Chapter 15
Fenton swiped his bug detector over his body several times, finding none of the electronic trackers anywhere in his feathers or clothing. Once he was certain he was clean, he went right to work. He didn't have much time until sunset, and he had left his first attempts at the breathing apparatus back at the lab. He would have to start from scratch, but that wasn't much of a loss.
On his way home, he had stopped at a sports store and bought a lot of swimming and diving equipment. Although he didn't have the cash on hand, he had done the almost unthinkable—he had used a credit card that he had never dared to use before. He had gone past the point of thinking of his future credit score; he would worry about paying off his debt when he figured out what was going on.
In his bedroom, he experimented with all the different items he bought, the different face masks, snorkeling gear, and even a diving helmet he had found in the bargain bin, trying to find the best way to attach the small box to them. In the end, he found the best fit would be attaching it to the mouthpiece that scuba divers use. He did his best to attach the box to the mouthpiece with some plastic wrap and duct tape. It was a pretty sloppy job, and it definitely wouldn't work at a certain depth, but he wasn't planning on diving.
The last thing he did was take out the piece of wax paper that had the symbols scratch into. He then replaced it with one of his own making, a scrap of paper he ripped out of his notebook with the same first three symbols that Fethry wrote, but at the end, instead of drawing the water molecule, H₂O, he drew the molecule for oxygen, O₂. He wrapped the paper in clear tape and put it in the filter box next to the pearl.
"Now, for the test," Fenton said, heading for the bathroom and filling the tub.
He stripped down and climbed in. As he sat in the water, he put the mouthpiece in his beak, clenching the soft, rubbery part between his teeth. He recalled that he had done this before with the pearl that the mermaid had given him, but this time, it wouldn't be so dramatic. He didn't have to risk breathing in the bathwater. All he had to do was submerge his beak in the water and suck on the mouthpiece. If his mouth filled with water, then he knew that his device wouldn't work. If his mouth filled with air…
And like a child learning to blow bubbles in the bath, he lowered his head to the water level, submerging his beak, the mouthpiece, and the filter, and sucked.
There was a noise like someone breathing through a straw, and Fenton filled his mouth and cheeks completely with nothing but oxygen. He then inhaled, taking slow, even breathes while exhaling through his nostrils. And once he was used to the rhythm, he dunked completely under the water.
And breathed. He stayed submerged for several minutes, breathing through the mouthpiece until he couldn't stand the excitement anymore.
He sat up suddenly, his hands raised over his head.
"It worked! It worked!" Fenton shouted, water splashing all over in his excitement.
"Fenton? Fenton, is that you? Are you home?"
In his desire to figure out the mystery of the filter and pearl, he hadn't checked to see if his mother was home or—more likely the case—while he was under the water, she had returned from work.
"Yes, Mama," Fenton said, reaching for a towel. "I'm just cleaning up the bathroom."
"Don't forget to disinfect the light switch," Maria called from somewhere in the house.
Fenton pulled the drain, mopped up the floor and got dressed. With feathers still damp, he went to his room, his heart jumping at the sight of the sun getting lower on the horizon. It was almost sunset. If he wanted to meet up with the mermaid, he would have to move quickly.
Grabbing a duffle bag, he gathered any supplies he needed, including the breathing apparatus. As he packed in a rush, his eyes spotted the pearl that the mermaid had given him, the one she had been so concerned about putting in his mouth and that he had experimented with. He picked it up, noting that it was a much larger counterpart than the one in the filter.
He had suspected that it had magical properties, but now that he had a better idea of how mermaid magic worked, he valued the pearl much more. But the question was what had she intended to do with the pearl by putting it in his mouth? The other pearl needed a spell for it to work, so how could this pearl have done anything without a written spell?
He didn't have time to dwell on that conundrum. He placed it back on his desk where it wouldn't roll off, finished packing, and left his house after saying a quick good-bye to his mother, eager to see the mermaid again.
He was confident that he was not being tracked by Mr. McDuck, having made sure there were no bugs on his person.
