Summary

Portrait of John Galsworthy John Galsworthy From The Four Winds — The Capitulation of Jean Jacques (1897)

Now, if one desires to see the most perfect picture in the world, one may look upon it—if one goes in the evening to the Cathedral at Noumea, and, standing at the eastern end, looks down the aisle to the west. There, framed in the grey walls, hangs a picture as of heaven—not, indeed, of canvas and paint, but of the sea and the air and the earth, as a man sees them when the glow of a setting sun is flooding and filling all with an unearthly glory of light.
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Portrait of John Galsworthy John Galsworthy From The Four Winds — The Capitulation of Jean Jacques (1897)

Now and then Jacques looked away at the sea gleaming brilliant and free, with a yearning look in his eyes that told more than a thousand words, and from it he looked back again at the flushed cheek of the babe in his comrade's arms, weighing and weighing all that the sea meant to him against the pangs of that helpless innocent. Pierre sat immovable; cramp had possession of his limbs, but he sat still for his life; if the child slept through the heat of the day they were saved—what was dearer than life was theirs—if she waked, he dared not think.
Source: Wikisource

Portrait of John Galsworthy John Galsworthy From The Four Winds — The Capitulation of Jean Jacques (1897)

The men looked at each other with dismay in faces haggard with the strain of sleepless nights and dread anxiety.
'Must we then fail after all?' said Jacques, more to himself than to his comrade. He turned his eyes, gloomy with a bitter resentment at the rising sun.
'Twenty hours—only twenty hours—and three lives hanging in the balance. I will not fail; the child shall live, and so shall we.'
'Water,' said Pierre, and without another word took off his hat and fitted the rope through the brim to make a bucket.
Source: Wikisource

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