The Minorcans of Florida
A Story of White Slavery
By Donald H Sullivan
Copyright 2011 Donald H Sullivan
All Rights Reserved
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This is a work of fiction inspired by a historical event. Most of the events recounted in the story are based on the testimonies of colonists during Governor Tonyn's investigation of Dr. Turnbull's alleged abuses of his indentured servants at the New Smyrna Colony.
All characters in the story are fictitious except those in the following list.
Dr. Andrew Turnbull
Gov. James Grant
Gov. Patrick Tonyn
Father Pedro Camps
Father Bartolommeo Casanovas
Ramon Rogero
Francisco Pelicer
The roles and dialogues of the above characters are purely speculative, but the story endeavors to characterize them in the way that history has portrayed them.
The last two, Ramon and Francisco, took a huge risk by escaping Turnbull's colony, making their way to St. Augustine, and notifying Gov. Tonyn of the plight of the colonists.
The fictitious characters, such as Turnbull's overseers, slave drivers, and colonists, are based on the actual people who made up Turnbull's colony. Other than those, any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is strictly coincidental.
FOREWORD
The British acquired Florida from Spain in 1763 due to a war between the two countries in the mid 1700s, giving them a new colony. In hopes of populating the territory, Britain granted large tracts of land to certain individuals One of those individuals was Dr. Andrew Turnbull, a wealthy Scotsman.
Turnbull was enticed by the possibility of wealth and power. He recruited and transported over 1,000 people from the Mediterranean area to colonize the land that he called New Smyrna (named after the homeland of his wife.) He had planned on less than half that number, between three and four hundred, but due to an ongoing famine in Minorca, a large number of people from that island volunteered.
It was the largest single group sent to colonize land in the New World up to that time. The New Smyrna Colony covered over 100,000 acres and was nearly three times the size of the colony at Jamestown.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Eight ships, chartered by Dr. Turnbull, left the port of Mahon, Minorca in mid-April 1768. The ships were bound for Florida, carrying a total of 1,403 passengers, all of whom were indentured servants of Turnbull. He intended to use these indentured servants to work his plantations in Florida and to colonize the 100,000 acres of land granted to him by the British government. In return, he promised to free the servants and give them plots of land when their term of servitude expired.
The ships began arriving in Florida in June 1768, with the last one arriving in mid-July. Of the 1,403 passengers, only 1,255 survived, an indication of the terrible conditions aboard the ships during the voyage.
Upon arrival in Florida, the colonists became no better than slaves. Large numbers of them died because of brutal treatment, diseases, and harsh living conditions in the colony. Turnbull refused to release them and give them their promised plots of land when their term of indenture expired.
He claimed that the term of indenture did not start until the servant had worked to pay off travel expenses from Minorca to Florida.
However, the Minorcans claimed that Turnbull had promised them free transportation to Florida.
~ ~ * ~ ~
The Minorcans of Florida
May 23, 1768. Miguel Ortegas watched as the body of his father was released into the sea. He scarcely heard the words that Father Casanovas uttered as the body was committed to the deep. He was in a daze; everything around him seemed like a dream. He had cried until he could cry no more. His emotions were drained dry.
He stood on the deck, barely aware when friends of his father expressed their condolences. Of the nearly two hundred people on the ship, many of them knew his father, who had been a carpenter. He had done work for hundreds of people in Minorca.
He remembered many times when his father refused payment for small jobs like door or window repair when he knew that people had no money to spare.
His father had observed his forty-third birthday aboard the ship just one week before he died. The ship had been at sea for over two months of what was supposed to have been but a six week voyage. But rough seas and storms had blown them off course several times.
Food was running low and spoiling, and nearly every passenger had sickened, including Miguel. His father had been one of twenty-three on the ship who had died from food poisoning, scurvy, or unknown causes.
At age fifteen, he was now alone. His mother had died when he was nine. He had an older brother, Roberto, who chose to stay in Minorca, as he had just married and had a good job working for a shipping company.
After the funeral he returned to his hammock in the crowded compartment, which was quarters for single men. The hammocks were a 3x6 foot piece of canvas, held tightly between beams by four ropes, one at each corner. His father's hammock, now empty, was directly above his.
The space between decks in the compartment was less than five feet, and even Miguel, at five-feet-two, had to stoop when walking through.
