The Blue Cave

By W. E. Newton

WE were talking about the “Blue Lagoon” film, part of which has been taken at the Yasawas. And out of Mrs. Violet Langdale’s unique memory of her early days in Fiji, came this true story.

When Mrs. Langdale was about 16 — that would be nearly 60 years ago—she visited the Yasawas and explored the Blue Cave there. It is, she says, a sea cave under a towering cliff and was not easy of access. To get into it she had to be lowered about 20 feet, then a swim and a dive underneath a great over-hanging rock took her into the cave itself.

It was not a large cave, but the most completely beautiful that she had ever seen. Sitting on a rock ledge, she looked down into water as purely blue as a Grecian sky under the light that came in from the high open roof, and the classic groups of stalactites and stalag mites were tinted with pastels of all colours.

It was an Elysium of perfect beauty: and, in crude conflict with its remote en chantment, was a cross in the outer en trance leading on to a small strip of beach. It was a rough wooden cross, with stones piled in a high pyramid about it.

Here, obviously, was the mark of some tragedy. Back in the village, Mrs. Langdale made enquiries about it from everyone she met. But no one could tell her why or how the cross was placed there until, at last she came across an old Fijian who told her this story: ONE day, many years before, he had gone to the Blue Cave from the village. He smiled secretly when he, was asked how he got there from the village which was remote from the cave that could be reached only from the sea.

But when she pressed him he admitted that there was an underground passage

and that he was the only one on the Yasawas who knew of its existence.

When he reached the cave, he continued, he saw a vessel dropping anchor out side. It was a well-known American trad ing-vessel that used to bring timber and provisions to the settlers in the island group. He saw a life-boat leave the ship and come towards the cave. Hidden, he watched it approach.

In the life-boat were three men (one of them the captain of the trading vessel) and a young woman, the captain’s wife.

The boat pulled in to the cave strip and the young woman and one of the men, a handsome young fellow, were put off with one large Saratoga trunk, one small one and a few provisions. The young man was strained and silent; the young woman had her face buried in her hands, crying bitterly: while the Captain up braided them both. What he was saying was not understood by the old man watching the scene from his hiding place, but it was easy to tell that the Cap tain was in a great rage and that jealousy had provoked it.

Soon he got back into the life-boat and was rowed back to his ship, leaving his wife and the young man to their inevitable death from starvation anl thirst.

The old Fijian was too afraid to let Ifis presence there be known. He went back to the village through the underground passage and kept what he had seen to himself.

Once or twice, after that, unobserved by the lovers, he saw them at the cave, but he dared not seek any communica tion with them. The captain of the trad ing vessel was a man to be feared.

But some years after, when the cap tain no longer brought his ship to the island group, two other white traders came to the village and the old Fijian offered to show them something if they would go with him. Taking them by sea in a canoe to the cave entrance he showed them the skeletons of the hapless lovers, who had. unfortunately, not dis covered the secret passage for themselves.

The traders piled stones over the skeletons until thev were covered, and, making the cross, they placed it on the grave.

The Saratoga trunks were intact: and,, when the traders opened them they found the woman’s beautiful clothes in the large Saratoga and the man’s fine suits in the smaller one. They were mildewed but untouched by water or insects.

Keeping the jewels, the traders took the trunks into the village and there dis tributed the clothes among the people.

The girls disported themselves proudly and happily in the gay glory of the colourful gowns and pretty shoes, and the men—the old Fiiian sighed at the memory of the splendid suit he had worn for years!

Naturally, Mrs. Langdale begged to be shown the secret passage leading from the sea to the village, but the old man could not be cajoled into revealing it. He died still holding its secret safe. And as far as Mrs. Langdale knows, no others had ever discovered the passage for them selves.