Nun

The Wanderer's navigator, who often says things that make no sense at all.

"Don't go treating Dolores like some brilliant prophet," a sea hamster complained. "Her prophecies have nothing to do with anything!"

Only the Wanderer's crew takes her mystic mumbling seriously. For that bunch of misfits, doing what she says when trouble comes gets them out of it without anyone having to think. So what if it's ridiculous?

Say the useless Sea Hawks have run them so ragged they're too tired and lazy to fight back. What then?

Dolores rubbed her sleepy eyes and mumbled, "From today, nobody on this ship takes a bath!"

"That lazy lot were happy to oblige." The sea hamster scratched his head. "The Wanderer without baths stinks worse than a stink bomb."

"On the third day, the smell drifted over on the south-east wind and the useless Sea Hawks were retching so hard they ran. Ha!"

Never mention the Saints' Academy, unless you want Dolores going on at you all day. Everyone on the Wanderer agrees on that.

Open that box and she'll rant non-stop about the Academy's dark side: piles of empty octopus brew bottles hidden in the prayer-room cupboards, and how she reported it on principle, only to be laughed at and thrown out.

From dawn to dusk, she doesn't need so much as a sip of coconut milk to wet her throat.

Everyone's eyes glaze over, until Dolores jolts them awake with a question: "And what else are the Saints' Academy guilty of?" Seeing their blank faces, she rolls her eyes and starts roaring again: "They're liars, idiots and hypocrites, every one of them!"

Another round begins.

Except for Rob the monkey, who shoots up the mast, the rest of them just have to sit through it. She is, after all, the Wanderer's prophet of nonsense.