Penjaga Cahaya

Halaman 1

Every evening, when the sun melted into the sea, a small gray kitten climbed the spiral stairs of the old lighthouse alone.

Her name was Caspian, and she had lived there since she was small enough to fit inside a fisherman's boot.

Nobody had put her there.

She had simply arrived, the way strays sometimes do, and decided to stay.

Setiap sore, ketika matahari seolah meleleh ke dalam laut, seekor anak kucing abu-abu kecil menaiki tangga melingkar mercusuar tua itu seorang diri.

Namanya Caspian, dan ia tinggal di sana sejak tubuhnya masih cukup kecil untuk muat di dalam sepatu bot seorang nelayan.

Tak ada yang menaruhnya di sana.

Ia hanya datang begitu saja, seperti kucing liar kadang-kadang datang, lalu memutuskan untuk tinggal.

Halaman 2

Caspian took her job seriously. She patrolled each window ledge, her tail held high like a flag. She watched the beam sweep across the dark water. She hissed at seagulls who landed on the railing without permission. This was her lighthouse. Nobody else's.

Every morning, the fishing boats chugged out of the harbor below — wide wooden hulls painted red and blue and sun-bleached yellow.

Caspian menjalankan tugasnya dengan sungguh-sungguh. Ia berpatroli di setiap ambang jendela, dengan ekornya terangkat tinggi seperti bendera. Ia mengawasi sorot cahaya yang menyapu air gelap. Ia mendesis pada burung camar yang hinggap di pagar tanpa izin. Ini mercusuarnya. Bukan milik siapa pun yang lain.

Setiap pagi, perahu-perahu nelayan bergerak keluar dari pelabuhan di bawah sana — lambung kayu lebar yang dicat merah, biru, dan kuning pudar karena matahari.

Halaman 3

They returned each evening with their nets heavy and dripping.

Caspian watched them from the highest window, but she never went down to the dock.

The dock was loud and smelled of strangers, and strangers made her fur stand on end.

One stormy Thursday, a fishing boat called the *Cormorant* came back wrong.

It limped through the waves with a broken mast, leaning to one side like a tired old dog.

Mereka kembali setiap sore dengan jala yang berat dan meneteskan air.

Caspian mengawasi mereka dari jendela tertinggi, tetapi ia tidak pernah turun ke dermaga.

Dermaga itu berisik dan berbau orang asing, dan orang asing membuat bulunya berdiri.

Pada suatu hari Kamis yang penuh badai, sebuah perahu nelayan bernama *Cormorant* kembali dalam keadaan yang tidak beres.

Perahu itu terseok-seok melewati ombak dengan tiang layar patah, miring ke satu sisi seperti anjing tua yang kelelahan.

Halaman 4

Its engine sputtered and coughed.

The lighthouse beam swept past it once, twice — and Caspian saw the man on deck waving both arms at the light.

She stared. The boat was drifting toward the rocks.

Caspian had never raced down those stairs so fast.

Mesinnya tersendat-sendat dan terbatuk-batuk.

Sorot mercusuar menyapunya sekali, dua kali — dan Caspian melihat seorang pria di geladak melambaikan kedua lengannya ke arah cahaya.

Ia menatap. Perahu itu hanyut menuju bebatuan.

Caspian belum pernah berlari menuruni tangga itu secepat itu.

Halaman 5

She burst out the iron door at the bottom and scrambled across the wet stones to the signal box — a rusted red lever she had seen the old lighthouse keeper pull, years ago, before he left.

She hooked both paws around it and pulled with every bit of her small, bony weight.

Ia menerobos keluar dari pintu besi di bawah dan bergegas melintasi batu-batu basah menuju kotak sinyal — sebuah tuas merah berkarat yang pernah dilihatnya ditarik oleh penjaga mercusuar tua, bertahun-tahun lalu, sebelum pria itu pergi.

Ia mengaitkan kedua cakarnya pada tuas itu dan menariknya dengan seluruh berat tubuh kecilnya yang kurus.

Halaman 6

The fog horn bellowed across the water. WHOOOOM. Then again. WHOOOOM. The harbor rescue boat fired its engine and shot out into the rain.

The *Cormorant* was saved.

The next morning, the fisherman from the *Cormorant* climbed the lighthouse path.

His name was Darro, and he was tall and sunburned, with rope-calloused hands.

He sat down on the stone step without a word and placed a piece of smoked fish beside him.

Klakson kabut menggelegar melintasi air. WHOOOOM. Lalu sekali lagi. WHOOOOM. Perahu penyelamat pelabuhan menyalakan mesinnya dan melesat menerjang hujan.

