The trade-off: What remains of Senglea Bastion is whittled down to make way for a second graving dock in French Creek.The trade-off: What remains of Senglea Bastion is whittled down to make way for a second graving dock in French Creek.

Within a decade it becomes apparent that the new dock cannot be used by the larger ships that are being built. Nevertheless the wisdom of building a graving dock is amply illustrated during the Crimean War (1854-56). However, the inability to carry out urgent repairs, in the dock, on the large troopship Himalaya, induces the Admiralty to enlarge the dock. At first it is planned to extend the dock outwards into the creek but then it is decided to enlarge in an opposite direction, inwards, starting in July 1856.

So, on June 1, 1857, the Glorious First of June, guests once more descend to the depths for the ceremony of the laying of the foundation stone of the extension. The date has a special significance for England and the Royal Navy as it marks the defeat of the French fleet by Lord Howe off the island of Ushant. The silver trowel used in the ceremony is made by Mr Critien of Strada Forni, Valletta.

Today, it is possible to visit No.1 Dock at leisure, perhaps for the first time since its construction, perchance to dream of the two foundation stones laid in 1844 and 1857, lying somewhere under those thousands of tons of concrete and masonry. Beneath the stones are two metal boxes containing coins of the period and, for 1857, copies of The Malta Times, Il Portafoglio Maltese and a copy of The Illustrated London News of May 22, 1857.

The dock was enlarged in 1921 and the floor was raised in 1972-73 when the dry dock was converted for ship-building purposes. This and the impossibility of the place being used as a dry dock in the future makes it unlikely that the foundation stones can ever be traced.

Building the extension inwards is a brilliant idea as the works do not interfere with the use of the dock. However, it marks the definitive end of Cospicua as a maritime city in Dockyard Creek (there is still French Creek) because the new section is being dug on the site of the food market that was built on the timber lake. It is from here that produce from the south is carried by boat for sale in Valletta.

As a sop to widespread ill feeling, two new markets are built on the open space between Cospicua and Senglea and close to the top of Bull Street. The former was destroyed during World War II and was never rebuilt.

In fairness to the Admiralty, every time accessibility to the seafront is denied to the natives some form of limited mitigation is offered and local bad feeling assuaged through the building of alternative landing paces in the form of tunnels combined with steps overlying select places on the quay. In Dockyard Creek, Vittoriosa is given the Carmine Tunnel and San Lorenzo Tunnel. After the inauguration of No.1 Dock, Cospicua is given St Theresa Tunnel. Since all these tunnels/steps are artificial accretions on the quays, they are thus easily and quickly demolished when they are no longer required and the wharves are ceded back to the local government.

The extension to No.1 Dock is completed in March 1862. War clouds have receded and there is no great rush to complete the works. That still leaves the Royal Navy without a dock for the larger ships that are being built. The double dock, now named No.1 and No.2, could be used separately, by the insertion of a central caisson, or as a single 600-foot dock. Photos show ships of various sizes docked together in the double dock suggesting that the central caisson was hardly ever used.

The new market between Cospicua and Senglea, one of two built after the original site was taken up by the dock extension.The new market between Cospicua and Senglea, one of two built after the original site was taken up by the dock extension.

For the Bormliżi, popularly known as ta’ baħarhom, the nickname possibly derived from their relationship with the sea (or is it the mud and smells at the head of the creek?), the construction of the new dock between 1844 and 1848 and its subsequent extension between 1856-62 leads to the loss of a large part of the old wharf and, in consequence, their contact with the sea and water derived from the ancient name of Bormla: Bir Mula, the well of the Lord or the Lord’s meadow.

Of course, there remained French Creek with access to the city through Bormla Gate, but within a few decades the Admiralty cast covetous eyes there too and that was the definitive end of Cospicua as a civilian maritime city.

The negative effects from No.1 Dock continued to haunt the lives of the Bormliżi for decades. After the loss of their sea views came the unsightly factory buildings behind high walls and the daily noise, smells and pollution. The dock had effectively divided the city. In 1959 the Admiralty ceded the dock to Bailey (Malta) Ltd, later replaced by Malta Drydocks. As the final operators of the facility, Malta Drydocks was reluctant to give up the dock for rehabilitation as part of a wider plan for the development of Dockyard Creek for leisure purposes.

The nuisance lasted for several decades and it is only in our time that the seafront has finally been returned to the Bormliżi. What remains of Scamp’s buildings at the dock side and the old galley stores on Store Wharf are to be restored as part of the new American University campus. The story of the dock under Maltese ownership is told in the author’s Malta Drydocks 1963-2010 (2011).

Cospicua loses its former access to the sea but prospers immensely from the dock which generates employment and the acquisition of new trades in iron and steam

Of the Three Cities, Cospicua probably fared worst. Senglea was hardly affected by developments in Dockyard Creek, although it later lost part of its access to the sea in French Creek, starting in 1871 with the Somerset Dock and continuing in 1892 with Hamilton Dock. Vittoriosa was the first to lose most of its access to the sea in Dockyard Creek but retained the entire seashore overlooking Kalkara Creek.

