MALTA: THE HALTING PLACE OF NATIONS 



First Account of Remarkable Prehistoric Tombs and 

 Temples Recently Unearthed on the Island 



By William Arthur Griffiths 



Original photographs by courtesy of R. Ellis and Lieutenant Tickle 



MALTA is but a tiny island, less 

 than a hundred square miles in 

 area, with no special beauty of 

 hill or dale, almost without tree or stream, 

 yet by the inscrutable decree of Destiny 

 it has been called to fill a great role in 

 the history of the world. 



Situated in the narrowest part of the 

 Mediterranean, it lies in the direct route 

 from Gibraltar to Port Said or the Dar- 

 danelles, midway from Italy to its turbu- 

 lent colony of Tripoli and from the 

 French territory of Tunis to their watch- 

 tower at Corfu, at the mouth of the 

 Adriatic (see map, page 449). " 



Nature has thus ordained that Malta, 

 by reason of its position, should form a 

 center from which naval activity in this 

 sea can be controlled. 



"Some are born great . . . and 

 some have greatness thrust upon them." 

 It is to the latter class that Malta be- 

 longs. 



Since the outbreak of the World War, 

 Malta has resembled the Tower of Babel 

 after the confusion of tongues. In its 

 harbors transport after transport has 

 anchored, each crowded with troops of 

 varied race — English, Scot, Irish, Welsh, 

 Australian, New Zealander, French, Ital- 

 ian, Portuguese, Russian, Japanese ma- 

 rine, Serbian, Montenegrin, Greek, Cre- 

 tan, Hindu, Bengali, Gurkha, Pathan, 

 men from Ceylon and the Straits, Maori, 

 Chinese, Annamite, Tonquinese, Egyp- 

 tian, Moor, Arab, Tunisian, Congolese, 

 Senegalese, Zouave and Chasseur d'Af ric, 

 gay Bersaglieri — in seemingly unending 

 procession. 



Here also came, as prisoners, Aus- 

 trians, Bulgars, Turks, and Germans, 

 some from the famous Emden. 



Malta was indeed a Haven of Refuge, 

 and all too soon they passed onward, 

 some to find a watery grave, many more 

 to die by murderous poison gas, by fiery 



burning oil, or by more merciful shot and 

 shell. 



Soon Malta became the Island of Hos- 

 pitals, where the sick and maimed, the 

 fever-stricken and blind, found such rest 

 and comfort as this world can give. Ere 

 long this privilege was denied, as the 

 enemy submarine spared neither hospital 

 nor passenger ship, woman nor child. 



"a place of cursed steps" 



Malta has thus been the halting place 

 of many nations, and one wonders what 

 thought or message it has given to them. 

 "A place of cursed steps," was Byron's 

 unpoetic tribute. "Bells, yells, and 

 smells" is the terse but graphic descrip- 

 tion of the British bluejacket, while to 

 the majority of visitors it is merely a 

 treeless waste of arid stone, almost in- 

 candescent in the blinding glare of the 

 summer sun. 



In each of these descriptive phrases 

 there is much truth ; yet to those who 

 peer below the surface Malta is one of 

 the treasure-houses of the world, where 

 the history of mankind can be read in 

 lasting tables of stone. 



Untold ages ago coral insects laid the 

 early foundations of Malta, their work 

 being afterward submerged to a great 

 depth. Memorials of the latter period 

 are found in the beautifully enameled 

 teeth, about six inches long, of sharks 

 now extinct, identical with those dredged 

 up in the deepest part of the Pacific Ocean 

 by the Challenger deep-sea expedition. 



Slowly the land rose again, receiving 

 the soil and debris from the fresh-water 

 river of some continent now unknown. 

 Thus were formed the marl beds to which 

 Malta owes her means of maintaining 

 life, as without this layer of clay the rain 

 would sink and be lost. Next came a 

 layer of sand, and again the coral insect 

 brought the land to the surface of the 



445 