Fenton took a bus to the beach nearest the mangrove trees, but even still, it was a quarter of a mile from where the bus dropped him off. The sandy shoreline ended quickly and gave way to rocky terrain before coming to the mangroves. On foot, he could cross it quickly enough, but he had the desire to try out his breathing apparatus some more.
Taking off his shirt and standing in the sand in only his bathing suit, Fenton wondered when was the last time he had gone swimming in the ocean. Well, there was when he jumped in when he saw the mermaid at the lighthouse and when he fell out of Donald's boat, but before that, it had been before he had gone off to college, a young teenager. He had been swimming in pools, but the chlorine incensed water was a tame rabbit compared to the wildness of the ocean.
After stashing his duffle bag in some reeds, he did some stretching exercises, feeling a few of his joints cracking and popping at the unusual movements. With goggles on and a waterproof bag on his back, he walked into the surf, the waves crashing up against his legs. The moon was on the opposite side of the horizon as the sun, and it would be several hours before it would become high tide, when the moon was three quarters across the sky. Until then, the surf might be a little rough, but once he made it past the breakers, the ocean looked calm.
The water was warm, and while he never had a particular love of swimming or being in the ocean, his heart beat with an excited rhythm like a samba in his chest. He waded in, waiting until the waves were high and strong enough to knock him down to put the mouthpiece in and dive down.
At first, he held his breath, his instincts telling him to do so but he forced himself to inhale before he ran out of air. Even as he breathed evenly, a part of him wanted to panic, especially as the surf was still pushing him around. Kicking his legs and making long strokes with his arms, Fenton swam against the tide, fighting the torrents of water until he learned that crawling across the bottom was the easiest way to get to calmer waters. He almost didn't make it. Although he could breathe underwater, his air had to move through an opening no bigger than a straw which made it very difficult when he needed large, quick breaths. On top of that, he was getting pure oxygen. His body was used to breathing air that was a mixture of nitrogen, oxygen and other gases, and while short-term use of the breathing apparatus shouldn't cause him lasting harm, it was making him feel light-headed and giddy.
But eventually he made it past the surf where the ocean was calm and clear. He rose to the surface, feeling his muscles burning a little with the need for rest. As he pulled in the air above water, his mind felt clearer. He tread water for a while before going back under.
Soon he got used to breathing through a tube and the feeling that pure oxygen gave him, and eventually he was able to enjoy himself. He could go all the way to the bottom of the ocean, which in some places could be thirty or more feet deep, and observe all the ocean life that lived in the shallows. He had never gone scuba diving, but he had done some snorkeling as a kid. This was a whole new experience.
As twilight grew darker, he pulled out a water-proof flashlight so that he would be able to see once it grew dark. It was darker under the water than it was above. Every once in a while, he would return to the surface to get his bearings and take a break from the breathing apparatus. After what seemed to be an hour, he finally spotted the forest of mangrove trees just off the coast.
Mangroves were the one tree that could tolerate salt water, and this particular grove had taken up a large portion of the coast. Fenton remembered hearing about how a bunch of businesses had tried to clear the mangroves so that they could build some condos and hotels along the beach, but they had been stopped by protestors as well as the city, and so the mangrove trees were protected. Fenton was glad. This section of the beach was just as important for Duckburg as the docks and the rest of the beaches. The mangroves were vital for several species of sea animals and those that fed off of them, including the residents of Duckburg. To remove the mangroves would mean less fish for the fishermen.
Fenton navigated around and through the rope-like roots, realizing his choice of a meeting place wasn't a good idea. Not only were the mangrove trees a very large area, but it was very much alive with fish and other creatures. And because of so much life, Fenton grew wary of looking for the larger fish and other predators that fed on the smaller fish. The mangrove trees protected the fish, but it might hold dangers to Fenton like barracudas and reef sharks.
