Captain Whelden was master of the coastwise schooner “Robert Graham Dunn”. He was another of the gallant men of South Dennis who chose a career at sea that gained success for himself and glory for his village. Unfortunately that career was cut off when, at the age of sixty-four, he contracted yellow fever in Florida and died aboard his vessel at Pensacola. With the same longing all Cape Cod men felt abroad, the Captain died with the single word, “home”, on his lips--and the First Mate of the “Dunn” was determined that the good Captain’s body should be taken to his beloved village for burial. But this was the eighteen eighties and the same superstitions that led Cape Codders to bury smallpox victims in an isolated spot (in the belief that this would stop the spread of the disease) held the crew in awesome fear of contracting the dreaded fever. They mutinied at the prospect of carrying the Captain’s body home. The First Mate of the “Dunn” must have been a courageous, loyal, and determined man, for, at length, the ship’s mutiny was put down, and, in a metallic casket weighing well over a ton, the Captain’s remains began the sad journey back to the Cape. Captain Whelden succumbed to the fever on Memorial Day, 1888, and on July 4 he was laid to rest at South Dennis, just down the road from the home he loved so well. Twelve Captains carried the heavy casket. It was a fine tribute to the memory of the man whose big white house by the side of the road still graces the little village at the heart of the Cape. _East Is West_ Not far from the houses of the two sisters the charming old Cape Cod homestead of Captain Alpheus Baker, Jr., sits beside the Upper County Road. It is a white Cape Codder, trim and snug and gracious, and it must look very much the same now as it did a century ago. Old trees throw a graceful pattern of shadows against it in the summer sunlight and there is a perpetual air of friendliness and serenity about it. The house would hardly be noticed by the stream of traffic that rushes by its dooryard in the summer months, but the house is complacent too, and wears the air of there being “nothing new under the sun”. One would not have to see the treasures within it to realize that it is a cosmopolitan house, content now to dream its dreams of a colorful past.