We leave Valletta through the new Victoria Gate which has just been completed. There is an inscription in Latin on the inside to mark the event. Why write it in Latin when so very few understand it?

Maybe it is because it is neutral in the battle currently being fought between the Babel of languages spoken here: Maltese, the kitchen, native vernacular; Italian, cultured, legal instrument, classy; English, the language of Shakespeare and the protectors we invited in, who have for decades been trying to get us to learn it with mixed success, and usurp Italian in the process.

It is Saturday and the white masonry of the Victoria Gate dazzles on this 13th day of June 1885. It is already very hot but we have dressed up for the occasion. Just think what it will be like in August!

We walk down Marina Hill, or Scesa Marina, to the Customs House. History is being made here today. We take the dgħajsa to a small ship that is moored to a buoy. Its hull is black as is the funnel with the thin white band. On the quay a philharmonic band plays and there are several people seeing us off.

Now the Customs House is normally where one leaves for Italy and beyond. It is also a great place from where to watch the landing of kings, queens, princes and princesses, writers, politicians, high-ranking ecclesiastics – in short, everybody who is anybody who visits these islands.

However, we are not going abroad, just a short hour-long voyage along the coast in a northerly direction, to Gozo that, for many of us, is the back of beyond. We are taking il-vapur tad-dawra, the round-trip boat, which hugs the north-eastern coastline, rolling in the swell up to Mellieħa Point and Comino Point, before making a turn to port for the short remaining distance to Migiarro, or Mġarr, as the locals call the main harbour of Gozo.

We are guests of Olof Gollcher, a Swedish mariner, son of the late Gustave, who came to Malta in 1849 and set up business here. The company prospered; among other ventures, it is now one of the largest importers of bunker coal for ships calling at the Grand Harbour. Last year the company won the tender for the first mail boat service to Gozo.

From Aberdeen they bought the ship we are about to board, the Gleneagles. An interesting name, certainly not Maltese, and none of us knows what it means, we being largely used to saints’ names on local ships. We do not know where Aberdeen is either, but it does not sound like Syracuse or Catania, so it must be far away. We intend to ask when we are aboard. However, it does not really matter; for the first time ever there is going to be a regular twice-daily steamship service to Gozo.

A look around us at Lascaris Wharf gives some idea of the historic moment we are about to experience; all along the wharf are speronaras and lateen boats, the backbone of the service up to now and the lifeline to Gozo. Everything that Gozo needs is carried on these boats; all that Gozo produces and sells to Malta is delivered on them.

Life on Gozo continues unchanged and there is hardly any desire to upset what has worked so well for centuries. That our ship does not carry sail does not bother the owners, padrones (masters) and crews of the speronaras and lateen boats. There are already steamships in harbour, there have been since 1825, when the London Engineer called at Malta, the first ever steamer to visit.

A lot of fuss was made at the time; smoke on a ship meant only one thing – fire. Except that this one was not on fire! We later learn that Gleneagles is powered by fire that heats water in the boiler which in turn produces steam that drives the machinery. We have added new words to Maltese, steam and vapur from the French vapeur. We have a word for steam, fwar, but that refers to the way meat is sometimes cooked.

To heat all that water, coal is needed; our Gleneagles is coal-fired. There is no coal in Malta so it has to be imported from England and Wales on ships called tramps that do not ply a liner route but follow cargoes as they become available. Thus, after unloading coal at Malta, the ships’ holds are cleaned on its way to Odessa or other ports in the Black Sea to load grain for Europe.

Sometimes Maltese sign as sailors on these ships and get to see the wider world, returning with tall tales of coloured men, savages and dwarves, leaving listeners gaping in disbelief. They also settle in Cardiff and Swansea and you can hear Maltese spoken there.

Coal has created employment for thousands of men from around the harbours as well as from Żejtun and Żabbar. These men are as tough as their job. It will not do to pick a quarrel with them. They work in gangs, which makes it worse. You can see them returning home after a hard day’s work, all covered in coal dust, such that, for a moment, one would be forgiven to think one is actually in a sub-Saharan country.

Streets at Marsa have been named after places from where coal is imported: Cardiff, Swansea, Hartlepool and Newcastle. Coaling ship is a dirty affair: the fine dust finds its way into every nook and cranny of the ship and the crew has a lot of cleaning to do afterwards.

Pietro Pace has been the driving force behind the new mail boat service

The Grand Harbour has become dirtier since the steamships arrived. Goodbye to the glistening white sails fluttering in the breeze, catching the morning sun like white swans in the sky. Depending on the wind, people living around the harbour often have to keep windows shut to keep out the smoke.

There is a benefit though; while it is being unloaded from ship to lighter and storage yard, chunks of coal are ‘accidentally’ lost overboard only to be salvaged later to be used for cooking. The wet coal gives out a lot of smoke and the neighbours know the coal you are using has been spirited from the sea bottom. In popular parlance, having il-faħam miblul (your coal is soaked) also means you have something to hide.