He was so preoccupied with what the mangroves might be hiding that he wasn't paying attention to what might come from the open ocean. He was watching a school of fish when he saw a shadow out of the corner of his eye, a shadow of something that could swim rapidly. He turned around so quickly, he felt dizzy with motion sickness that came with looking through the distorted goggles. He saw something made of shades of gray with a curved fin on the back, and he immediately jumped to the worst-case scenario.
Shark.
Something bumped him from behind, and he whirled around again, only to have something else ram into him. Bubbles filled the water, both from him breathing hard and from all the movement. He started up toward the surface but the gray creatures prevented him from doing that as well. He panicked and flailed about, not sure how one fought sharks but then something grabbed his hand.
Grabbed?
Among the bubbles and the racing gray creatures, he saw blue, white and the familiar coral scales of the mermaid. She had grabbed his hand, hopefully to pull him away from danger like she had done before when he fell off of Donald's boat. But to his confusion, she didn't pull him but stopped him from defending himself.
The gray creatures stopped bumping into him and the waters calmed. The gray creatures stopped flitting about as the mermaid gestured rapidly at them, her beak moving as if yelling at them.
Fenton blinked, realizing his blunder. The creatures weren't sharks but dolphins; he felt the mistake was justifiable considering the situation. The two species were remarkably similar unless you could see them in their entirety. If Fenton had seen the dolphins' elongated beak and smiling faces, he would not have mislabeled them.
The mermaid continued to chastise the dolphins, her gestures just as familiar as if she walked on land on two legs. She waggled her finger. The dolphins watched her attentively for a few seconds before they swam around the mermaid, rubbing against her like pet cats. The mermaid couldn't help but smile, caressing their sides before making shooing motions. The dolphins made a few more circles around her and Fenton before whisking off to open ocean.
The mermaid turned to Fenton, her face full of apology.
Fenton waved his hands as if to say, "Don't worry about it" then gestured up to the surface. While he was fine being underwater, he was unable to communicate with the mermaid. His mind immediately started working on a plan to make it possible to talk underwater with the help of the pearl, but that wasn't his main concern right now.
Up at the surface, Fenton pulled out mouthpiece and began speaking as soon as the mermaid joined him. "You're here! Of course, you're here, but I didn't think you'd come. Because of yesterday." He lowered his eyes. "I'm sorry for what I said. I didn't mean to blame you for what has happened to Duckburg or what may happen. Things are complicated, and I realize that you may not have all the information."
At Fenton's request, they found one of the mangrove trees that had grown just the right way for Fenton to sit on a branch with his feet dangling into the water with the mermaid close by. The heat of the day lingered so Fenton wasn't cold as he dripped dry.
When Fenton started talking, the sun was mostly down and the shadows long enough to cover everything. They relied on his waterproof flashlight to see by, or perhaps only Fenton needed it. Did mermaids have better eyesight at night? He aimed it so that it didn't shine in the mermaid's face but still making it so he could see her. He wondered about that, then about all his other questions that he had for the mermaid that would sate his curiosity, but that would have to wait. Duckburg and Fethry were more important.
Once he was done with revealing everything he knew including the history of Duckburg and the legends of the mermaid that the first Scrooge McDuck had found during the city's founding, he looked to the mermaid for a reaction.
She didn't seem surprised. And she may have known much of it since she had known Fethry, but she had looked the most worried at the fact that Fethry wasn't where he was supposed to be. She also had expressed anxiety when Fenton brought up Scrooge McDuck. And then she moved her beak as if speaking, but nothing came out.
Fenton shook his head. "I'm sorry. I don't read beaks," he said. And then something occurred to him. Her silent talking was too normal, too natural, for her to not have a voice. "You're not a mute, are you?"
The mermaid shook her head. She tapped her throat and then cupped her hands as if she had her voice inside of it, hiding it.
"So, did a sea witch take your voice?" Fenton asked, referring to the old fairy tale.
The mermaid gave him a pointed look, frustration ruffling her wet feathers before grinding her fingers in the air. It was obvious. She had so much to say but couldn't, and he was close to guessing why but it just wasn't right. She couldn't correct him, and there wasn't time to play the guessing game all night long.
