A prisoner in Garachico

Garachico The duties of the present recalled the Alcalde from his kindly retrospect. A sound that was half howl and half sob broke upon the still air when we were passing the Municipal buildings. The Alcalde was at first puzzled to explain it. But his memory did not long deceive him. With a smile and a shrug of the shoulder, he called to a slipshod man, and sent him to the town clerk for a key. He then entered the overgrown garden of the inner courtyard of a deserted monastery, and, unlocking a wicket, stood in a little square of grassy ground with a stone seat in a corner, the sky for a ceiling, and a wailing red-faced woman sitting on the seat.

The woman sprang towards the Alcalde’s knees with a torrent of words and tears, appeals to the Virgin, promises to amend, &c. She was the one prisoner in this gaol of Garachico, and was sentenced to three days’ incarceration, with bread and water, for being drunk and disorderly. This time, however, the Alcalde remitted her punishment; and, having picked up a crust that lay among the grass, the woman shuffled away with many grateful adjectives upon her tongue.

Charles Edwardes, Rides and Studies in the Canary Islands (1888)