_PIRATES_
Baptiste was dancing up and down, flinging his arms like the blades of a
windmill and screaming in French. Ramsay wrinkled his brow. He had
picked up some French, but not enough to translate the torrent of words
that rolled out of the agitated man's mouth. And never before in his
life had he seen anyone so mad. Baptiste was invoking every evil he
could think of, a most generous portion, upon someone's hapless head.
Ramsay made a move to stop him.
"Wait. I can't follow you...."
A few English words, among which Ramsay recognized pig, dog and son of a
rotten fish, mingled with Baptiste's violent Gallic tirade. He continued
to wave his arms and yell. Ramsay waited helplessly, unable to
understand or to do anything. Attracted by the clamor, Hans, Pieter,
Marta and Tradin' Jack appeared.