The English settlement of Jamestown was hampered in its progress by a severe downpour that fell in late 1609. The colonists endured hardships in the colony; some stopped working because of the severe weather, scarcity of food, or general lack of motivation. Outside the walls of the settlement, there stood a colonist waving his hand as he helped open the gates to make a horse-driven cart inside.

"Make haste with thou cart, will ye? The lads within are famished to the bone!"

The tall man's voice rang out over the rain as he directed the driver. Once the cart trundled inside, he heaved the heavy gates shut with a grunt, leaning wearily against the wet timber. He muttered to himself, vexed by the relentless rain.

"Me helmet and armaments shall rust in this cursed weather, mark my words..."

He grumbled under his breath, tightening the oilcloth covering his matchlock rifle to shield it from getting damp.