The Good Work of Late

W. W. Bolton A Tribute by an Old Friend

THE passing of Mr. W. W. Bolton, MA, of Papeete, (reported in the Sep tember PIM) will have come as a shock to his many friends in the Pacific (writes Eric Ramsden, from New Ztealand, to the editor). Mr. Bolton’s particular field in Tahitian historical research was the Mission period. To his task he brought unique gifts of scholarship: naturally, he was proud of his Cambridge degree. At the University he also dis tinguished himself as an athlete.

On one occasion, he told me, he approached the late Sir Maui Pomare, then Minister in charge of the Cook Islands, for the post of schoolmaster at Niue. “What are your qualifications?” inquired the Maori Minister. The latter’s degree, by the way, was American. “MA of Cambridge,” replied the applicant.

Recalling the incident years later when we met in Tahiti he remarked: “That satisfied him. I obtained the job!”

I doubt if there is anyone else who possessed such knowledge as did Mr.

Bolton of the early LMS missionaries and their often tragic histories. It was he who sought out, at much personal effort, the resting places of several of them.

It was due to him that the mother Society, in England, sent out appropriately worded tombstone’s. In several instances all knowledge of the burial plots had been lost.

It was Mr. Bolton we must thank for rediscovering the site of the first church at Matavai. Well do I recall the day he took me. in the company of Charles B. Nordhoff, the American novelist, to that spot, and pointed to the only sur viving stone.

On another occasion, we visited the grave of Henry Nott. The way in which he scrambled over the wall that sur

rounded the adjacent family plot of the Royal Pomares occasioned, I was told later, some consternation in the district.

Probably his action was accounted that of an eccentric Englishman. Anyway, the fact remains that he had friends in all parts of the island.

STERN, austere, something of a recluse, beneath a typically British exterior, he was uncompromising in his judgments. Historical accuracy was a passion with him. Nothing that he wrote was ever slipshod. Social life had no appeal for him: he was not a club man.

In a small community where, on occasion, international rivalries are apt to prevail, he kept himself aloof from factions. To the French he was invariably courteous.

Nevertheless, he was British to the back bone. With his background he could not have been otherwise.

For many years, he worked on a history of Tahiti. I do hope that an opportunity will be provided for the publication of his manuscript. There were, naturally, difficulties in the way of its appearance during his lifetime. Mr. Bolton never forgot that he was the guest of the French in Tahiti.

The island, its climate, and its way of living, suited him: he desired not only to live there but to die there. The gods were kind to him. To the end he was vouchsafed good health, and he retained his intellectual interests. Beyond that he asked nothing of life. mo a friend with similar tastes in 1 research he was, naturally, a posi tive mine of information. It was a delight to walk with him, to share his companionship.

One day he took me to Pauranie, the cemetery outside Papeete. There he told me the story of a former British airman, once the boon companion of Robert Keable, the English writer. The plot in which he rested had not been purchased outright. It is the French practice, after

a few years, if the money is not forth coming, to remove the body and convert it into manure. Which, after all, is quite a sensible procedure—but something that is, nevertheless, somewhat repugnant to many British folk. Mr. Bolton was one oi those British nationals resident in Tahiti who was endeavouring to raise the several hundred francs necessary so that the bones of his compatriot could rest undisturbed.

Later, we clambered up a grassy knoll, not far from the elaborate memorial to the Abbe Rougier, who, like my old friend, was also a scholar.

“That is where I shall rest.” said Mr.

Bolton, pointing with his walking stick.

The plot had not only been reserved, but paid for.

Tt is a lovely spot. Below, masses of rich, tropical vegitation, and the Bay of Papeete, with Motu-uta, once the island retreat of Queen Pomare IV, silhouetted in the setting sun against the rugged, mountainous outline of Moorea. A strange resting place, some may think, for an English scholar and gentleman. But who will deny him the right of selection?

There, I trust, he will rest in peace, in the warmth of the Tahitian sunshine, a canopy of blue sky above, and below on the reef the murmur of the Pacific that he loved, to lull him to sleep.

The New Zealand corvette, HMNZS Arbutus, which is at present on a cruise covering New Zealand Islands Territories in the Pacific, was expected to arrive in Suva on November 23.

The “Monterey” which called at Suva, Fiji, on October 11, lifted 954 cases of bananas, 1,025 cases of pineapples, 44 sacks of peanuts, 320 sacks of coconut meal and 310 sacks of rice-bran for New Zealand and 457 sacks of green ginger for Australia.