Errol Flynn's Pranks

in New Guinea

Old Territorian had dropped in for a chat; and something came up about the credit system in NG, and the ways in which men who had had a run of bad luck occasionally

slipped out of the Territory without

seeing the all-financing storekeeper.

rpHE OT became reminiscent. “I saw J. a film last night,” he said, “and the star was Errol Flynn, now one of the world’s headliners. Reminded me of the days when Errol was raising the wind in any old way in New Guinea.” He sketched, for me, a brief history of Errol Flynn’s career in the Western Pacific.

Errol Flynn apparently had many ad ventures in Papua and New Guinea; but most of the Old Timer’s memories were concerned with incidents of finance. The embryo film star was everlastingly broke, and his ways of filling the exchequer were—to put it mildly—ingenious.

There was an occasion when Errol was about to leave Port Moresby; and the news of his impending departure dis turbed a storekeeper who had trusted not wisely, but too well. He sent a boy hur riedly to the steamer, with a bill for Mr.

Flynn, and a demand for attention. Errol wrote on the back of the bill; “Dear Tom—l am, willing to forget this, if you are,” and returned It to the trader.

On another occasion, Errol was run ning a cutter out of Kavieng—trading, recruiting, any old thing. On Djaul Island, at that time, there was a certain Captain Mac—a very tough old lad. who trusted no one, and was done unto by others as he would do by them. Captain Mac wanted urgently to go to Rabaul,

and so he sent across for “Captain” Flynn and his cutter. Flynn was tough, too.

He had had transactions with Captain Mac before. When he arrived, he refused to take Captain Mac aboard until Cap tain Mac signed a document, expressing confidence in his powers of navigation, and an order on Burns Philp (RabauL for £25. Captain Mac » agreed, with mental reservations. Twenty-five pounds was extortionate.

Flynn got his cutter into Simpsonhaven very early in the morning; had himself rowed ashore in the cutter’s only dinghy; waited on the BP doorstep until opening, and collected his £25; and was then rowed back to the cutter and a raging Captain Mac.

Errol Flynn’s departure from the Morobe district of New Guinea was quietly arranged, and not attended by fond farewells. He owed some money at the hotel, and he left there, as a sort of security, a large and heavy suitcase.

When, in the course of time, it appeared that Errol had gone to China, or some where, and was not coming back, the hotel-owner, Mrs. Allen Innes, opened the suitcase. The weight was given to it by half-a-dozen of the hotel’s best sheets.

The only treasure in the case was a diary, written by Flynn at nights, when he was away recruiting in the New Guinea jungle. It contained the young man’s reflections, fag-end memories of poems, and so forth. And it was not regarded as a treasure until Errol Flynn became world-famous.

When Errol Flynn faded out of New Guinea, he left behind an unpaid bill for dental service. When his name made the highlights, the dentist wrote him a tender letter, and sent it. with his state ment of account, to Hollywood. A reply duly arrived: “Dear Bill—l was glad to hear from you, and have word of the

boys—nice of you to keep me green In your memory . . . According to recent advices, my autograph now is valuable.

I am happy to send it to you as some return for services rendered. All the best from, yours truly, ERROL FLYNN.”

R.W.R.