But Jack of Sjöholm, who was with them, only laughed aloud, and said that, if there were no fish there, fish would certainly be found higher northwards. Surely they hadn't rowed out all this distance only to eat up all their victuals, said he.
He was quite a young chap, who had never been out fishing before. But there was some sense in what he said for all that, thought the head-fisherman.
And so they set their sails northwards.
On the next fishing-ground they fared no better than before, but they toiled away so long as their food held out.
And now they all insisted on giving it up and turning back.
"If there's none here, there's sure to be some still higher up towards the north," opined Jack; "and if they had gone so far, they might surely go a little further still," quoth he.
So they tempted fortune from fishing-ground to fishing-ground, till they had ventured right up to Finmark.2 But there a storm met them, and, try as they might to find shelter under the headlands, they were obliged at last to put out into the open sea again.
There they fared worse than ever. They had a hard time of it. Again and again the prow of the boat went under the heavy rollers, instead of over them, and later on in the day the boat foundered.
There they all sat helplessly on the keel in the midst of the raging sea, and they all complained bitterly against that fellow Jack, who had tempted them on, and led them into destruction. What would now become of their wives and children? They would starve now that they had none to care for them.
When it grew dark, their hands began to stiffen, and they were carried off by the sea one by one.