of the
dream starts as I was making
my landing at the Citizens float.
There was a big crowd of people
out on the dock and bands were
playing. No steamer was in and
I was at a loss to account for the
celebration. Interest seemed to
be centered on the Forestry
float on the other side of the
dock from the float to which I
was landing and to which the
Bureau of Fisheries boat ‘Brant’
was just tying up at the same
time as I on my side was making
my own lines fast.
I certainly was a puzzled guy
as I made my way up the slip on
to the dock. Just as I reached
the dock level everyone seemed
to go mad with enthusiasim over
s miething or somebody on the
Forestry float. There seemed to
re three bands on the job, a.H
playing* at once. Where they
came from, I would not under
take to say but I seemed to be
familiar with the faces of many
of the players who seemed, at
that particular moment, to be
more interested in noise from
their instruments than melody.
The same with the crowd. I will
admit that I have never seen
anything like it in my life. It
was a joyous, noisy outburst of
friendly feeling*. Streamers of
serpentine were flying every
where. Just imagine the state of
rni id of any Alaskan walking
into a celebration like that with
no cause other than a Bureau
01 Fisheries boat in sight and
you can imagine my puzzlemeni
at that stage of my dream.
Everyone was so busy making
a racket that I could not find
anybody to tell me what it was
all about. But finally, by dint of
some unmannerly crowding I
gained mv position of vantage,