Arriving on the little island of St. Eustatius is like traveling back in time. I step out of the eighteen-seat Twin Otter into Roosevelt, one of the quirkiest airports I’ve ever seen. There are no lines at customs, and a smiling man hands my luggage to me through a hole in the wall – baggage claim Statia-style. Five minutes later and I’m on the street, sidestepping four cows trimming grass by the sidewalk. I already like it.

St. Eustatius, or Statia, once known as the trading center of the world, used to attract thousands of merchant ships to its shores each year. In the 17th and 18th centuries Dutch merchants brought unique pentagonal blue glass beads from Amsterdam to the Statia’s marketplace. These beads were used to acquire slaves from western Africa, who then later used the beads as currency on the island, and even sometimes to buy their freedom.

Strangely enough, these same beads now beckon divers, not to Statia’s markets, but to its surrounding waters. Legend has it that after emancipation slaves threw their blue beads into the sea to celebrate their freedom. Another theory says a ship carrying beads sank, spilling them across the ocean floor. People say that at Blue Bead Hole, you don’t find the bead; the bead finds you. And once a bead finds you, you belong to Statia and are destined to return again and again to the sleepy island.

Statia’s landscape is dominated by a volcano, which cradles an evergreen rainforest in its crater. Now dormant, the volcano’s aged underwater lava flows are overgrown with coral and sponges, creating unique dive sites divided by steep walls and littered with huge wrecks including the famous 100-meter-long Charles Brown. Statia’s marine park status has allowed marine life to flourish, making sharks and turtles a common sight. But it’s not big animals or lava flows that’s got me excited; I’ve got what the locals call blue bead fever.

As we dive into Blue Bead Hole the only thing I feel is my raised heartbeat. My first impression is that there are fewer coral reefs here than in the lava flows in the south of the island. Later, I learn that this is what made Statia’s harbor so popular with merchants; they could safely anchor their ships close to shore here. Now the only anchors allowed are the 200 remnants scattered on the seafloor that remind divers of Statia’s rich and turbulent history.

Swimming along the site’s sands, we see hovering yellow-headed jawfish, retreating tail-first into their holes as we approach. A few minutes later I spot a sailfish blenny showing off his impressive dorsal fin to warn the males and woo the females. Queen conch, huge southern stingrays and flying gurnards also make an appearance. As entertaining as these creatures are, we are on a mission — the beads are waiting.

In my search I sift through pieces of the past: pottery, old wine bottles and even a small swivel gun. These artifacts are protected and can’t be removed, but the beads are for the taking. Every time I glimpse a bit of blue my heart beats faster. Then, half an hour into the dive, a bead, after surviving three hundred years and constantly shifting sands, finds me. I hear myself cheering through my regulator.

I’m still not cured from my blue bead fever. In fact, it might be getting worse. I’m not sure if it’s the curse’s doing, but I will certainly return to Statia.

CTA: scubaqua.com