sunday afternoon bob and his assistant, larry higby, join us. bob is on call and the army signal corps will contact him via shortwave radio if he's needed. he and larry are both eager to take turns skippering. and soon the five of us are flying along on a run with billowing sails. suddenly, a lot of static and a garbled message comes over the radio. i make out the words "search light," nixon's secret service code name, and "welcome," bob's secret service code name. bob tenses up. he considers a call from the president urgent and he asks george to return to kineel bay immediately. george jives the seraband and reverses course. the boat heels and we're doused with saltwater. bob's fingers drum on the deck while larry's right leg nervously jiggles. when we enter the protective cove of kineel bay, the wind dies. drifting 100 yards offshore, becomes frustrated and decides there's a faster way to make it to land. he thanks the bells, walks to the bow of the boat and dives into the water. larry follows. [ laughter ] swimming as hard as they can, they fi