Surveyor's Shouldn't Laugh

One of the most fascinating aspects of Marine Surveying is that on the day of inspection you never really know what you are in for. I have been involved, one way or another, with all kinds of boats for over thirty years and I reckon the motto of the surveyor should be “expect the unexpected”. In a deadly serious business where people’s lives and tens of thousands of other people’s dollars are at risk, it pays to develop a few necessary skills, patience and diplomacy amongst them, when dealing with often tense and sometimes downright hostile situations.

My early associations with boats began on the River Thames where my boat building life was in the mud and freezing mists of various boatyards. The figure of the surveyor was different then. He wore a tie, clean clothes and was treated with that rare commodity, respect. His word was law, you didn’t argue with him, he had knowledge and even the crusty old shipwrights nodded to him and scuttled about when ‘the surveyor’ came to visit. That these venerable figures had anything so outlandish a thing as a sense of humour was inconceivable. One drizzly grey morning, an important customer was having his pride and joy up on the slips and the pompous owner was giving everyone a hard time. The surveyor was expected and it was clear the owner was on edge and determined to appear in charge.

When the surveyor arrived the owner made a beeline straight for him and in a condescending manner bellowed,

“Where have you been, I am in a hurry and can’t hang about all day. There’s nothing wrong with this boat, it’s perfect everywhere and doesn’t even need a survey, we just need it re-insured.”

The surveyor said nothing, proceeded immediately and carried out a long and thorough inspection. Finally, he finished and slowly screwed the top onto his Parker Fountain pen. A hush fell over the yard as the surveyor and owner faced each other.

“Well, what’s the verdict, eh, Mister surveyor?” snorted the owner.

The surveyor looked him in the eye and loudly but slowly replied,

“The garboards rotted, the frames are cracked and the only thing holding that bloody thing afloat is the worms holding hands, get it fixed….ten quid please!”

He handed the gob smacked owner his invoice, turned on his heel and swept off back to his old black Morris! Fantastic! I never forgot that and I never dreamed in those days I would actually end up being a surveyor but here I am and I must admit there can be some funny things every now and then.

Another instance, involved me going off with my boss who was a surveyor, diver, salvage and boat repairman, to an old decrepit houseboat to check out a serious leak. Irvine, my boss, had pulled up a hatch in the floor and shone his torch into the flooded bilges.

“Where’s your automatic bilge pumps?” said Irvine.

“Haven’t got none,” shrugged the man.

“Just turn the pump on by hand when it gits t’ the level of the floorboards.”

Suddenly the man’s wife piped up behind him,

“Why dontcha tell ‘im the truth, he’s bin sleeping wiv his arm out the bed for years. When ‘is hand gets wet, ‘e gets up and turns the pump on. ‘Cept the other night he came back from the pub drunk, the water level crept up ‘is arm, he peed the bed, woke ‘imself up and if he hadn’t of, we would ‘ave sunk…that’s why your ‘ere.”

Priceless stuff …. How could you keep a straight face.

However, I must admit I have had my moments and a classic, which I think about often, is the houseboat for sale on the Gold Coast. The client had seen the advert in the local paper “Houseboat for sale, $7,000, needs a handyman.” Agreeing to meet him at the beach location we were soon both pretty speechless. It needed a handyman all right, there it was just the cabin top poking out of the water…sunk! The owner even rang later to see how the survey had gone…what a nerve!

Many great moments on surveys arrive unexpectedly. I was at Hope Harbor on a very smart, large ‘Taiwan Trawler’ vessel, in beautiful condition for its year. The owner was very trim, smart and wore large gold rings on his fingers and incessantly smoked large cigars, although always out on deck. Once again, he was a fearsomely proud owner and was airily proclaiming how much he had spent on maintenance and upkeep of his smart boat. Truly, he had spent thousands and he was most eager when I asked to inspect the chain locker and winch. I removed the hatch and was amazed to see a gleaming new pile of shiny 3/8 stainless steel anchor chain.

He was beside himself with pride and he puffed himself up when he said,

“Three grand that were….plus fifteen hundred for the stainless anchor, up top.”

I wasn’t just impressed but amazed when my searching fingers found the loose end of the chain and the loose shackle next to it. Quickly realizing he must have forgotten to attach the brand new chain to the boat, I seized the moment, withdrew the shiny shackle and said seriously,

“Mm, well if you ever do put this nice new chain into that dirty old water, you’d better remember to tie it on with this!” and I dropped it into his hand.

Realisation dawning, he sagged visibly.

