Plumbing in Portland, Maine, is old stacks in peninsula houses, plus the water a nor'easter drives at the foundation and then freezes. A top-floor leak finds every ceiling on the way down in a West End or East End house. Galvanized branches run rusty. Basements toward the harbor and Back Cove take seepage and backups when the storm loads the streets. A sump that runs through the blow needs a discharge that leaves the building, not a hose at the sill. Say supply, waste, or storm water.
Gurgles are often vents. Old metal service lines still enter these cellars. Do not scrape them. Know the shutoff. A valve that has not moved in years may weep, and you still want it before a fitting lets go during a storm night. A stain that grows with the wind and fades in a dry week may be a roof leader in the wall, not a supply pipe. Say that. It keeps the wrong opening out of the plaster. Radiator drips are heat piping and still ruin the ceiling.
The sequence here is soak, then freeze. Hose bibs and pipes on the ocean-facing wall split after the cold that follows the rain. They confess when things relax, or they let go while the wind is still up. Hot water tanks in damp basements fail at the bottom and walk across the floor. If the boiler makes the hot water, say so. Pressure that drops when another floor draws is a riser in a multi-family house. Name that if it is your building.
Basement baths near the main drain are the first to report a backup. Low streets are not the same as a house high on Munjoy. Say the neighborhood so the backup question is asked only when it fits. A rocking toilet has started a leak into the wood. Disposals on old stacks clog at the same elbow. Most of this city is street water and old pipe, not a dug well. If you are on the edge of town with a different system, say so.
Name the floor, the symptom, and whether it tracks the storm. Leak, clog, freeze, backup, or no hot water. Mention the ceiling below and any leader in that wall. Call the number on this page.