A photographic copy of an 1795 print by J.G. de St. Sauveur, of an Iroquois warrior in traditional dress and holding a musket. This is believed to be an accurate representation of the appearance of an Iroquois warrior at the time of the French and Indian War.
In 1944, the Lykens Standard published what was supposed to be a series of contributions by local historian, Thomas J. Hoffman, of Enders, Dauphin County, Pennsylvania. Only two such articles were published, both were about “The Rescue of John Rewalt: A Tale of the French and Indian War.”
Parts I (published April 14, 1944) and II (published April 21, 1944) are presented below. Verification of the historical accuracy of Hoffman’s writing is left to the reader.
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PART I
During the French and Indian War in the year 1755, a thrilling event took place in the mountainous regions of Schuylkill County, then covered with trees of pine, oak, chestnut, and many others, forming endless forests through which communication and travel were made possible by means of Indian trails extending north and south, east and west from the Susquehanna river.
In the summer of 1755 the English and Colonists, under the command of General Braddock, were utterly routed by the French and Indians near Fort Duquesne, not Pittsburgh. This crushing defeat threw the outlying posts and frontier settlements wide open to attack and massacre.
The original owners of eastern Pennsylvania were the Delawares, a noble race and one friendly to William Penn and the Quakers, for in 1682, under an elm tree at Shackamaxon, near Philadelphia, they made a treaty with Penn that never was broken, even though it was not ratified by an oath.
When this war broke out between the French and English for supremacy on the American Continent there were still remnants of this tribe left in Eastern Pennsylvania, but no danger was anticipated from them since they were friendly. No, the real danger would come from those confederated Indian nations of [New] York State, the Iroquois, who sent their marauding expeditions even as far south as Schuylkill, Lebanon and Dauphin Counties to plunder and destroy frontier settlements whenever possible.
And so it was that on a cool morning in late autumn of 1775 [sic], a small band of Iroquois were seated in a circle around a fire in one of the mountain defiles of Schuylkill County. It was a favorite camping place for these roving war bands, since trails running in four directions crossed each other here, and a spring of pure mountain water gushed from under a rock to slake the thirst of man and beast. The underbrush had been removed from a small plot of ground to make room for the holding of their councils when necessary, and for the meeting place of the various expeditions that would re-assemble here preparatory to taking the northern trail home.
The party, though small, was fully equipped in the panoply of Indian warfare. The war paint was thick on their faces, and their dour looks and sullen visages boded no good-will or mercy for the helpless captive, securely bound, hand and foot, to a pine tree close by.
The captive was a fine looking, broad-shouldered frontiersman in his early thirties. His head was bare, and the only member he could move at will. His serious look indicated that he was well aware that torment and death awaited him, yet there was resolution, and defiance as well, to show that he was determined not to beg or cringe, no matter how great the ordeal. And so he calmly watched the Indians as the sat in council to deliberate upon his fate.
A filled pipe or bowl was lit and the chief, after taking two or three whiffs, passed it on to the next, and so on till it made several complete rounds, after which the council opened and deliberated. It was soon over and when the Indians arose the captive knew his fate was sealed. And this proved true, for the chief went to the captive and in his guttural voice exclaimed, “Paleface, you die!”
And then the torment began. Brandishing their tomahawks, they danced around the captive, each in turn pulling handfuls of his hair out by the roots and jeeringly crying, “Pretty hair — heap good hair — too much hair!” The captive bore the insults and pain with stoicism, and in turn taunted them of being squaws, since no brave would do the work of squaws.
In order to break the spirit of the captive, he was now subjeced to a cruel and most inhuman ordeal, that of hurling tomahawks at him without actually attempting to him him. Only the most expert and skilled were allowed to participate in this, as the intent was not to kill, but to break down the morale, since scalping and death were come later.
And so their leader, at a Distance of ten feet or so, after several flourishes, hurled his tomahawk with great force at the head of the captive, passing so close to the right that it cut some of his ringlets as it sank quivering into the tree.
