+An Incident at Eight Bells.+ This simple ceremony of turning the watch over took place one morning at eight bells—it was a smoky channel morning, heavy weather had been met with on the run eastward, and the train for London was waiting at Southampton, for the first-class passengers who expected to dine at the metropolis that night. It was foggy, and the vessel was doing close to twenty knots; the telegraphs at "stand by." Everything had been passed over to the relief. The quartermasters and juniors had relieved each other, two watches were on the bridge at once, in the cold wet mist. One crowd, still a trifle sleepy, but filled with a sea breakfast, the other tired and wet. Just as the course was being given, and half completed, something leapt out of the gray fog: Three "toots"[1] on the horn in the crow's nest, sounded and a four-masted sailer shot up, as if a picture thrown on the screen of fog ahead. "+Hard Starb'd!+" the order snapped out on the tail of the words of the course. The wet and draggled officer of the watch had not yet received his reply—+he was still in charge+. His order came with the harsh jangle of the telegraph—he was stopping the port engine—and we swept past an iron four-masted ship, her crew clambering to the bulwarks, her sails slatting in the breeze, as we got the first sound of her horn. The above is an instance where something happened at a critical moment. But both officers were trained men, and the man in charge knew he was still responsible, and acted without a second of delay. +Responsibility.+ Few men, aside from those who serve as officers at sea, have the responsibility of life and property so directly under them as the officers of the watch. The young man who takes his first watch as officer in charge—with the great vessel—her lives—and cargo, all obedient to his order and dependent upon his skill and quickness in the sudden emergency that may spring up at any moment; that youngster is to be congratulated. Few men are given the direct handling and responsibility for such mighty forces. He, in most cases, realizes this. Accidents are usually the outgrowth of carelessness, resulting from long watches at sea +where nothing ever happens+. It is necessary that the officer of the watch constantly keep his edge. The old-fashioned system of "watch and watch," that man- and soul-killing drill of an age of short-sighted "economy," has come to be frowned upon by those who have had to pay the bills resulting from accident and loss. The Officer of the watch should come to the bridge fresh and in full vigor. His senses of sight and hearing should be acute; he should be completely awake during the whole four hours of his duty. He should constantly keep in mind what he must do under certain emergencies. He should constantly be rehearsing disaster—with foresight as his mentor.