Chapter 4: Running in the Dark
Over lunch, Neil showed the annual to the boys and we found ourselves looking for Mr. Keating right after a hurried lunch. The noontime sun was bright as we jogged out towards the grounds and the stream. Sure enough, we saw Mr. Keating walking near the water, whistling as he always did.
"Mr. Keating? Mr. Keating?" Neil called, but Mr. Keating didn't seem to hear us.
"Sir?" I called.
"Oh Captain My Captain!" Neil said, and only then did Mr. Keating turn around to acknowledge us.
"Gentlemen. Miss O'Donnell" Mr. Keating greeted.
"We were just looking in your old annual" Neil explained, holding out the book open to the page.
Mr. Keating took it and contemplated it for a moment as he crouched to get a better look at it in the light. "Oh my God. No that's not me. Stanley "The tool" Wilson" he said.
"What was the Dead Poets Society?" Neil asked.
"I doubt the present administration would look to favorably on that" Mr. Keating replied.
"Why, what was it?"
Mr. Keating smiled at us. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked.
"Sure" We all sat down to hear him better.
"The Dead Poets were dedicated to sucking the marrow out of life. That's a phrase from Thoreau that we'd invoke at the beginning of each meeting. You see we'd gather at the old Indian cave and take turns reading from Thoreau, Whitman, Shelley; the biggies. Even some of our own verse. And in the enchantment of the moment we'd let poetry work its magic" Mr. Keating said with a hint of nostalgia and a far off look in his eyes.
"You mean it was a bunch of guys sitting around reading poetry?" Knox asked skeptically, breaking the silence that had held us.
"No Mr. Overstreet, it wasn't just "guys", we weren't a Greek organization, we were romantics. We didn't just read poetry, we let it drip from our tongues like honey. Spirits soared, women swooned, and gods were created, not a bad way to spend an evening eh?" Mr. Keating continued.
"Thank you Mr. Perry for this trip down amnesia lane. Burn that, especially my picture" he added, handing the annual back to Neil before walking off down to the stream, whistling.
"Dead Poets Society" I whispered, looking around at the group as I stood up. Neil remained crouched as if thinking, then stood up just as the bell rang.
"I say we go tonight" he said.
"Tonight?" Charlie asked, seeming thrilled with the idea.
"Wait a minute" Cameron piped up.
"Where is this cave he's talking about?" Pitts asked.
"It's beyond the stream. I know where it is" Neil replied.
"That's miles!"
"Sounds boring to me" Cameron said.
"Don't go" Charlie said.
"You know how many demerits we're talking about, Dalton?" Cameron argued.
"Then don't go, please!" Charlie retorted.
"Look, all I'm saying is that we have to be careful, we can't get caught"
"No shit Sherlock" Charlie said. The rest of us were giving Cameron annoyed looks as we ran back to the building since Hager was yelling at us already.
"All right, who's in?" Neil asked.
"Come on Neil, Hager's right---" Cameron said.
"No, forget Hager" Neil said.
"I'm in" Charlie said.
"Me too" Cameron sighed.
"I don't know, Neil" Pitts said, walking ahead.
"What? Pitts…" Neil said.
"His grades are hurting, Neil!" Meeks called.
"You can help him Meeks" Neil suggested.
"What is this, a midnight study group?" Pitts asked.
"Forget it Pitts, you're coming. Are your grades hurting too, Meeks?" Neil asked.
"I'll try anything once" Meeks answered.
"Except sex" Charlie laughed.
"You want to come, Vanessa?" Neil asked me.
I nodded just as we ran in through the door and Charlie was persuading Knox to join in tonight.
During study hall, we were looking over a map, finding the easiest route to the cave, while Neil went to ask Todd to come along later. After a while, Neil returned to our table.
"Todd doesn't want to read at the meeting later" Neil said.
"Why?" Charlie asked.
"He doesn't. Would it be alright if he'd just keep the minutes?"
We all nodded in assent, just as McAllister yelled at us to shut up. I glanced at the clock and groaned, for midnight was a good ten hours away.
I tried to get in an hour of sleep before time came to meet in the corridor. Finally, I woke up and opened my door and found everything in pitch darkness. All I had with me was a flashlight, and I was wearing pajamas and had my shoes on. Carefully, I eased on my coat and looked around.
"Van, is that you?" I heard Pitts whisper from somewhere.
"Yep" I said just as the rest emerged from their rooms. Todd had a notebook with him, and Neil was holding a huge old book.
"What is that?" Charlie asked.
