This chapter is short. It is basically about Marie-Claire having a weird dream. Sorry once again for the historical inaccuracy. (e.g. dynamite)

"Come along, Mr. Foster," A tall man with piercing eyes said, "Let me show you my plan."

Lord Sampson was a very frightening man indeed. He used to be interested in the fight for freedom, but now he was loyal to Britain after witnessing The Boston Massacre. His loyalty to Britain was a secret to the Americans. He had turned into a very evil man after meeting a certain person who had ruined his plans for an attack.

Mark Foster followed Lord Sampson as they went into his cabin on their ship. He too, was a British man, and was curious about what was going on.

"We've been invited to a ball," Lord Sampson explained, unfolding the invitation he had received earlier that day, "For Lady Cheval, wife of Lord Wilfred Cheval. I used to be good friends with the man when I was on the rebel's side."

Mr. Foster shook his head, "This is a very fancy party, by the sounds of it. What exactly are you plotting to do? Steal something of theirs and hold it for ransom?"

Lord Sampson shook his head, "Even better." He stepped over to one of the windows, gazing out at the ocean, "You and I will go to the party and play the part. Meet new people; make small talk, you know. Then, when it is nighttime, the entire Navy will be waiting for us outside, all of them carrying sticks of dynamite and gunpowder. Both of us will leave our rooms and meet them there. From then on we will ride to the American camp."

Mark nodded, "I understand what you are saying, sir, but what is the dynamite and gunpowder for?"

Lord Sampson looked back at him, "Oh, I believe I left out the single most important detail…"

Mr. Foster stepped back, a bit frightened of the man himself.

Lord Sampson gave an evil laugh, "When we have reached American camp, and they are all unaware…we will set the entire American camp on fire and…blow those so-called "Patriots" to the heavens.."

Marie-Claire sat up in bed, screaming loudly. She was breathing heavily and covered in a cold, terrified sweat. Sarah turned over in her sleep uneasily, muttering about speaking too loud or something. She apparently could sleep through anything.

James appeared in the doorway not a minute later with a candle in his hand.

"Marie, are you alright?' James asked her urgently, "I heard screaming. Are you in pain?"

Marie-Claire was somewhat happy to see James there. She thought it rather sweet of him to come running to her rescue. Then she snapped out of it.

"Yes, yes, I'm fine," She assured him, "I'm not hurt. I just, had a bad dream, that's all."

James gave her a shy little smile as he scratched the back of his head uneasily, "Oh, ok. Sorry. Good-night."

Marie-Claire stayed awake for a moment, hearing his footsteps as he went back to his room. It felt good to her that someone actually cared about her, and didn't see her as just an object of benefit for the war.

She rolled over and tried to get back to sleep, but a million thoughts were running through her head. Why was Lord Sampson in her dream? Was he going to come back to get her? How come she was dreaming about this when she wasn't on any particular side? Unless…

Marie-Claire opened her eyes. She rummaged around in the beside table for the letter Sarah had read earlier that day. Turning on the oil lamp, Marie read it over again.

Marie gasped. What she had feared was true. Lord Sampson was going to the exact ball that she and the others were going to. Now this meant not only danger for the Americans, but for Marie-Claire, too.

As she turned over in her bed for a very troubled sleep, Marie-Claire wondered what she should do. If Lord Sampson learned where she was staying, then he would do anything-even get rid of Sarah, Henri, Moses and James-just to get to her. This was so frustrating. Marie wished she'd never had that vision. And what's more, that she had drowned in the sea.