Through the 19th and early 20th century, Malta positioned itself as one of the foremost coaling stations in the Mediterranean.

Large ships ran on steam engines, which burned through massive amounts of coal.

The vast British war fleet, troopships, merchant vessels and passenger liners all wolfed down coal like there was no tomorrow. Malta became the port of choice where ships tried to satiate insatiable appetites.

Coaling of ships was no pretty affair. It involved punishing manual labour, exposure to filth, devastating lung cancer, danger and beggarly remuneration for the ‘natives’. 

Notwithstanding the wild deficit of glamour surrounding it, coaling all the same managed to become the subject of a considerable number of commercial real-photo postcards. The ‘natives’ carried out the dirty work, Maltese coal importers joined the mega wealthy and the vessels were serviced without a whimper.

Ship coaling also enriched the Maltese language. To this day, we use the phrase għandu l-faħam miblul. Why?

Labourers devised ways to supplement mean incomes. Coal barges approaching the ships, generally open and overloaded, made it easy to flip some coals overboard. Again, the overfull wicker baskets the labourers balanced over their shoulders or on their heads while climbing the ladders or planks from barge to ship would ‘lose’ some coals to the sea in transit.

After the ship’s departure, divers would recover the coal from the seabed, dry the lumps to resell – wet coal: faħam miblul – something deceitful to hide. Clandestine business in pilfered and inferior damp coal turned into acceptable trade practice.

Mighty battleships were often photographed with funnels belching thick black smoke, a catastrophic pollutant. Perhaps they believed this reinforced the macho image of the war machines.

Construction of coal-fired ships waned during World War I, when oil fuel took over.

All photos from the author’s collection.