Għajn Ħadid Tower was the first of a series of 13 towers to be built by Grand Master De Redin. Perched on top of a cliff overlooking Mġiebaħ Bay, the tower commanded an uninterrupted view stretching from l-Aħrax tal-Mellieħa to St Paul’s Island.

Alongside the other coastal towers, it formed part of a chain of communication whereby alarms of approaching corsair or enemy vessels could be relayed from one post to another until the signal reached Valletta. Unfortunately, the tower collapsed because of the tremors caused by the 1856 earthquake originating in Crete.

Some simple, yet, interesting structures have survived the tower’s ruins but they are in a precarious state and are at risk of imminent collapse.

The main edifice that accompanies the tower’s remains is a small militia rural-style room. Originally, this room was roofed by a series of bridging stone slabs (xorok) resting upon five wooden beams. At some point, the roof of this room collapsed, leaving only the four walls that delineate its form.

The room features a single doorway with a window situated on the opposite wall. On either side of the window, there are recessed wall storage niches, similar to the ‘armarji’ found in traditional Maltese buildings. 

In Selmun − A Story of Love, Paul P. Borg presents intriguing insights into Għajn Ħadid and its environs. Borg recounts how Cesare Vassallo, a lawyer who resided in Selmun Palace for a few weeks in September 1856, was surprised that the tower at Għajn Ħadid had not yet collapsed. Despite the extensive cracks and crevices in the surrounding terrain, the tower remained standing.

Nonetheless, Vassallo’s surprise was short-lived, as his foresight proved accurate a month later when the upper floor of the tower succumbed to the tremors triggered by the above-mentioned earthquake.

In 1885, 29 years after the collapse of Għajn Ħadid Tower, the commemorative plaque that once crowned the tower’s entrance was removed from the tower’s ruins and affixed to the nearby militia rural-style room by the Department of Public Works.

Another plaque marking the transfer of the original plaque and providing details about the earthquake that resulted in the tower’s destruction was also installed onto the same room. A square-shaped recess on the room’s southern wall likely denoted the spot where the two plaques were affixed.

In 1977, both plaques were eventually relocated and installed in a public garden in the village of Mellieħa.

I earnestly hope that the pertinent authorities will take action to safeguard this heritage

Unfortunately, during my recent visit to the site, I was dismayed to note the collapse of the outer layer of the southern wall of this room. Much like Vassallo, when I saw the partially collapsed wall and the numerous cracks and crevices in the other three walls, I was perplexed that the room was still standing!

This building holds significant historical and architectural value. At first glance, it appears to be a modest rustic rural building. However, distinctive features, such as two horizontal loopholes in the northern and southern walls and the inclusion of an infantry parapet defending this room’s sole entrance, sets it apart from conventional rustic constructions and hints at its military origins.

Borg’s book includes a plan from Mgr A. Mifsud’s unpublished work where this room is labelled as guarda costa. Additionally, in Mifsud’s paper La Milizia e le Torri Antiche di Malta, this same room is referred to as “camera da guarda coste”. This system of guarda coste, also known as ‘maħras’, served as a form of early warning system against corsair incursions since the Middle Ages. This could imply that this room may predate Għajn Ħadid Tower.

However, complicating the situation, Stephen C. Spiteri, in his paper Guarding Against Contagion, suggests that, while the construction methods employed in the militia rural-style room typically point to an 18th-century or earlier structure, it is important to consider that the building style remained relatively consistent into the first half of the 19th century.

Consequently, drawing definite conclusions about the true origin and purpose of this room remains challenging due to the scarcity of available information and the apparent absence of any other known surviving examples.

Furthermore, in this paper, Spiteri delves further into Mifsud’s plan, offering descriptions of the structures constituting the complex that surrounds Għajn Ħadid Tower.

Alongside the intriguing militia rural-style room, which is the main focus of this article, there once existed a smaller sentry room featuring three vision slits and an open staircase, presumably leading to the sentry room’s roof. Unfortunately, this room has been demolished with only its base remaining.

The complex also included various animal pens enclosed by low rubble walls, a small cooking hut and a gabinetto (toilet). A careful examination of the site also reveals the existence of a well.

Għajn Ħadid Tower was situated off the beaten track (to some extent, even nowadays), making it difficult to access and resupply such an outpost. This complex of structures stands as a testament to the outpost’s self-sufficiency.

The research conducted by the aforementioned individuals highlights the significance of this deteriorating structure. Moreover, the site has gained popularity, as indicated by several photos capturing the surrounding landscapes and selfies featuring the view from the militia room’s window as a backdrop. These images are frequently shared on social media by both locals and tourists.

Hence, I believe that preserving and restoring this building is imperative, not only because it poses a danger to passers-by in its current state but also due to its unique characteristics, given that no other Hospitaller tower bears such an arrangement.

I earnestly hope that the pertinent authorities will take action to safeguard this heritage before it succumbs to the inevitable passage of time, ultimately being reduced to nothing more than a heap of stones.