The mermaid took his mouthpiece and examined it. She turned it around and around, her eyebrows lowered as she mulled over what it was.
"It's how I was able to breath under water," Fenton said. "It has a pearl in this box, and I wrote a spell so that it takes the oxygen out of the water for me to breath. I found the pearl in a filtering system that Fethry owned. After you gave me the pearl the other day, I was able to figure out that some magic is involved, although I don't know how."
The mermaid waved her arms to get his attention, excited. She pointed to the box and then made a gesture that Fenton took for "writing."
"Oh, the spell?" Fenton asked.
The mermaid nodded.
"It looks like this…wait a minute," Fenton said, realizing he didn't have anything to write on or with. He didn't even have a phone; his was completely ruined after soaking in toilet water. "Uh, give me your hand." He took the blue hand in his left and then started drawing on the mermaid's palm with his right hand. "I made the symbol for water, then an arrow to direct which direction the water would go. Then this is the symbol for a filter, then I drew this shape which is what the oxygen molecule looks like. I got the idea from Fethry, who used a similar spell to clean the water for his tanks."
The mermaid kept her eyes focused on her palm, watching Fenton draw. When he was done, she had him draw it a couple of times, as if she were memorizing it. The mermaid was very excited about this news, which Fenton didn't understand. Didn't she know about spells and stuff like this? The pearl was powered by mermaid magic, so she should know about this, right?
Before Fenton could ask about that, the mermaid pointed at the mouthpiece, then shook it. They both heard the pearl rattling inside the box.
"The pearl? You want the pearl?" Fenton asked.
The mermaid shook her head. She pretended to have something small pinched between two fingers and handed it to Fenton.
"The pearl you gave me?" Fenton clarified. "No, I don't have it. I left it at home."
She made the gestures as if the pearl was coming to her.
"You want me to bring the pearl?"
Another nod. Then she put the proverbial pearl in her mouth, then pointed to Fenton's mouth.
"I already tried putting the pearl in my mouth. It didn't help me breath under water," Fenton said.
The mermaid shook her head, her face showing her frustration with what he said. She made wider gestures for him to bring the pearl to her.
"Okay. Okay. I'll bring it," Fenton said, placating her. He didn't know why. It obviously was meant for a spell or something, but he didn't know how. It didn't come with a written spell just like the pearl he was using to breath underwater. "Next time we meet, I'll bring the pearl. We'll meet tomorrow, same time, right?" He was hopeful.
The mermaid nodded, smiling.
"Great." Fenton realized that the conversation sounded as if it were about to end, but he wasn't ready to go. Then he remembered one of his reasons for meeting the mermaid. "Oh, I forgot. Fethry's journals. Do you still have them?" The mermaid's hands had been empty, so she hadn't brought them with her as he expected.
The mermaid nodded. She reached down and pulled an object that was wrapped around her waist that appeared to be made out of seaweed and some old rope. He hadn't noticed it before because of the dwindling light. The mermaid untied the seaweed from her waist and handed it to Fenton.
The seaweed was wet and slimy, but Fenton could feel something heavy and rectangular inside it. His heart picked up speed at what was within the seaweed. This was it. Could this have all the answers he was looking for? Would this tell him about the disasters that had had happened to Duckburg and what was to come? Would all the answers to his questions be in these journals? Would it contain information about the mermaid, why she couldn't talk to him, why she was there, who she was?
Would it also explain what happened to Fethry? Would it also tell why the journals had been hidden and whatever secrets the McDuck family were trying to hide?
And although the seaweed-wrapped package couldn't have weighed more than a couple of pounds even soaking wet, it felt like a heavy burden.
"This is—Thank you for bringing these," Fenton told the mermaid. He looked into her shadowed face. "I'm going to find Fethry. I know you've been trying to warn me about something, so I'm going to do my best to—"
There was a loud pop, and out of the darkness, a net whipped around the mermaid, wrapping and binding her in its thick fibers. The mermaid thrashed out at the attack and quickly sank down into the water, whether because the net weighed her down or because she dove, Fenton couldn't tell.