Bormlizi, whose properties are expropriated in connection with the new dock, are compensated handsomely. Not so owners of dgħajsas and other craft; they have been banished to Għajn Dwieli, St Francis Port, which is the back of beyond and can only be accessed through Bormla Gate or by rowing out of Dockyard Creek, past Senglea Point and into French Creek. The place is exposed to the elements, it is situated where the valley that carries rain water from Paola reaches the sea; there is no adequate shelter for the boats and it is too far away from their homes. At Cospicua all the men have to do to check on their boats is to look out of their windows.

In 1842, the city’s bourgeoisie petition (313 signatories) Governor Henry Bouverie on behalf of the boatmen and fishermen but it is all in vain. Their complaints are published in Il Cospicuano: Di questo comodo sono stati totalmente privati in conseguenza della formazione del nuovo bacino, non guari incominciata, per motivo della quale si il barcajuoli, che il pescatori sono stati licenziati, senz essersi dato un sufficiente provedimento pre via di un luogo fornito del corrispondente molo, cui potessero detenere le loro barche in siguro, giacche quello dello Scaro dei Vascelli fuori della Porta Burmola.

The site offered to the boatmen and fishermen is cluttered with shipbuilders and ship repairers; it is here that some of the Order’s ships of the line have been built, including the very last unit of the sailing ship squadron, the third rate San Giovanni, in 1798. There is no proper quayside at French Creek, the seafront is blocked with ships’ timbers, chains and ropes and there are scores of ships at anchor. Finally, there is not enough space for all the Cospicua boats at the alternative place being offered.

Scamp’s Palace, formerly the residence of the captain general of the galleys. In the foreground is the Carmine Tunnel, the first of three overways built in Dockyard Creek to provide access to residents after the wharves were taken over.Scamp’s Palace, formerly the residence of the captain general of the galleys. In the foreground is the Carmine Tunnel, the first of three overways built in Dockyard Creek to provide access to residents after the wharves were taken over.

Needless to say the promoters of the project are over the moon; in their enthusiasm and covert, if not occasionally overt, contempt for the natives they lament the perennial ingratitude of the Maltese who do not know what is good for them even if it is staring them in the face.

This is what The Malta Times has to say at the laying of the foundation stone in 1844: “We are convinced that the importance of this work has never been sufficiently appreciated in this island. By the native population certainly it has not: for when the plan was originally proposed, in perfect ignorance of the immense advantages, local and general, which such a work is calculated to confer; the inhabitants of Burmola (sic) memorialised the government against the construction of this dock; and interesting individuals have not been found wanting since, in throwing little impediments on the way. Some more in the same vein after the inauguration in 1848: Through its different stages it encountered a few misfortunes, and great opposition on the part of some of the proprietors of houses in its vicinity.

“It is true that this opposition was to be expected, as in many instances the property of these persons has been reduced in value by one half (this is a reference to those whose houses had not been purchased by the Admiralty, and have lost their value as a consequence of the loss of the sea view which they previously enjoyed). Furthermore: it invariably happens that great public advantages are purchased at the expense of private individuals, and however we may feel inclined to condole with the sufferers, we cannot but rejoice that their opposition has been ineffectual in preventing the completion of this splendid ornament to Malta.”

It is a trade-off; Cospicua loses its former access to the sea but prospers immensely from the dock which generates employment and the acquisition of new trades in iron and steam. Here is more from The Malta Times of 1848: “What an immense benefit to the island the expenditure of the principal part of this enormous sum in wages (almost £100,000) it is useless for us to describe; but we consider this to have been a trifling part of the advantage. The presence of so many able engineers and foremen has been, we doubt not, of considerable service to the native workmen, and many of them will have occasion to look back with satisfaction (and gratitude too we dare say), to the day when they first began to contribute their portion to this splendid monument of British liberality.”

I remember a talk I gave to tourist guides on the changing face of the Grand Harbour during which I referred to the phenomenon of trade-off as a consequence of which private property and national heritage were sacrificed for military and naval purposes, notably the fortifications that were torn down in French Creek to make way for new dry docks. I averred that the Maltese had very little say in the matter because defence works overruled every other consideration. Furthermore, until the award of self-government in 1921 the Council of Government, generally with a military governor as its head and an unelected majority of members, was merely a rubber stamp for decisions taken in London over Maltese heads.

No looking back in anger but a reflection on the suppurating canker that was the dock and ancillary buildings that divided Cospicua.No looking back in anger but a reflection on the suppurating canker that was the dock and ancillary buildings that divided Cospicua.

After the lecture I was approached by a lady, who introduced herself as British and said she wanted to apologise for what her countrymen had done to Malta. I explained that, callous and insensitive as it now seems, it was a trade-off. In retrospect, major infrastructural works are a realisable financial asset since docks cannot be carried away as baggage after the colonial era. Furthermore the whole point of history is not to look back in anger, with the benefit of hindsight, but to understand things, look at the way we were, enjoy a pleasant respite and escape from the present and wonder at the mutability of things.

