Here was our most western fort. It lay very well, what there was of it finished, just where Wills Creek falls into the Potomac.
I went, with Captain Orme guiding me, to headquarters at the fort to report, passing a few Indians and squads of ill-clad Virginians whom an officer, one Ensign Allen, was cursing and trying to drill into regulars.
Everybody was out of temper for one reason or another. Sir John could get neither waggons nor flour, and the Indian squaws were making mischief because of the unchecked license of the younger officers.
Having reported, I was received very agreeably by the general and his aides, and he would have me to dine with him that day. At four in the afternoon—for the general kept very fashionable hours—we sat down in a great room in the fort, and as he told us his cooks could make a good ragout out of old boots, we were served with a great variety of dishes, and in fine state.
The general had Lord Fairfax on his right and Mr. Franklin on his left, and I was fortunate to find myself beside a very courteous gentleman just come to the fort, Mr. Richard Peters, secretary of Governor Morris of Pennsylvania. I engaged this gentleman in talk concerning the proprietary government and the Quakers, and their unwillingness to be taxed for defence, until, the wine being freely used and then punch more than enough, men’s tongues were loosed. There were toasts to the King and the governor, and at last I heard the general’s voice raised.
He said: “Your health, Mr. Peters, and when do you set out to cut that road for my troops? You are long about it.” Mr. Peters said quietly: “When, sir, I get guards against the Indians for the wood-cutters; until then it will not be possible.”
The general damned Pennsylvania and the Quakers, and said: “That colony must find guards for their own wood-cutters, and as to the Indians, his Majesty’s regulars laugh at the idea of danger from them.” Upon which, several officers, not very sober, cried out, “Hear, hear!”
Mr. Peters, who had taken very little wine, replied that they were not to be despised, meaning the savages, but that every step of the march would be at risk of ambuscades.
Then, to my amazement, General Braddock cried out that he despised such counsels and that the colonials were like old women.
On this Mr. Peters rose, and one or two other gentlemen, and I saw Mr. Franklin glance at him. As he hesitated, I said so that he alone could hear: “Pardon me, Mr. Peters, the man is drunk, and you are entirely right.” Then I saw that his lordship spoke quickly to the general, who cried out: “My apologies, Mr. Peters, and a glass with you. We have had too many vinous counsellors. You shall have your guards”—as indeed he did, but not until my lord had been very urgent, and also Mr. Franklin. Mr. Peters, very grave, bowed and sat down. When shortly his lordship went away, I made my own excuses and followed him.