Salt
by
One evening, when they were sitting round the table after their supper, old Peter asked the children what story they would like to hear. Vanya asked whether there were any stories left which they had not already heard.
“Why,” said old Peter, “you have heard scarcely any of the stories, for there is a story to be told about everything in the world.”
“About everything, grandfather?” asked Vanya.
“About everything,” said old Peter.
“About the sky, and the thunder, and the dogs, and the flies, and the birds, and the trees, and the milk?”
“There is a story about everyone of those things.”
“I know something there isn’t a story about,” said Vanya.
“And what’s that?” asked old Peter, smiling in his beard.
“Salt,” said Vanya. “There can’t be a story about salt.” He put the tip of his finger into the little box of salt on the table, and then he touched his tongue with his finger to taste.
“But of course there is a story about salt,” said old Peter.
“Tell it us,” said Maroosia; and presently, when his pipe had been lit twice and gone out, old Peter began.
* * * * *
Once upon a time there were three brothers, and their father was a great merchant who sent his ships far over the sea, and traded here and there in countries the names of which I, being an old man, can never rightly call to mind. Well, the names of the two elder brothers do not matter, but the youngest was called Ivan the Ninny, because he was always playing and never working; and if there was a silly thing to do, why, off he went and did it. And so, when the brothers grew up, the father sent the two elder ones off, each in a fine ship laden with gold and jewels, and rings and bracelets, and laces and silks, and sticks with little bits of silver hammered into their handles, and spoons with patterns of blue and red, and everything else you can think of that costs too much to buy. But he made Ivan the Ninny stay at home, and did not give him a ship at all. Ivan saw his brothers go sailing off over the sea on a summer morning, to make their fortunes and come back rich men; and then, for the first time in his life, he wanted to work and do something useful. He went to his father and kissed his hand, and he kissed the hand of his little old mother, and he begged his father to give him a ship so that he could try his fortune like his brothers.
“But you have never done a wise thing in your life, and no one could count all the silly things you’ve done if he spent a hundred days in counting,” said his father.
“True,” said Ivan; “but now I am going to be wise, and sail the sea and come back with something in my pockets to show that I am not a ninny any longer. Give me just a little ship, father mine–just a little ship for myself.”
“Give him a little ship,” said the mother. “He may not be a ninny after all.”
“Very well,” said his father. “I will give him a little ship; but I am not going to waste good roubles by giving him a rich cargo.”
“Give me any cargo you like,” said Ivan.
So his father gave him a little ship, a little old ship, and a cargo of rags and scraps and things that were not fit for anything but to be thrown away. And he gave him a crew of ancient old sailormen who were past work; and Ivan went on board and sailed away at sunset, like the ninny he was. And the feeble, ancient, old sailormen pulled up the ragged, dirty sails, and away they went over the sea to learn what fortune, good or bad, God had in mind for a crew of old men with a ninny for a master.