The Fisherman and the Jinni

Before the first rooster crowed, while the whole beach still lay in darkness and only the moon laid silver on the water, an old fisherman was already trudging out to sea with his net. He was so poor that he could barely feed his wife and three small children, and every day he had to go down to the sea at first light like this. But he had a rule of his own, kept unchanged for many years. Each morning he cast his net exactly four times, no more, whether heaven was kind to him or not.

To save many other young women of the city from a harsh custom, Scheherazade had chosen to become the wife of King Schahriar. Every night she told him a story, so that she might live one more day. That night, after she had already told the king many strange tales, she said that the one she was about to tell, the story of this fisherman, was better than all the others before it. The king listened with curiosity, and she began.

On the first cast, the fisherman felt the net grow heavy and quietly rejoiced, thinking he had a big catch. When he hauled it up, he found only the body of a dead donkey, which had torn the net in several places. He sighed, mended the net, and cast it a second time. This time the net was heavy too, but all he pulled up was a basket full of rubbish. He turned his face to the sky and complained, begging heaven not to play games with a man so poor he could hardly feed his wife and children. On the third cast, the net caught nothing but stones, shells and mud, and he came close to despair.

The fourth cast was the last, by his own rule. He threw the net into the sea. It was so heavy that he had to brace himself and use both hands to drag it onto the shore. It was not fish. It was a yellow vessel, its mouth sealed tight with lead and stamped with a seal. He was overjoyed, thinking that at least he could sell it for a little money to buy food for his family. He shook it and heard nothing inside. But looking at the strange seal, he guessed that whatever lay within must be very precious. He took his knife and gently pried off the lid.

Nothing fell out. While he was still puzzled, a thick smoke began to rise from the mouth of the vessel. It curled up to the clouds and spread over the sea and the sand in a dense fog. Then the smoke gathered into the shape of an enormous jinni, twice the size of the largest giant the fisherman had ever imagined. He was so frightened that he froze where he stood, and he could not have run even if he had tried.

The first words the jinni spoke were not meant for the fisherman. He seemed to be pleading, trembling, with someone unseen above him. "Great king of the jinn, I will never dare disobey you again!" Perhaps he had been locked in the dark so long that he had not yet understood he was free, and still believed he stood before his old master. Seeing this, the fisherman recovered a little of his calm. He asked the jinni why he had been shut up in that vessel. The jinni glared at him, his voice full of pride. "Speak to me politely, or I will kill you right now."

The fisherman was alarmed. He asked why he should die for having just set the jinni free. The jinni answered that this changed nothing. The only favor the fisherman would receive was to choose the way he wished to die. Then the jinni told how he had come to this. Long ago, he had rebelled against the king of the jinn, so he was shut in this copper vessel, sealed, and thrown into the deep sea. Through his first hundred years in prison, he swore that whoever freed him would be made rich, even after death. Those hundred years passed, and no one came.

For the next hundred years, he changed his oath and promised to give all the treasures of the world to his rescuer. Those years, too, slipped quietly by. For a hundred years after that, he swore to make his rescuer a king, to stay by his side and serve him for life, and to grant him three wishes every day. Yet those hundred years passed as well, and not a single soul came. So much hope and so much waiting left nothing behind but bitterness. Locked away for more than three hundred long years, his heart slowly hardened into rage. He swore one last oath. Whoever freed him after that, he would kill at once, granting only the right to choose how to die. And today, the fisherman was the one who had opened that vessel.

Hearing this, the fisherman suddenly thought of a plan. Before he chose how to die, he asked the jinni to swear on his honor that he had truly been inside that tiny vessel. The jinni said yes, it was true. The fisherman shook his head and said he could not believe it. The vessel was not even big enough for one of the jinni's feet, so how could it hold such a huge body? He would believe it only if he saw it with his own eyes.

His pride stung, the jinni at once turned into smoke. He curled round and slowly crept back into the vessel, until nothing at all was left outside. A voice echoed from within. "There, you doubter, I am in the vessel now. Do you believe me?" The fisherman did not say a word. He quickly pressed the lead lid back on, tight as before.

"Now it is your turn to beg my pardon," the fisherman said. "Or better still, I will throw you back into the deep sea, and build a house right here on this shore to warn other fishermen. Never pull up an ungrateful jinni like you, who is saved and then wants to kill the one who saved him." The jinni tried to get out but could not, because the seal on the lid was still whole. Unable to win by strength, he turned to sweet words, promising a generous reward if the fisherman would only open the lid.

The fisherman shook his head. He said he had heard enough old stories about those who were spared and then turned on the very person who had saved them, so he dared not trust an empty promise. But the jinni kept pleading, and swore again that he would keep his word this time. Thinking of the poverty that had clung to his wife and children for so many years, the fisherman gave in. He made the jinni swear a binding oath, and only then did he open the vessel once more.

The jinni rose out in a cloud of smoke and took back his old shape. The first thing he did was kick the vessel far out into the deep sea. The fisherman jumped in fright, but the jinni only laughed loudly. He said he had done it only to prove that he would keep his promise, and he meant no further threat. Then he told the fisherman to bring his net and follow him.

The two of them passed through the town, climbed a mountain, and came down onto a wide plain, where a large lake lay among four hills. At the water's edge, the jinni told the fisherman to cast his net and see. He did so, and was amazed to pull up exactly four fish, each one a different color: white, red, blue and yellow. They were more beautiful than any fish he had ever seen.

The jinni told him to take the fish to the king, who would pay him more money than he had ever had in his life. He could come back to this lake every day, but he must cast his net only once a day, never more, or disaster would follow. His instructions given, the jinni stamped on the ground. The earth opened, swallowed him, and closed again as if nothing had ever happened.

The fisherman remembered every word. He did not cast his net again, but carried the four fish into the city, straight to the king's palace. When the king saw four fish of four colors, he could not stop marveling, and at once had them taken away to be cooked. Then the king ordered that the fisherman be given four hundred gold coins, the largest sum he had ever held in all his life.

That very day, the fisherman went home with enough to provide for his wife and children. The poverty that had clung to them for so many years was at last eased a little. As for the lake among the four hills, it still lies there, quiet under the sky, waiting for a new cast of the net the next morning, and the morning after that, as it always has.