From "Jack of Sjoholm and the Gan-Finn" In the days of our forefathers, when there was nothing but wretched boats up in Nordland, and folks must needs buy fair winds by the sackful from the Gan-Finn, it was not safe to tack about in the open sea in wintry weather. In those days a fisherman never grew old. It was mostly womenfolk and children, and the lame and halt, who were buried ashore. Now there was once a boat's crew from Thjotto in Helgeland, which had put to sea, and worked its way right up to the East Lofotens. But that winter the fish would not bite. They lay to and waited week after week, till the month was out, and there was nothing for it but to turn home again with their fishing gear and empty boats. But Jack of Sjoholm, 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. . . .