Doaa lay limp in the lifeboat, weak, emaciated, and unable to move a muscle as they made their way back to the Japan. She could feel the waves pushing the lifeboat against the big ship as it took several attempts before it could be lifted and secured back on the ship. When they finally boarded the Japan, the men carried her out and carefully laid her on a stretcher. She lost sight of Masa and Malak but instead saw curious, worried, and kind eyes all around her. No one spoke Arabic, but they understood when she told them she was not Masa’s or Malak’s mother.
Doaa lay on the stretcher shivering in her wet clothes. A man held out a crisply ironed orange coverall, just like the one that all the crew members were wearing. She somehow managed to communicate that she wanted to dress herself and in private. They seemed to understand and formed a circle around her with blankets, with their backs to Doaa, so she could discreetly peel off her wet clothes as she sat on the deck and pulled on the coverall. It took all her remaining strength to get it on her body. As she brushed her hand over her pounding head, her fingers grazed over the white scrunchie that tied her hair back. She remembered the smile on Bassem’s face when he had given it to her, the thought of which made her cry. Overcome with emotion and suddenly feeling exposed, Doaa longed for a scarf to cover her hair. She had never before been in front of men outside her family with her head uncovered. Seeking comfort, Doaa felt around her neck for another gift that had meant so much when Bassem had first given it to her. The charms that dangled from her beloved necklace were of a Syrian opposition flag and a spent bullet that Bassem had collected in Daraa before he’d fled.
Pulling herself together, Doaa examined the pile of clothes and the documents she had so carefully wrapped in plastic that lay around her. These were her only remaining belongings, and she was relieved that they were still intact. One by one, with all the trust she had left, she handed them to one of the men who had pulled her from the water: Bassem’s and her passports, their engagement contract, the five hundred euros in rolled-up bills, her mobile phone, and her precious Quran. Then she collapsed back onto the deck, the last of her strength gone. The crew members helped her back onto the stretcher and carried her belowdecks into a small room. Carefully, they lifted her onto a cot and laid a soft pillow under her head, then covered her with a warm blanket.
The nearest coast guard station was in Greece on the island of Rhodes, too far away for a rescue helicopter to reach the tanker’s present location. The crew instead received instructions to head toward the Greek island of Crete so that the helicopter could meet them on the southwestern shore. It would take at least four hours to get to that meeting point and to the medical help that Doaa and the girls desperately needed. The captain looked out to sea, then put the engines at full speed.
Meanwhile, belowdecks, members of the crew were taking care of Masa, Malak, and Doaa with all the first-aid knowledge they had. A man peeled the wrapper off a chocolate bar and offered it to Doaa. She let it melt on her tongue. It tasted wonderful, but the sugar suddenly caught in her throat and she started to cough uncontrollably and her breath became short. Someone placed an oxygen mask over her face and she soon relaxed. She felt as if she were still bobbing in the sea, and when she opened her eyes, she could hardly believe that she was on a ship, safe and alive.
Doaa drifted in and out of sleep that night. At one point she awoke to find that the crew were taking photos and selfies with her. But she didn’t mind. She knew they were good people and felt safe with them around her. God had delivered her to them, she thought, as she dozed off again. Doaa was beset with dreams of drowning and choking and at least once she woke up gagging. In her dream she was trapped underwater, trying to reach the surface for air. She awoke with a start and was surprised to find one of the men in her room setting down her clothes beside her bed. They were washed, meticulously ironed, folded, and smelled like fresh soap. The man then carefully placed her documents, money, and her Quran on top of her T-shirt and slipped everything into a plastic bag. This small gesture of kindness comforted Doaa, and she lay back on her cot and closed her eyes again.