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The moment Ben Ellison
turned in his article “Bad Day at Hillsboro” (January 2003),
I knew we had a hell of a story. Sure enough, days after it appeared in
our January issue, letters and e-mails started pouring in. In fact, there
have been so many comments, compliments, and complaints, we’ve devoted
an entire expanded “Mail Drop” to them this month.
Read
these letters, and you’ll see this is an emotional issue. On one
side are boaters who, finding themselves in dire straits, expect help
from a towing company for a few hundred dollars. Instead, they’re
told their boat is being “salvaged”—an alien term for
many—and the charge will be in the thousands. Little wonder they
feel they are being ripped off.
On
the other side are towing operators who say they’re following established
protocols and seeking just compensation. Many complain that boaters are
often ignorant of the basic rules of marine salvage, specifically what
determines whether a job is considered a tow or a salvage.
Who’s
right? There’s plenty of blame to go around. Many boaters are ignorant
of the nuances of salvaging and towing, perhaps assuming that the same
principals that govern automotive towing apply to the marine version.
Those who’ve read Ellison’s story and subsequent pieces in
PMY now know that marine towing is governed by complex maritime
salvage laws, with the defining concept being “peril.” If
a boat is in peril, she is subject to salvage. (A boat can also be salvaged
if she places the environment—say a reef—in peril.) The distinction
is clearly open to interpretation, and—here’s the rub—the
towing operator/salvor is the one who ultimately makes it. That leaves
you, the boater, essentially powerless.
Say
a towing operator shows up after your boat has grounded. Your running
gear is damaged, and you’re taking on water, although your pumps
are keeping up. You know you’re in no danger of sinking, but the
salvor says your boat’s in peril. What happens now? Three options
present themselves. One, the salvor wishes you good luck and leaves. Two,
you agree to his judgment, and (hopefully) your insurance company pays
the bill. Three, you negotiate for the best price you can—assuming
there is time for negotiation. Unfortunately, it seems the issue often
never arises until the boat has been towed back to the dock. By then you
have no leverage and it’s too late to do anything but plead.
How
can you protect yourself? The March issue of BoatU.S. Magazine, published
by BoatU.S. (which runs its own towing service), offered some suggestions.
One is calling your insurance company so it can negotiate with the salvor,
which might be impractical if time is a factor. (Imagine trying to navigate
a telephone menu to reach an actual human being as the water rises.) Another
is asking for a fixed price before a salvor begins work—the operative
word being “asking.” Face it, the guy has you over a barrel.
Finally, BoatU.S. suggests you “try to get any agreement in writing.”
Again, time and your perilous situation could work against this.
So
what do you do? Start by educating yourself about this issue so you aren’t
shell-shocked when it happens to you. If it does, hope that you get a
reputable towing operator (according to our mail, there are plenty), and
keep in mind that while property and money are important, safety trumps
all. When in doubt, take the tow and worry about the cost later.
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