In Willa’s mind, it was not a matter of if it would go wrong, but when. How? For some reason, the Overtakers were always the ones to make the first move. She could not remember a time the Keepers got the jump on them. They were always on the defensive. Always looking over their shoulders, wondering what might happen next.
Only once, on Tom Sawyer Island, had the Keepers broken through to capture Maleficent—but it had not gone as planned and nearly cost them dearly. Willa wanted the shoe on the other foot—she was tired of being the victim.
For this reason she found herself on full alert. She didn’t know about any of the others, could not speak for them, but sensed they too were in a state of hyperawareness.
And that moment was at hand.
It happened quickly. There was some impromptu dancing to the theme song from Pirates of the Caribbean. It spread out to the perimeter walkways that circled the deck and ended in sheets of thick Plexiglas that served as a wind barrier. The Funnel Vision screen showed the rising masts of a pirate ship with rigging running in every direction, flags flapping, sails bulging. Suddenly, a pirate jumped from atop the smokestack, sliding down a rope. The blending of the real pirate against the projected image was so convincing that at first your eyes wanted to believe he was up on the screen, part of the film. But as he landed on the stage and the crowd recognized him, an enormous cheer went up.
“Jack Sparrow!”
He drew his sword and rushed Finn.
Other pirates flooded the stage from the same door the Keepers had used. But it struck Willa that there were too many of them. One or two might have made sense on such a crowded stage, four or five if you wanted to give the impression of an insurmountable army. But eight or ten? Talk about overkill. And if overkill, then Overtakers.
Max, the emcee, now relegated so far to stage right that he was nearly being pushed off, also looked perplexed at the sight of so many pirates. Holding the microphone to his mouth, having just called out Sparrow’s name, he was stuck, frozen. He seemed ready to announce something more, but the sight of so many pirates left him speechless.
That was how Willa saw it from her perspective.
In fact what was going on in Max’s head at that moment was self-doubt. The internal panic that he’d gotten it all wrong, had missed some vital piece of information important to the scene. He froze, not out of any fear concerning the pirates, but fear he’d lose his job if he messed this up. Why exactly were so many pirates swarming and storming the stage, and what was his role in the skit? How could he have missed such an important detail?
Willa looked to her right, doubly surprised when pirates arrived from her left as well. Where had they come from? Another four pirates! A piratical convention. Sailor Goofy and Nautical Minnie found themselves pushed away from center stage, which was, as it turned out, the mother of all signals.
Minnie never—ever—had been pushed anywhere or been anything but the center of attention. Neither Jack Sparrow nor any of his men would ever, could ever, come close to her royalness—not highness but Minnie-ness, a bloodline of pen and ink lines that went back decades.
The moment Minnie stumbled, a collective gasp soared from the otherwise excited crowd. It was as if the queen had lost her crown. The collective mood turned instantly dark and angry.
Jack Sparrow was booed loudly.
Willa was at the perfect angle to see Jack’s face twitch at the sound of the jeering, the perfect angle to see the man’s lips part, revealing gold teeth. He adored the chorus of disapproval. It was no act: he adored it.
This wasn’t right.
* * *
On the bridge of the Dream, another problem presented itself. Here, the captain, a handsome Swedish man with golden hair, ice-blue eyes, and perfect posture, paced the large, enclosed deck behind oversize windows offering a two-hundred-degree view of the ocean. Two wings protruded fifteen feet from each side of the bridge like glass sunrooms added as an afterthought—one to port, one to starboard. From these two wings, the captain and his team could see down the full length of the ship and had controls to steer and propel the ship. The wings were typically used for docking. But as one approached these extensions, as the captain did now, one gained a view of that corresponding horizon. All combined, it gave the bridge crew a 360-degree view of their environment.
Added to this were images from a half dozen exterior closed-circuit television cameras that provided electronic images in all directions, as well as several types of radar systems that could see through weather and darkness to identify other ships and warn about collisions dozens of miles before one might happen.
But the responsibilities of the Dream’s captain extended far beyond the exercise of keeping his vessel on course and on time. He also had to be the face of security, the image of leadership and command. He had to interact with his passengers, take photographs with them, dine with them, and conduct introductions to social functions. Being in charge of the ship and all its passengers meant Captain Cederberg was also responsible for all the Disney characters and Cast Members and by default preserve the Disney culture aboard the ship. This was not a task the captain or his crew took lightly. The ship was an extension of everything Disney—it was both a cruise ship and a theme park at sea.