Sea of Grey: An Alan Lewrie Naval Adventure (Alan Lewrie Naval Adventures Book 10) by Dewey Lambdin- Book Review

Book Review - Five Stars 

Sea of Grey: An Alan Lewrie Naval Adventure (Alan Lewrie Naval Adventures Book 10) by Dewey Lambdin

Dewey Lamdin’s historical fiction nautical novels are extraordinarily impressive with factual research coupled with an astounding cornucopia of colorfully descriptive vocabulary.

There is never a dull moment in these exhilarating fast moving and enlightening stories. Reading Dewey Lambdin on my Kindle reader with its built in dictionary and clipping features that stores looked up words in a special vocabulary builder adds real pleasure to the reading experience. The audio books are recommended for their extremely impressive high quality narrative.

We love all of Lambdin’s books, they are gems!

EXCERPTS:

He had written one of those letters asking “ … with the supply of paint on hand, Sirs, and the meagre budget allotted for the task, which side of the ship do you prefer that we paint?”

Since the war started in 1793, Prime Minister William Pitt and his coterie had shoved troops and ships into the Caribbean, eager for possession of every “sugar” island. It had cost the lives of 40,000 soldiers and seamen, so far. Once Fever Season struck, regiments and ships’ companies could be reduced to pitiful handfuls in a trice!

“The captain may be spoken of as a lucky captain, and his ships lucky by association, but; t’would take a pagan sea-god to deem us worthy in his sight.” That left unspoken the bald fact of Captain Lewrie’s adultery, his recent dalliance with a half-caste Port-Au-Prince whore, the rumor of which had made the rounds below decks, usually accompanied by hoots of appreciation and admiration, rather than disapproval or envy.

taking an involuntary step away from Mr. Durant, as if to flee Death’s miasma … or the noisome reek of the Yellow Jack’s last agony, when the victim voided his bowels, after many days of inability, and spewed up dark, bloody vomito negro. The stench of Wyman’s dying clung to Durant’s apron, bare arms, and very hair, like a whiff off the River Styx.

“Bonaparte?” Lewrie grumbled, slapping the table. “Why, I’ve met the little bastard, in ‘93!

Ran me out of the Adriatic, too, when he invaded Italy in ’96, and beat the Austrians and Piedmontese like a dusty rug. Almost bagged me on the Genoese coast once, too. He’s a dangerous man, I tell you. Never trust the dwarfish, gentlemen. He’s no bigger than a minute, but slipp’ry as an eel … .”

Review by John M. Grimsrud