Cy Whittakers Place | Page 6

in Simmons's
store, or wherever Bayporters were used to gather. We never exactly
worshipped Heman Atkins, perhaps, but we figuratively doffed our hats
when his name was mentioned.
The "Cy Whittaker place" faced the Atkins estate from the opposite
side of the main road, but it was the general opinion that it ought to be
ashamed to face it. Almost everybody called it "the Cy Whittaker
place," although some of the younger set spoke of it as the "Sea Sight
House." It was a big, old-fashioned dwelling, gambrel-roofed and
brown and dilapidated. Originally it had enjoyed the dignified seclusion
afforded by a white picket fence with square gateposts, and the path to
its seldom-used front door had been guarded by rigid lines of box
hedge. This, however, was years ago, before the second Captain Cy
Whittaker died, and before the Howes family turned it into the "Sea
Sight House," a hotel for summer boarders.
The Howeses "improved" the house and grounds. They tore down the
picket fence, uprooted the box hedges, hung a sign over the sacred front
door, and built a wide veranda under the parlor windows.
They took boarders for five consecutive summers; then they gave up
the unprofitable undertaking, returned to Concord, New Hampshire,
their native city, and left the Cy Whittaker place to bear the ravages of
Bayport winters and Bayport small boys as best it might.
For years it stood empty. The weeds grew high about its foundations;
the sparrows built nests behind such of its shutters as had not been
ripped from their hinges by February no'theasters; its roof grew bald in
spots as the shingles loosened and were blown away; the swallows flew
in and out of its stone-broken windowpanes. Year by year it became
more of a disgrace in the eyes of Bayport's neat and thrifty
inhabitants--for neat and thrifty we are, if we do say it. The selectmen

would have liked to tear it down, but they could not, because it was
private property, having been purchased from the Howes heirs by the
third Cy Whittaker, Captain Cy's only son, who ran away to sea when
he was sixteen years old, and was disinherited and cast off by the proud
old skipper in consequence. Each March, Asaph Tidditt, in his official
capacity as town clerk, had been accustomed to receive an envelope
with a South American postmark, and in that envelope was a draft on a
Boston banking house for the sum due as taxes on the "Cy Whittaker
place." The drafts were signed "Cyrus M. Whittaker."
But this particular year--the year in which this chronicle begins-- no
draft had been received. Asaph waited a few weeks and then wrote to
the address indicated by the postmark. His letter was unanswered. The
taxes were due in March and it was now May. Mr. Tidditt wrote again;
then he laid the case before the board of selectmen, and Captain Eben
Salters, chairman of that august body, also wrote. But even Captain
Eben's authoritative demand was ignored. Next to the harbor
appropriation, the question of what should be done about the "Cy
Whittaker place" filled Bayport's thoughts that spring. No one, however,
had supposed that the Honorable Heman might wish to buy it. Bailey
Bangs's surprise was excusable.
"What in the world," repeated Bailey, "does Heman want of a shebang
like that? Ain't he got enough already?"
His friend shook his head.
"'Pears not," he said. "I judge it's this way, Bailey: Heman, he's a proud
man--"
"Well, ain't he got a right to be proud?" broke in Mr. Bangs, hastening
to resent any criticism of the popular idol. "Cal'late you and me'd be
proud if we was able to carry as much sail as he does, wouldn't we?"
"Yes, I guess like we would. But you needn't get red in the face and
strain your biler just because I said that. I ain't finding fault with
Heman; I'm only tellin' you. He's proud, as I said, and his wife--"

"She's dead this four year. What are you resurrectin' her for?"
"Land! you're peppery as a West Injy omelet this mornin'. Let me alone
till I've finished. His wife, when she was alive, she was proud, too. And
his daughter, Alicia, she's eight year old now, and by and by she'll be
grown up into a high-toned young woman. Well, Heman is fur-sighted,
and I s'pose likely he's thinkin' of the days when there'll be young rich
fellers--senators and--and-- well, counts and lords, maybe--cruisin'
down here courtin' her. By that time the Whittaker place'll be a worse
disgrace than 'tis now. I presume he don't want those swells to sit on his
front piazza and see the crows buildin' nests in the ruins acrost the road.
So--"
"Crows! Did you ever see a crow build