Hubris, and a Stormy Aegean, Combine for a Greek Tragedy

ATHENS — A three-quarter moon cast a milky veneer on the sea. Land--a rocky fist striking out from the swells--appeared through the ghostly foam of the breakers to the woman bobbing in the black water.

Down around her legs in the warm Aegean, she could feel the tug of a current pulling her toward the small island.

But somehow another force--the wind? the lick of another invisible sea stream?--was carrying away the inflatable boat and the others inside it. She was still close enough to see their faces in the moonlight: the two small cousins held tight in their parents’ arms; her husband straining to reach out his hand, then pulling it back and waving her on.

“Go,” he cried. “Swim to the island. Get help.”

They drifted farther apart. The oars on the dinghy were no match for the current dragging them to deeper water. She stopped fighting. It was futile to try to rejoin them.

“Swim,” her husband pleaded.

His voice was much more faint now. The boat had melted into the darkness.

Vagia Zisi was alone--except for the clump of rock and scrub behind her.

She turned and headed for shore with powerful breaststrokes. She kept her eyes riveted on the island, fearing at any moment being snared by the tangle of currents or swept onto a jagged outcrop by a wave. Fatigue and chill were driven away by the primitive powers of adrenaline and the instinct to survive.

She was a good swimmer, had been as long as she could recall. As the island grew closer, she knew she would make it. But what about the others?

A few minutes later, she pulled herself from the water and immediately looked out to sea for any sign of the boat--adrift without a motor, flares or drinking water.

Not a trace.

*

A tragic truth: As long as there are ships, there will be shipwrecks and sinkings. The Aegean, a cultural and commercial crossroads for millenniums, is rich in evidence.

The floor of the Aegean is strewn with dead ships, including the Titanic’s sister ship, Britannic, sunk during World War I. Many of the hulks rest in shallow graves of sand, silt and barnacles. Sometimes archaeologists win the battle with the sea and reclaim some treasures: urns from ancient traders, swords from forgotten flotillas, marble figures.

But many more modern hulks lie undisturbed and ignored: fishing vessels, ships from this century’s wars, and countless yachts and sailboats--the latest being the 40-foot Gold Fin.

“The Aegean is always being filled by tears,” said a member of the Greek merchant marine team that searched for survivors from the Gold Fin.

Technology has reduced many of the inherent risks of sea travel. Satellites can plot storm systems days in advance and help pinpoint any location. Communication advances make almost no place out of reach. Greece’s cellular-phone networks, for example, now cover most of the Aegean.

Innovations, however, cannot force the right decision from those at sea.

*

The man at the helm of the Gold Fin, owner Evangelos Mavridis, could not have overlooked the unstable weather. The shifting winds had been picking up. Even in the protected harbor in Mithimna, on the northern coast of Lesbos, the water was choppy.

The wind gusts were hitting 7 on the Beaufort scale, meaning a minimum of 30 mph. It was still shy of gale force, but enough for port police in Lesbos and surrounding islands to ban all passenger ferry service. The order does not apply to private vessels like the Gold Fin. It’s up to the captain to make the call.

The weather notice posted in Mithimna harbor forecast worsening conditions.

Mavridis, a 35-year-old whose dark hair was showing the first hint of gray, had most of his seagoing experience on a 23-foot inflatable pontoon-style craft with a powerful outboard motor. He had purchased the Gold Fin last spring and had been out often in the Aegean from its home port of Pireaus up to Salonica, where Mavridis and the other Gold Fin passengers lived.

He hadn’t really tested the Gold Fin in serious weather, but he wasn’t concerned. The vessel was strong--wood and fiberglass--with a nice, responsive hull.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said as they boarded the boat in Mithimna. “I know the waters around here well.”

Mavridis helped his wife, Evangelia, store their gear. Their son, Anastasis, 5, played on the deck with his older cousin, Constantine. Eight years old with an elfin face, sharp cheekbones and charcoal eyes, he had already picked out all his school supplies for second grade.

Constantine’s parents--Sophia and Dimitri Theodoridis--told him he was responsible for helping keep an eye on little Anastasis, whose straight brown hair was whipping around in the wind. He was afraid his baseball hat would blow off. His mother chided herself for not bringing a knit cap for the boy.

The last aboard were Vagia Zisi and her husband, Haralambos.

*

Mavridis started the motor. The Gold Fin bobbed out of the choppy harbor. Few people watched them leave. All the outside tables in the dockside tavernas were empty.

Shortly before 10 a.m. on Aug. 22--a Friday--he hoisted the sails. They billowed taut, and Mavridis steered a course to the northwest.

