Spy in a Little Black Dress - By Maxine Kenneth Page 0,106

a darkness in Hemingway’s psyche, and this darkness disturbed his otherwise confident demeanor.

Jackie also knew that Papa was playing a kind of trick on her. She had once read that in order to get soldiers to volunteer for a particularly dangerous artillery position, Napoléon had posted a sign that read, “This battery is manned by the bravest soldiers in the army.” Apparently it worked for Napoléon, for he couldn’t keep his men away from that suicidal battery.

Despite her foreknowledge, it looked like the ploy was going to work again here, because Jackie climbed over the stern of Pilar and into the life raft, which began to bob up and down in the water as it adjusted to her weight. Jackie quickly sat and got her bearings. As she looked up, she saw Papa holding the fishing reel whose line was attached to the life raft. He looked down at her and whispered, “Godspeed, daughter. I’ll see you in a little while.”

Papa stood there, looking over the stern as he paid out the fishing line from the reel, and the life raft slowly began to drift away from Pilar. Jackie sat in the raft and watched as the fog bank lifted and the running lights of the fishing boat could be seen receding into the distance.

They were soon joined by a second set of running lights, obviously belonging to the Cuban patrol boat. It looked like Jackie had gotten off Pilar in the proverbial nick of time. Now all she had to worry about was that the moon, once again ducking behind the clouds, might put in another appearance at any moment, illuminating her, and that she was not far enough away and would be spotted by the patrol boat’s searchlight if it should turn in her direction.

From this vantage point, she watched breathlessly as the running lights of the Cuban patrol boat circled around the now stationary running lights of Pilar. Then these running lights stopped too, and Jackie knew that Papa’s fishing boat was about to be boarded. She hoped he had put away that silly BAR; it could only get him hurt.

Suddenly, the searchlight from the patrol boat stabbed out through the night. Jackie instinctively ducked and peered over the edge of the life raft. But the searchlight passed harmlessly overhead as it continued its circuit of the surrounding ocean, and she felt safe once more.

The life raft continued to drift away from the two stationary boats, whose running lights grew smaller and smaller until they were no larger than the stars that dotted the night sky of the Atlantic. Jackie began to get a very bad feeling. Surely, at some point, the lights should have stopped receding and remained fixed. Something must have gone wrong. The line must have come loose from the davit. Or maybe it had been spliced in two by the patrol boat’s propeller. Whatever the case, she felt certain that she was no longer attached to Pilar and was now drifting through the Atlantic.

Jackie started to panic. She was afraid of being all alone in this ocean, afraid that Papa had miscalculated how easy it was to get back to the U.S., afraid that the life raft would slip past the PBY that was sure to come out searching for her and she would die of starvation or lack of water before she encountered land.

Her first instinct was to call out for help, but she just as quickly stifled herself; that would only bring the Cuban patrol boat to her. Her second instinct was to grab a paddle and try to row her way back to Pilar. But then she would surely be spotted by the patrol boat too. Easy, Jackie, she told herself, you’re letting your imagination get the better of you. She talked herself into remaining calm, weighing her options and taking things one step at a time. That was the only way to stay sane in this kind of situation.

An unexpected thought came to her. Jack Kennedy was a sailor. Boy, would she have a story for him the next time they saw each other. And then she realized that this was a top secret mission. There was no way she could ever tell any of this to him, or anyone else for that matter. Too bad, because she was sure it would have impressed the hell out of Jack to know that she had once gone fishing with Papa Hemingway.

The moon continued its game of peekaboo through the clouds.