Brother Hein Could Swim
I thought I would talk about a few events that happened about two hundred and thirty years ago in my Hine family. I found some information a few years ago and thought that they might make an interesting story. Now I’ve finally gotten around to doing it. I’ll start by tracing my line back to the aquatically gifted ancestor of mine. I’m Van and my mother was Betty Lou Bucklin Landry. Her father was Fred Bucklin, who was the son of Addie May Hine Bucklin. She’s the last one in my line to carry the Hine name. Her father was George Henry Hine. I thought I would share a photo of him, because he’s the one furthest back that has a photo. You’ve probably seen the photo before. It’s a favorite of mine.
George was the son of John Peter Hine. John Peter’s father was Peter Hine. Peter had the unfortunate situation that he became a father posthumously. He died at the age of 24 on July 22, 1819. His only child was John Peter, who was born on September 3, 1819. Of all of my maternal ancestors that I am familiar with, Peter Hine had the shortest lifespan. He was the youngest son of Johannes John Hein, who was an immigrant from Dillenberg, Germany. The documents from the 1700s show his name spelled as Johannes or John Hein. Only later generations adopted the Hine spelling that we use today.
Johannes was my 5x great grandfather. He came to North America with his father Johannes Jacob Hein and his stepmother in 1753. They originally settled in the Broad Bay, Maine, area. They were part of a religious group called the Moravians. The Heins then moved to Friedland, North Carolina, at some point. That sets the story up for the few pages of information I found. On page 811 of “The Records of the Moravians in North Carolina” there is an entry that talks about some of the new members that have found their way to Wachovia around 1774.
John Hein is listed separately from his father and the rest of his family. I don’t know if the others were there before or after him, but they were all at the same place later on. On other pages they talk about the wagons coming into town with prospective new citizens. There were less than 300 people in the town at that point. There is talk about building roads and bridges to make life more convenient and appealing to people. Then one night they must have had a big rainfall. On the morning of July 5 (1775), they woke up to higher water than they had ever seen in the area.
It says something about the mill sending for help. I’m sure they didn’t send a text! Somehow, they got a message, and they needed to cross the creek. There had been discussion about needing a bridge across Muddy Creek and I’m not sure this is the same place. But they needed to cross the water and all they had was a shabby canoe. The older, more sensible people probably didn’t want them to use such an unsteady vessel, but the young men insisted. One of them was our John Hein. He went along with Kremser and Schaub. They ran into a strong current, which caused the canoe to leak and then sink. Fortunately for all involved, John Hein knew how to swim. From the look of it, he saved the other two young men’s lives. I think that is pretty commendable. I like seeing stories like that about my ancestors.
The last thing I wanted to show was from July 17, 1777. John was almost thirty years old, so it was time for him to start a family of his own. The girl that caught his eye was Juliana Catharina Schneider. She was a few years younger than him, and she had been born in Broad Bay, Maine. She was the daughter of another German immigrant Melchior Schneider. He and his wife Jacobina Doerflinger were married in 1742 on the ship carrying them across the Atlantic Ocean.
John and Juliana were not so dramatic. John went to Br. Graff with his future father-in-law Michael (aka Melchior) Schneider to request the marriage of John and Juliana. They wished the Banns of marriage to be published, which was promised to them. The young couple was married August 19, 1777.