"I got her," a female voice in the dark shouted.
Knowing that the net had to come from somewhere, Fenton snatched up the flashlight and aimed it out into the dark, following the rope line that was attached to the net. Immediately, he spotted reflectors and reflective paint over the ocean, and soon he was able to make out a boat.
"Bring her in, lassie. Don't let her get away." This was a second voice with a strong Scottish accent.
As the boat came closer, Fenton could see more details. There were two people on the deck, one manning a device that the rope was connected to, the other leaning against the side. Both appeared to be wearing metal helmets. No, not helmets. Goggles. Night-vision goggles. That explained how they were able to travel in the dark without any lights. But how did they get the boat to the mangrove trees without a motor which would have alerted Fenton and the mermaid that someone was coming.
Then he saw the pole growing out of the boat like a tree. A sail boat. There was enough wind that they could have traveled there without making any noise. It was risky, but Fenton didn't doubt that Scrooge McDuck—for that's who he was certain on the boat along with his niece, Della Duck—had made that calculated risk. It showed just how much he wanted the mermaid.
Fenton shoved the breathing apparatus between his teeth and dove down into the water to go after the mermaid. With flashlight in hand, he found the mermaid struggling with the net fifteen feet down. The net was unable to contain most of her tail due to how long it was and she was beating it up and down, pulling against her restraints. But she was losing the battle, not by inches, but by feet. She'd be reeled in no time.
Fenton swam to the mermaid and reached into his pack for the pocket knife he had intuitively brought with him. He clamored to where the net and line met and started sawing through the fibers. But the pocket knife wasn't serrated and did little good against the rope that was more than two inches thick. Fenton was half-way through when his head breached the surface, and he had to hang on lest gravity drag him back down into the sea.
"Bring her up here. Steady, lass. We can't have her wiggle free," Scrooge McDuck's voice came through the darkness.
Now that stealth wasn't needed, they had turned a beam onto Fenton, practically blinding him. But that didn't matter; he kept working at the rope. If he could break her free, even if they were on the boat, maybe he could get the mermaid back into the water. After a while, he knew that they were no longer rising, the mermaid in the net rocking as the small crane attached to the boat rotated until they were over the deck.
Then something grabbed him around the neck and yanked him. He hadn't expected it, and with his breath being choked out of him, he fell, landing hard on the wooden deck.
"Someone get this invidious idiot out of here. Della, restrain him before he does something stupid."
Before he could recover from the fall, hands grabbed Fenton, pulling him up onto his feet and away from the mermaid. Once he was able to recover his wits, he struggled and fought, but Della was too strong.
"Don't hurt him," a third person said beyond the light, just out of sight.
But Fenton didn't have to see to know who it was.
"Dr. Gearloose?" Even though he had known that his mentor was involved, it still stung that he was there.
The light turned slightly, and Gyro stepped forward. His arms were crossed as he looked Fenton up and down. His eyes weren't exactly cold, but they were as calculating and dispassionate as if he were looking over a problem.
"Intern, compose yourself. This is an academic and scientific discovery. Someone like you shouldn't have been in this kind of situation in the first place," Gyro criticized.
"Academic? You are capturing a member of a sentient race, not some sea creature. Even if this was for the scientific community, the way you are doing it is wrong," Fenton argued back. "She is a person."
"So, you've heard her speak? Does she communicate with you?" Gyro asked with a raised eyebrow.
"She communicates but not with words," Fenton said. "As a scientist, you must understand that there are different ways to communicate. Capturing her is wrong and criminal. You must let her go."
"If she is a sentient creature and thus considered a 'person,' then I will find that out with the scientific method," Gyro said. "This is the first time such a species has been captured, and it will be the first time one will be observed."
"She's not an animal," Fenton shouted. "You're imprisoning her just to sate your curiosity."
