Free The Goblin's Gift by Conrad Mason

a storm blew up. Thomas was a fine fisherman but a lousy sailor. He struggled, but he couldn’t bring the dinghy in. All it took was one big gust and the hull rolled over with poor Thomas tangled in the rigging. Couldn’t get free …
    â€˜Know what those merfolk did, Newt?’
    Newton shook his head.
    â€˜Nothing. Nothing but watch him drown. Story goes that Henry was on the docks at the time with a spyglass. Sixteen years old, he would’ve been.’
    There was a long silence.
    â€˜Henry Skelmerdale won’t go chasing after that princess,’ said Old Jon at last. ‘Not even if Thomas came back from his watery grave and begged him to.’
    Newt nodded, letting the story sink in.
    â€˜So what about Joseph and Tabitha?’
    â€˜Fayters need you here, Newt. You turn their flagship around, they might lose hope altogether.’
    â€˜You’re saying I don’t have a choice.’
    â€˜Aye. That’s what I’m saying.’
    Newton bit his lip. Joseph had lost his parents when he was little more than a toddler. Tabitha had lost hers when she was just a baby. Someone needed to take care of them. It wasn’t right, leaving them on their own.
    â€˜She’s a tough one, Newt,’ said Old Jon gently. ‘And I know she don’t show it, but she loves you. You’re her father. Might as well be.’
    â€˜Shouldn’t her father go back for her?’
    Old Jon gestured around the ship. ‘You tell me.’
    Newton surveyed the deck. A pair of blackcoats were sharing their lunch, chatting and joking, but every so often one of them would cast a nervous glance east, to the horizon. To where the League fleet would appear. A group of young sailors, each with the sea-green armband of Port Fayt, had gathered around an elderly blackcoat sitting on the steps to the poop deck. It looked almost like an old man with his grandchildren – except that instead of telling tales the old soldier was showing them how to load a pistol.
    He sighed. As usual, Old Jon was right. He couldn’t let them down. Even if it meant leaving Joseph and Tabitha behind in Port Fayt.
    â€˜Don’t fret,’ said the elf. Sometimes it seemed as though he could tell exactly what Newton wasthinking. ‘Them youngsters can look after themselves. We wouldn’t have stopped that Arabella Wyrmwood if it hadn’t been for them. Wouldn’t have caught that shapeshifter neither, nor got back the wand he stole. The wooden spoon.’
    It was true enough. The thought of them on their own made Newton’s stomach squirm, but he had to ignore that. He had to do what was best for Fayt. He had to do the right thing.
    â€˜You think they’ll get by?’
    Old Jon puffed out smoke.
    â€˜Tabs can fight. And that tavern boy’s got sense. Reckon together they’ll get along fine.’
    â€˜Sir?’
    Newt turned at the voice. It was the bosun, hovering a few feet away as though he didn’t want to interrupt their conversation. ‘Did you want to inspect the bowchasers, sir?’
    Old Jon turned, leaning over the gunwale again and staring out to sea.
    Newt sighed. ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘Let’s see them then.’
    The bosun beamed and strode off towards the foredeck.
    Newton lingered just a moment longer.
    â€˜Jon,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t do anything stupid, would they?’

Chapter Ten
    JOSEPH SPUN ROUND , trying to locate the voice.
    â€˜Grubb! Grubb! Over here, you stupid mongrel.’
    He crept closer to the cages. There, shaking the bars with his tiny fists, was a fairy. He was glowing in the darkness, his wings twitching with impatience. He wore a tiny waistcoat, jacket and breeches, and he had spiky hair and sparkling eyes.
    Joseph recognized him at once.
    â€˜Slik!’
    The last time they’d met, Slik had been peering out from inside a glass bottle, screaming insults as the troll twins took him away to the