Soldier and Sailor Too (Kennett's Campaigns Book 2)

Soldier and Sailor Too

The French Revolutionary War has spread far beyond Europe, and Lieutenant Gregory Kennett of the 136th Foot is drawn into a dangerous new mission. Recruited by Britain’s spymaster, William Wickham, Gregory must uncover a French agent believed to be hiding within his own regiment.

From the battlefields of the Caribbean to the tense blockade of the Dutch fleet, Gregory follows a trail of betrayal, secret messages, and political unrest. As mutiny threatens the Royal Navy and invasion fears grip Britain, he begins to suspect that the conspiracy reaches further than anyone imagined.

Set in 1796 and 1797, Soldier and Sailor Too is a sweeping historical adventure of war, espionage, loyalty, and deception. The second book in Malcolm Archibald’s Kennett’s Campaigns series, it follows Gregory Kennett through some of the fiercest fighting of the French Revolutionary War as he races to expose the enemy within.

Discover Soldier and Sailor Too and follow Gregory Kennett into a campaign where one hidden traitor could change the fate of Britain.

Excerpt from the book

RODINGHAM, ENGLAND

AUGUST 1795

Gregory had seen what these artillerymen had done to his company and fought with sickened fury, slashing, thrusting and stabbing without mercy. He saw the gunners’ shocked faces, with mouths and eyes wide with fear, but in his mind, he saw Private Peters with his intestines spilling out and Private Jackson with his jaw shot away. He was no longer Gregory Kennett of Torham Manor, but a madman fighting and killing in a rage he had never experienced.

Gregory jerked awake, feeling his heart pounding as he relived the events of the recent campaign. He sat up with the sweat damp on his body, still hearing the screams and smelling the powder smoke. Scrabbling for his tinder box, Gregory scratched a spark to light the candle beside his bed. The small flame gradually grew, spreading a yellow oval around his quarters, the tiny room in Rodingham Hall, headquarters of the 136 th Foot.

Nothing had changed. Gregory’s second-best uniform hung ready for him to use, his sword and Henry Nock pistol were at hand, and his washing and shaving gear were all in order beside the washstand and basin. Closed shutters concealed the window and kept out the worst of the draughts.

Pushing back the bed covers, Gregory stood, allowing the images in his head to fade as he walked around the room. Three paces one way and three paces to return. As a newly promoted lieutenant, the regiment allocated him a slightly larger room than he had shared as an ensign, but still barely larger than a cell in most prisons. Compared to the private soldiers, his quarters were luxurious, although he suspected that the NCOs used their experience to create something better than his.

Opening the shutters, Gregory peered outside. A scimitar moon glowed among the stars, shining faint light on the parade ground, as the regiment had designated the gravelled courtyard of Rodingham Hall. The tall wall that surrounded the house seemed dark, ominous and nearly claustrophobic. Unable to sleep after his vivid dreams, Gregory hastily washed, viewing his face, lined and haggard with the strain of war, and ran a razor over the worst of his stubble. Pulling on his uniform but leaving his sword and pistol behind, Gregory stepped outside his room. His footsteps echoed in the ancient house as he marched along the creaking corridors, hearing faint snores from some of the rooms he passed.

The sleepy sentry at the main door stiffened to attention as Gregory passed.

“Stand easy, man,” Gregory murmured. “I’m not here to inspect you.” He marched past the picket at the gate, acknowledged their salutes by touching his hat and toured the night-dark streets of Rodingham. Only a few candles burned behind the multi-paned windows as early risers readied themselves for their work. The rest of the town rested, the good people enjoying the benefits of peace, protected by the constant vigilance of the Royal Navy. Gregory took a deep breath, relishing the early morning calm. At a time when war wreaked its hideous terrors across Europe, peace was a luxury few enjoyed and fewer appreciated.