Directly across the aisle from Miguel was Jose Reyes. He liked Jose, although the man was simple-minded and sometimes spouted nonsense. But at times he could be rational, and when so he was good company. He was a tall, skinny bachelor of about thirty-five. He had no relatives aboard, but claimed that he had some on one of the seven other Florida-bound ships carrying colonists to the British colony of New Smyrna.
On the hammock above Jose was Giuseppe Pasquale. He was a swarthy Italian with a thin mustache who had a perpetually annoyed look on his face. He frequently snored, mumbled in his sleep, and broke wind. The latter being the reason that Giuseppe and Jose frequently had words.
The ship was in fairly calm waters now, and it was smooth sailing. It was quiet in the compartment. Some were playing cards, some were talking in low voices, and some were sleeping. Miguel was glad for the smooth sailing. Rough seas didn't make him seasick, but it made many of the others sick. Their gagging, puking, and moaning made life miserable for all. There was a perpetual stink in the compartment from the vomit.
He lay there on his hammock, staring up at the empty hammock above him. He remembered how excited his father had been when Dr. Andrew Turnbull came to Minorca looking for volunteers willing to go to Florida and work his plantations.
At the time, Minorca was in a three-year drought that had caused a severe famine on the island, so Turnbull was able to pick up many volunteers there. He had already recruited a number of Italian and Greek volunteers, but Minorcans far outnumbered both of those combined.
Turnbull came promising volunteers free passage to Florida plus quarters and provisions at Turnbull's colony. In exchange, the colonists were required to sign a contract of indenture to work Turnbull's plantations for a specified term. After the term was up, they were promised their freedom and a large plot of land.
Miguel's father was lured by the promise of such a large tract of land. Turnbull was especially looking for tradesmen like carpenters and masons, and as an inducement he offered a short three-year term of indenture instead of the seven year term for laborers.
His father gladly signed, but on condition that Miguel be signed as a carpenter's apprentice. He had at first requested that Miguel be signed as a first class carpenter, but Turnbull hesitated.
"At fifteen, he is too young to sign as a tradesman. I'll agree to sign him up as an apprentice until he turns eighteen."
"I know that he can do carpentry," said his father, "but I understand your concerns so I'll accept your terms. Agreed"
The word quickly spread among the people of Minorca that Dr. Turnbull was a wealthy Scotsman who had been granted a hundred thousand acres of land in East Florida by the British Crown, and that he was establishing a colony on the land. He planned on planting fields of indigo, sugar cane, and olives, which would reap great profits.
The man is already wealthy and dreams of even more wealth. All poor Papa dreamed of was working out his indenture and getting his own plot of land. Like a thousand other Minorcans, Miguel's father was lured by the promise of his own plot of land and a new life in America.
Turnbull had planned on recruiting four hundred people from around the Mediterranean area, but ended up signing far more than he had planned on. So many, in fact, that he needed to charter eight ships for the voyage. Miguel had heard that the total number of colonists was over fourteen hundred.
Miguel's thoughts were suddenly interrupted.
"I'm going to shoot him," shouted Jose.
A few of the men looked up from their card game, then went back to their playing.
."What are you talking about," Miguel said. "Shoot who?"
"Turnbull, that's who. Because of him you've lost your father. And there are many others who have died since we left Minorca. They would still be alive if Turnbull hadn't come."
Jose lapsed into mumbling angrily, and Miguel closed his eyes in thought.
He's right. Papa would still be alive if Turnbull hadn't come. But I must remember, too, that we chose to come. Papa and I signed an indenture agreement for three years. And, too, it's not Turnbull's fault that we were blown off course several times.
Jose reached over and shook him. "Miguel, did you hear me?"
"Sorry, I must have dozed off. What were you saying?"
"I'm going to cut his throat. Will you help me?"
"Forget it, Jose. They would hang the both of us."
There was a long moment of silence, when the only sound was Giuseppe's snoring and the murmur of conversation in the compartment.
Finally, Jose whispered, "Yes, I guess you're right." He went back to his mumbling.
~ ~ * ~ ~
July 11, 1768. The ship arrived in St. Augustine, Florida, nearly three months after leaving Port Mahon, Minorca.
Before debarking, Miguel picked up his father's canvas bag that held all their belongings and slung the strap over his shoulder. The rest of their belongings were left in the care of his older brother in Minorca.