The age of steam has largely bypassed Gozo although steamers call there regularly mainly on Admiralty or government business to carry mail and troops to Fort Chambray. Until the Gollcher venture there was no money for a steamship for Gozo and few Maltese went there.

Inter-island communication was a problem Gozitans had to solve for themselves with little assistance from their countrymen across the channel. Gozitans needed to transact secular or Church business in Malta, generally if and because they had to, given that the crossing was long, uncomfortable, wet and, quite often, dangerous.

Things have started to change though. Since 1864, Gozo has had its own bishop and it is the third incumbent, Pietro Pace, who, together with others has been the driving force behind the new mail boat service. It has helped that he is as Anglophile as they come and a friend of the British Governor, Sir John Lintorn Arabin Simmons.

All aboard, stern and mooring buoy ropes cast off and retreived, a long piercing hiss from the steam siren whistle and off we go, sailing fast through the wide harbour mouth. There are plans for a new breakwater at the Grand Harbour; that will be good for the winter months when the gregale blows, though it is doubtful if the small Gleneagles will operate then.

We sit on hard, slatted wooden benches at the stern; thankfully, there are awnings for protection from the June sun. There are a few cabins for First Class passengers, tickets, one shilling and sixpence, single way, and two shillings and sixpence return. Third Class, single way is eight pence and return is one shilling. Return tickets are available for three days and tickets are obtainable on board.

The fares are reasonable, albeit unaffordable for most Maltese, and still less for Gozitans. Nevertheless, it is a start, the service is there and middle and upper class Maltese will no doubt start making daily excursions.

The inaugural voyage takes just over an hour, an achievement by any standard. Simmons is on the bridge with Gollcher and the master, Capt. Aquilina. We are given drinks; for those who smoke there are complimentary cigars.

We learn that the ship arrived from Aberdeen just two days earlier, a 23-day voyage. The ship may be small but it is new, and a good sea boat. We learn that she is named after a glen in Scotland, no doubt as different a place from Gozo and Malta as may be imagined. The glen connects with Glen Devon to form a pass through the Ochil Hills of Perth and Kinross. The name has nothing to do with eagles but is derived from a corruption of eaglais or ecclesia – a church, and refers to the chapel and well of St Mungo.

Malta is lovely to look at from sea. As we turn round Mellieħa point and Comino point beyond, we get our first glimpse of Gozo, beautiful and, with its rolling hills, so different from the larger island, so that one feels as if arriving in a different country.

We anchor just off Mġarr, the main harbour. Compared to the Grand Harbour, Mġarr is absolutely tiny. A fleet of small boats bring Pace and other Gozitan dignitaries on board. They are served refreshments; two philharmonic bands play festive music from aboard two lighters moored in the middle of the bay. They belong to rival band clubs, which is why they probably play on separate craft.

Speaking in English, Simmons describes the occasion as memorable; Pace describes it as the start of a new era for Gozo. News travel fast on the island; even if many may not understand what the governor, Pace or Gollcher are saying, someone will be sure to translate.

There are many who do not share their bishop’s enthusiasm for the service, seeing it as a threat to their livelihood. Gollcher defends progress; he is convinced the future is in steam. His father came out to Malta in a sailing ship but the world had changed. Unfortunately for his company there is no quay at Mġarr for passengers; they will continue to be ferried to shore by boat. It was a temporary reprieve for the boatmen and their firilli – craft similar to dgħajsas.

After the speeches, we all go for a trip round the island. What a beautiful, God-blessed coast! Two windows cut into the sheer cliff sides; a rock where magic mushrooms grow; tiny bays and steep narrow valleys that hurtle into the sea. Images that remain in the mind’s eye long after we return Pace and his party to Mġarr and sail back to Grand Harbour.

We land by boat at the Customs House, our minds full of the day and solemn promises to return, now that travel to Gozo is easy. We shall most certainly tell all our friends about the ship and trip. There is a morning trip at 6.30am arriving at Mġarr at 8am. The ship sails from Mġarr at 9am and returns to the Customs House at 10.30am. There is an afternoon trip at 4pm; it leaves Mġarr for Valletta at 6pm.

These times are for the summer only. There will be extra trips for the feasts of St George and St Mary in August when Gozo is visited by several Maltese.

Gozo grows at a snail’s pace; the place lacks amenities and, if truth be told, is very boring and too quiet for some. There are only two hotels and a handful of carriages to take you round. Gozitans stare at new arrivals as if they have just landed from the moon. Not a few describe strangers of whatever race and hue as “savages from the north”.

By comparison, Malta is much better; we travel to Notabile by railway, cross over to Sliema and St Julian’s by steam ferry and reach the rest of the island by cab or omnibus.

• That was 130 years ago. In 1887, to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee, the capital underwent a name change – from Rabat to Victoria, but the new name never stuck.

A marble plaque in Latin at the Cittadella recalls this event and the new mail service.

Pace was later appointed archbishop bishop of Malta, a highly acceptable candidate to the bishopric after the Francophile apostolic administrator with the right of succession, Buhagiar, was posted abroad.

