In the North of England, especially among miners, Aye Aye and its different intonations has subtle differences in meaning. For example Aye Aye in a moderate central tone like Aye Aye would be a question as to healthwise, answered by one Aye sort of forced which would sound like Aye (in mournful) which would mean Fair as can be, but for this occasion, the meaning was different for Tom, a miner and his marra or partner Charlie.

It happened that Tom had finished his shift at the coal face on the Monday morning, and with his knee pads draped round his neck alongside his lamp cable he put on his coat with his water bottle intact in the big pocket, then made his way out-bye to meet Charlie his long time marra. They always met at the same meeting point where two pieces of headtree were carefully kept to sit on and sure enough, here was Charlie’s lamp in the distance dancing up and down as he walked with head bent along the gateway. Tom was sitting on his headtree by now, waiting to tell his marra about the coalface, how much powder in the drills and the state of the top (roof).

Charlie spoke as he reached Tom. “Aye Aye Tom.”
“Aye,” answered Tom. He shone his lamp on Charlie’s face. “Anything the matter Charlie?” he asked.
“No,” replied Charlie. “Should there be?”
“It’s the way you said Aye Aye,” said Tom, “as if you were short of breath.”

Charlie tapped his steel toe capped boot with his pick blade. “You mean as if it had a hyphen in it?”
Tom had a worried frown. “What is a hyphen, Charlie, you’re not sick are you?”

It was Charlie’s turn to look at Tom in his lamp’s glare. He smiled. “A hyphen just joins words together, something likened to a split infinitive sort of thing, don’t worry bout it.”

Tom explained how things were at the face to his marra then, although still worried, made his way out-bye. The Onsetter was at the shaft bottom waiting, Tom was the last man. “Did my marra Charlie speak to you?” he still worried asked the Onsetter.

“He did say Aye Aye,” he answered.

Tom was thoughtful. “Did he have a hyphen when he said it?”

The Onsetter opened the cage gate. “How the hell did I know if he had a hyphen or not? Get in.”

He closed and pinned the gate, he rang the gong, and Tom went tearing up to bank, although the Onsetter’s words did not alleviate his worries about Charlie. At the token and lamp cabin, he slid the heavy lamp battery from his belt then passed them through the open window to the Lamp Kelker.

On taking Tom’s gear he looked out at him. “Aye Aye, what’s up Tom, you look worried?” The intonation of the greeting was the rising of end, just like “Aye Aye” what’s up here.

Tom’s worried face looked at him. “Jack, did my marra Charlie speak to you when he got his gear?”

“Not really,” said the lampman. “He just said Aye Aye then went across to get his powder and the cage.

“Ah,” said Tom. “That’s what I mean. When he said Aye Aye did he have a hyphen in your opinion?”

“Tom,” he said. “How the hell would I know? Go to bed man, you’re tired.”

This negative reply did not help Tom’s concern for his partner one little bit. A sudden brainwave hit him. I’ll ask Charlie’s wife, she only lives a few doors up the row, it will only take a few minutes.

Now all this happened before the introduction of pithead baths and Tom was black with the coal dust head to foot. Ah, thought Tom, here it is, No 9. He walked up the three pumy-stoned steps, wiped his hands non his trousers, as if that would take the black off, then rattled the sneck on the door handle.

Sally, Charlie’s wife, was blackleading the grate in the kitchen. Who can that be? she wondered. Going to the stout door, she opened it. On seeing Tom standing there she gave out an ear bursting scream, collapsed to the stone floor and hunched there shivering and groaning. Mystified, Tom drew her to her feet holding her beside the brattish trying to soothe her.

“Oh Tom,” Sally pleaded. “He’s not dead Tom. Tell me he’s not dead please Tom where is he?” Tears were running down her face, her dulled eyes were staring into Tom’s black face.

“Sally,” Tom had hold of her arms, “Charlie’s all right, he’s in bye, I’ve just left him, he’s OK.”

“Oh God,” said Sally. “When I saw you there I just thought something had happened. But why are you here?”

“Well,” replied Tom. “I was a bit worried when Charlie left this morning. Did he say anything to you?”

“Not really. He just said Aye Aye and left.”

“Ah,” said Tom. “When he said it, did he say it with a hyphen? That’s why I’m here.”

Sally grabbed Tom’s lapels. “You damned idiot, you come rattling my sneck, you scare me half to death, I collapse a shivering wreck, thinking the worst because you want a hyphen. If I knew what it was I would knock your brains out with it, if you had any.” She slammed the door so hard Tom fell down the steps.
Tom felt sad as he sat and explained to his wife Mary how and why he was late. After his bath in the tin, Mary sat down with him and explained everything to him about the hyphen, split infinitive and how they worked.

Tom went upstairs to bed very relieved about Charlie and fell into a lovely deep sleep.

That evening he got ready for the pit: knee pads, bait, water bottle. Mary kissed him. “Aye Aye,” said Tom and off he went.

Next morning he finished a couple of minutes early and was sitting on his headtree when Charlie came into view as he approached, and before Charlie could say a word Tom called “Aye Aye”, Then with fist doubled he gave Charlie a full blooded punch in the midriff.

“Aye eee,” whistled Charlie as he sank to his knees. “What was that for?”

“Well,” said Tom nonchalantly as he tapped his steel toe cap with his pick blade. “That is what you might like to say, is an Aye for an Aye, without a hyphen or even a split infinitive.”

Joe Dyer