Miguel learned that the other seven ships had already arrived. Most of the passengers of the other ships had already left St. Augustine for the New Smyrna colony. Some went by sea and some went by land. The land route was a seventy-five mile walk on the recently completed King's Road, which had been built over an old Indian trail..
If we have to walk for seventy- five miles, I can't do it carrying my bag. I'll probably have to leave most of my stuff here.
After debarking, the travelers were gathered into an open field in the north part of the city near the old Spanish fort. In an agreement with Turnbull, Governor Grant had arranged to provide food and lodging to the transient travelers.
The group was given portions of peas, potatoes, salt beef, and cabbage. There was also choices of mullet, turnips cooked with salt pork, and fresh bread. Miguel wolfed down the meal, the best he had since leaving Minorca.
As he finished his meal, a pretty girl, about his age, approached. Her features were delicate with large brown eyes, and she had an olive complexion, as did many Minorcans. He didn't know her, but had seen her on the ship a few times. He was surprised when she stopped. She seemed embarrassed.
"Are…are you Miguel Ortegas?"
He smiled at her. "Yes, I am."
"My name is Anita Usina. I was on the same ship with you, but we were in different quarters. I saw you at your father's funeral, and I just want to say I'm sorry. I hope you are doing well."
"Thank you. I am doing fine now."
"I heard that altogether nearly two-hundred passengers died," she said "They say that some of the ships we were on have carried slaves from Africa." She paused. "Do you have relatives here?"
"No, but I will be alright. My papa made Turnbull agree to take me as a carpenter's apprentice as a condition of his signing for three years. Turnbull needed carpenters, so he agreed."
"We got an agreement from Turnbull, too," she said. "My papa signed on as a blacksmith and Mama and me will work the fields. Turnbull agreed that our servitude will be for only three years, the same as Papa's, and not the seven years for field workers. Where are you from?"
"I am from a community near Ciudadela. And you?"
"We are from Mahon."
"Anita, Anita, where are you?" A male voice shouted.
"That's Papa," she said "I have to go."
He smiled as he watched her go. I like her. Just a few words with her made me feel a lot better. I hope we can meet again.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Felipe Usina signed on with Turnbull as a blacksmith. His trade had been rather prosperous in Minorca until the drought plagued the whole island. He was not a farmer, but he depended to a large degree on the farmers for business. As the drought dragged on seemingly without end, he saw the chance to sign on with Turnbull as a blessing.
He would be bound to a contract for only three years, after which he would become a landowner in the British colony of East Florida. He would continue his blacksmith trade, but being a landowner would gain him higher position and privileges.
He smiled and hugged his daughter. "Where have you been, Anita? I've been looking all over for you. Your mama and I have been worried."
"I'm sorry, Papa. I didn't mean to worry you and Mama. I was talking to Miguel Ortegas, the boy who lost his Papa during the voyage. It's so sad. He is an orphan and all alone now."
"Yes, it is very sad. From what I hear, though, he learned the carpenter trade from his father and has a tradesman contract with Turnbull. He will be alright, so we needn't be too concerned."
"He's very nice, papa. I talked to him for only a few minutes, but I like him very much."
At this point her mother came up. She giggled. "You like who very much, sweet?"
"I was telling Papa about my meeting Miguel Ortegas. I do like him, and I think he likes me."
Carmen looked puzzled for a moment, then nodded. "Oh yes, the one who is orphaned now. It's easy for a girl to be attracted to a boy in such tragic circumstances. I'm glad that you are concerned, but I urge you not to let it go farther than that. You must always remember that you are betrothed to Antony."
Antony Capo. I wish I weren't betrothed to him. He's a nice man, but he's twenty years old. Besides, the betrothal was arranged by an agreement with Antony's parents and my parents.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Miguel was not on the list to go by sea to New Smyrna, he would be with the group that walked. But he was relieved to learn that Governor Grant had furnished the walkers with several horse drawn wagons to carry their belongings.
The march from St. Augustine to New Smyrna took a little over three days. They walked at a normal pace, stopping for a few short breaks each day, and allowing six or seven hours each night for sleep.
There was thunderstorm on the afternoon of the first day, and it rained nearly every day of the trip.
