At the bottom of a bay somewhere, oysters are pondering how they will meet their end. Capitalism being what it is and oysters fetching more than a few bucks a bushel wholesale, dying of old age seems unlikely.

Some will find their way to fancy seafood restaurants where sissy cooks will roast them in rock salt and spinach and serve them to people who don't know any better. Some will be meticulously washed and delicately opened and served on a china plate by a man in a red vest and a bow tie. Their ''presentation'' will be in neat groups of six, ''complimented'' by a sprig of parsley and a lemon wedge.

But the lucky ones will end their time on earth at C & H Oyster Bar in Elizabeth City.

It's only 5:30 on a Friday nite. Good, it's early.... ahead of the cars that will soon start pouring into the tiny parking lot --some making the pilgrimage from out-of-state. A crowd is already forming just inside the speak-easy style entry. They are waiting for a seat at the bar. The list, who is keeping the list of names tonight? How many are ahead? The nice lady working the crowd offers a booth in the restaurant side, which is also starting to fill to capacity. ''No, thank you, we'll wait.''

All you can get from the restaurant is great seafood, but purists come for oysters opened in front of them at this famous horseshoe-shaped bar.

The oysters are served with incredible efficiency. The pecks are dumped loudly into the trough and owner Tommy Cox and his crew get them opened and on your plate. Melted butter is kept ready in a coffee pot on a hot plate in easy reach of the bar. Other condiments include hot sauce, hot vinegar and of course-- beer.

The shells are pushed through a hole in the trough to large trash cans. The counter is wiped and the patrons are replaced with more anxious oyster addicts who have by now been whipped into a feeding-frenzy.

The whole seafood menu is available at the bar, but --except for the occasional shrimp plate, fries and hush puppies-- the bar patrons just want oysters.

Oysters are best served raw. After decades of bringing fresh oysters to a dignified end, powerful, skilled hands quickly open the shells and make it look easy (it isn't). These guys are good at what they do but they don't count very well. A dozen is rarely less than 14, maybe 15 if they see that you have ''the shakes.''

The volume in the shucking trade is in steamed. It's not uncommon for a pair of local mollusk junkies to inhale 4 pecks in one sitting.

The oyster bar is opened 5:pm to 10:pm Monday through Saturday from early October until sometime in April when Tommy feels he can no longer get good oysters. It varies from year to year. Though the adjoining seafood restaurant regularly fills all of its seats, Tommy closes it when the shucking comes to an end, just BEFORE the local tourist season begins. Oysters and friends are the heart of the business.

The crowds grow as the end of the season approaches. Locals anxiously ask each other how much longer he'll stay open. Oyster junkies want to get their fill in preparation for the off season.

Tommy Cox has been in business since the Sixties. The same crew comes back year after year. When asked what they do in the off season, he smiled, paused, smiled again and said, ''whatever we want to.''