*Cormorant* selamat.

Keesokan paginya, nelayan dari *Cormorant* menaiki jalan menuju mercusuar.

Namanya Darro, dan ia tinggi serta kulitnya terbakar matahari, dengan tangan yang kapalan karena tali.

Ia duduk di anak tangga batu tanpa berkata apa-apa dan meletakkan sepotong ikan asap di sampingnya.

Halaman 7

Then he waited.

Caspian watched from the doorway for a long time. She looked at the fish. She looked at Darro. She looked at the fish again.

She padded forward and ate the fish in four precise bites.

Darro did not try to pet her. He only said, "Same time tomorrow?" Then he stood up and walked back down to the harbor.

He came back the next day, and the day after that.

Lalu ia menunggu.

Caspian mengawasi dari ambang pintu cukup lama. Ia melihat ikan itu. Ia melihat Darro. Ia melihat ikan itu lagi.

Ia melangkah maju dengan langkah pelan dan memakan ikan itu dalam empat gigitan yang tepat.

Darro tidak mencoba mengelusnya. Ia hanya berkata, “Waktu yang sama besok?” Lalu ia berdiri dan berjalan kembali turun ke pelabuhan.

Ia kembali keesokan harinya, dan hari setelahnya.

Halaman 8

Sometimes he brought fish.

Sometimes he just sat.

Slowly — the way trust always moves — Caspian edged closer, then closer, until one morning she sat right beside his boot and let his rough hand rest on her back for exactly four seconds before she stepped away.

The other fishermen noticed.

Kadang-kadang ia membawa ikan.

Kadang-kadang ia hanya duduk.

Perlahan-lahan — seperti selalu bergeraknya kepercayaan — Caspian mendekat, lalu lebih dekat lagi, hingga pada suatu pagi ia duduk tepat di samping sepatu botnya dan membiarkan tangan kasarnya beristirahat di punggungnya selama tepat empat detik sebelum ia menjauh.

Para nelayan lain menyadarinya.

Halaman 9

They began stopping at the bottom of the path, leaving small offerings on the flat rock there: a silver sardine, a scrap of dried squid, a cork for batting around.

Caspian inspected each gift with great seriousness, as if checking it for proper quality.

Mereka mulai berhenti di ujung bawah jalan, meninggalkan persembahan kecil di batu datar di sana: seekor sarden perak, sepotong cumi-cumi kering, gabus untuk dipukul-pukul.

Caspian memeriksa setiap hadiah dengan sangat serius, seolah-olah sedang memastikan mutunya baik.

Halaman 10

One afternoon a child from the harbor — Darro's daughter, a girl called Wren, with tangled hair and paint-stained fingers — ran up the path and sat cross-legged in front of Caspian, nose to nose.

"She's not fierce," Wren said, surprised.

"She is, actually," said Darro from behind her. "She just decided we're worth guarding now."

Caspian flicked one ear.

Pada suatu sore, seorang anak dari pelabuhan — putri Darro, seorang gadis bernama Wren, berambut kusut dan berjari-jari bernoda cat — berlari menaiki jalan dan duduk bersila di depan Caspian, hidung bertemu hidung.

“Dia tidak garang,” kata Wren, terkejut.

“Dia garang, sebenarnya,” kata Darro dari belakangnya. “Hanya saja sekarang dia memutuskan kami layak dijaga.”

Caspian menggerakkan satu telinganya.

Halaman 11

She turned and climbed back up her spiral stairs to the lantern room, where the beam was already beginning its long, slow circle across the evening water.

Below, the red and blue and yellow boats rocked gently in the harbor.

Their lights blinked on, one by one, like small answers to her own great light.

Ia berbalik dan menaiki kembali tangga melingkarnya menuju ruang lentera, tempat sorot cahaya sudah mulai berputar panjang dan perlahan melintasi air sore.

Di bawah, perahu-perahu merah, biru, dan kuning bergoyang lembut di pelabuhan.

Lampu-lampu mereka menyala, satu demi satu, seperti jawaban-jawaban kecil bagi cahayanya yang besar.

Halaman 12

She settled onto the window ledge and curled her tail around her paws. She watched all of them — every boat, every bobbing lamp — with her usual green-eyed seriousness.

Her lighthouse. Her harbor. Her boats.

Ia meringkuk di ambang jendela dan melilitkan ekornya di sekeliling cakarnya. Ia mengawasi semuanya — setiap perahu, setiap lampu yang bergoyang — dengan keseriusan khasnya yang bermata hijau.

Mercusuarnya. Pelabuhannya. Perahu-perahunya.