. He looked for Anita, but did not see her during the entire march.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Anita and her family boarded the ship for the trip south to Turnbull's colony. It was better than walking, but she did not look forward to being tossed about by the heaving seas. But the ship never reached the open sea; it followed an inland waterway, a route between a series of islands and the mainland. It was a very smooth ride.
The ship was not as crowded as the ship that she boarded in Minorca, and the trip was pleasant, lasting less than a day.
Anita looked for, but did not see Miguel during the trip.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Miguel, like everyone else, was disheartened by the conditions the colonists found at Turnbull's colony. Turnbull had led them to believe that the land had already been cleared by African slaves. However, they learned that the ship bringing the slaves from Africa sank at sea, leaving no survivors.
Housing was supposed to be available for all the colonists upon arrival. Food would be plentiful, they were told, and clothing and shoes would be furnished to the colonists.
Instead, they found that none of the land had been cleared, and that the colonists would be expected to clear hundreds of acres. The only housing awaiting them was thatched palmetto huts, built by a few African slaves that Turnbull had purchased from plantation owners in South Carolina and brought down to his Florida colony. There were not nearly enough huts to accommodate everyone. And the Florida heat was smothering.
Food and provisions had been stored for an expected four hundred colonists, not nearly enough for the more than twelve hundred that arrived. Turnbull had anticipated about four hundred recruits from the Mediterranean area, mostly Italian and Greek.
But due to the drought conditions in Minorca, he picked up over nine hundred recruits from that island. Turnbull turned down none of the recruits, but he had not laid on more provisions to accommodate them. There would be severe rationing until more provisions arrived from St. Augustine and Charleston.
There were only a dozen African slaves available that Turnbull had brought from South Carolina. In addition, there were ten more Africans, but they weren't workers; they had been slave drivers on a cotton plantation . Turnbull wanted experienced drivers--he called them his corporals--to push the workers in his labor force, and those ten Africans he judged to be experienced and well suited for the task.
Turnbull also had a number of overseers, who were English and also from a cotton plantation in South Carolina. All the overseers were experienced as supervisors of African slaves. The chief overseer was named Carlton Clay, a big, ruddy-faced redhead. He wore a wide brimmed felt hat with the brim curled up on one side.
There was resentment among the colonists. They did not like it that their overseers were formerly supervising slaves, nor did they like it that Turnbull was using his slave drivers to push them. They were supposed to be indentured servants, not slaves.
Before the new colonists had a chance to rest from their trip, Clay was making up work assignments for them. Some would be cutters, sawing and chopping trees and brush. Some would be digging roots, removing stumps, and burning brush. Also, he made a list of workers who would build more thatched huts. The Africans, who had learned how to make thatched huts from the local Indians, made the existing huts and would show the colonists how to make them.
Miguel learned that he was to be a stump remover. He waved his hands and got Clay's attention.
"What do you want, boy."
"Sir, I was signed on as a carpenter. Shouldn't I be assigned to do carpenter work?"
Clay called him forward. "What is your name?"
"Miguel Ortegas."
Clay checked his list. "My list shows you as a carpenter's apprentice, not a carpenter. But that does not matter. Starting tomorrow carpenters, blacksmiths, and other tradesmen will work at clearing until they are needed to work in their trade."
"Yes sir." Miguel turned to go.
Clay caught his arm. "Just a minute, boy. Mr. Miller, our chief carpenter, wants good carpenters, not trainees. He already has about twenty first class carpenters ready to start building. If he needs laborers to help his carpenters and masons, he can draw all he needs from our workforce.
"I'm going to make up new papers for you to sign, and then Dr. Turnbull will sign them. Your old contract will be voided, and you will be better used as a laborer in the fields with seven years indenture."
"But sir, I can do first class carpentry. All the carpenters I've worked with say so. If you will give me a chance…"
"That will be enough. Now shut up or I'll send you to the whipping post."
Clay dismissed him and continued addressing the new colonists.
"I want to remind all of you that Dr. Turnbull is the law in this colony. As long as you keep the rules and do your work you will be alright. That's all I have for now. Breakfast will be at first light. I want everybody gathered here right after breakfast tomorrow morning. Now you may get ready for supper."
The crowd broke up, and everyone was pulling their cups and bowls from their bags and trunks. They lined up for a small serving of corn gruel and hardtack bread, prepared and served by a African slaves and several Minorcans who had volunteered as cooks.
