William Turner, an out-of-work English farmhand

You were born to a family of poor farmhands in rural England, living on a nobleman's estate. Tall and brawny, you picked crops, herded sheep, and did other menial farm labors as a boy, working to make your living alongside your family. Your life has recently been turned upside-down. Your patron has said he can no longer afford the amount of staff he has, and began cutting laborers. You were on the chopping block, despite your lack of wrong-doing. You are in a pub now, spending some of the small change you've managed to save up for room, board, and a comforting drink. "This is it" you think, shaking your sandy-blond hair sadly over the wooden table you sit at. Nobody around here is looking for laborers. Fewer and fewer farms exist, with many shifting production to less labor intensive sheep herding, to feed the growing textile industry while importing grain from the east. Even if they were hiring, you'd be competing with crowds of men in a similar position.

The years is 1630. You thought your case hopeless, until you heard news from the colonies. You had never thought of going to one before, secure as you were in your work; as a matter of fact you almost forgot them entirely. Now, it may be your only option, other than being flogged in the navy of course.