Free Heirs of the New Earth by David Lee Summers Page B

The young Samuel Coffin, a marine biologist, bought a large ocean-going boat and took the young people of Nantucket—including John Mark Ellis, at one time—out on cruises to instruct them in ocean science and the history of Nantucket and the whaling industry. Coffin frequently told students how ship captains had been known as “the old man.” The students, who dearly loved their captain and teacher, teased him by calling him the old man of Nantucket. Soon, this was shortened to simply referring to Samuel as Old Man Coffin. Samuel Coffin's career as an ocean-going teacher was a natural choice given his love of family history. His ancestor, Admiral Sir Isaac Coffin purchased the first training ship in the old United States—the Clio —that took Nantucket students to far-off lands in the mid-nineteenth century.
    Old Man Coffin made his way through the shack, pausing to look at a nineteenth century sextant. A few steps further on, he picked up a copy of the “Nautical Handbook” from the twentieth. Shaking his head, Coffin knew that he should take some of these things to Ellis’ house and thought about packing them into his backpack. Sadly, he realized that he didn't really have the room.
    At last, he found the object of his quest—a pouch of Navy Flake pipe tobacco. Coffin crumbled some of the tobacco into the pipe he'd brought with him and smoked while he continued to contemplate his collection of antiques. Old Man Coffin's eyes fell on a polished round of whale baleen. On the bone was a black etching of a sperm whale. Coffin sucked in warm, soothing smoke—drinking it in like mother's milk—as he contemplated the scrimshaw. It was unethical to own a piece of a murdered whale. However, the scrimshaw had been in Coffin's family for centuries. Either way, he realized he should not leave it in the shack where anyone could get it. It would be safer in Ellis’ home.
    Coffin packed his pouch of tobacco, the scrimshaw and a few other odds and ends into his backpack. He stepped out of the shack and locked the door. A futile gesture, he knew, looking at the ancient, rotted wood. Still, he didn't feel he could leave his shack open to just anyone. The tourists would never come out this far—Coffin's shack was too far from the plastic roadway.
    Coffin looked out toward the sea and smoked his pipe a little while longer. Black-accented gray clouds met white-accented gray ocean at the horizon. The old man longed to be on a ship, sailing the waves. The ocean was the true domain of the Nantucketer. The pipe smoldered to a finish. Almost ceremonially, Coffin dumped the pipe, adding his ash to God's own. He climbed on the bike and rode back to Nantucket Village.
    Night was falling as Coffin brought his bike to the storage shed behind the Ellis house. He stowed the bicycle, went inside and turned on the teleholo while he ordered a simple meal of quohog chowder and ale from the food preparation unit. As he noisily slurped the chowder, he watched a rerun of Gaean President Jenna Walker's speech at Arlington Planetary Cemetery. Turning up the volume, he heard about the deaths around the Earth. Coffin picked up the glass of ale and swallowed a large gulp. “Where's John Mark when we need him?” asked Coffin, taking a deep breath.
    A newscaster interrupted President Walker's rerun speech—a literal talking head that floated over the dais of the teleholo—that stated the President was about to make a live announcement. Coffin grinned sourly at the notion of the President interrupting the President.
    "People of Gaea—Mother Earth,” began the President as her miniature image faded into view: a doll standing on the teleholo dais in front of the Gaean flag, “for all of human history, we have been a people in crisis. We have fought wars with one another to determine which group would have the right to rape Gaea—our own mother. Many times, we have raped her to get at the milk of her breast: the fuel to run factories, the land to raise