Rising Tides

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The atmosphere in the wardroom of the old Asiatic Fleet “four-stacker” destroyer USS Walker (DD-163) was no longer animated; it was more… subdued and sickened than anything else. The sultry, rotting breeze off the unknown atoll to windward entered the portholes and swirled in the cramped compartment, resuscitating an all-pervading aroma of mildew and sweat. beings sat stiffly, tiredly, uncomfortably behind the green linoleum-topped wardroom table, facing aft, waiting for the final prisoner to be brought before them. It had been a long day, in many ways, and the fiery, righteous passions that had inflamed the earlier proceedings had finally dwindled to mere disgusted embers of their former selves. The aversion, horror, and anger the “court” felt toward the prisoners they’d judged was still very real and palpable, but it had become an exhausted, mechanical thing by now, and everyone-the judges, prosecutors, and even the defense-just wanted the whole thing over at last.

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