A second Indian took his stand, and brandishing it to and fro several times, raised his hand and then sent the tomahawk flying to the left of the captive’s head, so close in fact that it bound some of his hair to the tree. After which a third entered the lists to break the captive’s spirit. He first went up to the prisoner and brandished his weapon right and left before his face, and then stepping back, he hurled it with savage fury at the captive’s head, grazing his scalp as it sank deep into the soft wood of the pine.
The captive, however, withstood the test, with so much courage and resolution that even his tormenters were forced to applaud. He did not close his eyes or try to dodge the forbidding missiles that so narrowly missed hitting him.
The Indians, realizing that they failed so far in breaking his heroic spirit, now began preparations to torture him with firs. Accordingly brands of fire were placed close to him and fresh fuel added that would only end in agony and death. As the flames increased in their intensity, they mocked him with, “Injuns warm pale face” — “Smoke paleface like raccoon” — “Injun soon take scalp!”
The captive did not answer these jobes, as all hope seemed gone now, and just as he had resigned himself to his fate and God, there came a sudden, startling, but most welcome interruption that will be told in the due course of our narrative. In the meantime, we must go miles away to eastern dauphin County and enact the drama that took place there.
PART II
In the year 1750, or thereabouts, the first pioneers came to northeastern Dauphin County, and settled on the north side of the Whiconescong (Wiconisco) Creek, south of the town of Loyalton. Patents had been granted to Capt. Andrew Licans [Lycans], Ludwig Shott and John Rewalt. The Licans family consisted of Andrew Licans, his wife Jane Licans, son John Licans (grown to manhood), and several younger daughters. Shott was also married and had a family. They were joined a year or so later by John Peter Hoffman, who had been a resident of Berks County up to this date. Hoffman’s patent of land was situated a short distance north of Loyalton and extended to the foot of Short Mountain.
These early pioneers associated together, worked together, and fought together, and by 1755 had firmly established themselves. Cabins had been built for their housing, and sheds and other buildings for harboring their stock, also sufficient cleared land to raise the necessary grains and food to sustain life.
Up to this time they had not been molested by the Iroquois, but now fate-ruled otherwise, for on the day preceding the events told in part I of our narrative, Shott came rushing mid-afternoon into the cabin of Licans with the astounding news that Rewalt had been captured by the Iroquois.
“How and when?” exclaimed Licans, spring up.
“rewalt massed my cabin a little while after noon, saying he was going up the creek after a wild turkey. About an hour later I heard the report of firearms, the repots being so close together that they sounded as one. Taking my rifle I went at once to investigate and discovered where a scuffle had taken place, the imprint of moccasins and broken bushes, and with no sign of Rewalt anywhere. So I hurried back, for I know that you wish to go to his rescue.”
“And you are right.: The speaking to his son, “Hurry, John, and tell Hoffman what happened. Come back as soon as possible and bring John Peter with you.
Licans and shott now made preparations for the attempted rescue. They inspected their rifles and laid their plans as how to proceed. While engaged in this, Shott’s wife and children arrived to spend the night with Jane and her daughters.
When John Licans and Hoffman arrived whey were made acquainted with the proposed….
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[Note: the next section of the newspaper article is cut off on the left side. In the transcription, five dashes are used to denote the missing letters and words].
—– heartily approved of —– Licans then gave some —– advice to the women, af- ——they left the cabin to —– their dangerous mission.
—– to the place of Rewalt —– capture, Licans examined —– and then remarked —- Rewalt was captured here. —– bushes and imprints — moccasins, together with the —– leaves plainly show —– scuffle took place. And —– for we must head them —– the trails cross.”
—– and rapidly they —– Licans leading, with —– as rear guard. They —– the trail up the valley, —– night fell as they entered —– mountain regions of Schuylkill —– They were favored —– cloudless sky and full —– and also the fact that —- had been over this trail in —– years.
—– sun was shining bright —– the mountaintops and —– the pursuers were near- —– end of the trail next —– the trail came to a point —– which they could, look —– into the defile where the —– were expected to camp —– was their joy on behold- —– spirals of smoke float- —– above the treetops. It was —– some that Licans exclaimed —– thank God, were are not too —–.
