From Papua

Farewell To Henry

Dexter

Another Superannuated Youth From Papua

Several weeks ago, I received a letter from Henry Dexter, old-time store keeper, of Milne Bay, Eastern Papua.

“I have sold out” said Mr. Dexter, “and

I am going to live in England. I am 69 and the doctor says I am finished with the tropics. I shall come to Sydney to catch the steamer. You can bill the event as the arrival of an ancient Trader Horn of Papua.”

Thus, I formed my mental picture of Dexter—a venerable gentleman, with shaky knees and a beard.

A few days ago, there entered my office a tall, lean, alert, healthy-looking man, with a tanned face, black eyebrows, close clipped moustache, and thick white hair.

He said his name was Dexter.

I stared at him, and then saw daylight.

“Oh,” I said, intelligently. “I suppose you’ve come to meet your father!”

He seemed surprised. “My father is dead—died not long ago at the age of 92,” he said.

“Good Lord!” I exclaimed. “Are you Henry Dexter?” And he admitted it.

He looked not a day older than 48 or 50; and he disclosed the quick expression and mental alertness of an even younger man.

These men from the Islands are always upsetting my conception of how' middle aged gentlemen should appear. Papuan public servants are the worst offenders.

They drop in here to announce that they have retired on superannuation—jolly fel lows, sans baldness and sans belly, still in love with life. Turnbull, late Papuan architect and present novelist, is the latest offender. He has retired, super annuated, to Australia and settled in Cronulla. On present appearances, he will be writing books for the next 40 years.

Dexter entertained me for hours with merry tales of pearl-fishers and mission aries, rogues and gold seekers and natives —all the colorful history that has wrap ped beautiful Samarai in its cloak of ro mance. Samarai, by the way, gave him a wonderful send-off. Dexter is one of the kindest men who ever traded in gold dust and copra.

He left for “Home” by the Moldavia on November 2. He says he will live to his father’s age, and will spend the next quarter century sailing a boat on the Solent. There is big money waiting for the publisher who can get hold of him, and put his astonishing South Seas mem ories into a book, or books.—R.W.R.

The vessel “Carisso,” from Thursday Island, arrived in Port Moresby on Sep tember 28. After discharging petroleum products for the local Vacuum depot, she sailed on September 30 for Rabaul, New Guinea.

Henry Dexter.