Hunting with Hemingway by Hilary Hemingway

Author:Hilary Hemingway
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781626815599
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2014-12-15T16:00:00+00:00

“Excuse me, but did Ernest ever offer a reason why he didn’t shoot the attacking dragon?” the professor inquired.

“I wanted to ask him—but the moment for questions had passed. What was done was done.”

“Oh, but really. Even if you were temporarily deranged from pain, you wanted to know. Why not ask?”

“You have to understand, I know he felt bad. But he would not have admitted it. Remember Papa’s saying: ‘If you’re any damn good, everything is your own damn fault.’ Well, balls—I should have taken my gun. I should have been more careful. Life Lesson 101: Never believe in anyone more than in yourself. From that day forward, I never forgot it.”

Papa let me rest while he and the others stepped outside our hut to the porch. I remember that the medicine man lingered for a minute looking over my wounds, and then he too left.

Outside, I overheard Papa say, “Do whatever it takes to get that boat back here at first light.” He then went on with telling the natives not to waste the kill. And to give us some meat for dinner and the rest for the settlement. We would use only the swine’s head and guts for bait.

I know most was understood because I did get a pork dinner. The guide then set out the pig’s head, bones, and entrails as bait. He tied two small hand bells to the bucket and placed it some twenty-five yards away from our hut in the tree line.

An hour after we ate, I sat with Papa and Martha. We tried to joke about the accident. I remember Papa looking over at the Mannlicher and saying it was a very unlucky gun. Too heavy to carry well and if I had been shooting with a lighter rifle, like a Springfield, I would have killed the dragon on its charge. True or not, I wanted to believe it.

That evening I drank more than my fair share of the gin, but that was Papa’s intention. I finally fell asleep. We had agreed to keep the lantern burning all night, in case we needed to see what was going on, or some other emergency occurred.

Papa and Martha had returned to the porch. She held our only flashlight, while Papa lay the heavy rifle across his lap. I don’t know just what time it was when I awoke. I could see their silhouettes on the porch, Martha’s head on Papa’s shoulder, his arm around her waist. They looked very relaxed, very happy. Hard to believe they would be divorced in just a couple of years.

I think Marty was at her best when she was covering wars. She was so much her own woman. She had already had one book published before ever meeting Papa. When I read it, I was taken by her descriptions, some graphic stuff on man’s inhumanity to man. I know Papa and Martha shared the belief that writers should do what they can for human rights and dignity. That was tested when they covered the civil war in Spain.

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