Captain Phil Harris Read Online Free Page B

electric drill pierced the back side, it came shooting through to the front, emerged, and kept going right into the seventy-seven-year-old Grant.
    For an instant, he looked like a man committing suicide by plunging a sword into his midsection.
    Fortunately for Grant, the drill stopped just in time. The bit, having enveloped itself in his shirt, came to a halt as it touched the skin in front of his heart. He escaped with nothing worse than a scratch and yet another tale of dodging his demise.
    When Mike expressed amazement at how close he had come to sudden death, all Grant said was, “Yep, that’s kind of how it goes.”
    “The Bering Sea never got him,” said Mike, “but a drill almost did.”
    Three centuries separate Vitus Bering and Grant Harris, yet theyshare a common bond unbroken by time and technology. Both of them sailed the Bering Sea, accepted its frightful challenges, rode its deadly waves, and experienced moments of dread and exhilaration unequaled on any other body of water in the world. And both set a course for future generations. Soon to sail in Grant’s wake was Captain Phil Harris, to be followed by Josh and Jake.

CHAPTER 2
LEAST LIKELY TO SUCCEED
    “He tried harder than everybody else because he wanted to be accepted.”
    —Joe Wabey, Phil’s first captain
    Phil Harris had some close friends growing up: Jeff Sheets, Joe Duvey, and Mike Crockett were all constant companions. But there was also another group that Phil spent a lot of time with, though not necessarily by choice: the Bothell Police Department.
    When they heard an engine roaring through town at high speed, be it that of a motorcycle or a car, the name Phil Harris usually came to mind.
    Grant Harris tried to be a diligent father, but with his wife dead from cancer and his obligations as a carpenter, handyman, and part-time fisherman occupying much of his time, Phil had plenty of opportunities to run wild. And he was about as easy to handle as a bucking bronco.
    By the time he was in the seventh grade, Phil had a routine. He’d wait until his father left for work, then grab a couple of pillows, stuff them in the driver’s seat of the second family car, and hop in, the added height enabling him to see over the steering wheel.
    He didn’t get too far because the police also knew his routine. They would pull Phil over and drive him back to his house. Knowingthere was no mother at home, the police would then call Grant and tell him, “You can’t have your kid out driving around.”
    Occasionally, if Grant wasn’t available, they would take Phil to the police station, where he ended up spending so much time he might as well have been the department mascot.
    When Phil turned fifteen, he moved out. He was the drummer in a band that also included Jeff and two other friends, and he decided that he and his fellow musicians needed an apartment where they could live, work on their songs, and entertain the ladies.
    Of course, Phil’s attendance at school became dismal. But whenever he missed a day, he would simply write a note to explain his absence. They were often long, rambling excuses. After a while, school officials didn’t believe a word Phil put down on paper, but what could they do? Since he was living with his friends, there was no adult to verify his claims.
    At the end of one semester, out of all his classmates, Phil was voted Least Likely to Succeed after being nominated for that category by a school counselor.
    Outwardly, he never seemed to care much about school, treating everything about it with apparent disdain. But deep down, being labeled Least Likely to Succeed cut to his core.
    It was a tag he never forgot, even long after he had succeeded beyond the greatest expectations of school officials and the wildest dreams of his classmates.
    •   •   •
    Where did Phil see himself going after high school? The fishing trips with his father as a youngster had certainly put ideas in his head about a career path. But it