They stand at the railings of the MV Hondius, staring toward the distant shore of Cape Verde, knowing three fellow travelers have already left in silence and three more will never return. Inside the ship, corridors are quiet, conversations hushed. Every cough is a question. Every headache feels like a warning. Authorities insist the overall public risk is low, yet the images of hazmat suits, isolation stretchers, and guarded ambulance boats tell a different, more intimate story of fear.
As the ship heads for Tenerife, passengers rehearse what will happen next: disembarkation, transfers, flights home, and an invisible countdown of incubation days. Experts still don’t know whether a rare person‑to‑person transmission has occurred or if a single encounter with infected rodents ashore changed everything. For those still aboard, the true terror is not what they’ve seen, but what might already be inside them, waiting.
