"Sea of Grey" is the tenth Alan Lewrie naval adventure novel, and Dewey Lambdin continues to provide his loyal audience with great adventure on the high seas. To paraphrase a Roman philosopher, trouble hurts the worst when it's self-inflicted. God knows Capt. Alan Lewrie, RN, has been in hot water before, but this time he can't "cozen" his way out. At the very pinnacle of success and acclaim after the Battle of Camperdown, all of his "overseas chickens" come home to roost, resulting in public embarassment and scandal, his wife's betrayed fury, and sneers from superiors at Admiralty. It is "Coventry" for Lewrie and the gallant men of his bold frigate, HMS "Proteus" -- out of sight and very far out of mind to the Fever Isles of the Caribbean early in 1798. Alan Lewrie and "Proteus" sail off in ignominy, to a region torn by war, graft, double dealing and petty professional feuds, to a failing British intervention on the ultra-rich French colony of Saint Domingue, also wracked by an utterly cruel and bloodthirsty slave rebellion led by Toussaint L'Ouverture, the future father of Haitian independence.
The tenth in the series of Alan Lewrie nautical adventures by Dewey Lambdin, Sea of Grey finds the swashbucklin', wisecrackin' 18th-century British naval officer who habitually drops his gs aiding the French in their attempts to suppress rebellion in the colony of Saint Domingue. Lewrie battles Toussaint L'Ouverture between trysts with a flock of breathless international beauties ("I have the basin... you wish me to sponge you You are tres hot I cool you "). The lively pace and white-knuckle battle scenes should make this another winner with Lambdin's fans. -- PUBLISHERS WEEKLY.
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Thomas Dunne Books
November 30, 2003
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Excerpt from Sea of Grey by Dewey Lambdin
Supping with his father was not exactly Alan Lewrie's idea for how he had intended to complete his personal celebrations, after a day of honour and fame, but after the disastrous shambles in Hyde Park he found himself at rather greater than "loose ends," with his only ally in the world that cynical Corinthian, that shameless old rake-hell and charter member of the infamous Hell-Fire Club; to wit, Major-General Sir Hugo St. George Willoughby, Knight of The Garter, with his sardonic, acidic jollity, with his perpetual leer for all things feminine....
But he was paying, so...
Given Sir Hugo's "sportin'" nature, it was no wonder that they had ended the evening at The Cocoa Tree, one of the fastest gambling establishments in London. Ostensibly a proprietary coffee-house where men of the Tory persuasion were wont to gather, it set a magnificent table, and was all "the go" with those wealthy enough (or foolish enough!) to riffle the cards in the Long Rooms or lay side wagers, even to take an "insurance policy" on someone else's life; i.e., to wager just when a certain cove would croak!