When he had given directions for the care of all these strange guests, the Prior climbed up the mound through the tossing trees, and when he had reached the summit he saw to his amazement that the sea had risen in a mighty flood and poured for miles into the forest.  The huge oaks and pines of centuries had gone down in thousands, and over their fallen trunks and broken branches the white billows were tumbling and leaping in clouds of spray in the moonlight.  Happily the land sloped away to the north, so that unless the wind changed and blew against us the Priory seemed to be in no present danger.  Overhead the great cross vibrated in the storm, and the face of the Christ gazed seaward, and the holy arms were opened wide.  The sight of that divine figure filled the Prior's heart with peace and confidence.  "Whether to live or to die," he murmured, "in Thee, O Lord, have we placed our trust."