There was an “Air Department” at the Admiralty before the war, and a Naval Wing of the Royal Flying Corps with its “Central Air Office,” its Flying School at Eastchurch, and seaplane and aeroplane stations at six places on the coasts, as well as airships at Farnborough and Kingsnorth. At the Royal inspection at Spithead of the great mobilised Fleet, just before the war, naval aeroplanes, seaplanes, and airships gave a fine display. Development was rapid, the Royal Naval Air Service came into independent existence, and there is now the Fifth Sea Lord at the Admiralty charged with the supervision of the Royal Naval Air Service, and representing it on the Air Board. Some of the most useful work of the Royal Naval Air Service is in “spotting” for the guns of the warships. Its officers made a methodical photographic survey of the coast from Nieuport to the Dutch frontier early in the war to assist the monitors which were then bombarding the coast, and to observe and correct their fire. They worked from a height of about 12,000 feet, constantly observing the development of the enemy’s gun emplacements, all in despite of hostile aeroplanes and shells. That survey has been continued, and the result is the finest thing in aerial cartography which has ever been achieved. It will illustrate this part of the special work of the seaplanes if we describe how they began, which we are enabled to do by a lively-witted official scribe, who examined the records of their operations, and has given his impressions:— “I can’t see where they’re pitching,” said the Navy-that-Floats, referring to the shells of the monitors bursting twelve miles away. “What about spotting for us, old son?” “That will I do,” replied the Navy-that-Flies. “And more also. But I shall have to wear khaki, because it’s done out here; by everybody, apparently.” “Wear anything you like,” replied the Navy-that-Floats, “as long as you help us to hit those shore-batteries. Only—because you wear khaki (the Royal Naval Air Service does not usually wear khaki) and see life, don’t forget you’re still the same old Navy, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.” The Navy-that-Flies added “Amen,” and said that it wouldn’t forget. Wherever its squadrons were based they rigged a flagstaff and flew the White Ensign at the peak. They erected wooden huts and painted them Service grey, labelling them “Mess-deck,” “Ward-room,” “Gun-room,” etc., as the case might be. They divided the flights into port and starboard watches, and solemnly asked leave to “go ashore” for recreation. They filled in shell-holes and levelled the ground for aerodromes; they ran up hangars and excavated dug-outs—whither they retired in a strong silent rush (the expression is theirs) when the apprehensive Boche attempted to curtail their activity with bombs.