Ingrid ate and slept and woke and was still not afraid. She took her time eating, dressed, went out into the fragile November light and pushed out the rowing boat. The wind had turned once again and had picked up, from the south-west. She rowed around the headland and into the metre-high waves, south through the sound to the anchor bolt which Lars had once hammered into a rock there, fastened a rope to the end without getting out of the boat – taking care not to let it dash against the rock – and rowed against the current across the sound to Moltholmen, where her cousin had also hammered in a peg, from which hung a pulley. She threaded the rope through the eye, again without getting out of the boat – taking care not to let it dash against the rock – and rowed back towards Barrøy, she had thought it would be eighty or ninety fathoms in length, but it was closer to a hundred and fifty, the line was too short.

She burst into tears, tied a float to one end and let it go, rowed north with the current to the new quay house to fetch more rope. The sea was rougher now. She fought her way out again and found the float, tied the ropes together and rowed back to the mooring on Barrøy with the end. She was soaked to the skin, sweating profusely, exhausted and furious, but now she had a line over the sound and could run a net, or two, fishing without recourse to a boat, in all kinds of weather, until the hardest frosts set in, perhaps even longer.

She let the boat drift north and put it away, noticed that the swell was falling and stopped short in surprise, she had expected it to rise, and still she wasn’t afraid.

She went up to the house and slept on the bench next to the stove, not waking until it was evening. She felt cold and stiff, got up and put more wood on, cooked some food and wondered whether to set the nets in the darkness, dismissed the idea and opened one of the books she had, there was nothing in it.

She donned her waterproofs, walked to the new quay house and fetched two nets, walked south to the moorings by the sound and drew the first net, like a noiseless spider’s web, into the black waves, fastened it to the eye of the second and kept pulling, two nets joined together, that wasn’t much of a fleet, she pulled them fifteen fathoms further out, secured them and went home.