Eight Bells

Eight bells and your watch is over.

Half an hour of sand at a time, a boy turning the glass and striking the bell, and at eight you were relieved and the next man took the deck. Every sailor who ever lived measured his time that way — not in days, in glasses turned.

They struck eight bells for a dead man too. Same sound. A crew heard it and knew which one it was without being told.

So they carved this everywhere. Into scrimshaw, into sea chests, into the wood over the bunk where a man could see it before he slept. Not to be grim about it. A man who can see the sand running spends his watch like it matters, and the one who thinks he has forever wastes every hour of it.

A skull set in the upper chamber, the sand running out beneath it. Open through the middle so you can see daylight where the glass would be.

Spend the watch.

Specifications

• Solid .999 fine silver, hand poured
• 37mm tall × 14mm wide
• Hand-oxidized recesses, polished high points
• 4mm black braided leather cord, 22", gunmetal magnetic barrel clasp
• Signed Certificate of Authenticity
• Poured and finished in Northfield, Vermont

Worn for a lifetime. Passed to the next.