Why the Sea Is Salt (Campfire Story)

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, there were two brothers. One was rich, and one was poor.

And on Christmas Eve, the poor brother didn't have a crumb in the house. Not a scrap of meat, not a crust of bread. So he went to his rich brother and begged him for something, anything, for Christmas, for the love of God.

Now, it wasn't the first time. And the rich brother didn't like it one bit. 'If you'll do what I tell you,' he said, 'I'll give you a whole ham.' 'Anything,' said the poor brother. 'Thank you!' So the rich brother threw him the ham. 'There it is,' he said. 'Now go to the devil with it.'

Well, a promise is a promise. So the poor brother took the ham, and set off walking. He walked all day. And just as it was getting dark, he came to a place where the lights were very bright. 'This must be it,' he thought.

Out in the woodshed, there was an old man with a long white beard, chopping wood for Christmas. 'Good evening,' said the poor man. 'Good evening to you. Where are you going so late?' 'Well, I'm going to the devil's house. If this is the right way.' 'You're in the right place,' said the old man. 'This is it.'

'Now listen to me,' said the old man. 'When you go in there, they'll all want to buy that ham off you. Meat is rare down here. But don't sell it. Not for money, not for anything. Tell them you'll only trade it for the old hand mill behind the door. Then come back out here, and I'll show you how to work it. Because that mill is good for something.'

So the poor man went in. And the moment he walked through the door, the DEVILS came swarming around him, big ones and small ones, like ants around a crumb. And every one of them wanted the ham.

'I'll give you gold for it!' 'I'll give you silver!' DEVILS! 'Well,' said the man, 'my wife and I were going to have it for Christmas dinner. But since you want it so badly, I'll let you have it. If you give me that old mill behind the door.'

The devils didn't like that at all. They haggled and they bargained, and they argued and they shouted. But the man stood firm. And at last the DEVILS gave up and handed over the mill.

So he went back to the old man in the woodshed, and the old man showed him how to start the mill. And, most important of all, how to stop it. And the poor man thanked him and hurried home. But it was a long way. And it was midnight before he reached his own front door.

'Where in the world have you been?' said his wife. 'I've been sitting here for hours, without even two sticks to put under the porridge pot!'

'Oh,' said the man, 'I couldn't come any sooner. I had a long way to go. But just you look here.' And he set the little mill on the table, and he told it to grind. Lights, first. Then a tablecloth. Then meat, and ale, and everything that's good for a Christmas feast. GRIND! And the mill ground it all out, as much as they wanted.

His wife couldn't believe her eyes. She kept crossing herself and asking where he got it. But he wouldn't say. 'Never mind where I got it,' he said. 'It's good, and the mill is good, and the mill will never stop grinding until I tell it to.'

So he ground meat and drink and good things for Christmas. And on the third day of Christmas, he invited all his friends to a feast. And when the rich brother walked in and saw it all, he went white, and then red, and then green. 'On Christmas Eve he came begging,' he muttered. 'Now he's feasting like a king. Where did he get it all?'

'From behind the door,' said the poor brother. And he'd had a little too much ale by then, so he couldn't keep the secret. He brought out the mill. GRIND! And he made it grind out one thing, and then another, right there in front of everybody.

Well, after that, the rich brother wouldn't leave him alone. He had to have that mill. And at last, the poor brother sold it to him for three hundred dollars, which was a fortune back then. But he didn't show him how to stop it.

It was summer, in haymaking time. And early the next morning, the rich brother sent his wife and all the farmhands out to the meadow to make hay. 'I'll make dinner today,' he said. And when it was nearly dinnertime, he put the mill on the kitchen table. 'Grind HERRINGS AND BROTH,' he said. 'And grind them good and fast.'

GRIND! And the mill began to grind herrings and broth. First all the plates were full. Then all the pots and pans. Then the floor was covered. And the rich brother twisted the mill this way and that, and shouted at it, but it would not stop. HERRINGS AND BROTH!

The broth rose higher and higher, until he nearly drowned. He managed to push the parlor door open, but it wasn't long before the mill had filled the parlor too. And he only just got hold of the front door latch before the whole flood swept him out into the yard.

And off he ran down the road, as fast as he could go, with a river of HERRINGS AND BROTH pouring out of the house behind him, roaring down the hill toward the meadow.

Meanwhile, out in the meadow, his wife was getting hungry. 'Even if the master doesn't call us,' she said, 'let's go home. Maybe he's no good at making porridge, and I'd better help.' So they started up the hill. And there came the master, running down to meet them, with herring and broth and bread pouring along behind him. 'Don't stop!' he yelled. 'Run, or you'll drown!' And he ran right past them, to his brother's house.

'For heaven's sake, take that mill back,' he begged. 'Right now! If it grinds one more hour, the whole parish will be drowned in herrings and broth.' But the poor brother wouldn't take it back until he was paid another three hundred dollars. And then he went and stopped it.

So now the poor brother had the mill, and he had the money too. And it wasn't long before he built himself a farmhouse far grander than his brother's. He used the mill to grind out gold, and he covered the whole house with it, all over. And since it stood right by the seashore, it shone and glittered for miles out to sea. Every ship that sailed past put in to visit the man in the golden house and see the wonderful mill. Because by now, everyone had heard about it.

And one day, a sea captain came, and asked to see the mill. 'Can it grind salt?' he said. 'Salt? Of course it can,' said the man. Now, the captain had to sail far over the sea for every load of salt he carried. 'If I had that mill,' he thought, 'I'd never have to sail so far again.' And he begged and begged, until at last the man sold it to him. For thousands and thousands of dollars.

The captain didn't wait for anything. He grabbed the mill and ran to his ship, before the man could change his mind. He never asked how to stop it.

And when he was well out to sea, he took the mill up on deck. 'Grind salt,' he said. 'And grind it good and fast.' GRIND! And the mill began to grind salt. Good and fast. It filled the deck. It filled the hold. The captain tried to stop it. He shouted at it. He kicked it. But whatever he did, it just kept grinding. And the ship got heavier, and heavier, until down it went, to the bottom of the sea.

And there it lies to this very day, on the bottom of the sea. And it's still grinding salt. GRIND!

And that's why the sea is salt.