"The progress of science is more important than the discomfort of one individual," Gyro argued back. "This discovery is of utmost importance, not only for my reputation as a scientist, but for Mr. McDuck as well. Think about what it will do for the city, for the company, and for me. And you could benefit as well as my intern."
Fenton couldn't believe what Gyro was saying. In fact, it was a whole new level on the situation. Gyro thought the reason that Mr. McDuck wanted the mermaid was to study her and learn more about her. Study and learn, but not for scientific reasons. It would be more like studying and learning a prisoner of war if he read the situation correctly.
And Gyro was right. Capturing the mermaid would improve the reputation for him, the company and the city, and Gyro would be known as the fore-runner of this scientific discovery. Gyro had little to lose keeping the mermaid under "observation" like she was a new species of fish to identify, tag, and given a proper name. In the long run, he would eventually find that the mermaid was sentient, and even then, he could spin the tale to his favor that he hadn't been a jailor but an ambassador to a new race of people.
Gyro had nothing to lose siding with Mr. McDuck because he thought that he was doing the right thing scientifically. He was using that cool logic of his to rationalize his actions, and perhaps even Mr. McDuck had persuaded him that mermaids were just as animal as whales and eels.
At least, that's what Fenton hoped. Because if Gyro was in on this, if he knew what the mermaid was, then not only was he an accomplice to this travesty, but he was using science to persuade Fenton to side with him.
"Good work, Gyro. She was just where you said she would be," Mr. McDuck said, coming into the light.
"How did you know where to find her?" Fenton asked. "I got rid of all the bugs you placed on me." He didn't see the point in hiding the fact that he knew about the trackers.
A second light turned on, this one smaller. The light traveled across the deck and climbed up on Gyro's shoulder.
Lil' Bulb! Fenton had forgotten about Gyro's small AI bulb-tech. Fenton had been so concerned about finding bugs and trackers, he hadn't realized he was followed. And even though Lil' Bulb couldn't go into water, Fenton would have been easily spotted from the beach as he swam to the mangrove trees.
"We need to get her in water immediately," Gyro said, ignoring Fenton and looking to the mermaid. "She requires salt water to breathe, and all our work will be fore nothing if we let her die of asphyxiation. Della, let the intern go and go work the crane. I'll guide you—"
"No, Della. Take the interloper down and tie him up," Mr. McDuck interrupted. "We can't have him ruining everything. Not now that we have one in custody."
Della started leading Fenton away, but he fought back, making it as hard on her as possible.
"Fenton, be reasonable," Gyro said.
Fenton was so surprised that he stopped. Gyro had never used his name before. He had almost been certain that Gyro hadn't even known his first name.
"It's obvious that you can't over-power us, so there's no use struggling," Gyro said in his cool, logical way. "Once we dock, you will be free to go. I will guarantee your safety as long as you don't make any more trouble."
"No, it's too late for that," Mr. McDuck said, stepping forward and knocking his cane on the deck. "He knows too much. I have a nose for trouble, and this young man reeks of it."
Up until that point, Gyro remained emotionless, but now worry crept into his countenance. "What do you intend on doing with him?"
"We'll have to incarcerate him indefinitely," Mr. McDuck said matter-of-factly. He gave Fenton an intense stare. "I'm sure after a couple of days, the lad will come to his senses."
"And if I don't, what then?" Fenton said, baiting the most powerful man in Duckburg. "Are you going to make me disappear like you did Fethry? Where is he? Is he locked up in some other mental institution, far, far away where nobody will look for him? Or is he admitted under another name, under a false doctor's recommendation? Or in another country? Or is he six feet under?"
"Don't be ridiculous. Fethry is still very much alive," Della said, finally joining in on the conversation.
"Is that what he told you?" Fenton said, nodding his head at McDuck and glancing back at Della. "Has he told you that he's being kept in the mental institution outside of Duckburg? Because I went there myself, and he wasn't there. The room that he's been assigned to is empty. Not that he should be in there in the first place."
