He passed on to the door of his hut. But he paused on the way. As he stepped out into the open the wreck of the _Limpet_ came into his view. In a moment he had forgotten everything else as the memory of his last visit to the derelict came back to him.
Somehow the whole episode had been swept out of his mind by the text of the message he had received from his own people. It could not have been otherwise in a man of his temper and purpose. He was at the threshold of a tremendous achievement which years of infinite labour had brought to his hand. Peter Loby was the oil man, the expert creature who dealt in drills, and pipes, and the immediate localities for his operations. But it was McLagan whose knowledge and vision searched the territory. It was he who had first realised the possibilities of that black belt of territory which he had sent Loby to explore. His whole horizon was bounded by such prospecting, just as Peter’s was by oil. Yes, the news that these men of finance were ready to put themselves and their money behind his work had completely cleared his healthy brain of the cobwebs which his last visit to the _Limpet_ had woven there.
Now, however, it was different. Just as the other had overwhelmed every other consideration, the sight of the derelict flung memory back upon those things which are never failing in their grip on human imagination.
He stood gazing down at the queer object and every vestige of his earlier enthusiasm for the work in hand faded out of his unsmiling eyes. He had forgotten. And now he remembered. And so he stood there, for all he was ready enough for the cooking food which Sasa had prepared, and which smelt so appetising on the still air.
The sun sank lower upon the horizon. It dipped into the sea and lit a broad path across the bosom of the waters. The circling gulls screamed out their night chorus before perching for their rest. And all the time, deeper and more surely, the fascination of that derelict below took hold of him.
At last McLagan stirred. He unfastened the pea-jacket it was his habit to wear. Then he raised one hand and the palm of it was passed across his forehead thrusting back his cap in its gesture. He turned and called over his shoulder.