As a statesman, he had always kept one thought ahead of the thoughts of the neighbouring chiefs in the making of treaties and the granting of concessions.
And with his mind, still keenly alive, he had but just evolved a scheme whereby he might outwit Van Horn and get the better of the vast British Empire about which he guessed little and know less.
For Somo had a history.

It was that queer anomaly, a salt-water tribe that lived on the lagoon mainland where only bushmen were supposed to live.

Far back into the darkness of time, the folk-lore of Somo cast a glimmering light.

On a day, so far back that there was no way of estimating its distance, one, Somo, son of Loti, who was the chief of the island fortress of Umbo, had quarrelled with his father and fled from his wrath along with a dozen canoe-loads of young men.

For two monsoons they had engaged in an odyssey.