The facade of the Malta Maritime Museum clock. Photo: Stephen Zammit

I meet Stephen Zammit on the roof of the Malta Maritime Museum in Vittoriosa in order to watch closely the mechanism of the British 19th century clock which he restored last year. This was certainly an exclusive moment since I was clearly warned that Zammit is very possessive of the clocks that he restores.

In fact, despite the magnificent view that the roof of the Malta Maritime Museum, once the old naval bakery, affords, Zammit’s eyes and admiration are solely dedicated to the imposing clock tower which shelters the elaborate clock’s mechanism.

“Originally this clock was located within a small steeple which overlooked Dock No. 1,” he tells me. “Having been moved here, the dials of the clock now face Cospicua, Senglea and Valletta.

“Apart from its mechanism, Heritage Malta also restored the dials of this clock according to how it looked originally in old pictures and paintings, that is, with a black face and gold numbers and dials. Isn’t it a beauty now?”

Zammit has always nursed a fascination for clocks. His first interest was sparked off by the Attard parish church’s tower clock, where he attended Mass as a small boy.

When he was only 11 years old, he started to open the wind-up alarm clocks which he found at home in order to observe their components. Soon he ventured to repair some of these clocks by noting what was out of place or what was broken.

“Whenever I found a missing or a broken part, I would go and order it from a clock spare parts’ agent in Valletta,” he remembers. “From him, I learnt and memorised the names of each item until eventually I got to know each part of a clock.”

Later, Zammit turned to watches which, being smaller, required more attention. It was his utter joy to hear an old watch ticking again after he would have mended it.

He became involved in the repair of church clocks by accident, when Rev. Can. Louis Suban, who was the parish priest of Msida, asked Zammit’s uncle whether he knew someone who could repair the 18th century parish clock.

“My uncle recommended me and Fr Suban contacted me. I was delighted to work on such an antique clock. When I went to see it, I noticed that the clock had severely deteriorated parts, both due to the natural elements and also because of wear and tear. After these were replaced, the clock came back to life and it is still working today,” he says proudly.

“Fr Suban has a keen interest in clocks since his ancestors used to build clocks for churches including those of the parishes of Marsaxlokk and Safi. Incidentally, they also made some repairs on this clock here,” Zammit says as he pullsout a key and shows me the mechanism’s structure.

He points at a section among the intricate metal configuration where there is the engraved signature: Brothers Suban, Malta, 1896.

“Generally, all clock makers and repairers leave an identifying mark in order to record their work,” he says as he indicates another signature. “This inscription reveals who built this system, where and when: Matthew Dutton, London, 1810.”

By detecting these clues on several clocks, Zammit became aware of the various clockmakers and repairers that we had in Malta along the centuries.

“I feel very disappointed when I hear people talking only about particular clockmakers and ignore all the rest as if they never existed,” he says.

I’m still completely bewitched by the spell of these mechanisms

“For instance, many know about Michelangelo Sapiano because he was one of the most prolific clockmakers. Indeed, he was lucky enough to live in a time when there was a great demand for church clocks and he made the best of this opportunity.”

In fact, Sapiano was behind the construction of around 21 clocks of various parishes, including that of the Luqa parish church.

“When I was called to repair Sapiano’s clock in Luqa, I could clearly understand the genius of this man. I was enthralled to follow his thinking through his work and to notice how he manoeuvred a system so that the mechanism’s structure regulated three different time dials and another one showed the date.”

According to Zammit, Sapiano learnt this trade from the Tanti family who manufactured about seven local parish clocks, including those of the Qrendi and Tarxien parish churches. Yet somehow, clock enthusiasts who admire and talk much about Sapiano seem to know nothing about his predecessors.

For more than 30 years, Zammit has had the opportunity to work on several huge parish clocks and by time, he acquired an instinctive ability of how to recognise the various clockmakers. Likewise, he became inherently skilled in repairing the different systems by getting acquainted with the standard form of the core of these structures and the evolving variables.

Zammit shows me how the Malta Maritime Museum clock functions.

“As you can see, there are three sections,” he says. “The one in the middle is connected to a pendulum so that it can regulate the time. The other sections are the ones which moderate the quarters and the hours.”

All along our discussion, we are accompanied by the regular ticking of the clock. Yet suddenly, a sudden twitch on one of the gear wheels seems to awaken the whole mechanism as many more items of the metallic structure move, rotate and flap, while the pull of a lever causes the iron hammers to move and come down on the bells, marking the time.

We both stand in silence as the bells chime gracefully and their melody fills the small room.

“You would probably think that by now I have got used to this experience,” Zammit breaks the silence, once the bells stop ringing and the mechanism calms down to its regular ticking. “However, as you can see, I’m still completely bewitched by the spell of these mechanisms.”

As a violinist with the Malta Philharmonic Orchestra, he is naturally enraptured by the involvement of the musical tones which are operated by this system.

“I come to regulate this clock once a week,” Zammit tells me as he manipulates the three weights of the clock.

I stand back and observe him as he makes the necessary adjustments. From the mechanism’s obliging response, I seem to sense an aura of a corresponding comradeship.

“Each time that I go to do some work on a clock, I just can’t resist the temptation to stay for another hour in order to confirm that everything is working well. There were even moments when people forgot that I was in the clock tower and locked me in,” he says.

There’s another abrupt movement within the clock’s mechanism. Another quarter of an hour has passed. This time, I’m not taken by surprise. Like Zammit, I’m simply spellbound.