Miguel was outraged. I'm not going to take this. First chance I get, I'll run away. I'll go to St. Augustine and then stowaway on a ship to Minorca. I'm not going to stay here, nor will I sign any more papers.
~ ~ * ~ ~
The few thatched huts that were available were assigned to the colonists with tradesmen having first priority. Anita was disappointed with the hut assigned to her father. It was devoid of furnishings save for a couple of wooden crates and what few belongings they had placed in the hut. One candle was issued per hut, but her mother had brought along several candles in their belongings.
The huts were spaced far apart with all facing the river. The days were hot, but nights were mostly cooled from breezes off the ocean.
There was only one room in their hut, but Anita's father had rigged a blanket as a screen to partition a small place to give her some privacy.
"I heard today that Miguel's contract was voided, and that he would now be indentured for seven years as a farmer. I am angry. With all that he has endured, he now faces more hardships."
"Yes," her mother agreed, "It does seem an injustice. But he is young, and in seven years he will still be a young man in his twenties. He will become a landowner then, and few people of his age have such standing." Carmen hugged her daughter. "Don't worry over it, Sweet. We are having hardships enough of our own."
But she did worry, and fell into a fretful sleep thinking of Miguel.
~ ~ * ~ ~
That night, all those who were not assigned a hut had to sleep in the open. Miguel estimated there were seven or eight hundred, including himself. Everyone chose to sleep on the sandy bank of the river, careful to stay above the high tide mark, and hope the weather stayed clear.
What they called a river was actually a lagoon, or run of salt water between the mainland and a chain of offshore islands. This stretch of the river was wide but shallow. The inland waterway went northward all the way to St. Augustine and beyond. The waterfront of the colony ran along the river bank for a distance of several miles.
Miguel found a blanket in his bag and spread it on the sand. As he lay there, he looked up to see that someone was spreading a blanket next to his. It was Jose.
"Hello, Jose, good to see you."
"Good to see you, too, and I'm glad that I don't have to put up with Giuseppe anymore. I saw you when you talked to Clay today. I thought he would have you whipped. I don't like it here. I want to go home."
Miguel was glad to see that Jose was not in one of his loony moods
He lowered his voice. "I'm not going to stay here and take this, Jose. He actually threatened to have me whipped, like a slave."
"What are you going to do?"
"Go to St. Augustine and stowaway on a boat to Europe, and then go to Minorca."
"I'll go with you. We can go by King's Road because we know that way and won't get lost."
"No. That will be the first place they look for us."
"Then how will we go?"
"They say there's a big swamp behind the colony," said Miguel.
We'll go through the swamp; they won't expect us to leave that way. We can circle around the colony and come out by the river. We can make a raft from tree branches and follow the river to St. Augustine."
~ ~ * ~ ~
Miguel and Jose started out before daylight the next morning. They carried their heavy travel bags a short way into the swamp, then decided they were too heavy and hid them. Miguel pulled a hatchet and a coil of rope from his bag, as he would need those items to make a raft.
They slogged their way through the muck and mire of the swamp until they came to the bank of a creek. They eyed the stream, about fifteen feet wide. The water was like tea, darkened by the decaying leaves.
"It doesn't look too wide," said Jose. "Maybe it's shallow enough to wade across."
"We can swim it…" Miguel stopped in mid sentence. A big alligator moved on the opposite bank, then slid into the creek. Jose gasped and stepped back as the reptile disappeared into the murky water.
Miguel laid his hand on Jose's shoulder. "Don't be afraid," he said. "It's only an alligator, and there are many of them in Florida. I heard some people on the ship talking about them and they said that they won't hurt you if you don't bother them.
"All the same," he said, " we better not cross here. We'd better follow along the bank until we find a way to cross. Sooner or later there's bound to be a spot shallow enough to wade across."
Miguel didn't like it. He had heard there were alligators in Florida, but never expected to see one. He was beginning to have thoughts about turning back to Turnbull's colony. He probably would have turned back already had it not been for Jose. When they left before dawn, Miguel had already changed his mind after going a short way. Stowing away on a ship was beginning to look more and more like a hare-brained idea.
But Jose refused to turn back. "I'm going by myself if you don't go."
"It's still early," Miguel argued. "Maybe they haven't missed us yet."
"Ha. I'll bet they're probably looking for us right now."
