Marine Chronometer. In my very layman-like and non-technical reading around the subject of horological history, this is the term that makes my heart beat a little faster, makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, provokes an emotional reaction unlike any other.
Why so? If you are unfamiliar with the story and want the full explanation, you should read Dava Sobel’s wonderful book “Longitude” or watch the TV miniseries based on it. How to prevent thousands of needless deaths at sea, in miserable conditions aboard disease-ridden ships? Deaths caused by a lack of knowledge, and in at least one case by the pigheaded intransigence of high command.
It’s the story of John Harrison (1693-1776) and his lifelong work to produce a horological solution to the “Longitude Problem”. Although to my grandmother’s annoyance and disappointment I didn’t follow my father and grandfather into the Navy, it’s still in my blood and I’m never happier than when I’m on a ship, even if it’s only the Portsmouth to Cherbourg ferry. I have stood before the Harrison clocks at Greenwich several times, and I don’t mind admitting that I feel pretty emotional when I see them.
Long history, short account: the box chronometer, developed in the late 18th century, remained an essential part of every ship’s navigation equipment until the age of GPS. The pocket chronometer or deck watch was used in conjunction with it to carry the results of astronomical observations to the ship’s chronometer.
Box chronometer and pocket chronometer:
I was in the forefront of forum members hoping that Christopher Ward would eventually produce something along those lines. When the C9 5-Day Small Second with the SH21 movement made its appearance all my ducks seemed to have lined up: wearable size, hand wound, Roman numerals, small seconds subdial, elegant blue hands, chronometer movement, undeniably a thing of beauty…and I didn’t buy one! My main reason was that I didn’t think it was slim enough; I was also looking at something different at the time.
However, I kept looking at this watch and feeling considerable regret that I had not gone for it from the outset. Finally something made me put up a WTB post and within a short time I had one in my possession, courtesy of a long-standing and highly respected forum member.
Case: the perfect dress watch? I must admit that with a case diameter of 40 mm and a height of 12.3 mm it is perhaps a little large for that function, though it does slip under a cuff. As with many of the older CWs it has a slightly slab sided appearance, but they hadn’t got around to the Lightcatcher case at the time. The L2L of under 48 mm means that it doesn’t actually wear too big.
All of these things, of course, cease to matter when you turn the watch over and look through the exhibition case back; it seems as though they used the smallest case that was viable for the movement. And what a movement, but more of that later.
Dial: I would say almost perfect. The company’s greatest ever logo is centred below 12: CHR. WARD LONDON. The small seconds subdial is lovely, though I feel that a railway track and Arabic indices every 10 seconds would have been perfect. The Roman numerals are beautifully printed, if a little on the small and thin side; whilst this approach, the polar opposite of that taken by Cartier or Ulysse Nardin (q.v.) is undoubtedly very elegant, it does leave quite a lot of space on the pristine white dial. I would also have preferred the more traditional IIII to IV. I love the blued hands which, although delicate, have great contrast in most light conditions. Useless in the dark, of course, but I think lume would ruin this dial in any form. The date is both legible and unobtrusive.
Movement: as I implied above, the SH21 is a sizeable movement. It is, as many will know, a hand wound 5-day chronometer movement that uses twin barrels to power the watch for an advertised 120 hours. The movement diameter means that the exhibition caseback is able to cover almost the entire diameter of the watch. There is a good view of the barrels and the balance wheel, though a very large bridge covers most of the movement. Although hand finished, this is decorated in a rather minimalist way, though the gold filling on the numbers and letters is a nice touch. No Côtes de Genève or Perlage here.
The movement performs its function extremely well, and is surprisingly easy to wind up to full power. Mine appears to lose less than one second per day if full power is maintained, though timekeeping does drift a little by the fourth and fifth days. It also ran for over 131 hours, therefore easily surpassing the claimed 120 hours.
Bracelet/strap: this watch came on the bracelet, but I will need to have it resized at some point. As the bracelet is not adjustable to 5 positions and is quite shiny overall, I might just keep it on straps. I had a beautiful unused blue alligator that looks purple in some lights and just suits the watch to perfection.
Conclusion: I think this is a superb watch. I was a fool not to get one when it first came out, but I’m really glad to have one now. Visually it is elegant, clean and classy – no garish colours here, thank you. I once described the Nomos Tangente as “JS Bach for the wrist.” I think this one has similar qualities. Calm seas and a prosperous voyage, shipmates.
Thanks for reading.