The men whose ships are under refit in the new dry dock are turned over, given temporary accommodation in receiving ships berthed in Dockyard Creek, within walking distance of the dock. In 1855, during the Crimean War, HMS Ceylon, the old receiving ship on which Dr Cree had served, is replaced by a much larger ship, an obsolete first rate from the time of Lord Nelson, HMS Hibernia. The ship has visited the Grand harbour before as a fighting warship; it is inconceivable that it will serve as an accommodation hulk in Dockyard Creek for 47 years and eventually be broken up locally at Pietà in 1903.

Without doubt the highlights of 19th century Dockyard Creek are the new double dry docks, the naval bakery and HMS Hibernia. Sadly, for the ship, there are now only memories and the huge figurehead that is one of the prime exhibits at the Malta Maritime Museum housed in the former naval bakery.

Hibernia was many things to many people. To the people of the Cottonera it was the first thing they saw in the morning for 47 years

There are doors and pieces of furniture in Maltese homes made of timber from the ship. This was timber that could be reworked. Scrap timber from the ship was used as fuel in local bakeries and caused an outbreak of lead poisoning. At St Paul Shipwreck collegiate church in Valletta there is a statue of the Immaculate Conception carved from a small part of the mainmast.

There is also the Irish connection. The figurehead represents the Irish Celtic god Dagda, father of all and lord of perfect knowledge, with whose harp he rings the change of seasons. Hibernia is derived from Ivernia, the Roman name for Ireland, itself a derivation from the Greek Ierne.

Until World War II, several Maltese could remember the ship and its demolition at Pietà in 1903. Its name was corrupted in the vernacular to Arbanja. Those who were inclined to immobility and laziness were chided and compared to the bulky, stationary ship: ‘Qisek l-Arbanja’ (you are like the Hibernia).

The story of the ship’s long sojourn in Dockyard Creek as a semi-permanent fixture is usually covered in a sentence. In 2012, I wrote a monograph on the ship From Plymouth to Pietà – HMS Hibernia at the Grand Harbour, Malta. I believe the book will help those who visit the figurehead at the Malta Maritime Museum at Vittoriosa get some idea of the ship whose bows it once adorned.

During yet another talk to tourist guides I referred to the book I had written on Hibernia and, tongue in cheek, pointed out that sales were nothing compared to Fifty Shades of Grey, which was the rage at the time. Imagine my surprise when, after the lecture, yet another lady came up to me and said: “I have read Fifty Shades of Grey – you men have no idea what we women think and feel!” To say I was gobsmacked is to put it mildly.

HMS Hibernia and its figurehead representing the Irish Celtic god Dagda, now one of the most treasured exhibits at the Malta Maritime Museum.HMS Hibernia and its figurehead representing the Irish Celtic god Dagda, now one of the most treasured exhibits at the Malta Maritime Museum.

The monograph recalls the story of the ship from construction at Plymouth to demolition at Pietà. It examines the career of this first rate of 110 guns, making her one of the largest ships of her day.

Throughout its long years in Dockyard Creek, Hibernia witnessed the transition from sail to steam, from wood to iron and steel, and from broadside to turret guns. Hibernia became part of the harbour scene like no other Royal Navy had done before or since.

When it was broken up in 1903 it was the second oldest ship in the navy after HMS Victory. Hibernia was many things to many people. To the people of the Cottonera it was the first thing they saw in the morning for 47 years. For many it was also a lifeline, providing jobs and opportunities for traders, chandlers and contractors, the occasional stuff going lost or missing, and much, much more.

On one occasion a sergeant of marines failed to return to the ship. Now it was not done for sailors to cross swords with marines so it was assumed he would eventually turn up by himself. He was discovered three days later in a house in Senglea but had some difficulty returning to the ship as he could not locate his trousers.

Life on Hibernia was marked by the firing of the noon day gun and salutes to visiting warships from the home fleet and those of other nations. Another gun was fired to denote the start of courts martial on occasions when the ship served as a floating law courts. Most offences were committed by the lower ranks and ranged from drunkenness to insubordination.

Perhaps the most famous court martial held aboard the ship was the inquiry into the ramming and sinking of HMS Victoria by HMS Camperdown off Tripoli, Lebanon, in 1893, leading to the tragic loss of the flagship, and the death by drowning of Sir George Tryon, the commander in chief, and several other ranks, including Maltese sailors. The subsequent court martial was as much about the loss of lives and a warship (the flagship, to boot) in peacetime as about honour, discipline and blind obedience to questionable orders. The event was covered by several journalists and the proceedings telegraphed to the world press.

I like to think that now that you have read this, the view of Dockyard Creek from the Upper Barrakka Gardens will, from now on, take a different meaning. Better still, visit the Three Cities and let the mind’s inner eye wander to dream of No. 1 Dock, William Scamp, the naval bakery and HMS Hibernia.

(Concluded)

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