Thursday, August 26, 1915

The morning was again a fine one. The sea was glassy, there was scarcely a breeze, save the one that our 65 turns caused us to make as we pushed along. Mexico was still in sight all day long; turtles abounded - I wish we could get a few for some good old turtle soup. We began again our deck duty - general quarters - turret drill, something new, and, in the afternoon, nothing. It is not taking long to get back the tan that the black gang and engineering had removed. In two weeks I ought to be right black again. When I turned in at 10 after a meeting with the gang on the dog house where we discussed the new order to turn in mileage for a computation of traveling expenses for Sep[?] leave. It's a beastly, bloody idea to say the least. The weather was fine, calm, warm and moonlit.