

This etext was prepared by Christopher Hapka, Sunnyvale, California

Digital Editor's Note:

Italics are represented in the text with _underscores_.  In the
interest of readability, where italics are used to indicate
non-English words, I have silently omitted them or replaced them
with quotation marks.

Haggard's spelling, especially of Zulu terms, is wildly inconsistent;
likewise his capitalization, especially of Zulu terms.  For example,
Masapo is the chief of the Amansomi until chapter IX; thereafter his
tribe is consistently referred to as the "Amasomi".  In general, I
have retained Haggard's spellings.  Some obvious spelling mistakes
(as "Quartermain" for "Quatermain" in one instance) have been silently
corrected.

Some diacriticals in the text could not be represented in 7-bit
ASCII text and have been approximated here.  To restore all
formatting, do the following throughout the text:

Replace the pound symbol "#" with the English pound symbol
Place an acute accent over the "e" in "Nombe", "acces",
  "Amawombe", and "fiance", and the first "e" in "Bayete"
Place a circumflex accent over the "u" in "Harut" and
  the "o" in "role"
Place a grave accent over the "a" and circumflex accents
  over the first and third "e" in "tete-a-tete"
Replace "oe" with the oe ligature in "manoeuvring"





FINISHED

by H. RIDER HAGGARD




DEDICATION


Ditchingham House, Norfolk,
May, 1917.


My dear Roosevelt,--

You are, I know, a lover of old Allan Quatermain, one who
understands and appreciates the views of life and the aspirations
that underlie and inform his manifold adventures.

Therefore, since such is your kind wish, in memory of certain
hours wherein both of us found true refreshment and companionship
amidst the terrible anxieties of the World's journey along that
bloodstained road by which alone, so it is decreed, the pure Peak
of Freedom must be scaled, I dedicate to you this tale telling of
the events and experiences of my youth.

Your sincere friend,

H. RIDER HAGGARD.


To COLONEL THEODORE ROOSEVELT,
Sagamore Hill, U.S.A.



CONTENTS:

I. ALLAN QUATERMAIN MEETS ANSCOMBE
II. MR. MARNHAM
III. THE HUNTERS HUNTED
IV. DOCTOR RODD
V. A GAME OF CARDS
VI. MISS HEDA
VII. THE STOEP
VIII. RODD'S LAST CARD
IX. FLIGHT
X. NOMBE
XI. ZIKALI
XII. TRAPPED
XIII. CETEWAYO
XIV. THE VALLEY OF BONES
XV. THE GREAT COUNCIL
XVI. WAR
XVII. KAATJE BRINGS NEWS
XVIII. ISANDHLWANA
XIX. ALLAN AWAKES
XX. HEDA'S TALE
XXI. THE KING VISITS ZIKALI
XXII. THE MADNESS OF NOMBE
XXIII. THE KRAAL JAZI



INTRODUCTION





This book, although it can be read as a separate story, is the
third of the trilogy of which _Marie_ and _Child of Storm_ are
the first two parts.  It narrates, through the mouth of Allan
Quatermain, the consummation of the vengeance of the wizard
Zikali, alias The Opener of Roads, or
"The-Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born," upon the royal Zulu
House of which Senzangacona was the founder and Cetewayo, our
enemy in the war of 1879, the last representative who ruled as a
king.  Although, of course, much is added for the purposes of
romance, the main facts of history have been adhered to with some
faithfulness.

With these the author became acquainted a full generation ago,
Fortune having given him a part in the events that preceded the
Zulu War.  Indeed he believes that with the exception of Colonel
Phillips, who, as a lieutenant, commanded the famous escort of
twenty-five policemen, he is now the last survivor of the party
who, under the leadership of Sir Theophilus Shepstone, or Sompseu
as the natives called him from the Zambesi to the Cape, were
concerned in the annexation of the Transvaal in 1877.  Recently
also he has been called upon as a public servant to revisit South
Africa and took the opportunity to travel through Zululand, in
order to refresh his knowledge of its people, their customs,
their mysteries, and better to prepare himself for the writing of
this book.  Here he stood by the fatal Mount of Isandhlawana
which, with some details of the battle, is described in these
pages, among the graves of many whom once he knew, Colonels
Durnford, Pulleine and others.  Also he saw Ulundi's plain where
the traces of war still lie thick, and talked with an old Zulu
who fought in the attacking Impi until it crumbled away before
the fire of the Martinis and shells from the heavy guns.  The
battle of the Wall of Sheet Iron, he called it, perhaps because
of the flashing fence of bayonets.