They were bound for Limnos, about 45 miles distant, on their way back to the Halkidiki peninsula, where they had begun their journey the week before. With the northerly wind, Mavridis couldn’t sail directly toward Limnos and had to tack. The barren northwest shore of Lesbos was to their left. Soon the coastline was out of sight.

In the open sea, the winds rose to gale force--around 42 mph. Tall waves washed over the bow.

The boys were told to go below deck and put on their life jackets.

No one was surprised by the stormy weather--more like fall than midsummer in Greece. It had been an unusual August, the coolest and wettest in about 20 years.

In the Aegean, harsh weather brings particular hardship. Some of the islands have no airstrips and are cut off when ferry service is suspended.

On the afternoon that the Gold Fin set off, the islands were settling in for a few days of forced isolation because of rough seas. The forecast called for blustery weather through the weekend. Fast-moving banks of clouds raced over the sun, making it almost chilly at times.

The open Aegean has a very different temperament from the tranquil and shallow edges familiar to beach-going tourists. A crisscross of currents and winds--influenced by islands and widely varied sea depths that mirror Greece’s mountainous terrain--can make the sea treacherous even for experienced mariners.

Vagia Zisi, a heavyset woman with rings of thick black hair, sat close to her husband on the Gold Fin. They tried to reassure themselves that it was fine to be at sea. They had taken several trips with Mavridis and his family on the Gold Fin earlier in the summer. The boat always seemed sound when the seas got a bit rough. But it was never like this.

Mavridis put on his life jacket and suggested the others do the same. The deck was slippery with sea spray, and the boat was being tossed about. He turned on the engine--which surprised some of those aboard since the propellers are usually used in dead calm or in harbors.

“I want to charge the batteries,” he told them.

*

Mavridis did not have a captain’s license, but he didn’t need one. It is not required in Greece for sailing vessels up to 49 1/2 feet long if the owner is at the helm. Some Greeks--raised around the sea--consider sailing their birthright. Going to school to take lessons and a nautical exam is often scoffed at as unnecessary or even demeaning.

A growing affluence in Greece has added to the ranks of the novice mariners. About 15,000 pleasure boats are registered in Greece--a nearly twofold increase from the late ‘70s, the merchant marine office reports. In addition, thousands of other small craft based in Greece fly foreign flags for tax breaks.

Veteran sailors have noticed waters more crowded--and potentially dangerous.

“There are people out there who do not know what they are doing,” said a longtime boat owner, Aris Nicholides. “Someone buys a boat and all of a sudden they think they are a captain.”

Mavridis listened to the weather forecast on the radio. Winds were now at 8 Beaufort--up to 44 1/2 mph.

“After 6 Beaufort, it isn’t sailing,” said professional skipper Ahileas Koukas. “It’s surviving.”

*

“Fire!” Mavridis yelled. “Get the boys. We’re in trouble.”

A blue-back smoke, smelling of diesel fuel and oil, poured from below the deck and then was blown in ragged streaks by the wind. The fire broke out in or around the engine.

He made one attempt to go down to try to put out the flames. But the smoke was too dense and the fire was spreading too fast. It also blocked his way to the radio and the main life raft.

Mavridis didn’t have to make the decision; it was made for him. The Gold Fin was lost. Everyone raced aft. The men untied a six-foot-long rubber dinghy used to ferry passengers when the ship was anchored offshore. First the boys were helped over the side into the dinghy. They didn’t cry.

Vagia Zisi heard the boys’ parents speaking as calmly as possible: Don’t worry, everything’s OK.

“Does everyone have a life jacket?” Mavridis asked, ensuring that his own was securely fastened. “Good.”

He was the last to leave the boat, which by now was half covered in flames. There wasn’t time to unfasten the dinghy’s outboard motor, which was lashed to the deck.

But in the rush to escape, nothing else was taken. No water. No food. No flares or flashlights. Not any of the three cellular phones on the boat. Only two cans of soda taken by the boys, who were also wearing waterproof jackets.

There was neither the time nor the capability to make a distress call.

It was noon Friday, about 13 miles off the northwest corner of Lesbos.

*

The dinghy sat low in the water from the weight of eight people, so tightly packed their knees butted together. The boys snuggled close to their parents. Each time the craft came down in the trough between waves, more water spilled in.

Vagia Zisi, 33, and Mavridis volunteered to go overboard and hang onto ropes attached to the dinghy. Zisi wanted the other women to stay with their sons. Plus, she reminded them, she was a good swimmer.

Soon they spotted what they believed to be a Turkish fishing boat in the distance. Their hopes rose.

“They must see us, if we see him,” Zisi said.

But the boat chugged away. They had no way to signal other than vain cries, swept away by the wind’s howl.