“Ooh, bloody hell” with a trace of a Yorkshire accent, “Ooh, you won’t tell the wife about this, will ya?”

You’d give a grand in cash to relive a moment like that, wouldn’t you? He was very quiet for the rest of the survey.

Disaster is always lurking for the unwary and is never far away. One awful day a couple of years ago I had a survey on a large powerboat for a Doctor client. From the moment we met my client had largely ignored me and brought along some posh mates for the survey day. It was clear from minute one he had his own agenda and when I had tried to explain the vessel was now considered a workplace and all through the pre-inspection drill I was talked down and ignored.

Finally, he grandly stood up and handed everyone a sheet of paper and said,

“Right ho, you do your survey, we’ll do ours and we will meet on the bridge in an hour to compare notes.”

With that, off he rushed and fell immediately down the engine hatch and disappeared. Thunderstruck, we hauled him out after his doctor yachtie mates pronounced him unhurt apart from severe winding and bruises. He was extremely lucky not to have been severely hurt and was shaken enough to meekly hand over the reigns to me once more.

“Well,” I murmured consolingly, “this really is what I am here to do in the first place.”

Secretly, I had been terrified he had broken his back in the fall….phew, what a day!

In many cases, surveyors encounter total hostility from the boat owner and if the broker conspires with him, God help you. I was at Manly and had to inspect a beautiful timber Halvorsen Cruiser. The owner, a German was glaring at me and wouldn’t even return my greeting. The broker, someone I hadn’t met before, clearly was the spokesman for them.

“Don’t take too long, don’t touch or damage anything and don’t expect to find anything wrong with the boat, he is a retired boat builder and he won’t appreciate any meddling!”

We hauled the boat on the slip and I was about to sound the bottom with the wooden hammer end when the bristling owner confronted me….

“Vot choo gonna do vis dat?”

“…Well, I am going to…”

“Don’t choo bloody toucha zis boat vis dat hammer, no knife, no bloody spike, doan go near it!”

“Ok then, tell me how I am supposed to sound the timber, you are a boat builder aren’t you?”

“OK mate, you test ze boat vis your knuckle like zis!” and he rapped on the boats bottom. “Like zis, get it!”

“Ok” I said handing him the hammer, “You survey the boat and I’ll learn how you do it!”

Angrily, he snatched my little toffee hammer, threw it on the ground and started to rap on the boat with his knuckles. After he’d done that for about two feet he’d hurt his hand enough to stop.

“Now you..come on, you are ze clever surveyor!”

“No, no,” I said, “You are going a good job, only another thirty feet left.”

After another two knuckle bruising minutes he’d really had enough.

“Now I gotta go to ze toilet, now you finish it off!”

“OK,” I said and started to tap the hull with my knuckles. He waited until he was satisfied and then rushed off. I grabbed my wooden mallet and said to the client. “Keep a look out and call me when he’s back!”

Sure enough within a couple of moments I found what our little man had been trying to conceal all along, the whole keel had been hastily and recently replaced with softwood and rotted out. When he returned I said,

“It’s a good method the knuckle rap, I don’t think I would have discovered this rotted keel without it,” and smiled sweetly.

He knew… I knew… he was mad… I was relieved… game over! I could live to fight another day!!

One of the worst things for a surveyor is when a client brings ‘learned friends’ along to ‘help out the surveyor’. It is something you really don’t need and you have to put your foot down with a firm hand. What folks don’t realise is that it is a very nerve wracking and often an emotional time for the selling owner. They often don’t want to sell their pride and joy and the last thing they need is an army of strangers willfully vandalizing their boat. One horrible day this happened and the client who had requested the survey was accompanied by at least four burly boaties armed with pointy things and all encompassing knowledge. As the boat was slipped, my client and his mates all charged forward and started chipping and hacking away at the exposed rudder, props and bottom. I was left standing next to a man that was clearly the owner. He was red with rage and shouted at me,

“Which one of those bastards is the surveyor?”

Silently, I pointed to my chest, “Me, actually.”

He charged off swearing horribly and dispersed the mob with threats too horrible to hear, ripping knives out of their hands and with fierce shoves. Needless to say, they all sloped off to the pub somewhere and thankfully stayed out of sight. You just don’t do that sort of thing do you?

Now, all this stuff doesn’t happen every day but you can bet your boots something’s always around the corner. Often it is scary, other times embarrassing but every now and again something pops up and brings a bit of sunshine into the life of a poor downtrodden, much maligned old dog of a surveyor!! Who knows, one day I might even write a book about it all when the mental scars have finally healed over!

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