The Crab was the brain child of Lord Tyrone von Brandise, a man obsessed with discovery and the immortality found in conquering the unknown. In that respect, among others, he was utterly British.
He found me in my work shop, on the advice of several other explorers whom I had helped in one regard or another. I was a genius, a prodigy, a credit to my sex they all said. His metropolitan attitude prevented him from commenting on a woman in trousers and a waist coat, but he did look disparagingly at my grease blackened hand when I stuck it out to greet him. He merely smiled and nodded in return.
I would later learn that Lord von Brandise had failed spectacularly at exploration on other occasions thanks to his genteel manners. That was, no doubt, the motivation behind his latest scheme which had incited the trip to my shop.
"It's a mechanism for traveling under water. Much farther down than anyone could ever swim. The carapace protects the driver, who crawls along the ocean floor with the legs and uses the claws to manipulate the surrounding environment."
I looked at his sketches. He had taken his inspiration from a crustacean. It was just the beginnings of a plan, a seed of an idea, but I saw success there in those drawings.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Can you make it?"
Indeed I could. When it was done, it was a sight to shock sailors and shipwrights alike.
The whole thing shone, its scrubbed copper finish glistening in the sun of the ship yard. Eight legs on pistons and ball joints flanked the central cabin of the Crab. Inside that cabin was a tiny, ultra-efficient steam engine of my own design. It could only be accessed before the Crab deployed and vented externally during a mission, as the engine's interior would reach explosive temperatures and when underwater the cabin would allow for no venting of the heat or steam.
On either side of the crucible (which was my name for the little engine) were two comfortable chairs with controls for the Crab. In front of them were thick windows with reenforced glass and finally, hanging above the Crab as if in anticipation of a fight for a shiny chrome she-crab, were the claws.
Unlike the legs that would carry the Crab, the claws were not powered by stream. I used pulleys and levers to allow them to be controlled by a driver, but it would still require a great deal of strength and no small amount of skill to use them in situs.
The Crab had attracted quite a crowd of admirers. Outside of my work shop, I too looked presentable. A bustle and corset teetered above high heel boots while sun glasses and a parasol protected me from a midday glare. Despite all this, Lord Tyrone's initial reaction to the crab was one of rage.
"Two drivers? I said one! Only one man in the Crab!" he bellowed.
"No you didn't," I responded, unperturbed. As English explorers went, von Brandise was hardly impressive. "You showed me a picture and gave some vague directions. Besides, one driver would have been quite impossible. It is simply too complex to control eight legs and maneuver the claws at the same time. The second driver was a necessity."
"Nonsense and poppycock! If one bloody shellfish can steer itself, then one Englishman can too!" he insisted.
"Ah, but how often does a crab steer itself into a trap and become dinner? No, two is better. It's the only way. But don't worry. I can teach your man how to drive it in no time,"
"Well no time us exactly what we have. So you shall be accompanying us as the second driver Madame Findlay."
"I beg your pardon?" I was flummoxed. "That was not our agreement Lord Tyrone."
"Perhaps not, but it is the only way you shall see payment for it. My journey's backers are quite insistent. We leave tonight with the tide. You have five hours to pack Madame. I suggest you make haste."