—– increased vigilance they —– to within a distance of —– a quarter of a mile from —– then veering to the left, —– around to the north, —– in from that direction to —– their attack. A hundred —– or so from camp Licans —– his band remain there ——he went to reconnoiter. —– short but anxious time he —– with the information —– the war band consisted of —– eight warriors, of which —– appeared wounded; that, Rewalt —– was tied to a tree and fire —– for his torment; that for- —– for them, the Indians —– stacked their rifles against —– on the very side from —– they would attack from —– He concluded with, —– we have fired our first —– three of us will rush for —– rifled and give —–second volley, while —– is to rush to Rewalt’s —– scatter the firebrands. —– and be careful not —– any object that might —– sufficient noise to betray ——.
—– Licans nor demon- —– ability as a scout and —– Going on tip-toe for —– distance, they then began —– on hands and knees as —– as snakes through —– underbrush toward —– unsuspecting Iroquois. And —– the desired position was —– each man singled out —– victim, and at the given sig- —– our rifles were discharged ——.
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[The newspaper text here reverts to fully readable columns}.
…and four warriors well.
This unexpected and highly executed surprise demoralized the Iroquois, and ere they recovered from their shock, the frontiersmen, yelling like demons, and crying, “Surround them, surround them,” first from their covers, and seizing the loaded rifled, fired a second volley, felling two and wounding one, who realized he could not escape, unsheathed his knife and made for the helpless rewalt with the intent of plunging it into his heart. But ere he was able to accomplish his fiendish purpose, the breech of Hoffman’s rifle descended on his head with such force as to stretch him lifeless on the ground. The remaining warrior, though wounded, managed however to escape during the melee into the tangled underbrush of the forest.
The firebrands were quickly scattered and Rewalt freed from the withes that bound him to the tree, and their joy was great when, after due examination, it was found that he was not seriously burnt and would, after proper circulation was restored, be as well as ever.
Two of the Iroquois, fatally shot but still alive, were quickly put out of their misery. Then gathering some of the Indian trophies, they prepared to start for home; and this could not be too soon since the reports of those firearms would be heard far and wide and might bring other war bands to the scene. And so they started for home without burying the dead, knowing full well that the escaped warrior would return with other members of his tribe and see to that.
When they came to the scene of Rewalt’s capture he told them how he ran unexpectedly into them. Both sides fired, their shots going wild while his found the mark. Then in attempting to escape into the dense underbrush, he tripped over a root and fell with so much force that ere he could rise the Indians were upon him and made him a prisoner. “Thank God,” he concluded, “You came in time to free me from those inhuman devils, since a few more minutes of torture would have witnessed my breakdown.”
The joyful reunion that took place that night at the Licans’ cabin must be left for the imagination — it cannot be described.
Next year (1756) the Iroquois returned with overwhelming forces to attack the Licans settlement. After several Indians were killed and Shott and rewalt wounded, Licans and Hoffman executed their brilliant retreat to Hanover township with9out losing a single member of their band.
Here Andrew Licans, great scout and pioneer, died.
His son, John Licans, became an officer in the Provincial Army in 1762, and was stationed at Manada Gap in 1764.
His wife, Jane Licans, had a patent issued to her for the land on which her husband had located in 1765. Later on for many years it was known as the “McClure Farm.”
John rewalt recovered from his wound and moved to the more thickly settled sections of the Colony.
Ludwig Shott also recovered. His name appears in the Wiconisco Assessment of 1779. He died in 1790, head of a large family.
John Peter Hoffman returned again to Lykens Valley in 1758, bringing his family with him. Besides farming, he was skilled in carpentry and blacksmithing. His original patent on which he settled is known today as the E. W. Romberger farm, north of Loyalton. Here he died in 1798, aged 89 years. His wife, Anna Hoffman, died a few years previous. A sister of his Ann Maria Hoffman, died at the age of 95 years.
The Hoffmans and twenty-six of their contemporaries are buried on a plot of ground on that farm easily visible from the public road; a fine monument marks their resting place.
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Article obtained from Newspapers.com. The photo of the print is from Wikipedia and is in the public domain.
Corrections and additional information should be added as comments to this post.
[Indians].