Lastly, in a mealie patch, he found the spot on which the corn
grows thin, where King Cetewayo breathed his last, poisoned
without a doubt, as he has known for many years.  It is to be
seen at the Kraal, ominously named Jazi or, translated into
English, "Finished."  The tragedy happened long ago, but even now
the quiet-faced Zulu who told the tale, looking about him as he
spoke, would not tell it all.  "Yes, as a young man, I was there
at the time, but I do not remember, I do not know--the Inkoosi
Lundanda (i.e., this Chronicler, so named in past years by the
Zulus) stands on the very place where the king died--His bed was
on the left of the door-hole of the hut," and so forth, but no
certain word as to the exact reason of this sudden and violent
death or by whom it was caused.  The name of that destroyer of a
king is for ever hid.

In this story the actual and immediate cause of the declaration
of war against the British Power is represented as the appearance
of the white goddess, or spirit of the Zulus, who is, or was,
called Nomkubulwana or Inkosazana-y-Zulu, i.e., the Princess of
Heaven.  The exact circumstances which led to this decision are
not now ascertainable, though it is known that there was much
difference of opinion among the Zulu Indunas or great captains,
and like the writer, many believe that King Cetewayo was
personally averse to war against his old allies, the English.

The author's friend, Mr. J. Y. Gibson, at present the
representative of the Union in Zululand, writes in his admirable
history: "There was a good deal of discussion amongst the
assembled Zulu notables at Ulundi, but of how counsel was swayed
it is not possible now to obtain a reliable account."

The late Mr. F. B. Fynney, F.R.G.S., who also was his friend in
days bygone, and, with the exception of Sir Theophilus Shepstone,
who perhaps knew the Zulus and their language better than any
other official of his day, speaking of this fabled goddess wrote:
"I remember that just before the Zulu War Nomkubulwana appeared
revealing something or other which had a great effect throughout
the land."

The use made of this strange traditional Guardian Angel in the
following tale is not therefore an unsupported flight of fancy,
and the same may be said of many other incidents, such as the
account of the reading of the proclamation annexing the Transvaal
at Pretoria in 1877, which have been introduced to serve the
purposes of the romance.

Mameena, who haunts its pages, in a literal as well as figurative
sense, is the heroine of _Child of Storm,_ a book to which she
gave her own poetic title.


1916.
THE AUTHOR.



CHAPTER I




ALLAN QUATERMAIN MEETS ANSCOMBE





You, my friend, into whose hand, if you live, I hope these
scribblings of mine will pass one day, must well remember the
12th of April of the year 1877 at Pretoria.  Sir Theophilus
Shepstone, or Sompseu, for I prefer to call him by his native
name, having investigated the affairs of the Transvaal for a
couple of months or so, had made up his mind to annex that
country to the British Crown.  It so happened that I, Allan
Quatermain, had been on a shooting and trading expedition at the
back of the Lydenburg district where there was plenty of game to
be killed in those times.  Hearing that great events were toward
I made up my mind, curiosity being one of my weaknesses, to come
round by Pretoria, which after all was not very far out of my
way, instead of striking straight back to Natal.  As it chanced I
reached the town about eleven o'clock on this very morning of the
12th of April and, trekking to the Church Square, proceeded to
outspan there, as was usual in the Seventies.  The place was full
of people, English and Dutch together, and I noted that the
former seemed very elated and were talking excitedly, while the
latter for the most part appeared to be sullen and depressed.

Presently I saw a man I knew, a tall, dark man, a very good
fellow and an excellent shot, named Robinson.  By the way you
knew him also, for afterwards he was an officer in the Pretoria
Horse at the time of the Zulu war, the corps in which you held a
commission.  I called to him and asked what was up.

"A good deal, Allan," he said as he shook my hand.  "Indeed we
shall be lucky if all isn't up, or something like it, before the
day is over.  Shepstone's Proclamation annexing the Transvaal is
going to be read presently."

I whistled and asked,

"How will our Bo