Zisi and Mavridis kept as low as possible while trying to keep their heads dry. The water was a comfortable 75 degrees. But they felt deeply chilled wherever the wind hit wet skin or clothing.

There were no more ships spotted before nightfall. Zisi thought she heard the whistle-exhale of dolphins passing near. Otherwise, it was just the enveloping darkness of the open sea. The moon rose about 8 p.m.

They floated toward the southwest.

*

“Look, look, an island!” someone cried shortly after 3 a.m. on Saturday, after about 15 hours adrift.

Zisi craned her head around. No doubt, it was land. She estimated it was about a quarter-mile away. But the boat appeared to be moving no closer.

“You can swim it,” Zisi’s husband urged. “Go for help.”

She set off and soon felt a strong current pulling her toward the island.

“Come back!” the two other women on board yelled, their voices hoarse from thirst. “We have to stay together. Don’t go.”

Zisi tried to return. The currents wouldn’t allow it. She doesn’t know why the others didn’t also attempt the swim. There wasn’t time to discuss it.

“I’ll find help,” she yelled back. “Don’t worry.”

But even as she swam to the island, she knew help would not be immediate. It was obvious no one lived on the rock. There are hundreds of such barren spots in the Aegean. The locals call this one Kavalouro.

Zisi called it “the place of miracles.” She stumbled across two sealed bottles of spring water that had washed up on the rocks.

Then she staggered into a sandy cove. The exhaustion and the frustration of finding an uninhabited rock came crashing down. She collapsed and slept until dawn.

Saturday morning passed. Then the afternoon. Zisi waved and shouted to a few passing vessels, but they were too far away. She dried her clothes and wrapped a shirt around her thick curly hair for protection from the sun after the clouds finally gave way. The wind stayed strong but the sea was less angry.

*

In the village of Syri, a fisherman looked over the sea in the early afternoon and decided he should give it a try. None of the other fishermen had gone out, and he had the chance to corner the market for a day.

Yannis Margaritis rowed his small boat, Faneromeri, out to deep water. His nets were piled at one end of the faded orange vessel. Some sandwiches and peaches were at his side.

He stood up to make another, more fateful, decision. He usually heads a bit south of the village to fish. But this day, he stroked his boat in the other direction, toward Kavalouro. He doesn’t really know why.

“Could it have been the hand of God?” the 66-year-old fisherman said later, tugging at his favorite straw fedora.

In the fading daylight, he saw Zisi waving a red shirt.

His first thought was that maybe it was a shipwrecked Turkish sailor waving the red flag of his homeland, whose shore is within sight of some points of Lesbos. Then he wondered if it was an illegal immigrant, who are sometimes dumped on desolate Aegean rocks by smugglers.

“Voyethia,” Zisi yelled in Greek. “Help.”

It was about 8 p.m. Saturday--32 hours after the fire on the Gold Fin.

*

The air and sea search kept widening its perimeter throughout Sunday. Zisi waited for news from her hospital bed.

It finally came Monday at 11 a.m. The bodies of her husband, the boys and their mothers were found near the overturned raft about 42 miles southwest of Kavalouro.

Autopsies suggested they may have died from exposure and dehydration just hours before being spotted.

The five polished wooden caskets arrived in Salonica on a sunny, calm day. The wake of boats rippled in the gentle Aegean.

Mavridis’ body was found by a Russian merchant vessel 20 miles south of Lesbos on Aug. 31. The next day, the body of Dimitri Theodoridis, the father of 8-year-old Constantine, was spotted about 8 miles southeast of the island where the Gold Fin began its journey.

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An Aegean Tragedy

Planned route

Friday, Aug. 22, 10 a.m.

Friday, 12 noon: Ship catches fire. Passengers abandon ship.

Saturday, Aug. 23: Vagla Zisi swims to Kavalouro in an attempt to get help.

Monday, Aug. 25: The bodies of Zisi’s husband and four others are found.

Sunday, Aug. 31: Mavridis’ body is found.

Monday, Sept. 1: The body of Dimitri Theodoridis is found.

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Homer’s wanderer-warrior Ulysses often contemplated the mysteries of the “wine-dark sea” known as the Aegean. Plato was awed by its role as both Greece’s life-giver and reaper: granting passage to the fortunate, swallowing the ill-fated. The ancient rules still apply. On Aug. 22, eight Greeks set off on a sailboat from the island of Lesbos. From various accounts, search records and the lone survivor’s story emerges a timeless Aegean tragedy, directed by nature’s raw rage, the foibles of human judgment and whether luck--or the gods, as Ulysses believed--takes pity on those cast adrift.