Cy Whittakers Place | Page 5

he exclaimed. "I know as much about Angie's
tribe as you do, I cal'late. Ain't we a little mite off the course? Seems to
me we was talkin' about Heman's letter."
"Is that so? I judged from what you said we wa'n't goin' to talk about it.
Aw, don't be so mean, Ase! Showin' off your importance like a young
one! What did Heman say about the appropriation? Is he goin' to get
it?"
Mr. Tidditt paused before replying. Then, bending over, he whispered
in his chum's ear:
"He never said one word about the appropriation, Bailey; not one word.
He wanted to know if we'd got this year's taxes on the Whittaker place.
And, if we hadn't, what was we goin' to do about it? Bailey, between
you and me and the mizzenmast, Heman Atkins wants to get ahold of
that place the worst way."
"He does? He DOES? For the land sakes, ain't he got property enough
already? Ain't a--a palace like that enough for one man, without wantin'
to buy a rattletrap like THAT?"
The first "that" was emphasized by a brandished but reverent left hand;
the second by a derisively pointing right. The two friends had reached
the crest of the long slope leading up from the townhall. On one side of
the road stretched the imposing frontage of the "Atkins estate," with its
iron fence and stone posts; on the other slouched the weed-grown,
tumble-down desolation of the "Cy Whittaker place." The contrast was
that of opulent prosperity and poverty-stricken neglect.
If our village boasted one of those horseless juggernauts, such as are
used to carry sightseers in Boston from the old North Church to the
Public Library and other points of interest--that is, if there was a
"seeing Bayport" car, it is from this hill that its occupants would be
given their finest view of the village and its surroundings. As Captain

Josiah Dimick always says: "Bayport is all north and south, like a
codfish line. It puts me in mind of Seth Higgins's oldest boy. He was so
tall and thin that when they bought a suit of clothes for him, they used
to take reefs in the sides of the jacket and use the cloth to piece onto the
bottoms of the trousers' legs." What Captain Joe means is that the
houses in the village are all built beside three roads running
longitudinally. There is the "main road" and the "upper road"--or
"Woodchuck Lane," just as you prefer--and the "lower road," otherwise
known as "Bassett's Holler."
The "upper road" is sometimes called the "depot road," because the
railroad station is conveniently located thereon--convenient for the
railroad, that is--the station being a full mile from Simmons's "general
store," which is considered the center of the town. The upper road
enters the main road at the corner by the store, and there also are the
Methodist meetinghouse and the schoolhouse. The townhall is in the
hollow farther on. Then comes the big hill-- "Whittaker's Hill"--and
from the top of this hill you can, on a clear day, see for miles across the
salt marshes and over the bay to the eastward, and west as far as the
church steeple in Orham. If there happens to be a fog, with a strong
easterly wind, you cannot see the marshes or the bay, but you can smell
them, wet and salty and sweet. It is a smell that the born Bayporter
never forgets, but carries with him in memory wherever he goes; and
that, in the palmy days of the merchant marine, was likely, to be far, for
every male baby in the village was born with web feet, so people said,
and was predestined to be a sailor.
When Heman Atkins came back from the South Seas early in the '60's,
"rich as dock mud," though still a young man, he promptly tore down
his father's old house, which stood on the crest of Whittaker's Hill, and
built in its place a big imposing residence. It was by far the finest house
in Bayport, and Heman made it finer as the years passed. There were
imitation brownstone pillars supporting its front porch, iron dogs and
scroll work iron benches bordering its front walk, and a pair of stone
urns, in summer filled with flowers, beside its big iron front gate.
Heman was our leading citizen, our representative in Washington, and

the town's philanthropist. He gave the Atkins memorial window and the
Atkins tower clock to the Methodist Church. The Atkins town pump,
also his gift, stood before the townhall. The Atkins portrait in the
Bayport Ladies' Library was much admired; and the size of the Atkins
fortune was the principal subject of conversation at sewing circle, at the
table of "the perfect boarding house," around the stove