"Wha—No, you're wrong," Della insisted. "Uncle Scrooge sent him there because he's mentally ill."
"Because he believes in mermaids?" Fenton asked. He nodded to the net that held the mermaid. The mermaid was no longer struggling. If he guessed her expression correctly, she was listening in on everything. He hoped that she wasn't struggling to breathe like Gyro had been worried about earlier. But from his time with the mermaid he knew that she could remain out of the water much longer than that without any trouble. "If that was a reason to lock anyone up, we should all be committed."
"It's not because of that. It's because he was dangerous," Gyro explained. "Fethry Duck is a danger to society and to himself. It would have been criminal not to lock him up."
"Without a trial?" Fenton demanded. "So, Mr. McDuck can lock anyone up without due process, is that it? He is above the law, then?" He met the billionaire stare for stare. "So how do you justify the disappearance of Fethry Duck? How many people have you bribed to stay silent on the fact that nobody has seen him in five years just like you bribed that newspaper reporter?"
"Is he right? Is Fethry not at the hospital?" Della Duck asked, her voice no longer hard.
"Take it easy, lass. I'll explain later," Mr. McDuck placated. "Let's deal with the situation first."
"Maybe if you explain everything with Fethry, then my intern will be more compliant," Gyro suggested. "After all, he is a man of science, and the truth can only help things."
"Do you honestly believe that after what Fethry had almost done?" Mr. McDuck asked. "I have worked too hard for this city to have it all undone and be slowed down with bureaucratic red tape and paperwork. And I know for a fact that if the city knew what I know, then everything would fall into chaos. I know what is best for my city, and if you don't like it, then you better not stand in my way."
Gyro's beak was set in a firm line. "Yes, Mr. McDuck. I understand. It's not up to your employee to question your decisions." He took a step back, his cold exterior returned.
"Well, that's settled," Scrooge McDuck said. "Della, if you—"
"At least I'm not your employee, Uncle," Della said. "So I'm free to say what I want."
"Della!"
"Fethry tried to bomb the lighthouse," Della said in a hard tone. "We barely stopped him in time."
"Della, you should not be telling secrets about this family," Scrooge berated. "If the public knew about that—"
"Gyro is right. Fenton at least needs to know about it," Della said. "And he needs to know why. Fethry tried to bomb the lighthouse because that mermaid told him to." She let go of one of Fenton's arms so she could point to the mermaid.
Fenton felt the slack but Della's words hit him so hard that he felt weak. The mermaid told Fethry to bomb the lighthouse? His mermaid did that? But…but she was trying to save Duckburg. Was this true or was Fethry really insane and believed a mermaid instructed him to plant the bomb? Was the mermaid deceiving him or was she the victim of an elaborate ruse?
He looked to the mermaid, and she gazed at him, her expression blank. She didn't look surprised by the information. Was that because she didn't understand or because she knew? Was her innocence a farce?
As far as Fenton was concerned, everyone on that boat had secrets. The McDuck family had been holding on tight to secrets since Duckburg began, and it was obvious that Mr. McDuck would do anything to keep it that way. Della, while she had rebelled an inch, more than likely wouldn't go against her uncle in anything else after this. She had been loyal to him all this time, and that wasn't going to change. And Gyro? How loyal was he? How much did he know was lies and how much had Scrooge McDuck confided in him? And the mermaid? She had been trying her best to communicate with him from the beginning, but even if they could talk plainly, would she be speaking truth or lies? The mermaid race had remained hidden all this time. Was there a reason for that?
And in the middle of this all was Fenton, defenseless and ignorant. It seemed that once he unraveled one layer of intrigue, more and more questions had arose. All he was trying to do was find the truth and do what was right, and he wasn't certain which was which at this point.
If only he could speak to Fethry, then maybe things would become clear.
Fethry's journals. That was it. He had the journals—the journals? He had dropped them when the mermaid was captured. They probably sunk among the roots of the mangrove trees. If he didn't get them, they might be lost forever.
