The breeze, fierce and constant as if the wizard or the genie was blowing with the breath to defeat the rash intruders, swept directly from the island, until, shut off by the rocks, it apparently ceased, and the water was smooth. The row of pelicans proved to be only rocks whitened by salt.
Now in a few minutes the rubber canoe was gliding through transparent shallows, and was about to land at the shelving, level shore.
“We’ll have to carry her up before she touches, boys,” spoke the lieutenant, leaping overboard, to his waist. “These sharp rocks will punch a hole in her.”
Overboard sprang all, and hustling the baggage ashore carried the fragile craft after it.
No giants opposed their landing; no huge figures rushed from the high sage, and flourished clubs, to clear the beach. The stretch of shore exhibited no foot-print, of human, or inhuman, or even of beast. Save the wash of the waves and the whisk of the wind not a sound arose. By all evidence, the island was a desert island, uninhabited.
From its high point, where its rocks rose to about 800 feet, the party surveyed its whole surface. Salt and a gigantic species of greasewood (the only “giant” thing); another, whitish shrub, some prickly pear, etc., were the only inhabitants of the island; salt was deposited in every crevice and pool; two birds flew from the mainland, on brief visit; that was all. And because of the disillusion where they had hoped to find fruits and flowers and game and sparkling streams, they christened the island Disappointment Island. Into a rock of the peak the lieutenant chiselled with his knife a cross; and by the rock he accidentally left the brass cap of his telescope.
That night each man (including Oliver) made himself a little shelter-lodge out of the abundant drift-wood on the shore, and with feet to the large fires lay down for slumber. There was no need of any sentry, nor of hand upon gun. The island was perfectly safe. To be enabled to sleep without a fear was novel experience, and was worth the trip.
During the night the wind increased again; and once Lieutenant Frémont said that the waves sounded like the surf of the ocean.
In the morning the waves were running high; the warders of the great lonely lake had still not given up the fight. Now the wind was from the opposite direction, or off shore, trying to keep the boat to the island! So again must the crew paddle hard, while Oliver pumped with the bellows; the lake was rougher than on the day before; the rubber strained and the ribs creaked, and Basil and Baptiste croaked dire “I told you so.” Nevertheless, at noon the shore was reached, before the promontory butte, and with a glad shout of exultation and relief they all leaped into the shallows, to carry baggage and craft high and dry.
But the efforts of the angered lake-guardians were not spent. While harder blew the gale, it shifted, and presently it was rolling the lake itself farther and farther upon the shore! The temporary camp had been placed about a quarter of a mile from the edge; but across the mud flat came creeping the water. When Mr. Preuss arrived with horses from the main camp up the river there was just time to pack and mount and ride, before the tide had covered the spot. When they looked back, the lake was busy wiping out all traces of their intrusion upon its shores. However, upon the island in its midst was the chiselled cross, and the brass cap of the telescope. Another army man, Captain Howard Stansbury, also of the Topographical Corps, in 1849 found the cross, but not the brass cap; the Mormon settlers of the lake shore had called the island Castle Island; he named it Frémont Island.