When he was just a handsome youth, Young Joe Mesquita went Far from his native island shores, Upon adventure bent. He'd dwelt upon the Azore Isles For twenty years and fished Day in and out, continuously, And restlessly he wished To see the great wide world without, And one fine day he slipped Away from home and on a boat Bound westward ho, he shipped. Joe journeyed to the U.S.A. And Gloucester-by-the-Sea, Where he resided afterwards, In peace and harmony. He started fishing with a will And prospered rapidly, And soon possessed a pleasant home And happy family. The captain of his fishing boat, An honest citizen, Whose ever steadfast faith in God Won the esteem of men. In nineteen hundred he set sail For Gloucester, from the Banks, One glorious October day, And everyone gave thanks Because the hold was full of fish And autumn winds were kind, And all their worst perplexities They'd gladly left behind. So all went well the first day out, But on the second morn, Poor Alfred Brown appeared on deck, Exhausted, pale and worn. "I had a dreadful dream," he said, "That I was smothering; And dared not sleep for dread of what Awakening would bring." The crew - and they were fifteen strong, Besides the worthy cook Had heard of Alf's peculiar dreams And definitely shook. The second night he dreamed again And frightened all on board, Who felt the worst was yet to come, And trusted the good Lord Would steer the Mary P. safe home, And no calamity Would take her unawares and cause Undue emergency. The captain tried to comfort Alf, Who suffered day and night, And went below at ten p.m., Not far from Thatcher's Light, To see if he were sleeping sound And everything was well, Or if his nightmare came again, His grievous fears to quell. A heavy fog enveloped them And not a man could see An inch ahead to penetrate The most minute degree Of what lay buried in the depths Of blackness everywhere, While fog horns shouted constantly, Their warning to beware. Then suddenly the cautious watch Cried out: "All hands on deck!" And Captain Joe left Alf below And nearly broke his neck But reached the scene in time to see A mammoth, metal prow, Marked glaringly, SAXONIA, Across her lofty bow. They knew that "he who hesitates Is lost," so all the men Jumped overboard, but Captain Joe, Who rushed below again To save unconscious Alfred Brown, Just as the liner crashed Amidships on his fishing boat And mercilessly slashed The able schooner clean in two; Then Joe Mesquita dove Into the sea and through the fog He resolutely strove To reach the schooner's forward part, Which floated valiantly Till they could catch their breath and learn Just what their plight might be. The great Cunarder lost no time In lowering her boats, And rescued all the Mary's crew, No matter how remote, Except one man, poor Alfred Brown, Who'd dreamed with such dismay, That he was choking painfully, That memorable day. That night when all the weary crew Slept deeply, unaware Of anything, the captain knelt In silent, thankful prayer, That he and all his faithful crew Were spared poor Alfred's fate, And if they came to Gloucester safe, He vowed to celebrate Their rescue each succeeding year, The Feast of Pentecost, And praise the Lord these Gloucestermen Escaped from being lost. At home the people wondered why The sturdy Mary P. Was so delayed in coming in What could the matter be? "She must be lost," they sadly said, And everyone did mourn, When Captain Isaac Small observed Two dories, lone and lorn, With Mary's name, both drifting near The shores of old Cape Cod, And all except the captain's wife Believed they'd gone to God. And as he promised he would do, That night of black despair, He sent express to Portugal To instantly prepare A silver crown, like one employed By Portugal's fair queen, Illustrious Saint Elizabeth, In festivals he'd seen In that same country, long ago, When traveling with his wife, And used at every Whitsuntide, In suffering and strife. The crown was sent to Italy And blessed there by the Pope, Then straight to Gloucester, to revive Afflicted hearts with hope. And every year at Trinity, The church would celebrate The services for Captain Joe, To so commemorate His rescue from the briny deep Till nineteen thirty-three, When he departed tranquilly, To face eternity. Though he has gone to Paradise, All those who knew him well, With admiration, frequently, His vivid story tell. A kind and generous gentleman, Of deep religious bent, Who lived a righteous, useful life, In dignified content.

Source: Kitty Parsons, Gloucester Sea Ballads

The short description from Gloucester Sea Ballads reads:

The story of a fisherman’s strange dreams

The Mary P. Mesquita was a Gloucester fishing schooner captained by Joseph P. Mesquita (1859-1933), an Azorean immigrant who became one of Gloucester’s most celebrated fishermen. The vessel was named after his daughter, Mary Perry Mesquita, who would later become the first woman carillonneur (a player of the carillon, a bell tower instrument) in North America.

On 27 October 1900, while fishing in fog off Gloucester, the schooner was run down and sunk by the Cunard liner RMS Saxonia, en route from Boston to Queenstown, Ireland. Fifteen of the sixteen crew were rescued and landed at Queenstown. Following the disaster, Captain Mesquita made a religious vow and in 1902 commissioned a silver crown blessed by Pope Leo XIII, establishing an annual Crowning Feast of the Holy Spirit at Gloucester, an Azorean tradition that continues today through Our Lady of Good Voyage Church. The full story of the wreck is told in Cecile Pimental’s The Mary P. Mesquita: Rundown at Sea (2018).