"A book of poems. I think Keating left it in my room" Neil whispered. We then hurried noiselessly down the stairs and almost ran into the guard dog.
"Oh shit!" I whispered before clapping my hand over my mouth, Pitts dropped some biscuits and we got out of the door without much ado.
The grass seemed to be springy and the moon was out as we ran across the grounds, past the stream and into the woods. The trees looked terrifying yet beautiful in the moonlit night as we began searching for the cave.
I joined Todd as he peered past some rocks, till we heard Meeks yell.
"Arr, I'm a dead poet!" Charlie laughed. Obviously, they'd just found the cave.
In a few minutes, we were sitting down in the cold, rather damp but snug cave as the boys tried to make a fire. I was wedged towards the back of the cave beside Todd.
Instead of blazing brightly, the fire filled the cave with smoke. I coughed just as Charlie began complaining.
"No, no, the smoke goes right out this opening" Meeks said defensively just before Pitts bumped his head on the rock as he tried to stand up.
Neil opened the book and stood up. "I hereby reconvene the Dead Poets Society" he began and all of us cheered.
"Welton chapter. The meetings will be conducted by myself and the other new initiates now present. Todd Anderson, because he prefers not to read, will keep minutes of the meetings. I'll now read the traditional opening message by society member Henry David Thoreau. "I went to the woods because I wanted to live deliberately. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life." Neil continued.
"I'll second that" Charlie grinned.
"'To put to rout all that was not life, and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived'" Neil finished. He examined the book. "And Keating's marked a bunch of other pages…"
"All right intermission. Dig deep right here, lay it down" Charlie interrupted.
"On the mud? We're going to put our food down on the mud?" Cameron complained before I bopped him on the head; I just had to.
"Meeks, put your coat down. Picnic blanket" Charlie ordered.
"Yes sir" Meeks said. Poor guy. Anyway, out on the coat fell apples, cookies, half a roll and a box of raisins.
"Raisins?" Neil asked.
"Gross" I muttered, making a face.
"Wait a minute, who gave us half a roll?" Charlie asked.
"I'm eating the other half" Pitts said with his mouth full.
After a while, Neil got the flashlight and began telling a story. "It was a dark and rainy night…" he began as we all leaned in to listen.
"…she stared in horror at the face of the demented madman at the window" Neil continued, pausing for effect as he shined the flashlight on us.
"The last thing this old lady ever heard was the sound of…breaking glass" he finished.
"Ohh…no" the boys whispered.
"I've got one that's even better than that" Cameron said, perking up. "There's this young married couple…"
"THAT one?" I said sarcastically as the boys began finishing the story for him. After we finished ribbing him, Pitts began reading what turned out to be the 'Ballad of William Bloat'. He only got as far as the first part, but we had a good laugh.
"It gets worse!" he exclaimed.
"You want to hear a real poem?" Charlie said, bragging a bit. He refused the book, stood up and went to the middle of the cave.
"An original piece by Charlie Dalton" he said. Some of us snorted.
"You know this is history, right? This is history" Neil said.
Producing a folded page from his pocket, Charlie unfolded it to reveal a centerfold. I rolled my eyes and glared at him, and the boys began to gape and chuckle a bit.
"Teach me to love…" Charlie began. I had to admit that it was quite good.
"Wow, you wrote that?" Neil asked after.
"Abraham Cowley. Okay, who's next?" Charlie said, showing where he'd copied the poem.
"Alfred Lord Tennyson" Neil said. "Come my friends, 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world for my purpose holds to sail beyond the sunset. And though we are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven; that which we are, we are;--One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will. To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield'".
"I wish I could write like that" I said wistfully as he handed the book to me. I flipped to a page and found some of Emily Dickinson's poems.
"'The Heart has many Doors --I can but knock --For any sweet "Come in" Impelled to hark --Not saddened by repulse, Repast to me That somewhere, there exists,
Supremacy –'"
Smiling, I handed the book to Meeks, who looked through it for a minute than began chanting from "The Congo"
"'Then I had religion, then I had a vision. I could not turn from their revel in derision. Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black. Cutting through the forest with a golden track'" he chanted.
'Then I saw the Congo creeping through the black. Cutting through the forest with a golden track" he repeated. Knox picked up a metal container and began banging on it like a drum. Soon we were all going around the cave, chanting as we used sticks, combs and other stuff to make noise.
"Then I saw the Congo (eek!) creeping through the black…" we continued on as we left the cave, and ran back to the dorm as the clock struck two. Never mind the eye bags we'd get the next day.