When the little crowd returned to the farmstead, Croft was there, waiting with a double-barreled shotgun tucked firmly under his right arm; he was flanked by two men, one taller and the other a shade shorter. The taller man had coils of rope slung around his left shoulder while the other carried a pail of what appeared to be water. But this was a pail of concentrated salt solution. Although Croft was silent, his intentions were clear. Save for an almost imperceptible nod from him, as a signal for the man with the rope to act, there was no communication. The atmosphere was tense with fear and anxiety.
Although, men and women surrounded Shiraz, to insulate and protect him from Croft’s aggression, his large frame did little to give him refuge - he towered above the rest. Little blisters of perspiration pimpled his forehead. Despite his stark fear, he pushed gently through the group, until he stood facing the men. Croft immediately leveled his shotgun, which was now aimed at Shiraz’s broad chest. The others in the group slowly slunk away to the sides. Shiraz extended his arms forward in a mute invitation of surrender. The man unslung the rope as he walked towards him. He wasted no time in having Shiraz’s hands tightly bound. About fifty paces away, stood a large tree with spreading foliage. The rope was slung over an overhanging branch. As the man pulled at the rope, Shiraz’s arms stretched until he could feel the rope biting into his wrist. The loose end of the rope was then tied around a lower branch.
Croft stepped up to Shiraz from the rear and hooked his fingers into the collar of his loose fitting garment and ripped it down to the waist; the garment lay in tattered rags at his feet. Layers of fat around his large girth folded over, looking like gills of a large fish; most of the other Indians were darker skinned, lean and gaunt. Shiraz was different. Croft surveyed the group of Indians with a cynical sneer, placed the shotgun against the bole of a tree and armed himself with a whip, which he had tucked away in his breeches.
The whip whistled as it snaked above his head, while he twirled it with the skill of a circus lion handler, and then lunged forward while extending his whip arm. The whip cracked and tore into Shiraz’s meaty back. His flesh opened exposing the fatty layer beneath. Shiraz winced but did not utter a sound. Croft continued assaulting his back. By this time, the low murmur that started amongst the group increased until the women wailed and men let out a string of profanities in Hindi and Tamil, imploring Croft to stop. Shiraz’s body was a mess of bloody streaks. He was barely conscious and started to sag at the knees, while the rope tensed, causing the branch to bow. The man with the pail stepped forward and emptied the contents onto Shiraz’s open wounds. But Shiraz was beyond the point of sensing any further pain. The Indian labourers were by this time, extremely agitated. While the women wailed, the men continued to utter expletives with clenched fists; they needed just the tiniest of prod to unleash their pent up aggression. Croft sensed this and quickly grabbed the shotgun, which was leaning against the bole of the tree. He held it comfortably with his right arm while the muzzle rested on the crook of his left arm. He pointed it menacingly towards the frenzied group of Indians. Under threat of being shot, the Indians fell silent. Chandra, broke away from the group and with measured and defiant steps made his way towards the slumped figure of Shiraz. He loosened the rope from around the tree. By this time Ananda, a middle-aged Indian from the deep south of India had Shiraz resting on his shoulder to soften his landing when the rope was released.
The incident was not reported to the magistrate, the only accessible route to relevant authorities to seek redress for any form of injustice. In a robust debate at a little gathering under a tree, the following afternoon, most, including Chandra, were of the firm view that reporting the assault on Shiraz would not serve any purpose; in fact, it might implicate Shiraz more than it would Croft, given the fact that it was Shiraz who had humiliated Croft initially and Croft had reacted like any master would. Such incidents were complicated and weighed heavily against the Indians; in the absence of a skilled and competent interpreter and given the deep prejudices held by magistrates and judges, the Indians knew that that they were bound to lose even though they had solid, substantial evidence.