Miguel tried to argue, but couldn't persuade Jose to turn back. He did not want to abandon his friend, and reluctantly agreed to continue.
"Wait," said Jose. "We don't have to look for a better spot. I'll kill that alligator so we can cross." With that, Jose made a growling sound and showed his teeth.
Oh no. He's going into one of his loony moods. I sure don't need that now.
"How do you think you'll kill that alligator?
"I'll just jump in there with my knife and stab it to death."
"It might kill you, and then what would I do? And what if there is more than one? Let's go and look for a good place to cross, and we'll both make it."
"I guess you're right," said Jose, "but let's rest a while before we start." He sat down on a fallen log. Miguel started to sit down next to his companion when he noticed a movement under the log where Jose was seated. He gasped. It was a huge snake. He opened his mouth to warn Jose, but it was too late.
The snake struck and Jose cried out in pain. He jumped up as the snake slithered into the creek. He rolled up his trousers to reveal two puncture wounds on the back of his leg, just below the knee. The area of the bite mark was already darkening and beginning to swell.
Miguel was horrified. "My God! We'd better hurry back to the colony for help."
Amazingly, Jose was calm. "They say that if you are bitten by a snake, you are supposed to keep quiet so that the poison will work slow…and maybe weaken. I better stay here, while you go back for help."
The normally slow-witted Jose was keeping his wits under a terrifying situation. Miguel could think of no alternative to Jose's suggestion.. "Alright," he said. "We've only been gone about three hours. If I hurry there's plenty of time."
Jose nodded, then lapsed into mumbling. He began to giggle at some secret joke, and seemed unaware of Miguel leaving.
There were no appreciable landmarks to follow, but Miguel had a good sense of direction, and set out confidently. It was only mid morning and the sun was still low, so there would be plenty of time to get help, and to get Jose back before dark.
It was stupid of me to have such an idea to begin with, and it was stupid of me to listen to Jose and refuse to turn back when we had a chance. Maybe they wouldn't yet have missed us. How could we expect to survive in a wilderness that we knew nothing about?
On top of that we had no weapons or food. They'll probably punish me, but I'll just have to take it. They'll punish poor Jose, too, if he survives the snake bite.
The thought of Jose waiting and in danger of dying made Miguel speed up his pace. It was only mid morning, but already hot and humid.
Turnbull told us that the climate here was about the same as in Minorca. He lied. It never got this hot and muggy.
He looked up at the Spanish moss hanging from the tree branches, giving the swamp a gloomy look. He wished he were back in Minorca where they had no alligators to worry about. In all my fifteen years of growing up in Minorca and roaming the island, I never saw creatures like alligators.
Miguel left the swamp and reached dry land. He should reach the settlement soon. From the corner of his eye he saw a group of several men to his left. One of the men yelled. Miguel heard the sharp crack of a pistol and felt a sting on his upper right arm. He stopped and raised his arms in surrender.
As the men approached, he could see that none of them were Minorcans, Italians, or any other group that came on the ships. There were two men who appeared to be British and one African. He later learned the two whites were overseers, a short, stocky, blonde-bearded man named McCormick, and a slim but sinewy man named Grey. The tall, angular African was a driver called Corporal Silas. Grey carried a pistol, which he reloaded and stuck in his belt. One of the men spoke some Spanish and asked where the other escapee was hiding. Miguel, like most Minorcans, spoke Catalan. He figured that his English was as good or better than the man's Spanish, so he answered in English, and explained what happened. The men took him to Clay.
"I'll send one of the corporals with you tomorrow morning," said Clay. In the meantime, join the group you're assigned to and go to work. I'll leave word with Carver, your overseer, to mete out the punishment that he sees fit." He paused. "And he'll send you to my office after work tonight to sign your new indenture agreement."
"But there's still time to go get Jose and be back before sundown," Miguel protested . "He may die before morning."
"Serve him right," said Silas. "We outta let him rot in the swamp."
Clay nodded. "Tomorrow morning is the earliest I'll send anybody. I'll not risk any of my people being in the swamp with them snakes and gators after dark."
Miguel's arm was only grazed by the bullet, and the wound had already stopped bleeding. But it was still painful, and he reached up with his left hand to feel for bleeding.
Clay snorted. "A little scratch. Now get to work."
~ ~ * ~ ~