Gleneagles and Princess Melita provided the steamer service until World War I

Pace added to the picturesque beauty of Mġarr by constructing his own eaglais – a church dedicated to Our Lady of Lourdes, the French shrine in the Pyrenees he had visited years before.

He died in 1914, at the start of World War I, crowning his career the year before by holding the International Eucharistic Congress in Malta, a grand religious event with secular and political significance. Mourners for his funeral were to travel to Gozo on his beloved 30-year-old Gleneagles but they had to sail on Princess Melita, her running mate from 1893, as the ship had been requisitioned by the Admiralty for war service. The latter ship was named after Princess Victoria Melita, daughter of Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, the son of Queen Victoria. The girl was born at San Anton Palace in 1876.

Gleneagles often crossed over to Syracuse to pick up the mails as per contract but she was thoroughly unsuited for passengers on that route; it was said that whoever made that particular trip on her swore never to do so again. At one time she was fitted out for trawling but the experiment was not commercially viable.

Gleneagles and Princess Melita provided the steamer service until World War I, running in parallel with the lateen boats, whose monopoly of cargo between the islands remained unchallenged due to lack of proper quays at Valletta and Mġarr.

• From the comfortable saloons of the ships of Gozo Channel Line Ta’ Pinu, Gaudos and Malita it is hard to believe that, until fairly recently, the Gozo-Malta connection was uncomfortable if not downright dangerous. Crossing by car only became available in the 1930s, but with ships having a capacity for just five or six cars, one had to book weeks in advance.

The last ferry left in the late afternoon so that if one missed the bus and boat one was stranded at either end and had to seek accommodation for the night. This was also true when the ships cancelled trips due to bad weather.

Whenever this happened one stayed with friends, in rented accommodation or tiny properties bought to serve as digs. At Valletta there were also the lodging houses at Lascaris Wharf or hotels near Victoria Gate.

All this led to the proliferation of a sizeable Gozitan community based around Valletta and Floriana. They generally resided there throughout from Monday to Friday, as near as possible to their workplace in the capital or its environs, commuting with greater ease than would have been the case had they wanted to cross over from Gozo, which at the time was impossible in any case.

Come Friday, the homing instinct kicked in; they had to get back to Gozo by hook or by crook. Sometimes the weather had other ideas and the ferry service would be cancelled. It was at such times that Gozitans felt the greatest hardship. Their colleagues at work spent the weekend with their families and friends while they were stranded here.

This frantic desire to return home for the weekend was the cause of one of the worst accidents connected with the crossing: the sinking of the luzzu at Ħondoq ir-Rummien on October 30, 1948. It was an accident waiting to happen from a combination of circumstances peculiar to Gozo: a long weekend with religious feasts honouring the dead; the ferry cancelled due to bad weather; poor communication; hiring of a fishing craft to transport people; overloading; passengers overruling the coxswain’s decisions.

It was the worst accident in living memory but tales of drowning and dicing with death go back hundreds of years, as can be seen from ex-voto in churches and sanctuaries in Malta and Gozo.

Ex-voto, a solemn vow carried out, represented by a miniature painting that encapsulates moments of terror at sea when all seems to be lost, when one faces his Creator and makes promises, if only one is spared death by drowning. There would also have been hundreds of unrecorded close encounters with death, ex-votos promised but soon forgotten.

Gleneagles and all the other ships that followed continued to run alongside the traditional Gozo boats, the speronaras and their successors, the lateen boats. Until well after World War II, this duality, lives lived in parallel, was a feature of the Gozo-Malta connection. In the 1930s there were now breakwaters at Mġarr and Marfa, so one stepped ashore directly instead of on a small boat, as had been the case.

There was an excellent bus service to Valletta. Nevertheless, many continued to travel on the traditional boats, preferring to sit on canvas covered cargo, among the fruit boxes and sharing space with goats, rabbits and poultry, and, in the bargain, tasting and being soaked by sea spray.

There were reasons for this reluctance to change, this harking back to the past. After World War I, the installation of powerful engines made the crossing to Valletta and back, quicker and safer. One was welcomed aboard, made a token donation, got to Valletta before the ferries and buses and, best of all, one stepped ashore in the centre of things, the capital, with its offices, agencies, shops, the law courts, the food market – when Valletta was the hub of Malta and Gozo.

After World War II, in the twilight of the lateen boats, came the ferries whose names became bywords with all who made the crossing because they had to or for leisure, to go as far as it was possible to the ends of these islands.

The names of the ferries continued to resonate long after they were sold abroad or after they were scuttled to embark on a new life giving pleasure as diving attractions and artificial fish reefs: Banċinu, Ħanini, Queen of Peace, Imperial Eagle, Jylland, Calypso Land, Melita Land, Mġarr, Calypso, Cittadella, Xlendi, Għawdex: who remembers these ships now when they cross in the comfortable ships of Gozo Channel Line?

Michael Cassar is author of 2014 book The Gozo-Malta Connection.