Making port in Boston

The ride over was long and tense. Extended periods in close quarters with little privacy can make anyone stir-crazy, but when your companions are tight-lipped Puritans the challenge is only increased. They're a clannish bunch, and you could tell by their stares and not so subtle attempts to avoid you that you weren't exactly welcome. You were immensely relieved when it was announced that land was spotted, meaning your trip was almost done. As you pulled into port, you were rather surprised at the city. It was much smaller than you had imagined, probably not even being home to a thousand people, new settlers not included. Nevertheless, it appeared to be busy with people working to earn heir daily bread.

Stepping off the boat, the man you first met comes to see you. "You said before that you were out of work, yes?" You nod. "Well, as I imagine you are without much in the way of means, you will likely not be able to purchase a plot of land for yourself. Neither, I suspect, are you likely to be awarded one seeing as you are a total stranger here. Thus, I invite you to come with me and work on the land I purchase here. We can discuss conditions later, but does the idea seem acceptable to you?" You're really moving up in the world. Farmhand turned bum turned farmhand! "It sounds like a fine proposal to me. By the way sir, what is your name?" He holds out his hand to shake yours. "You may call me Mr. Winthrop."