He had to get them back, no matter what. Whether or not Fethry was mad and/or dangerous, the journals should have some clue into his mind. It would contain the truth. It had to. There was no other reason for Fethry to have taken such drastic measures to hide them for all this time.
In the moment that he made his decision, Fenton created a plan and acted upon it. There wasn't much time, and if he waited, it might be too late. With all the talking and Della gesturing, her grip on Fenton had slackened. He knew that he couldn't best her in a fight, but if he struck first, he could take advantage of her weakness: her damaged leg. Not the metal prosthetic; that was too strong. But where metal met flesh, that delicate joint was where she was weakest.
Jerking to the side, Fenton moved as if he were trying to escape once more. When Della moved right where he planned her to, he took the moment to kick back at her left leg, aiming for her knee right above the metal joint. His intent was to disrupt her connection with her prosthetic rather than to hurt her. Just as he predicted, the artificial leg jerked at an odd angle, and she went down hard. To her credit, she kept ahold of one of his wrists through all this. But Fenton didn't have time to be gentle, and he couldn't let the small ethical dilemma of not hitting girls get in his way. He kicked at Della's arm, trying to forget the sound of the attack as well as Della's cry of pain.
Scrambling across the water slicked deck, Fenton scooped up his breathing apparatus on his way, the device ignored by all during the interrogation, and shoved it in his mouth before diving off the side of the boat. He still had his goggles on and his pack of supplies, but he had lost his pocket knife and flashlight. Luckily, the latter was easy to retrieve since the beam broadcast its location. He swam down to the bottom of the ocean, scooping it out of a pile of sand and pointed it back up to the boat on the surface.
As far as he could see, neither were Scrooge, Gyro, nor Della were coming after him. Not that they had much chance of catching him since he had an unlimited supply of oxygen, and unless they had scuba gear and were quick enough to put it on, they had no chance of catching him. But he still watched them for a while before he turned off the flashlight, concealing himself completely.
And he waited.
Once his eyes were used to the darkness, he managed to make out the boat but only because they had kept the lights on. Might as well. He wasn't a threat to them. He had basically run away.
He had left the mermaid all alone. What was she thinking at that moment? Did she blame him? Or did she realize that that was his only choice? Either way, she must have felt scared and abandoned.
What was going to happen to her? What were they going to do to her? If Gyro was truthful, then he would observe her and study her. He would take blood-work, learn her behaviors, do everything aside from kill her to know everything about her. Because that's what a scientist would do with a new species.
But what did Scrooge McDuck have planned? Was he going to interrogate her? Torture her? Make her reveal everything that he wanted to know? Did he know that she couldn't talk? Or was his intent on capturing her only for revenge?
Fenton could only guess at these answers, but he did know one thing. There was only one place that they could keep the mermaid, and that was the lighthouse. There was no doubt of that. At least he knew where the mermaid would be. He would worry about what to do for her later. He still wasn't safe himself. And he needed to retrieve the journals. The mermaid had risked her own safety to bring him the journals. And if he was going to help the mermaid, he needed to know what secrets it contained.
The boat lingered for several minutes, no doubt hoping to catch Fenton when he came back for air. Eventually, they moved on, heading in the direction of the lighthouse as Fenton predicted. When he was certain they were gone, he went after the journals.
He first found the mangrove tree that he had sat on earlier, then searched the roots below. He found the seaweed-wrapped package easily. From there, he decided to go in the opposite direction of Mr. McDuck's boat, which was also away from where he stashed his duffle bag of clothes. Luckily the beach on the other side of the mangrove trees was part of a commercial zone with plenty of restaurants, gas stations and small convenience stores still.
He was able to borrow a cell phone with a made-up story about his car breaking down. After much consideration, he knew that his only choice was to call his mother.
And while Fenton had been told by teachers and professors that his intellect was well above the genius level, he knew that there wasn't any point in lying to his mother or predicting how she would react. And this time, there was no hiding what was going on.